summary: what happens when quinn learns he isn't the only captain you've been hooking up with?
request: yes/no
warnings: sexual themes, threesome, dismissive kink, dom!quinn, p in v (unprotected!), oral (m receiving!), masturbation, in general filthy smut.
word count: 6.77k
authors note: we have been in the thick of the threesomes recently but you won't hear me complain because this one i am pretty sure i lost my ability to have a filter so some of these points were simply the cause of my brain and of course @sweetestdesire who is back in the seat of helping with these threesomes so as always thank you to brynn for listening to the shit that comes out of my mouth while i plan these 💗 this was a version of threesomes i have never fully gone at before so lets hope the plot landed.
You really didn’t know how you ended up like this.
Well, that was a lie. You knew exactly how you ended up chasing after the eldest Hughes boy in the lake house as you tried to apologise. Quinn had come down to see you standing in the kitchen as Nico recounted the days when you spent most evenings in his bed. As Jack’s best friend, your sex life shouldn’t have mattered to Quinn, especially the stuff that you did back when you lived with Jack as you got your degree. But Quinn did care; in fact, he cared so much because now that you resided in Vancouver, you were doing the same thing with him. Gone were the moments of feeling special, that you were the one who helped him feel better during the darker days within the season. Craving your company and your bed as your sweet sweet cunt was the best therapy he could have ever gotten.
Because now he wasn’t special, Quinn was actually the second person you had been doing this with and he had seen the way that Nico had been looking at you all week. From the moment that the Swiss man walked into the house, his eyes seemed to settle on you for a little too long. So now knowing that there was something between you both, it all made sense to Quinn. He hadn’t bothered to ask before because he thought that he was just dreaming things up. But that sense of hope seemed to just bite him in the ass.
Quinn heard you walk into the room behind him “I didn’t think that you needed to know about a relationship that means nothing to me now.” You let out a sigh, watching him grab the tv remote before he started to flick through the channels “please Quinny.” You begged, wanting a response as you pulled your hoodie off of your head, leaving you in the little sundress that he loved so much.
But still, he remained focused on the screen that stood behind you “fine.” You grumbled, dropping onto your knees without a second thought. You knew he was mad but there was only so much that he could ignore when it came to you. And you weren’t above crawling to him, so that was what you did.
The dress you wore climbed up your ass revealing the white panties that you wore. Quinn’s eyes did break from the screen to you it but still, he didn’t talk and when you noticed him looking, his eyes went back to the screen. It took everything from him to not grunt. The sight of you on your knees was something he always loved “please Quinny I’m sorry.” You whined, letting your lips form a pout.
His fingers dug into his hand as he stayed quiet wanting you to work for his attention “you want me to suck your cock huh?” Your fingers were delicate against his shorts. The sound of your freshly manicured nails against his waistband.
He licked his lips when you pulled his shorts and boxers down to let his cock spring up against his pubic bone “god Quinn please just talk to me.” You begged, pumping his cock in your hand.
His silence made you feel bad, as if your past relationship was something that could have been held against you. So you licked at his cock as if he was your lollipop, your tongue swirled around the head of his cock. Hoping, almost even praying that you’d draw out a response from him, when you weren’t even sure if you got a cut breath.
Quinn had done this before, ignored you until he thought that you had sucked his cock well enough to be spoken to again. So as you looked back up at him you set yourself the challenge of breaking him sooner than you ever had done before.
You wrapped your lips around his cock, arching your back in a way that allowed you to take his cock much easier than normal. He felt your tongue run along the underside of his cock as your nostrils flared. His head rested against the cushion behind him while he gripped at the remote trying to not show you the effect that you really did have on him too early on.
Your mouth felt like your cunt to him when he was desperate to just feel you so now when you were all methodical it was close to sending him over the edge especially as your eyes remained on him. When your hands reached down to massage his balls, he stopped you, one hand went on top of your as the other pressed on the back of your head forcing you to hit his pubic bone with your nose.
Quinn loved the feeling and the soft effects as you gagged on his cunt and as he watched the replay of the tennis game on the tv in front of him he couldn’t help but begin to fuck your throat. The feeling your mouth gave him was addictive, like he had morphed you into his personal toy.
The walls of your throat tightened around his cock but with how harshly he fucked your throat Quinn barely felt it. Even in his state of getting have your mouth at entirely his own mercy, he still noticed what happened around him. That is why he saw your free hand leave his thigh before travelling between your own legs.
Your panties came down to your knees as your clit ached for attention. But you knew that you couldn’t give into yourself, not until you had earned it. The sounds of your own gags had you focusing on Quinn. You weren’t able to see his face with how he had positioned his hand on your head and you wondered if that was how he liked it.
But Quinn was strong, even if he fucked your throat like it was the last thing on earth. You weren’t going to hear him even squeak, even if that meant he was gnawing his own lip off in the process. His throbbed as precum oozed into your throat, not giving you a chance to savour that taste of it.
Your nails dug into the side of your thigh to keep you from rubbing at your clit, tears formed in your eyes because you wanted nothing more than to just make Quinn cum. At least then you’d get some kind of release, too. Your pleads came out muffled but even Quinn could make out that you were begging him to finally cum, it wasn’t going to be the last time of the night for him anyways.
He tugged at your hair when his thrusts became erratic. His thighs began to shake and he was dangerously close to cumming when he felt your tongue hit his balls. You wished you had a bigger mouth because then you would be able to take more of him. Quinn felt his jaw tense as you hollowed out your cheeks and shifted your legs back to let him thrust more freely. The boy watched in awe as the sounds of your whimpers and gags sent him over the edge.
Quinn loved the feeling of cumming down your throat, but on days like this he preferred to not let his thrusts slow until he has finished painting your mouth and throat with his release. That way some of it ends up on your tongue and eventually your mouth feels so full that he can’t even fuck you with any easy anymore.
He finally halted his movements to catch his breath as he let you have his cock comfortably in your mouth while he slightly turned your head to let breathe more comfortably. His eyes never trailed down to yours however, Quinn was far more entertained by the tennis on the screen, watching the players move with ease.
But when he turned you, your jaw began to grow slack, almost wanting to rest for what you knew would be a long night. The captain could feel that his thighs were damp and he originally thought it was just your saliva pooling onto his shorts, but instead, it was your tears.
At first, he worried that he had pushed you too far when he saw how your mascara was a goopy mess on your cheeks. Quinn was ready to pull you onto his lap and treat you like his princess for the rest of eternity if he had to. But as his cum slipped from your lips, Quinn watched how you caught it with your fingers. Trying to stealthily bring them back down to your cunt.
His hands ran through your hair as he held back a laugh, Quinn should have felt relieved in that moment but deep down he just knew that you were his little slut. He knew you were only teasing your clit as you waited for him to start fucking your throat.
So the captain decided to play nice as his cock felt hard again as he gripped at your hair, reforming your makeshift pony at the back of your head. Quinn wanted to smile feeling your free hand grip at his knee as you moved your head, causing his cock to throb at the feeling of your jaw tightening again.
His pace started off slow as he began to move his hips, still feeling a little bit sensitive from the first orgasm that he had. He watched your hand move making him wish that he could see how your fingers strummed against your clit. Sometimes, if there was a roadie when he desperately needed you, he’d get you on Facetime and make sure that your phone was set up so that he could see how your pretty face would react while you did a mix of rubbing at your clit and listening to his orders of how you needed to finger yourself.
It was what he thought of while he listened to you whimper against his cock, carefully focusing that you continued to pay more attention to him than yourself. He chewed at his cheek, desperate to touch you, but still he had to keep himself restrained.
Quinn listened to how you brought your fingers into your cunt, it was two because he was the only one who went for three. Your jaw tightened around him as your palm brushed against your clit.
You moaned again feeling how each of Quinn’s thrusts forced his cock past your uvula, somehow not causing you to gag. The room felt hot as you both settled into your own movements, each working towards your own orgasms. The captain made sure that he didn’t lift his hand from your head as he wanted to watch you, but you couldn’t know he was watching you. He imagined that it was his own hand getting you off as he let out the first grunt that was loud enough for you not to need to confirm it. You were finally breaking down his facade he out up that night, and you weren’t stopping there. You lapped at his dick, constantly making sure that he knew the sheer amount of work that you were putting in. Begging him without even having to say a word.
Those movements continued on of you fucking your hand and turning his cock into your new favourite lollipop until Quinn felt his chest heave when you cried, whimpering around him as you came down from your own high and trigger his own with his hand now running through your hair.
You were left in a puddle of your own mess, desperate to look at Quinn and how you made him feel “poor schatz.” The words made you freeze, whereas Quinn laughed with his sense of cold that sent a shiver down your spine “probably isn’t even turned on with how neglected she is.” That made Quinn pull your head off of his cock.
Strings of spit connected it to your mouth still “should we check your pretty fucking pussy to show him how you feel when I fuck your face like this?” Quinn smirked, watching you nod. To him, in that moment, you looked gorgeous with your ruined makeup, dishevelled hair, and that mix of saliva and cum on your chin.
The Canucks captain leaned down to run his fingers through your folds as he kissed you. It was the first time that night that he had done so, and you savoured that. Quinn could taste his release on your tongue, and he had to remind himself that you two were not alone when you moaned feeling his fingers against your slit. Nico’s eyes watched how Quinn’s fingers glistened with your release “what were you saying about how she is feeling today?” Quinn asked as he smirked “since I am feeling generous.” He licked his lips, looking back at you.
That blue dress that you wore was something Quinn wanted to rip off of you, but tonight he was going to play nice and show some self-restraint “why don’t you show Nico how well you suck cock now.” Quinn ran his fingers down your jaw before he turned your head to where Nico stood “schatz you don-” Nico went to tell you that you didn’t need to do what Quinn had said, but you were quicker than him.
The smile that formed on your face was the same one that had Quinn thinking that you were a fucking minx, his fucking minx. How was there a reality where you were this innocent girl, but that look on your face always had him thinking otherwise? As you stood up, Quinn helped you out of your panties as they needed a final kick before they were left on his floor. You turned to face Nico again, but you couldn’t even get one step before Quinn had to remind you of his expectations “nuh-uh, baby. I didn't say you could walk, now did I? You know better than that.” There was this sense of disappointment in his voice that made you frown as you dropped back onto your knees “I’m sorry.” Your lips formed a pout looking back at Quinn, almost scared to go to the older captain if the Canucks one was irritated with you.
But instead, he smiled “that’s okay, sweet girl.” He ran his fingers along your cheek making you lean into his touch “just go bring him over here, okay?” You looked eager as your eyes lit up when you acquired the task. Nico stood still, almost intimidated by the hold that Quinn had over you making it seem like you were some kind of prey that the boy had gotten as the American began to pump his cock with his hand watching how pretty your ass looked from this side of the dress. Your orgasm’s aftermath was present, glistening through your folds, making him lick his lips. Nico, on the other hand, watched you with a sense of curiosity; your days with him had him worshipping you, and it was not the other way round. He could see in your eyes that you were eager for him, for this. Your breasts were perfectly framed in the dress that Nico wondered if it was made for you “hi.” You smiled when you stopped at his feet.
Nico was quick to give you his hand to help you back onto your feet “hey.” He ran his fingers through your hair as he looked at you almost trying to see what else had changed when your fingers ran over his cock. His boner was present through his shorts. He may not have agreed with what Quinn was doing to you, but he couldn’t deny that you were hot. The Swiss man felt his head fall forward at your touch “you gonna let me suck your cock?” The words were so vulgar from your mouth making him feel so dirty but somehow Nico felt his brain turn off as his cock took over the thinking.
His hands were bigger than Quinn’s when he cupped your cheeks. You could taste his beer on his tongue, already comparing how it tasted to the one that Quinn preferred which was drier, Nico felt himself get carried away when he brought his one hand down your back; you had deepened the kiss so this felt natural. As his tongue fought with yours he let his hand continue down your back to your ass. He was purposeful with his touch, if he touched you, he wanted to feel all of you and that was how his hand ended up under your dress while he squeezed at your ass.
It made you moan loud enough for Quinn to hear as the Swiss man fondled your skin in his hand “I don’t remember saying you could touch her.” Quinn’s words made Nico pull away from you with a smirk as his lower lip was caught between your teeth “careful, Hughes your jealousy is showing.” Nico looked to the American as you reached down to grab his hand.
There was a look in your eyes that told him to keep calm and just let you lead the way. You stopped back at the couch, the simple two seater now felt tiny as Nico thought you were going to make him sit next to the Hughes boy in some sick kind of joke. Luckily for him, you didn’t let Nico stew in his misery for long, as you ended up back on your knees but on the couch next to Quinn. The only difference was that you were facing Nico as you used the arm of the sofa to lean against “she doesn’t like waiting Hischier.” Quinn teased looking at him for only a moment before he let his eyes fall back to the hem of your dress, it was just too long as it covered your sweet pussy that he wanted to see so desperately “who says I am making her wait.” Nico spat as he undid the button of his shorts before he pulled them down with his boxers.
You rubbed your thighs together as the thought of both boys fighting over you lit this fire in your pussy, the thoughts of them both fucking you made your mouth water as you didn’t know if you could even take both of them at once. But, boy, were you willing to try. Nico ran his hand over his cock, spreading his precum over the swollen head that was in front of your face “neeks let me.” Your voice was soft when you looked at him, bringing your hand over his before you brought your lips cock.
Nico watched as you did these pathetic little kitten licks, almost taunting him in the process. His hands gripped at your hair while he sent you a glare until Quinn did the first thing that Nico could actually agree with that day “just because you aren’t sucking my cock baby don’t mean that you can go off acting like a brat.” Quinn warned as he pushed your dress over your ass so he could hit your ass.
He lay a smack against your skin, making your eyes go wide as you moaned. Your body jolted, and as that happened, you took as much of Nico as you could in your mouth. Quinn smirked as he readjusted, letting his knees sit on the couch. He smirked as he watched your pussy flutter around nothing while his hand massaged your ass. He honestly thought that you were so cute doing this for him.
Quinn knew that you had your ass like that so he could get the perfect view of your cunt “fucking hell.” He ran his thumb over your slit while he smiled hearing you moan around Nico’s cock.
You almost felt conflicted, wanting to stretch your body to both boys. You wanted Nico in your throat and Quinn to be against you too “you can fuck her face.” He pumped his cock in his hand, resting his one foot on the floor.
Nico went to snap back but he was quickly stopped when Quinn slotted his cock into your cunt. Quickly bringing his hips against yours before you got a chance to adjust to his size. Your response was to tighten your throat around the head of Nico’s cock, digging your nails into his thighs.
It knocked the breath out of him as his hands tugged at your hair. You breathed through your nostrils, using Quinn’s thrusts to force Nico’s cock deeper into your throat. Quinn’s lips turned upright when he settled into a good pace “sweet girl you seen how good you sucking his cock?” Quinn cooed running his fingers over your ass as his fingers gripped at your hips.
Your cunt clenched around him as you looked up at Nico through your thick eyelashes. Nico ran his tongue over his lips feeling your tongue swirl around his cock before you let him hit deeper in your throat. The boy tried to pull away when you gagged but your fingers gripping at him was enough to stop him.
The pain in his thighs made his stomach tighten “fuck you are perfect.” Nico grunted hearing how the squelches of your cunt mixed with the gags of your mouth “and you thought she wasn’t a slut.” Quinn laughed, bringing his hand around to brush at your clit.
His cock throbbed against the slick walls of your cunt “she was waiting around for you to finally-” Quinn let out a moan watching how your back arched to get more of both cock “get unleashed by someone who could fuck her properly.” The American slapped your ass again making you whimper around Nico.
Nico would never have admitted it, but Nico used to think that your mouth was good, but now it was heavenly. You hollowed your cheeks as if his cock was a straw and you were drinking out of it “you wanna let him cum?” Quinn could see the look Nico gave you, how his lips were attacked by his teeth.
Swallowing his moans as he swore that you were going to make him cum harder than he ever had before. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded, begging for Nico to cum on your tongue. For him to mark your throat, even if Quinn had already done that twice before “then I think he should let you hear how well you are making him feel.” Quinn brought his fingers from your clit to your boob. Taking your wetness to spread it around your nipple.
You whimpered as your body began to shake “she’s so responsive.” Quinn licked his lips “cause you love hearing how much of a cockslut you are don’t ya?” Your muffled whimpers echoed off of the walls as you nodded.
Quinn stood back up straight bringing his hand back to your clit “didn’t think you used to be with such a rude boy before baby.” Quinn’s taunts finally broke Nico “don’t stop using your tongue like that.” Nico begged, letting his head fall back.
The Swissman was now relying on you and Quinn’s thrusts to allow him to fuck your throat. His stomach tightened as his hair threw slick with sweat “your perfect fucking mouth is bringing him close.” Quinn teased, forcing himself to control his thrusts, feeling that you were close. He was, too, but he wanted to watch Nico finish first.
It was a total stroke to his ego watching Nico nod “just like that.” He encouraged you to continue hollowing your cheeks as your eyes didn’t leave his face. Studying his every reaction “think you should ask if you can make a mess in her mouth.” Your cunt clenched around Quinn feeling his calloused fingers against your clit, the roughness sending shivers through your body “you gonna let me cum in your pretty throat schatz?” You moaned hearing the question as your mind felt disconnected from the pleasure that you felt.
Your brain was foggy and Quinn knew that you were just desperate to cum too at that point “you’re asking the wrong person Neeks.” Quinn’s tone fucked with the boy, urging him to react. With one step out of line, Nico knew that it was all going to be over for him tonight “you think I’m going to ask you?” Nico laughed as he shook his head.
But watching the younger captain remain quiet, the Devils captain realised he was serious “I’m not fucking-” Nico went to argue but Quinn was quick to cut him off “doll stop sucking his cock.” Even as you were focused on being used by both boys, Quinn’s order was something that you were almost hardwired to respond to.
So you begun to pull away as you made your lips form an o shape “fuck Quinn please.” Nico looked at the younger boy “I just wanna cum.” You whimpered at the thought of him spraying his messy ropes of release down your throat.
Quinn clicked his tongue “such a shame that it just isn’t good enough.” He sighed as he shrugged still letting your his hips hit the curve of your ass “try again.” The Hughes boy ordered holding his hand against your chest to remind Nico that he really could pull you off of him.
Nico was getting frustrated, desperate to cum “sir.” Your words were muffled, but as Nico looked down at you, he could see that you were trying to say something. You let your tongue move so that you could speak even with his cock in your mouth “sir.” Quinn let out a dark chuckle, seeing that Nico had heard you properly this time.
The Swissman thought about it as Quinn let you slowly move your mouth against his length, hoping to encourage him “I can pull her-” Quinn’s threat that came for a second time seemed to finally break the boy “fuck let me cum sir.” The words slipped from Nico’s tongue in a way that he almost didn’t even care about what he had just said.
Quinn nodded as he sucked at his teeth “sweet girl you can finish him off.” The Hughes boy cooed finally letting Nico cum. Nico would have cringed if he had been told that this is what he would be doing, but in that moment god he just wanted to cum “don’t stop yes!” Nico gasped, sticking your head against his pubic bone.
The little bit of hair that he had tickled your nose as he forced his hips against you desperate to cum. Desire filled his sense as he squirmed, screwing his eyes shut so that he could imagine that he was the one in your cunt.
It didn’t take him long to feel his hips jitter as his fingers dug into your scalp, the pain making you moan against his cock sending him over the edge. His grunts bounced off of the walls of the room, Quinn felt slightly grateful that his room was away from everyone else’s. It meant that nobody else was going to be interrupting you once Quinn got the Swiss man out of there.
The older boys cum painted your throat “fuck schatz.” He ran his thumb over your cheek to wipe away your tears. You went to let his cock slip from between your lips but Quinn pressed his hand against your head, forcing you to have Nico’s cock right in the back of your throat “be a good little thing and keep his cock in your mouth while I destroy your pussy.” Your ears rang as you felt your stomach tighten while your cunt clenched around him.
You swore that Quinn’s cock was bigger, hitting spots in your pussy you had never felt him hit before. So as the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot you couldn’t help but moan, watching Nico keep your head flush against his cock.
Quinn hit your ass as he scoffed “be a good girl and stay fucking quiet okay?” His pace seemed to get even quicker as he turned animalistic, practically fucking you senseless.
Nico and Quinn all of a sudden seemed to be on the same team with the Swiss man tugging at your hair each time you moaned which was usually followed by Quinn smacking your ass “someone is starting to be a good girl now.” You nodded, hearing Nico’s words as your thighs ached, burning while Quinn’s hands held you up “you’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” The Canucks captain gritted through his teeth.
He was painfully close but he would never let them know that it was the reason why Quinn was going to let you cum “because now you get to see how fucking pretty this slut is when she cums on my cock.” The American patted your back as his hips drove into you.
Your eyes rolled back in your head as your body spasmed, clenching around Quinn’s cock so hard you swore you could have broken it. He hissed feeling how your gummy walls cream around his dick, spurring on his own orgasm “holy fuck-” Quinn cut himself off when he shot his creamy load into your cunt.
Quinn finally slowed down his thrusts, pulling out of you to see that Nico had already slipped his cock out of your mouth “how you feeling pretty girl?” Nico asked watching you rest on your arms as your ass was in the air “fucked.” A soft laugh left your lips when he ran his fingers through your hair.
He nodded, slipping his cock back into his boxers and shorts before he looked between you and Quinn “think I’ll get this one to bed.” Quinn ran his fingers along your back, making you shiver.
The Swiss man pursed his lips together “goodnight, you two.”Nico knew he had lost when he saw that you were so free “we will see you in the morning.” Quinn didn’t give two shits if Nico was taking this maturely and with grace, the Hughes boy wanted to have more of you and this time privately.
Nico stood at the door looking at you both “and if when you come back to Jersey.” He let his lips form a smirk “make sure to bring her along too.” Nico shot you a wink before he finally walked out of the room.
The door shut behind him as you looked at Quinn “he really meant nothing.” You sighed sitting flat on your ass when Quinn joined you “I mean we fucked a few times while I was there but it was just when we both needed someone.” That confession made his nostrils flare because that was what you both currently boiled down to.
After wins, defeats, lonely nights when he just didn’t want to be at his place, Quinn was at yours “you really mean that?” Quinn tucked your hair behind your ear as you nodded “and I haven’t spoken to him since I left because he had gotten a girlfriend.” Your words seemed to light a fire beneath him.
Did you really mean that if Nico didn’t have a girlfriend when you left, things would have been different? That you’d be in the Swissmans’ room as opposed to Quinns? Surely, you wanted Quinn the way he wanted you? Quinn shook his head as he kissed you, starting with your shoulder, slowly making his way up your jaw “Quinny.” You moaned, moving into his lap as if you were desperate to kiss him.
Quinn smiled as he brought his hands up your sides “hey pretty girl.” He cooed, hooking his fingers in the straps of your dress. He sucked at his teeth pulling them down your arms to reveal your pretty perky tits that bounced as if they praised Quinn for releasing them. You felt your cheeks grow hot “not fair, you’re still in this.” You softly laughed as you ran your fingers along the hem of his shirt.
He wasn’t going to argue; he didn’t want to argue with you, so he took his shirt off and as he did that, you pulled your dress off. Now you both sat there naked, but somehow you were feeling the most vulnerable that you had ever felt in front of someone “kissy?” You begged, running your fingers over his lips, making him smile.
The boy took your jaw between your fingers so that he could kiss you. There was no lust driving this kiss, there was just a want to be close to one another. Quinn’s tongue and fought with yours, it was this fight of back and forth that ended as he squeezed your ass in his hand.
A moan escaped from your lips as he smirked, his hands moved to your glutes so that he could pick you up. Your legs instantly wrapped around his hips when he stood, locking behind his back as if he was going to drop you since he focused on how your lips felt against his. He walked you back to the bed with such ease that if this was a Quinn, you didn’t know you would have been impressed. The boy dropped you onto the bed as if you were nothing more than his phone or wallet, watching how your breasts bounced when you landed on the soft mattress. Quinn smiled in awe, drinking in the sight of you naked and practically calling for him to come to you.
So the boy let his knees hit the bed, mattress dipping as you felt your mouth water “you gonna let me fuck this pussy again?” His words made you squirm as you forced your thighs together until his hand managed to get caught between them “can’t do that if you shut your legs on me, sweet girl.” Quinn made it seem so easy as his words turned you into putty, and with a deep breath, you let your thighs open again.
Allowing the boy to be faced with your cunt that so glistened for him “please Quinn.” You whined, wanting some kind of friction or move from him “please what?” The captain knew what you wanted, but you were going to have to spell it out to him if you wanted any kind of success tonight.
You chewed at your lip while your hands trailed over your nipples, which made him flick your thigh “use your words to ask me, or else I am gonna make sure you can’t touch anything.” His belt sat on the floor and you knew that Quinn wasn’t above using it and you weren’t in the mood to test him tonight “wanna watch you fuck me please.” Your works made him lick his lips, the offer was so inviting that he didn’t know how any sane person would turn it down.
So the boy made light work of moving you so that he could sit between your legs “such a well mannered girl.” The boy complimented you as he ran his fingers across your stomach. Your breath hitched, watching him move his torso so that he hovered over you “kiss?” He asked, puckering his lips as he watched you crack a grin. You nodded and this time the kiss was soft, you could have sworn there was love in it even as you gasped at the feeling of his cock’s head lazily dragged over your clit.
Quinn softly bit down on your lower lip when he let his cock sink into your cunt “fucking hell.” Your eyes screwed shut feeling how he felt letting your cunt cling to every inch of his dick “you feel so good.” Quinn confessed, kissing your forehead as he rolled his hips into yours.
You opened your eyes to see him hovering over you “w-want more.” You begged, feeling like the world around you had been sucked into this room leaving you as the only two people that mattered “is that so?” He asked with a smirk, letting his pace pick back up to what it was when you were on the couch.
In that moment you knew you sounded like a porn star but you didn’t even care. Gripping at your tits as you bounced with each thrust like he was going to fuck you into his bed “never gonna get over this perfect pussy.” Quinn let his head drop against your shoulder, his teeth grazing at your skin.
It was clear that both of you were still sensitive from your previous orgasms of the night as a slew of incoherent curses came from your lips “fuck I want it forever.” The captain confessed letting his cock ram into your cunt while he picked up your leg to bring it over his shoulder “you gonna let me have it sweetheart?” Quinn teased letting himself fuck your cunt even deeper than he had before.
Whimpers escaped from your lips as you nodded “please.” You mumbled feeling his one hand travel down to your slit. Pressing against your pelvis while his fingers toyed with that sensitive bud “what was that?” Quinn smirked, bringing his other hand up to your throat.
Pressing his thumb and middle fingers against the sides of your neck, “couldn’t hear ya.” He brought his face down to yours as he nipped at your jaw.
Softly sucking at your skin, it felt like a stark contrast to the abuse he was inflicting on your pussy “it’s yours Quinn.” You nodded and in that moment the American swore he was ready to cum and let his body give out from above you “fuck you are so dangerous.” He grunted letting out a hiss as your cunt clenched around him.
The boy could see it in your eyes “you gonna cum?” Quinn asked speeding up his fingers against your clit. You couldn’t get out a solid response just a string of whimpers as you nodded “make a mess on my cock so I can fuck you full.” His eyes traveled to your breasts, which he thought about growing bigger.
Neither one of you wanted kids at the moment, but that would be the truest act of staking his claim on you “go on.” He sucked at your ear lobe as your moans echoed against the walls of the room.
You should have felt embarrassed thinking about what this room had seen tonight, but instead you were arching your back while your free leg pressed against his lower back keeping him close to you. You cried feeling yourself cum as white spots scattered across your eyelids when you screwed them shut. Quinn couldn’t last when you squirmed, feeling your cunt flutter around his cock “just like that.” He nodded, chatting out those words while his cum coated the walls of your cunt.
Quinn moved his head so that he could kiss you as his thrusts came to a halt when you smiled “there you are pretty girl.” He mumbled pulling his cock out while he sat up to study you like a piece of art, his art.
His eyes burned into your pussy making you push yourself onto your elbows “what?” You cocked your head seeing him smile “I need to clean you up but don’t want to ruin this just yet.” The boy huffed as he got up off of the bed.
Before you could offer any kind of protest, he scooped you into his arms and brought you into his ensuite.
It was a room you knew fairly well, but usually, you were sneaking back to your own one at this point “something on your mind?” He asked, feeling you staring at him as he ran the rag into the tap “like this side of you.” Your confession made your cheeks turn red as he smiled, turning to look at you.
Quinn moved to be in between your legs as the warm cloth ran against your slit “think that you have one more in you?” The question was genuine, as he didn’t want to push you too far.
But you nodded “what do you have in mind?” He held his hand out to pull you off of the counter. Quickly turned you around as you instinctively spread your legs for him “you wanna watch how your boy fucks this pussy?” Quinn smirked running his now hard again dick against your clit.
Your head fell forward but still your eyes remained on him “fuck me like you mean it captain.” Oh, you were going to be the death of him, but he couldn’t have cared.
In fact, Quinn was ready to dig his grave for you because this man was yours.
[30.2k]
Pairing | Jack Hughes x afab!reader
Summary | how does one guy go from wanting everything to do with someone, to nothing at all? Jack didn’t know what he wanted until he started losing to Trevor, but maybe that was a good thing.
Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to lovers, angst, jealousy, fluff, swearing, grumpy x sunshine-ish, underage drinking, mention of mildly-dysfunctional family, hickeys, backshots, mild choking, masturbation implication, praise kink, hair pulling, making out, protected p in v, pet names (angel, sweetheart)
Authors Note | this is my first Jack fic please bear with🫶. Another slow burn, sorry. This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes
♫ the spins - mac miller
[small worlds masterlist]
Jack's heart stopped and he gulped. Never in his thirteen years of living had he come face to face with someone whose stare was more bone-shaking than his older brother, Quinn's. He'd never felt apprehensive about someone else, hockey eliminated that the moment he learnt to skate as a small child. Y/n L/n had been in every class of his since he could remember. In the frozen suburbs of Toronto, she lived a few houses away from his, took the same bus and could only recall two occasions where he’d seen her smile: with her friends at lunch and watching guys like him suffer misfortune. Then they were project partners for their literature class, and neither had been too pleased with the decision.
Jack slid into the empty seat next to her with a grin smeared across his face and a chewed pen between his fingers. His nerves hadn't dissipated as he had hoped, the neat formatting of her notes and their quality only made his heart pound harder. Her face didn't move but her eyes scanned his face, finishing with a stone gaze into his pretty, blue eyes. That was one thing she had to give him, his eyes were beautiful, vibrant and lined with long, thick lashes that she wished she had.
“Do you like literature, y/n?” he asked. He had far too much confidence in himself, an ego some would say. He was used to people just agreeing and following him like a prince, bowing at his words. The girls would fawn and twirl their hair, the guys dying to hang out with him. Jack was popular because he was charming, friendly and social. But he was also a teenage boy, so the world was also his territory, and everyone was just in it.
“Yes.” She squinted cautiously, grip on her pen tightening.
“Perfect! How about you do the parts you're good at, and I do the speaking? Does that sound good?”
“Sounds like a ‘get out of jail free card’, Jack. We're splitting it fifty-fifty. Drop it and let's start brainstorming.” She spat, opening his notebook for him and refusing to drop her glare.
He groaned, slamming his head onto the desk. “What do you mean ‘drop it’? Drop what? My pants? Because I didn't know you were that kinda gal-”
“-The act, Mr. Eighty-Percent Average Score. I want a good grade and you're a hockey player, you need good grades, or you'll be benched, right?” She deadpanned and started jotting down ideas in her notebook. Sometimes having a troublesome brother in hockey had benefits, but most of the time it didn’t.
“How did you…huh? How do you know that? Did Quinn tell you that? That little rat-” he jolted when her palm slapped the back of his head, not hard but enough to get him to shut up.
“What was that for? All right Sunshine, what is your problem?”
Her hand grabbed the collar of his burgundy hoodie, a fire burning in her eyes as she seethed. “My problem is some of us don't have set futures and need school, Hughes. So shut up, do as you're told and let's get this project over with so we can both go back to enjoying our lives. And get this idea that you call the shots here just because you're popular out of your head. You're no more special than anyone else while at school."
She let go and leant back, returning to her notes as if nothing had happened. Jack didn't adjust his collar. He didn't laugh, cry or yell. His cheeks burned pink with wide eyes, and his stomach doing flips. If he could replay that moment again, he would. No one had spoken to him like that before, not even his family. She was out for his blood. Some of his friends would call her unpleasant, others would disagree and say that Jack was lucky to be partnered with someone as cool as her, someone who didn’t take shit from people and got things done. They’d grown up in the same schools, of course, he’d heard the stories about y/n being voted ‘most fearless’ because she wasn’t afraid of having a backbone or watched her hit another girl because she stole her friend’s juice box. She wasn’t unpleasant, Jack would’ve done the same, and that’s why he wasn't even angry, but his respect for her peaked and intrigue bursting at its seams. But the guilt lingered. His first ever proper interaction, conversation with just the two of them (aside from small talk over the years) and he may have just fucked everything up when they were supposed to get along and cooperate. But why did he feel guilty.
“Do you hate me?” he blurted out quietly, watching her pause mid-sentence. If she was out for his blood, what did he do that was so bad? Or what had she heard?
“No,” she turned her head to face him, “I have no reason to hate you…yet. You're just annoying and stupid if you think I’ll let you sit back while I do this alone. We're doing our presentation on symbolism, by the way.”
“Am not, control freak,” he grumbled, muscles relaxing at the fact he wasn't rejected, God forbid he was rejected by someone cool, that would be embarrassing. He pulled his seat in and started copying the notes she'd scribbled for him, “but yes ma'am.”
*
Maybe some people aren’t meant to be. Not even as friends. After almost getting choked on Monday, Jack hadn’t learnt much from his experience. On Tuesday he spilt water over y/n’s notes, and while he profusely apologised, he was punished with silent treatment and no guidance on their project. Wednesday, she had sought him out over lunch, hoping to retrieve the notes he borrowed but as she found him at his locker, he slammed the door into her face on accident and the only thing he could do after that was slam his head into the wall, repeating ‘idiot’ to himself. But Thursday was the worst. The winters were vicious in Toronto, so attempting to navigate the ice was a task. Fortunately, the school set grit over the concrete, but over time the snow would deflate into sludge as everyone trampled over it. Y/n had been carefully making her way to the bus, trying to work with the crowd and not slip in front of everyone. Jack was late, in too much of a panic to be thoughtful. He just didn’t want to be late for hockey practice. Without looking, he’d stormed through the crowds and shoved past y/n, but he tripped and took her down with him, the pair tumbling into the sludge, soaking wet and cold through their clothes. When Jack realised who it was screaming ‘asshole!’ at him shooting daggers into his soul, he learned that his coach was, in fact, not the scariest person he knew.
Since Monday, the week was supposed to be easy after processing the partnerships, yet on Friday, y/n still found herself in her seat doing more than fifty per cent of the research while Jack talked endlessly to his friend across the classroom, laughing at YouTube references and memes that only thirteen-year-old-boys would find funny. She knew Jack was doing it on purpose, he was more than capable of contributing, she’d seen his previous presentations and other projects. Was it her? She wondered if she’d been too aggressive, too moody with him to the extent that she was just off-putting or that he found it amusing. Perhaps if she’d been a bit kinder, they would be getting along like the rest of their class, laughing and chatting with each other instead of him flinging rubber bands at his friends while she stuck her nose in her notebook, worrying about how she’d get all the work done solo (because she wasn’t holding out for hope). Truth be told, she had as much passion as a night-shift worker, not because of Jack, but who liked doing graded presentations at the start of the school year?
“Will you please turn around and shut up?” she whined, tugging on his hoodie sleeve with a tired pain in her voice, “You’re so rowdy.”
Giggling, Jack turned around in his seat, satisfied with the torment he’d caused his friends and with a wide grin. He’d taken time to reflect on their interactions, even asking Quinn what he’d do to redeem himself (after calling him the grumpiest man alive). He did come across as arrogant, he admitted to that. He wasn’t expecting her to know about the school and hockey relationship and really wasn’t expecting to be choked by his collar and humbled publicly. That’s why he decided he liked her; she was a cool girl in his world who didn’t care about who he was. He didn’t know any girls like y/n, not that she wasn’t like other girls, but other girls he surrounded himself with didn’t hiss in his face and spit his name like it was poison in her mouth.
“Sorry, Sunshine,” he saluted, continuing his part of the project in an awkward silence. Jack’s knees bounced, the air between the pair so quiet he could hear his breathing echoing in his ears, mouth itching to talk about anything but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing again. He watched her from the corner of his eye, even in a neutral state she looked jarred, lips in a permanent downward fall. His friends called it a ‘resting bitch face’, but she had every reason to be a bitch to him, after all, he had pretty much embarrassed and driven her up the wall all week. He sighed, turning his attention back onto the text she chose to study, annotating parts he thought would suit the instruction she’d given him.
“I’m sorry for choking you. And snapping at you.” He whipped his head around in surprise, her eyes hadn’t moved from her notes, but her tone was soft, the softest she’d sounded to his memory. She peered over to him apprehensively, almost shocked at his silence.
He blinked twice, out of the two of them it should have been him apologising first. His lips tugged into a small smile, “I deserved it. I’m sorry for being an ass and hitting you with my locker, and knocking you in sludge and overall, just being annoying. You have every right to hate me.”
Sitting up straight, y/n’s gaze softened for the first time, “Jack, I don’t hate you. For the sake of this project, how about we start over?” she held her hand out, “Pleasure to be working with you, Rowdy. Let’s do this fifty-fifty and that way we both benefit.”
He shook her hand, his almost engulfing hers, but he thought it was cute, “You too, Sunshine. So, uh…how are we gonna do this? Because we’re kinda slacking on all grounds. Like, we know each other and where we live, and that we take the same bus, yeah, but like…not anything, uh, personal like your favourite colour.”
“Well, my favourite colour is red, I like hot chocolate with marshmallows and my favourite hockey team is the Maple Leafs.” She said, doing her best to start some sort of icebreaker to at least make conversation easier. They should have done this from the start like others would have but he was arrogant, and she was up tight. Just because you’ve grown up in the same proximity as someone doesn’t always make you friends.
Jack’s eyes lit up, “No way! My favourite hockey team are the Leafs too! Lemme think…uh…my favourite meal is steak; I love watching movies and my dream is to make it to the NHL.”
“Cool. That’s a lot of weight to carry,” he nodded enthusiastically at her, “but you’re the kinda guy who could, Hughes. Anyway, what have you done for this shitty project?” she peeked at his notebook, brushing over the fact Jack was grinning like an idiot at his breakthrough. It was a start, but at least she wasn’t insulting him anymore and they were talking with their walls down, no weapons. He opened his mouth but immediately closed it, scratching the back of his neck. Her notes were always so direct and neat and his were a mess, not even he could understand what he was saying half the time.
“What the hell am I reading, Jack?” her smile dropped, and her deadpan humiliated him alone. He sunk into his chair, he did his best, he really had, but unlike in hockey, the school was a flow he just couldn’t enter. “We have a lot of work to do. Hope you’re free over lunch next week.”
“Or we could do it at my house. Do you wanna come over?”
“Not really,” she said flatly, looking him in the eye.
“Please, there’s too much happening at school and doing it at my house - or yours - would be so much better. Think about it, I won’t get distracted~”
She chewed her cheek, watching his toothy grin widen. If he weren’t a charmer she would’ve made her decision more quickly, but Jack had this effect to him where it was almost impossible to resist, whether you liked him or not. He had a point, in his home he wouldn't be hollering across the room or fidgeting in his seat. Anyway, it would be a good opportunity for them to bond.
She sighed, and hung her head, “Fiiiine. Are Sundays, okay?”
He nodded urgently, perhaps more excited than he should have been, but getting her to give in and try to hang out outside school felt like a win. He just wanted to know if her walls were always enforced up high or if it was a school thing.
*
The first Sunday crept quicker than she would have liked. Although the Hughes' house looked no different than hers, the dahlias in the front garden were twice as pretty, a small part of her hoped the frost would never hit them, reflecting the joyful souls of the Hughes family. Y/n stood on the doorstep, rucksack slung on her shoulder and rollerblades in her hand. When Jack had told her to bring them, she asked why but in typical Jack manner, his answer was vague, ‘Please just bring them!’, but she listened anyway, dreading what kind of ideas were running through his mind when they were supposed to be working on their project. After all, the faster they submitted it, the sooner they could return to their lives.
She lost track of how long she’d been standing there, he probably thought she’d ditched him by how long she’d been mustering up the nerves to knock but the reality of the situation, her reality, she was processing how there was no muffled noise coming from behind the door.
For a home of five, it was as quiet as a zen garden. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised; most families were quiet. She never had to look where she was going on her way home, she always heard her family before she saw them, whether outside the front door or somewhere in the house. The yelling never stopped, so standing outside Jack’s house took the weight off her chest and she could feel the September breeze in her hair.
She knocked timidly, listening to footsteps barrel through the house from the other side and a muffled ‘Quinn don’t you dare answer that!’ however when the door opened it wasn’t Jack’s excited, puppy-like self. She’d never looked at him properly, but y/n blinked twice at Quinn standing before her. He was a lot better looking than Jack made out, the opposite of Jack: dark hair, taller, broad shoulders and his eyes were a duller blue compared to Jack’s vibrant ones. He smiled kindly as Jack shoved past him, shooing him out of the way and muttering at him to leave them alone.
“I told you not to answer! I had it!” Jack whined at his older brother, pushing him to the side.
“I didn’t know you were inviting your girlfriend over, why didn’t you just say so?” Quinn teased, letting Jack move him. To him, seeing Jack so ecstatic over a girl wasn’t new, Jack had had short-lived girlfriends since he was eleven, not understanding the difference between validating attention and love yet but y/n with the hard gaze was the first girl he invited into his home. The kind of girl Quinn least expected since she didn’t seem happy to be in their home, unfazed by Jack’s playful behaviour and glint in his eye. That was new and part of him felt old seeing his little brother grow up so fast.
“She’s not my girlfriend, assface!” Jack growled, his face heating up.
“Ugh, as if.” She scoffed at the same time before fully processing the smirk on Quinn’s face. Jack girlfriend? Is that how it looked to others? A boy and a girl hanging out as children was fine but the moment, they hit their teens it meant they were all over each other. She imagined what it would be like if she were to be his girlfriend, until she caught herself in the act, what kind of demon possessed her even to have such a fleeting thought? Curiosity? Or maybe it would be funny seeing the reactions of others, seeing him with someone they least expected. Y/n’s breath hitched, heat rising to her cheeks but less noticeably than rosy red Jack who started swatting Quinn.
“Ignore him, y/n, let’s go do this project.” He emphasised to his brother.
Jack gently took her by the sleeve, pulling her into his hallway and impatiently waiting for her to slip her shoes off and leave her rollerblades before leading her upstairs. She glanced behind her, giving Quinn a shy wave which he returned as Jack led her further, weaving around stray hockey gloves and shoes on the stairs and reappearing into a simple hallway. The layout couldn’t have been more unfamiliar to her home, the walls were highly decorated with family photos, more of the boys than anyone else. Quinn, Jack and Luke, the youngest, clad in mostly hockey gear but the occasional casual photo, some even of them piled on top of each other. The landing was nothing special, a single strip with one bedroom facing the street, one next to the stairs with another opposite and the master facing into the garden, bathrooms in between.
Jack pointed to the room next to the stairs, “that’s Quinn’s room,” then to the room at the back of the house, “that’s my parents,” then to the front, “that’s Lukey’s,” and eventually ushered her to the room opposite Quinn’s, opening the door and giving her a grand reveal, “and this is mine!”
Y/n shuffled in, taking in the personality of the room. It wasn’t big, nor a box room but the grey walls made it feel smaller than it was. A double bed pushed against the wall, a desk next to it and opposite those were a chest of drawers and a wardrobe crammed snugly. It was the kind of room that someone who didn’t spend a lot of time in would have, the only elements saving it from a show home were the hockey posters and awards on the walls and surfaces, a hockey helmet on top of the wardrobe with gloves and skates scattered under the bed. But the one part that stuck out the most while she moseyed around, was the framed photo on his desk. A recent picture of him and his brothers together, void of smiles and Jack wearing the burgundy coat the day he knocked her into sludge, Quinn in the grey hoodie she just saw him in and Luke in, what she assumed, some sort of blue university fleece with an ‘M’ on the chest. She stifled a chuckle, only Jack would wear full burgundy, but it was no better than the photo of her, her younger brother and her dad at her cousin's wedding, all three of them miserable and her dad nursing a hangover (pre-drinks with the boys before the wedding was not his and the relative’s greatest idea for some of their ages). But this photo of Jack had something endearing to it, and proof that he wasn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time.
Jack crept behind her, peeking over her shoulder and speaking quietly next to her ear, “We all got a copy of that one. It’s also on the stairs. Mum thinks it’s hilarious because before it was taken, Dad had us shovelling snow for thirty minutes before a two-hour evening hockey practice.”
It hadn’t occurred to her how he felt the need to stand so close to her until then, his voice practically sinking into her skin as if she were wearing headphones rather than listening to him through a speaker. It wasn’t that she hated it, it was just…new. He wasn’t smirking, his hands were in his jean’s pockets and the way his popular-kid demeanour plummeted when talking about his brothers was like she had met an entirely different person. It’s crazy how getting someone in a different environment can lower their mask. It made him loveable and the longer they stood there, close together, the less she hated the idea of being around him. It was almost comforting to share family stories, the information that anyone who hadn’t seen the photo wouldn’t know.
She nodded, her rucksack strap dropping from her shoulder and into her hand as she turned to him, looking up at his smiling face. Okay, he was a lot taller up close, or well to her at least, and he seemed to enjoy looking at her face as she swore his eyes had a sparkle in them.
“Where do you want me to sit?” she asked, casually.
For a second he thought he saw her crack. She was the only person who’d seen the photo, he’d usually put it away for safety when his friends came over since a couple of them had a thing for pillow fights at three in the morning. Letting her into his world and sharing his secrets would surely get her out of her shell, he was convinced that if he dropped his mask, she’d drop hers. He imagined what that would be like as she turned to him, and what it would be like if she looked in his eyes brightly all the time, shamelessly in the school hallways without anyone to ruin it. But her voice jolted him like he had been shaken by its shoulders and the real world was back to ground him, “Uh- right- project, you can take the desk I’ll sit on my bed. What, uh, time do you need to be home…by the…way?”
She sat on his office chair and set up her stationary, not looking at him when she replied,
“Probably seven at the latest, usually when dinner is but I can leave whenever you want me to. I’m just a few houses away.”
He grinned. That gave him a perfect amount of time to begin his plan if they didn’t spend the whole day on the project, which was likely considering his attention span went haywire in her presence. He couldn’t explain why, only that there was something about her gloom had him infatuated. Partnered projects weren’t for everyone, he knew that. He loved them, the bouncing, the company, getting away with not doing anything because he did all the talking but he also knew some people despised them entirely because of people like him, slackers, yappers, people who didn’t view them as real assessments because they weren’t pen and paper. Jack was the first and y/n was the latter, but for some reason, he wanted to be bossed about, wanted to work and perhaps see things from her world, hear her talk more.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, maybe if he showed her to loosen up, she wouldn’t get stressed over it but if he tightened up, he could learn a skill or two and they’d find a balance.
Usually after two hours of unbroken work focus, Jack would groan in despair out of restlessness and boredom, but in the two hours that passed, both parties had completed a lot. They’d managed to negotiate roles, y/n would endure the tedious theory research elements while Jack focused on analysing and piecing together their text passage and the theories she’d found. It wasn’t fun, but they’d caught up with the rest of their class and were safe, and on track. She wouldn’t have to work into the night, and he wouldn’t have to risk skipping his social life. Jack had to admit, and he couldn’t lie, that working with her, even in silence, wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. They chatted here and there about life when they let their brains rest, she didn’t insult him, and he didn’t annoy her. They found a balance, and he’d learnt a bit more about y/n, like how she couldn’t ice skate but could rollerblade, how she forgot to blink when in a hyperfocus or that she didn’t like talking too much because she’s worried, she’d overshare and weird people out. Which did hit him in the gut when she casually expressed it, because he didn’t think anyone should hold themselves back from being true to themselves.
With his notebook and pens abandoned on his bedsheets, he sat crossed-legged, watching her scribble down quick notes from a website, “So, you used to talk a lot but since your friends just…never reacted or made snarky comments, you just thought to reign it in? What do you talk about?”
“Yup. Can be a yapper in the right environment, but now all we talk about is school, the news or things they’re into. They don’t even try to give context to those who have no idea what’s going on. It’s not a big deal though, most of them are going to a different high school than me so I’ll make new friends.” She explained with a sigh, finishing her notes and swivelling in his chair to face him. Talking to him as if they were friends felt refreshing, she only got to talk to one or two people this way, and those were the two friends going to the same high school as her. Neighbours would say that she and Jack should’ve been friends from toddlers since they’d grown up together on the same street, same kindergarten, same elementary and now coming to the last year of the same middle school but Jack was an outdoors kid always participating in some sort of sport with the other kids, y/n preferred the indoors, quietly finding hobbies and watching from the window. The only reason they’d recognised each other in elementary school was because Ellen had once dropped by to gift her mum, flowers as a thank you for something, and Jack happened to be with her, y/n locking eyes with him as she was walking through the house.
“Well, you can always talk to me, I’ll be your friend. We’ve known of each other for years, our mums help each other garden for God’s sake so we’re not completely strangers…” he fiddled with the chewed pen in his lap, “besides, I have two brothers and some…unique friends, nothing you do or say could weird me out.”
She sat in silence, watching him struggle to make eye contact with her for the first time like he was nervous about what she would say. He was probably expecting her to chew him up, brush him off but he had a point. They had been neighbours their whole lives, and if she played outside more, they would have been better acquainted. But her middle school friendships were fickle, and immature, in their eyes, she was the weird kid and only because her interests differed slightly, and more people gravitated towards her, girls and boys alike. And when that happens in a friend group of eleven to fourteen-year-olds, you’re the odd one out, people get jealous and there’s only so much artificial solidarity to go around sometimes. So, she changed and tried to scare people away so she could fit in again and survive and it worked. Until Jack Hughes wiggled his way into the picture.
Why is Jack talking to you? You know I like him.
That’s so unfair!
Befriending your friend's crush? Low y/n, so low.
“I appreciate your kindness, but that’s a terrible idea.” She deadpanned, leaning back in the chair, a pang of regret striking through her upon seeing his shoulders slump.
He looked up with confusion written on his face, “What, why?”
“Because you’re Jack Hughes. Popular, charming Jack Hughes who everybody wants to be friends with. And I’m miserable y/n, my friends would throw me to the curb if I started hanging out with you suddenly. Actually, they would accuse me of betraying them and think something is going on between us. Petty shit.”
“But I like miserable y/n, you’re not even miserable. But why would it be a betrayal? Unless your friends got a crush or something-” the pieces clicked in his head, “-oh. I see. Well, think of it positively, would you rather have a group of friends who make you have to pretend to be miserable or have one friend who actually makes you miserable?”
She tried so hard to suppress a giggle but seeing him gesture to himself when making humour of the conversation made it impossible and she let the giggle out. Only Jack could say that, and it be funny, as self-deprecating as the joke was, it came from a good place. Jack’s head however emptied, and his chest exploded, a giddy feeling jerking his nerves hearing her giggle because of him (and not because he was getting punished or dumped in the hallway). He didn’t fuss over it, he didn’t want her to stop because he’d brought her guard down, so he giggled with her.
“I guess I would rather have one friend that makes me miserable.”
“Correct answer!” he mused, all project work was abandoned, and it was clear to them both that they were done for the day. “Well, now we’re friends, do you wanna go play street hockey? That’s why I asked you to bring rollerblades, we’re gonna hang out.”
“So, doing the project was just a front for getting me to hang out with you?” she began to pack her stationary into her rucksack while he pushed his onto the floor. He’d clear it up later if he remembered.
“Uh-huh,” he nodded proudly, “I thought that if we hung out, we could get to know each other better, do something fun.”
He was almost falling off his bed in excitement, waiting for her to agree and play with him. Was he this eager with everyone? No one had ever been that desperate to be friends with her, most people weren’t that desperate. She opened her mouth to decline, but he’d spent the past two hours forcing himself to focus on their schoolwork, do as he was told, and listen to her intently even though she knew he was getting restless and bored, she owed him at least an hour of her time.
“Okay, but only for a little bit. I’m not great like you so go easy.” A smile was all it took for Jack to leap up, take her by the sleeve, drag her through his bedroom door (almost knocking Luke over in the process) and into his hall again.
*
What was supposed to be just an hour, so she told herself, turned out to be three hours of non-stop street hockey. Two beaten-up goals outside his house and two laughing teenagers clad in gloves and rollerblades, hockey sticks hitting each other for the plastic ball that dragged and rattled across the concrete. Neither had been keeping track of the time, they were too engrossed in trying to beat each other, especially y/n, who forced Jack to go easy on her just so she could at least have a chance.
It wasn’t often she got to participate in something like street hockey with someone, a lot of her social life was talking and not a lot of experiencing. She didn’t even hang out with her brother like the Hughes boys did, but her brother was far more interested in golf or playing FIFA with his friends or causing trouble at school. When they were younger, she and her brother used to spend hours playing basketball in the garden, so much so that eventually the hoop fell off and that was the end of it. Or they used to play video games together, getting so competitive in Wii Sports that her brother would start crying if he lost. Those were ephemeral days stuck in a memory loop, but playing hockey with Jack freed the same adrenaline rush that made the world feel brighter and hopeful like living for yourself was worth it.
She closed in on Jack’s goal, readying herself to take the shot, sheer confidence across her face until he swooped in and blocked the shot, stealing the ball from her possession and skating towards the other end.
“Jaaack,” she groaned, “you’re such a dick, I almost had that!”
His triumphant laughter echoed through the neighbourhood as he closed in on her goal,
“You don’t sound so happy, Sunshine, why don’t you come to show me who’s the boss, huh?”
She clicked her tongue playfully, getting a burst of energy as she approached Jack. She could have knocked him out of the way, blocked his shot, or broken any of the standard rules but she was having the time of her life and Jack hadn’t stopped smiling since she agreed. Y/n tossed her stick to the side, dropped her gloves and grabbed the back of his hoodie, pulling herself closer to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, sending them both crashing to the floor, equipment scattered but both players laughing and playfighting, rolling and wrestling until their stomachs ached from laughter.
At some point in their roughing, y/n’s fist hit Jack square on the cheekbone, hard. Sitting up straight, legs tangled, they stared at each other like they’d seen ghosts, her heart stopping in her chest. She didn’t mean to hit him, not for real, but on reflex she unclenched her fist and held his face in her hands with a delicate touch as if he were glass, her fingers holding his jaw as she inspected his cheekbone for any bleeding. She may have thought nothing of it, just protocol for when someone got hurt, but Jack’s cheeks blazed, hands becoming clammy, and he thought he was going to lose his breath at how gentle she was with him. If getting injured was all it took for her to look at him with soft eyes and obtain all her attention like a prize, he should’ve broken his legs a while ago. His world paused, the sounds of nature and cars faded out into a silence and his heart skipped eight beats at once. He’d had girlfriends, but he’d never had skin contact with one. Never held a girl’s hand before and never had his face held by one. She was like a drug, the second she cradled his thumping face, he never wanted her to let go. Maybe it was because he liked the attention because it was new and exciting or maybe the endorphins rushing through him altered his state of mind too much and confused the difference between enjoying her touch and pain relief.
“I’m okay,” he said just above a whisper with a fond look, “it’ll just bruise at most.”
She nodded, letting him reassure her before a grin crawled onto her face, arm snaking around his neck and held him in a headlock, grinding her knuckles mildly into his head and ruffling his hair. Even though he wished on all his lucky stars that the moment would never end, getting noogies from her was just as euphoric if it meant her giggles gave him just as much of a bliss escape as the scratching of ice skates did in hockey.
“If you say so, Wack Hughes.” She rolled off and sat on the concrete opposite him, catching her breath, both bodies panting with flushed, chilly cheeks and undoubtedly bruises and grazes on their limbs. That’s what they got for not looking properly for knee and elbow pads.
“Can I have your number?” the words erupted a lot quicker than he expected them to, he borderline felt like he came across as a desperate man at a bar hoping to strike gold, “So, uh, we can text when to meet up…for the project and stuff…yeah.”
She sighed dramatically, “If I really have to.”
In all instances, all universes and every other life after his current, Jack wished the project would never end. He was just beginning to get somewhere with forming a liberating friendship where he was just Jack, the kid from class.
*
Jack had been right, but he wished it had been a cut because the bruise over his cheek was diabolical. A beautiful purple and blue bruise next to his eye, not quite a black eye but the cheekbone was close enough. Quinn and Luke teased him relentlessly the Monday morning over breakfast, even though the middle Hughes explained it was an accident while playfighting and not because he pissed her off.
School was worse. At first, his friends taunted him about it, and how the ‘pretty boy wasn’t so pretty anymore’. Jack was just relieved that nobody asked him how he got it, they all assumed it was hockey and he would have too if he was them. At least a bruise wasn’t as embarrassing as when he broke his leg but there’s only so much teasing you can take before it starts becoming boring, and all week he had heard the same comments and the same giggling. He didn’t blame y/n, she didn’t do it on purpose but her packing a punch was not on his twenty-fifteen bingo card.
Sunday rolled around again, Jack and y/n only had a week left until their project was due and while y/n had her hand fisting her hair, the words on her screen blending and almost sending her into cardiac arrest, Jack had zoned out long ago. Silence filled the Hughes’ dining room, both bodies void of willpower as they entered hour three of their study. On the bright side, they were over halfway done, opting to pull the presentation aesthetics together last as that was the easy part. The hardest part was trying to condense twenty-five slides into ten at most.
Luke was home with them, keeping out of their way but giving them a glance as he meandered into the kitchen for a snack. He may have been twelve and starting to enter his pre-teen years of figuring himself and the world out, but what he did know was that the house was quieter on Sundays. That’s how he knew y/n was over. He stood quietly in the kitchen, peering over at his brother and y/n in deep thought from the breakfast bar, wondering how someone had tamed Jack within two weeks. Yes, they spent almost every day together so the chance of them getting to know each other better that way wasn’t off the table, and the quality of friendship isn’t determined by how long you’ve known someone. He’d never seen Jack sit so still, he wasn’t even chewing on his pen, just staring at his laptop screen and notebook while he feared y/n might yank her hair from her scalp if she gripped it any tighter. Luke pulled two glasses from the cabinet, filled them with water, and set them in front of the two. He then disappeared back into the kitchen and rummaged through the cookie jar before returning and placing them on the dark wood next to the water. Y/n’s hand fell from her hair and raised her head to meet a smiling Luke. They’d never spoken, but he liked it when she came over, especially when he’d watched her tackle Jack to the ground a week prior, of course.
“Thanks, Luke. You really didn’t have to.” Y/n’s voice suddenly filled the room and pulled Jack out of his daze, his attention immediately landing on the glass of water and cookie.
“It’s the least I could do for someone who can keep Jack on his leash.” Luke chuckled lightly, making his way back into the living room.
Jack waited until he left to whip around to her, making her flinch at the speed, “You’re friends with my little brother easily but not me? I’m taking that as an offence.”
“He didn’t tell me to do the entire project by myself while he got to do the easy part.” She jested, poking her finger into his chest. Call them Punch and Judy with the way they bickered. “He also didn’t pull me into sludge.”
He wrapped his fingers around her hand, holding it gently as he rolled his eyes, “Okay, well, fair enough. At least it was Luke.”
“Why? Scared I’ll fall hopelessly in love with Quinn and his dark curls and brooding personality,” she leant forward with a smirk, watching Jack’s eyebrows knit. She’d done it, found his button to press and she loved every ounce of adrenaline that raged through her, “that’ll I’ll hang out with him instead?”
His tongue poked his cheek, their faces inches away and for once it was him sulking while she taunted him. Yet, the grip he had over her hand stayed loose, even when she continued to prod him, but he knew she could feel how sweaty his palms were from the panic that rattled him, “Yes! Kinda, maybe! I don’t know!”
She stopped, her smirk dropping and his breathing becoming heavy. Their gazes met as she licked her lips, their faces were so much closer than she had thought, and a warmth spread up the back of her neck. They said nothing, their eyes searching each other for answers to unspecified questions. His bruise had healed better, it wasn’t a deep purple anymore and a yellow tint started peeking through, although she was sorry for hitting him, there was a small, amusing element to the story. She lowered her hand, but he didn’t let go. Never had she expected Jack to feel in competition with his brothers over anything but hockey, but his heart hammered in his chest the longer their stares lingered, terrified for the worst-case scenario.
“Wait, for real? You think I would do that?” Jack nodded shakily, chewing the inside of his cheek. It was ridiculous, his hormones getting mixed up and fluctuating over a girl he’d only started being real friends with, but he felt like they’d known each other longer by how thin the air felt between them. Was that allowed? Was there a rule about being friends with someone? If so, he yearned to break it, after all, he’d been friends with some guys for three years and knew nothing about them, barely hanging out with them outside school. “If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t.”
“It’s not Quinn specifically, I don’t know, like, we just started being friends and like, ugh, I don’t know.” He truly couldn’t describe the nagging feeling of a thorn that stabbed him in the side, he’d never felt it before, but he hated it. She was his friend and only his, Quinn and Luke weren’t allowed to swoop her away. Y/n was just his friend, no more sharing friends between them, they could keep that to hockey but not school. He’d do anything to keep it that way, even if it meant brawling with his brothers like when they were kids or even other kids at school. He just wanted to freely be friends with someone on his own, sick of being surrounded by friends who had their own, separate friend they could run to, rely on, cry, laugh with, and escape to their own isolated paradise with. He wanted a person.
With a gentle nod, she noticed the warmth engulfing her hand. They peered down at their laps, pulling their hands away quickly and awkwardly finding chewed pens and hoodie strings. The first time he’d held a girl's hand, and it was because she was riling him up, and she’d never had a boy hold her hand before so the heat in her neck flushed to her face.
“Sooo,” Jack started, the tension crushing him, “what do you like to do for fun? You already know I play hockey and we did that last week; we should try something of yours today.”
Her muscles relaxed and she pondered. What did she do for fun? It was one of those moments where suddenly she forgot everything about herself and became the most boring person alive, nothing coming to mind. She didn’t consider herself nearly as exciting as Jack. She wasn’t an athlete, or an entrepreneur, and didn’t do any thrilling things over the summers. How are you supposed to sell yourself when you just enjoy staying at home and chilling?
“Uh…I dunno. I like doing origami, I guess. Not really as intense as street hockey but I find it relaxing.” She ripped out a blank page of her notebook, tearing it neatly into a square and effortlessly folding the corners and sides. He was mesmerised, she made it look easy and Jack convinced himself that he could do it. Pulling the head out, she placed a swan in front of him. To create what sat in front of him more than muscle memory, it was time and patience. “For you. I’ll teach you step by step.”
She tore out two more pages into squares, giving one to him, “Fold the paper diagonally to create the centre line, then unfold,” she demonstrated as she spoke, allowing him time to catch up, “refold the sides to the centre line and flip the paper over, doing the same as we just did. You should have a skinny kite shape. Bring the bottom corner to the top, middle corner and fold the tip of the bottom corner we just folded, down to halfway.”
Jack’s tongue poked out from his lips, his brows knitted as he concentrated hard, watching her fingers move intensely and carefully copying. His folding wasn’t as neat as hers, but he understood what she was showing and he hadn’t completely screwed it up yet, but he was a lot more heavy-handed than she was, too used to using all his strength rather than none of it at all.
“Good boy, you’re getting it. Okay, now fold what you have in half, but outwards, away from you, not inwards, like this,” she folded the paper as instructed, “and gently pull the neck up and head out. See, a simple swan.”
Jack’s face brightened, his lips twitching into a smile as he pulled the head out of his - messily folded - origami swan. He knew she’d gone easy on him, and he was frankly grateful that she hadn’t tried to teach him something overly complex because he did not want to deal with Ellen yelling at him to pipe down in front of y/n. Y/n didn’t need that, didn’t need to see or hear that. Jack may not have been an empath by any means and may not be the kind of guy to psychoanalyse people but Quinn had taught him to think carefully before he asked questions. Of course, he wondered why y/n never asked if he wanted to go to her house instead, but when he talked with Jim about it, he said there’s usually a reason, and sometimes people don’t want to talk about that and would prefer to just accept the offer, and that by offering up their home could be one of the nicest things he’s done for her.
Y/n set her swan in front of him, his hands delicately inspecting the precision as if it belonged in a museum, “How can you do this so quickly and neatly? What else can you make?”
“Practice, I can make cranes, frogs, bats, foxes, stars.” She giggled, watching him compare the two swans and setting them next to each other, “You can keep both mine, from me to you.”
Jack grinned. It wasn’t much at all, but having a homemade gift held more value than anything money could offer. It was made specifically with him, and she gave it to him, willingly, as a souvenir. He shoved his pens into his pencil case, stacked his books and closed his laptop, sliding the pile across the table. Surprised, she began packing her belongings into her rucksack, they were done with their project according to him. In his defence, they had achieved more than they thought. He turned, resting his cheek in his palm with a burning intrigue glowing in his eyes.
“Oh, uh, I guess I like graphic design…that’s kinda my hockey. Just making sports posters or posters in general really. I’ll show you, my favourite.” She opened her laptop again, searching through the files while Jack scooted closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her chest tightened at the noise that slipped from his throat when the file loaded, an electrocuting excitement radiating from him as his jaw dropped and eyebrows raised. It was the coolest thing he’d ever seen, last year’s baseball schedule graphic that he thought was significantly better than the one the team had originally posted. Upon hearing his chain of compliments, she opened more files, discovering their common interest in sports and the odd TV show. He didn’t have many creative friends, he was part of a dominantly sporty crowd, in fact, anyone who had creative abilities fascinated him and he would argue that they deserve just as much praise as athletes. It wasn’t easy producing ideas and visions let alone executing them.
The more Jack raved about her work, the more files she pulled up and explained with her full chest and he swore he saw her eyes light up the same way his did when he talked about hockey. So, he let her talk. He asked questions about inspiration, the origins of her hobby, her favourite aesthetics and future plans, works in progress and if she would want a future in graphic design too, all in which she answered for hours before the clock hit seven and they had to call it a day with bittersweet smiles like they wouldn’t be seeing each other the next day.
*
Good times fly fast. Is what someone would say if they were having fun, but the past week had not been for y/n and Jack. In the last week before their project was due, they had crammed a week’s worth of work into three days, their deadline being Thursday. Lunches were spent in the library, copying and formatting into their presentation slides, and then trying to condense, and condense and condense more into ten overall slides. If they hadn’t worked during class and at the library, they knew they would have failed and with Jack’s hockey schedule, they had no other option. They didn’t hate it, spending lunches together became the best part of their days, that little buzz in their stomach making the mundane classes easier to bear.
The actual presenting part started awful when the PowerPoint wouldn’t load, then stabilised as Jack did most of the talking but then almost hit the fan when y/n stammered almost every time she spoke (which wasn’t her fault, some people can’t cope with public speaking). However, they had submitted, presented and they were project-free until May.
Y/n didn’t expect to see much of Jack anymore, she wasn’t sure what would happen next after they had no project. She didn’t pay attention to her classmate’s presentations, her eyes zoned on the wall and her shoulders slumped in her seat. It was sort of…upsetting that it was over, not hanging out with Jack again. Would her friends be happy? Absolutely, the competition was over but during the three weeks, they hung out constantly, what others thought mattered less and less until she smiled more with him than she ever had with them. What she and Jack had was real.
Jack’s eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together, he couldn’t bring himself to be happy, the bleak expression on her face pulled at his heart too aggressively. It couldn’t be over, he didn’t want it to be over. It was not going to be over. He pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket, eyes flicking to the teacher who was too engrossed in the assignment, and he typed quickly before stuffing the device back.
Wack Huh🤕
my house sundays?
i think my mum wants to cook us dinner as a reward
u can meet my hockey friends 2 they r coming 4 the wknd
Feeling her pocket vibrate and glancing at the teacher, she replied under the table.
Sunshine💪
Will be there ofc
Are these the unique friends? Bracing myself
She smiled, looking to her left subtly to see Jack practically kicking is feet. All was not lost.
*
When Jack said his friends were unique, she wasn’t expecting three boys to be staring at her like meerkats when she entered the living room. At least he didn’t lie. She expected three dudes chilling on the sofa, with drinks and playing video games but instead, she was met with the short one and one with long-ish hair wrestling on the sofa with Mario Kart abandoned on the TV and Jack and the third with dark hair trying to pry them off each other, Jack babbling something about irritating his parents again. It was Quinn who’d answered the door again, apologising for the noise and again she had looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. The noise was something she was used to, especially coming from teenage boys, if Jim and Ellen didn’t get involved, it would be okay. When she stepped into the living room, calling Jack’s name, the three other boys shot up and snapped their heads with wide eyes like they’d never seen a girl in their lives.
Jumping off the sofa, he stood beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and his thumb caressing comforting circles, “Y/n! This is Cole,” the short boy waved, “Trevor,” the boy with tanned skin and long-ish hair winked, blowing a kiss, “and Alex.” The dark-haired boy gave a kind, welcoming smile. They were Jack’s unique hockey friends she’d heard many stories about over the last few weeks, like how someone hid Trevor’s towel one time and he could only wait until everyone had left the locker room before changing, or how the four of them thought it would be a good idea to hold arms and spin in a circle while on rollerblades and then let go, so all four of them went flying in different directions but it was Cole who ended up, not only taking out a couple but falling into a bin. Or how Alex tried to impress a girl by belching the alphabet but instead she slapped him.
“Do you like Mario Kart, y/n?” Alex asked, to which she nodded.
“Don’t get too cocky, she can pack a punch. Got that Trevor?” Jack sneered, holding her closer to his side and pointing to his almost-healed bruise.
“That was one time!” Trevor groaned, taking the controller he’d launched previously. “Don’t listen to him, angel. He’s just mad because he sucks at everything but Chel.
Only Jack had given her a pet name before, especially not one on the first meeting or one like angel. Jack had nicknamed her when they met, but ‘Sunshine’ suited her at the time, a jab at her doom and gloom. Angel, though? That hit different, that felt personal, aimed at her looks alone.
“Mmm sure, at least his towel stays in one place, Trevvy.” She quipped, stepping into the room.
“Jack! Why would you tell her that?” Trevor grabbed a sofa cushion, and swung it at Jack’s face, “Angel, that does not happen often but if it means you call me ‘Trevvy’ again, it so can.”
The sun began to set earlier in the autumn. After a morning of violent Mario Kart matches and rough play in order to cheat, the five of them settled on the two sofas in front of the TV, this time watching The Amazing Spiderman and two empty bowls of popcorn and mugs that once homed hot chocolate.
Jack’s eyes struggled; his energy burnt out from a weekend of non-stop moving but he refused to sleep in fear he’d fall onto Trevor’s shoulder. The last time he did that, he woke up with marker over his face and a cock on his cheek, but God, were his eyes heavy. Y/n repositioned herself, bringing her knees away from her chest and stretching them with glorious relief. Said relief was fleeting as she felt a weight drop onto her thighs, peering down to see Jack’s head lying comfortably, body curled up in the spot he was sitting in. She bit her lip, what the hell was she supposed to do? Leave him? Push him off? What did it mean, did friends normally do this? But his hair looked so soft and silky, it always did. It always looked good, even after he’d finished gym class. With a hitched breath and trembling hand hovering over his head, she ran her fingers through his hair with a feathery touch, nails massaging his scalp. If his heart hadn’t been thundering just trying to find the courage to lay on her lap, it was now exploding like fireworks at her touch lulling him into a slumber. Her fingers running through his locks sent euphoric sparks through his body, addicting, heavenly, he never wanted to move from the spot. He wouldn’t bring it up though, he didn’t want to talk about it, and it become painfully awkward and never happen again. That moment before he drifted off was Jack’s paradise.
Ten months of sitting with each other on the bus, sharing classes, and lunches, failing to beat the dating allegations and teasing. Forty Sundays were spent at the Hughes’, playing video games, street hockey, boardgames with the brothers, gardening with Ellen, listening to Jim’s life stories and sharing secrets in the confines of Jack’s bedroom.
The summer before they started high school, Jack begged y/n to join his family at the lake house for the summer, the boy got on his knees and everything. Of course, she wanted to go, why would she reject going to this lake house she heard so much about? Her parents were the part she worried about, and if they said no, she’d make them regret it, taking her away from her happiness like that. And perhaps they would have, followed it up by giving the speech about it being unfair to her brother. But to her surprise, they were pretty much ushering her out the door. What she didn’t know was that Ellen had swung by and her mother agreed it would be good for y/n. Thank the stars for Ellen Hughes coming in the clutch there. Finally, a summer spent away from arguing and moaning about being grounded.
She’d never seen a lake house in person, and it was better than she imagined, bigger and fancier than some haggard shack. Growing up near enough in the city never gave her chances to see the open country much, let alone large lakes surrounded by well-kept homes thriving in pride, green to be seen for miles and most importantly no pollution and constant rumbling of cars. It was the perfect place to escape to.
The Hughes’ lake house was gorgeous, pale blue with white accents, flowers and hedges (kept in pristine condition by a gardener) lining the drive and bedded outside the front, long driveway where Jim’s truck and Ellen’s Toyota estate were parked up, said drivers unloading the suitcases while Jack explained the home to y/n: five bedrooms, a games room in the basement that looked out into the garden, back porch above the basement, docks at the end of the garden and their boat, a beautiful bowrider with bow seating and the back deck with a U-shape layout. The way Jack spoke with excitement bouncing around his body made all sorts of butterflies flutter inside her stomach, jubilation radiating from his smile as he pointed to the windows, informing her whose rooms were where.
“Also, Mum said you get the spare room with Cole and Alex, which sucks because I was hoping we’d be roommates. So, if they try anything funny, let me know, okay? Though, I trust you’ll hit ‘em if they do. But my room’s only next door.” Jack placed his hands on her shoulders with a stern tone, searching her eyes for reassurance. He had half expected his parents to reject the idea, his friends were with him after all and three boys in one room never turned out peaceful. Ellen and Jim knew that first-hand.
She chuckled, “I will, don’t worry. Besides, those two are the least of your worries.”
Trevor’s laughter roared from the truck and the two peered towards him before looking back at each other. Jack slumped with an exhale, resting his forehead on her shoulder.
“I can’t believe I lost rock-paper-scissors. I love Trev and all, but he doesn’t stop talking. Y/n he talked the whole way here!”
Y/n’s laugh settled his nerves as he nuzzled into her shoulder. There were now going to be seven of them that summer, and hopefully for many more to come, getting any time alone with her would be a battle to the death. That may have been their last quiet moment together for that day, so she wound her arms around his torso, stroking his hair until Ellen called out for them.
*
Only a week had flown by, and Jim had already started to regret his decision to let three boys tag along, the worst part being one sunny day and the other six raining, trapping everyone inside. That was one week, two cases of a blocked toilet, four ice packs to Trevor’s head from doing somersaults off the boat (on the one day it was sunny), six trips to the corner store for popcorn restocks and seven days of y/n, Quinn and Luke almost being knocked over by wrestling matches or whacked with a pool cue (Alex and Trevor almost lost their lives when they hit y/n square in the head). So, when the sun seeped through everyone’s blinds on Monday morning, Ellen and Jim pretty much slammed every bedroom door open, threw breakfast on the dining table and told the teens to make the most of the sunshine outside.
Michigan was usually sweltering during the summer, cooking the seats and giving bare skin a fright when the leather latched to it, something Jack fell for every time. With the water calm and the lake hushed to birds singing their songs and neighbours heading out towards the country club, Quinn started up the boat. He’d only had his licence a year but if there was anything he knew just as well as hockey, it was the lake. And tuning out the irritations he was surrounded with, unfortunately. Cole, Alex and Luke lounged at the back, watching Trevor groan at Jack ditch him and dart back into the house, leaving him to heave a cool box through the garden and down the docks in which his best friends could have aided him with, but they were too busy hollering banter at him and Quinn, well Quinn chose to pretend like he hadn’t noticed. He was glad it wasn’t him for once. Whatever Jack needed was more important, clearly.
Jack dropped the cool box handle abruptly and spun on his heel, letting Trevor’s voice fade back out into the distance as his feet slapped against the wooden flooring inside the house. When he and Trevor reached the back porch, y/n wasn’t there waiting for them as she had insisted, and the thing about y/n is that when she said she’d be there, she would be there without fail. Besides, she was more important than Trevor carrying that cool box on his own.
He knocked on the spare room door twice, calling out her name and waiting for her voice. Instead, she opened the door slightly, her head peeking around the corner with red, puffy eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, “what’s wrong? Was it the guys?”
She shook her head, refusing to let him open the door further and stop him. He’d never felt so useless in his life, she was right under his nose, crying and he hadn’t been there to soothe the tears away. All he wanted was to reach out and press her into his chest, let her sob into his t-shirt, pet her hair and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Instead, he was shut out, stuck between a barrier that he couldn’t seem to break through.
“Sunshine, please let me in…” his voice was small, sympathy on his face and slowly she pulled the door back, allowing him to shuffle in and close the door behind him. When he turned around his jaw almost dropped, but his cheeks sold him out completely with how hot they flushed. When he saw her crying, he assumed that she was hurt, or that she’d received a nasty text or something that was not what he was faced with at that moment. All that ran through his mind was, ‘Fucking Christ.’ His body betrayed him then, so badly. His eyes raked her up and down, not in the way a predator seeks its prey but in the way that he had no idea what he should be trying to fathom.
“I look awful. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Was all she squeaked. Jack shook his head eagerly, stuffing his hands into his swim shorts and stood next to her, encouraging them both to face the wall-length mirror.
“I think you look…” he swallowed, throat suddenly dry and he shifted his weight, “Good.”
Of course, he’d seen women in bikinis before, in music videos, in magazines, in adverts, at the beach and lake but this time it was different. Y/n was a real-life girl who stood next to him in a bikini that showed more skin than he’d ever thought about. She looked more than good, she looked pretty, stunning but the latter were lumps stuck in his throat.
“You think so?” she asked, staring at them both in the mirror, removing her hands from covering her body. Jack never looked any different. She’d only ever known him to have abs or abs in progress. He was an active guy, she expected it, but it didn’t mean she didn’t find it drop-dead attractive, struggling to swat away the thoughts of touching the dips in muscles and smoothing her hands over his shoulders. He hummed in response, just two teens taking in their bodies as if they’d never seen them before. Growing up sucked sometimes. “I wish I had your slutty little waist.”
She broke into a contagious smile, one that seemed to calm whatever was making his shorts uncomfortable and chest tight, “And I wish I had your nice tits but here we are.”
“Tits only look good in bras, Jack. Gravity betrays them.”
“That's okay, I love a good album drop.”
She smacked his chest jokingly and giggled, “You're such a perv.”
“Hey, I'm saying you look hot!” He raised his hands in defence, the lump in his throat shrinking but biting his tongue.
“Not just me.” With her arms folded over her chest, she teased him, pushing her chest together and smirking when his eyes shifted quickly.
Jack stepped closer to, y/n spinning to face him as his figure loomed over hers, close enough to hear each other mumble crystal clear, “Oh? Then who else?”
Gazes falling back into each other, smirks painted on lips, the message was evident but getting each other to admit such secrets was their favourite game to play, especially with high stakes waiting for them, now impatiently, outside on the boat.
“I don’t know, Trevor’s cleaning up well lately.” She cocked an eyebrow. Behind his sleaze grin, he loathed the name that ruined his moment. Why was he on her mind when they were stood, alone, on a friendly flirtatious rollercoaster that kindled his puppy love craving for giddy sparks in his tummy? Instead, all he felt was that horrible thorn stabbing in his side again. “But you’re not too bad yourself, I guess.”
“You little- c’mere,” before she could wiggle away, his arms locked around her waist, pulling her flush into his chest as she squealed, “that wakeboard is calling us.”
Squirming, Jack threw her over his shoulder, opening the door and taking them both down the hall. She laughed the whole time, “I can't wait to watch you fall off again.”
Cole and Luke piped up like little meerkats when Jack and y/n closed in on the boat, y/n still cackling over his shoulder. He plopped her down on the deck, stepping into the boat first just so she could hold his hand while she joined them. There was no way he was letting anyone else have the privilege of having her hand enchant theirs.
“Looking sexy, angel.” Trevor hollered, way too loudly for how close they all were. Jack did his best to hide his irritation, but he let a deep huff slip and perhaps he glared a little too harshly at Trevor, who only winked.
“You too, Zegras,” she thanked him, sitting next to Jack, thighs touching. “You been working out lately?”
“You could say that. Been hittin’ the gym.” He flexed his bicep, “Was hoping you’d notice. Wanna come take a feel?”
“And get your cooties? No thanks.” She chuckled, watching Trevor slouch back in the seat with defeat.
Jack’s muscles tensed and he lay his arm on the seats behind y/n. His friends received a message that day, one loud and clear yet when Cole, Alex and Trevor, all gave each other scheming looks, Jack knew he screwed up.
*
They started high school, lost friends, made new ones, got introduced to social constructs for the first time and the anxieties and insecurities that came in the package. What trend was in this week? People were wearing makeup now? When did people start filling out and getting taller? Everything was changing, everyone was changing and suddenly the world seemed so small and terrifying to walk in. Of course, the scariest part of it all was the cliques. They say they don’t exist in real life, that they only serve as movie elements, but they very much did happen in real life and y/n found herself at the centre of it all. Being friends with Jack brought out the best in her, and it wasn’t middle school anymore, nobody knew who she was and better, nobody knew Jack, only by association with Quinn (which wasn’t all good, he was always going to be Quinn’s little brother). Grumpy and grim y/n was part-time, and she let people in, made friends who didn’t care if she was friends with Jack and Jack being Jack attracted a crowd. Y/n went from being a middle school nobody with fickle friends to rather popular for all the right reasons with a tight circle. And her best friend, Jack Hughes.
Another Sunday, another afternoon spent laying on his bed watching Netflix while snuggled in his hoodie. They took their usual position, y/n sat against the wall with Jack’s head on her lap, fingers running through his hair. Although the episode played in the background, both silent and still, her attention droned on him. He’d grown so much over the year. He was taller, and broader, he’d started working out more and every time they hugged, or she held onto his arm, she felt the growing definition. His hair wasn’t as blond anymore, it morphed into a dirty-blond, on its way to brunet shortly but that wasn’t the most noticeable change to her. Jack had grown out of his baby fat, his jaw one of the sharpest among the boys in their grade. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his striking eyes and whirlwind personality. He still followed her like a lost puppy, dragging her and jumping around her, glued to her hip, and she’d grown to love it.
She hadn’t realised that the episode had ended and been paused, Jack rolling over onto his back, gazing up at her. She continued to stroke his hair, the silence between them comforting as he got lost in her eyes. He’d found his person and so far, he’d let nobody take that away from him. But he, like everyone, had that sinking feeling looming inside him. One day, she’d like another boy, and they’d start dating and he’d have to share his precious time with him. Sharing with his brothers was awful enough, but watching Luke try and teach her how to play Chess spread warmth through his heart, and he’d never laughed so hard seeing her and Quinn get borderline violent during Uno (she almost lunged over the table), so that wasn’t so bad. But at school, that was like trying to hit a puck with a mop: impossible. Boys would like her, see her in ways he did, but also ways he’d want to punch them for, and he would be the masculinity-threatening-boy-best-friend.
“I always wondered why mum lets us do this. Hang out in my room with the door closed.” He said with his voice low, or as low as it could go without breaking and squeaking.
“Maybe my aura is trustworthy.” She chuckled, his eyes closing as her nails raked gently over his scalp. “You mean she didn’t give you a lecture?”
“Damn, think my mum likes you more than she likes me. But yeah, it was basically her telling me to not get you pregnant, which was fucking crazy for a Monday, but I was expecting to be told to keep the door open so they could see what we were doing. Y’know, that kinda shit.” When they’d stopped hanging out in the living room due to background noise disrupting their shows, Ellen had pulled him aside one evening and given him a thirty-minute lecture on trust and not getting girls pregnant as teenagers, but also the importance of using protection, not that either of them were going to have sex, they were only fifteen. He groaned and avoided eye contact the entire time, wanting the ground to swallow him when Quinn heard the entire thing and told Luke. Of course, she was basically telling him that she trusts him to not get y/n pregnant if they were moving to his room. They may have used his room to do their project many moons ago, but that was different, it was once before Jim found out and purposely cleaned the dining room table (which had been on his to-do list for too long) so they could work there instead, even though they were thirteen going fourteen at the time. “Don’t your folks worry about things like that? Like for all they know, we could be fucking right now.”
She laughed as he opened one eye. She hadn’t mentioned a lot about home, but at some point, she would have to spill the secrets about it. It wasn’t that her parents were bad people, no, not at all. They were supportive and loving, but her younger brother, who was in Luke’s grade, was a rebel without a cause and made it difficult for her parents.
“They’ve got bigger problems than what I’m doing,” she said, giving him a smile but she knew he was desperate to ask why she never asked him over to hers. She overheard Jack and Jim talking about it one afternoon as she was walking past. They were getting out Jim’s truck and she just happened to be on her way home from the store. It wasn’t that she was ashamed but exposing him to screaming and arguing wasn’t a promising impression at all. “My brother’s a pain in the ass, bad in school, bad reports, near suspensions, violence. My parents just want the best for him but all he does is get hostile, and then my parents start yelling and then everyone’s arguing with each other, avoiding each other, awkward dinners. He’s supposed to play hockey, but my parents can never get him to go to practice more than twice a week, hence I knew about the school grades and hockey relation. I just don’t like hearing the yelling all the time and I don’t want people to know about it.”
“Do my parents know about it? They seem to talk with yours a lot…”
She pushed the hair off his forehead, thumb rubbing circles over a bruise from his helmet, “Probably, I don’t know.”
He thought carefully, both eyes opened and steadied on hers before he opened his mouth to speak, his voice soft, “You’re always welcome here. My home is your home.”
Just as his dad had told him, offering up your home could be one of the nicest things to do for someone and hearing his words made her stomach fuzzy as a spark of adrenaline surged through her. Should she just do it? Was it okay? What if he pushed her away? Fuck it, what was the worst that could happen, he was too charming to pass up the opportunity and maybe she’d be the first to do it.
She leant down, the other hand’s fingertips lightly ghosting his jaw as she placed her lips to his forehead, giving his flushed skin a sweet, chaste kiss, “Thank you, Wack.”
His jaw dropped, bug-eyed but blooming with ecstasy at the foreign sensation driving through his body and fogging his mind. He couldn’t resist temptation and broke out into a cheshire-cat grin, eyes crinkling at the corners and cheeks burning pink. He felt like the happiest man alive. She was still his person.
*
Homecoming turned out to certainly be a night to remember, in more ways than one. A good few weeks or days, she wasn’t really paying attention, of grand proposals like it was prom, many couples chained together like it were to be their wedding night and the everlonging hope that someone would ask her to be his date. The assumption was that everyone wanted to ask the popular girls, because they held this social value, clout that they had no idea about, making them highly desirable to be seen with at homecoming. Because anything could happen after homecoming, right? Kisses, sex, teens saying they had sex when really their dad caught them making out on the driveway. For a group of popular girls, only one had been asked to be a date, and she would have a magical night to add to her memories.
At first, she thought with her whole heart that Jack would ask her, but then he asked another girl who she didn’t even know. She waited weeks and even had a jumpscare dream that Quinn was forced to take her out of pity. She physically cringed at that, as hot as she found him. Jack was positive though and reassured her that someone would come, there were loads of guys in their grade, one of them was bound to ask her, ‘You’re y/n! Why wouldn’t someone ask you? You’re the coolest and funniest! He’d be stupid to pass you up!’. He tried his best to wingman, he really did, and he thought he’d hit the bullseye with a guy from his gym class.
Y/n sat at one of the tables pushed to the side, cheek resting in her palm while she watched the couples and groups dance under the warm lighting of the gym. The committee settled of a Great Gatsby theme, with dim lighting, a red carpet at the entrance, extravagant balloons and chandeliers covering the ceiling, gold accessories, red tablecloths and a photo booth. Nobody had asked her along with her friends, she wasn’t originally going to attend, claiming to Jack that, ‘It was just a stupid dance, why would I go?’ but there she sat, alone.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, 21:30. Two hours had been long enough for attendance, surely, and clearly nobody was dying to see her. With a sigh, she stood up, patting down her outfit and began to make her way towards the doors. She took one final gaze into the crowd of swaying and hands roaming bodies, the sea parting briefly and the world fell silent. Standing frozen, her eyes widened slightly, lips parting as she locked eyes with him. He was blatantly staring right back at her, like she’d caught him red-handed in the act. Jack stood amongst the crowd, alone, hands stuffed into his suit pockets and looking the most handsome she’d ever seen him. Like a moth to a flame, their legs moved on their own, weaving through the crowd with lips slipping into smiles the closer they became to each other until they stopped chest to chest, joining the sea of bodies. As if on cue, the once upbeat music lulled into a soft and slow song, the accent lights dimming until the chandeliers projected perfect amber droplets around the gym.
Jack held his hand out, “Will you dance with me?”
She didn’t need to speak, her hand melted into his as he pulled her into his chest, gliding his hands to her hips while hers looped around his neck, swaying in perfect sync to the music. He looked so good, too good, or maybe he always looked like that, and it was only then she was letting herself accept it. The way his thumbs caressed her hips made it too easy to seek comfort in him, gentle and thoughtful, not ghosting but not bruising. The perfect pressure that made the pit of her stomach warm and tingly.
Jack’s heart exploded repeatedly in his chest, like she was the cause of his death yet also the healer. He hadn’t expected to see her alone that night, he really believed she’d be swept off her feet so when he caught her just before she slipped away, out of his reach, he was five seconds from bursting through the crowds, without a care for who he pissed off, they didn’t matter. When her hands touched his neck, the only thing he felt like doing was hugging her tight and close, to run his hands over her to feel the fire burn through him all over again, and again, and again. That addicting kind of burn, the kind that kept him warm. He just never wanted her to let him go, didn’t want to become an infirm flame.
“Thought you weren't coming to this stupid dance?” his voice husky, quiet, not to kill the mood for others but his playfulness seeped through.
A wave of confidence washed over her, maybe it was destiny they’d found each other, “It was stupid because I didn’t have a date. But I guess it's not so bad anymore. I get to dance with a pretty guy.”
“I was about to ditch until a pretty girl agreed to dance with me.” He chuckled.
“You think I’m pretty?” Her smile dropped slowly, and her eyebrows raised. Jack swore he saw the stars in her eyes then, glittering under the lights and just them two in the world.
“Always.” He murmured. Her lips twitched up when his smile never faltered, ever since they met, he always looked at her like she’d hung the stars out for him. “I’m sorry nobody asked you to be their date. I thought- I’m sorry, I thought Ryan would. Guess he pussied out.”
He knew he should’ve talked to her, asked her if anyone had asked her yet, if Ryan from gym class did go through with it, but guilt bit him in the gut. That’s what he got for neglecting his best friend, focussing on a girl he met four days prior, and he paid the price by watching her heart break before his eyes.
“It’s not your fault,” she cupped his cheek, feeling him melt into her hand like putty as he leaned down, “but I’m flattered you assumed I would have one. I came with my friends instead, but I lost them.”
“If it helps, my date ditched me too. Pretty much as soon as we got here.”
Their gazes steadied on each other, her hand glued to his face and showing no sign of moving away as he closed in on her lips. She stood on her tiptoes, attempting to close the gap with hot, trembling breaths tangling and lips inches apart. Heartbeats raced at a million miles per hour, hammering in their ears with what felt like electricity transferring between them with how giddy they were. It was just them in the room, their world and everyone was just existing. Lips ghosted, eyes fluttering closed as they took the final leap.
Until Jack pulled back, and instead let his lips meet her forehead for a gentle kiss. Yet the thrill remained, smiles shone brightly, and eyes still sparkled under the chandeliers. His mind screamed at him, screamed insults and profanities for not thinking clearly, face flushing pink as his smile poorly hid his embarrassment. Y/n wanted to run, but her feet refused to move, heart too swept up in the moment.
*
Winters in Toronto bit hard. Froze anyone to their core, nothing but one big duvet of snow covering every building, road and car for miles, taunting the poor civilians who had to wake up extra early just to shovel their driveways and lay layers of grit on the footpaths. The only real redeeming quality for it were the Christmas decorations plotted around people’s front yards and lights wrapped around fences and trees, hung on porches and bushes. Perhaps the Christmas spirit too, when people decide to be just a little bit kinder than normal or suddenly feel the urge to see every family member they know, or huddle inside and watch films by the fire all day with hot chocolate and puzzles. The best of all, Christmas break. A house with no parents for days and freedom to do whatever you wanted.
Unfortunately for y/n and Quinn, there was no huddling in the warmth or sleeping in. The two eldest siblings were promptly enforced to shovelling duty in the AM so their parents could make it to work on time. Thick coats zipped to chins and hockey beanies pulled down to the eyebrows. Y/n’s dad was an early riser, so she never had too much to shovel at six-thirty in the morning with headtorches, but since she was already up, she trudged her way down the road, shovel in hand and surprised Quinn by aiding him. Both gave each other a mutual look of disapproval at their parent’s decision, why were they the ones being punished?
“You don’t have to do this, y’know.” He was so kind, too kind, and such a softie with the way he smiled though his face felt numb.
Y/n tipped a pile of snow off his driveway, “Wasn’t like a was sleeping anyway, teamwork makes the dream work.”
He chuckled with her, both shovelling the last pieces of snow before huffing and high fiving.
“Hey, we’re heading down the rink this evening, you wanna join? Jack’s dying to teach you how to skate, won’t shut up about it.”
At seven-thirty in the evening, the rink was exactly where y/n had found herself, her hands clutched in Jack’s as she attempted to skate like a newborn giraffe. His practice wouldn’t start until eight, and he was determined to get her skating on her own by the end of the public session. Kind of. Part of him had a longing to skate side by side with her, her arm looped with his as they glided around the ice in a perfect sync, yet the other part melted into a puddle when she clung to him for stability, she was just too cute when she concentrated. How could she rollerblade but not ice skate? It was the same thing, almost.
“I got you, don’t try and walk, trust the blades and push. I won’t let you fall; I promise.” He instructed, intently watching her feet move and progressively start gliding yet also trying to not tumble backwards. “That’s it, you’re doing so well.”
His words repeated in her head like a verse, a greed for success shining at the end of a dark tunnel, she would learn to skate eventually. Even though she was barely skating, she laughed the entire time, deep down knowing Jack was doing a lot more dragging than he was letting on, he just wanted her to be happy and have fun.
“You think you can try on your own? I’ll still catch you.” The shock and horror on her face when he let go sent a shockwave through him, y/n was hard to rattle, courageous as they came sometimes and he never thought ice would be her enemy. He found it somewhat amusing, watching her wobble like a baby deer, cautiously moving one leg in front of the other and her arms reaching out to him just for him to slide back, like she was chasing him.
“Jack this is terrifying!” she cried, but not seriously.
“No no, you’re doing fine, look! You’re skating!”
“Barely!” She straightened her hunched posture, bending her knees like Jack had shown her and caught his burning eyes. He did have confidence in her, real, genuine confidence that she wasn’t a lost cause. So, the ambition grew, pushing with more power, using her hands to drive her stride instead of looking for him and by seven-fifty, she could just about skate in one direction.
With one hefty push, she threw her hands up in victory, forgetting about stability and purposely falling into Jack, who caught her by the waist and cheered with her while spinning in a circle with smiles that ached their cheeks.
“I did it!”
“I told you so, Sunshine!” He pulled her onto her feet, hands holding hers tight and cosy, looking at her like she was the most beautiful diamond of the batch, “When I’m out there with the big shots, I’ll take you to the family skate, and the whole world can see us, I swear.”
“Sounds good to me! You better be winning games though!”
“Duh! I have a practice game today, and if I win, I think I deserve a thank you for being your coach.” Although he was only joking, she’d known him long enough to know he was also being dead serious.
“Alright, I suppose. What do you want?”
He pretended to think hard, rubbing his non-existent facial hair on his jaw, “Mmm, I think if I win, I would like a kiss, right here.” He pointed to his cheek. He knew goddamn well what he was doing, the boy craved affection and attention and he knew she was willing to feed it to him.
She agreed, short-circuiting for a second at his wishes but not entirely opposed to the idea overall. He was cute, and she did wonder what it would feel like to kiss a boy and her friends had all done it so why wouldn’t she? The final call for changeover buzzed and vibrated the walls, public skaters leaving the ice and the hockey coaches entering to set up. Jack led y/n off, taking her skates off for her and bidding her a temporary goodbye with a squeeze before she left to sit in the lobby.
On the way through to the locker rooms, an arm plonked itself around his shoulder, “Lil’ Hugh, that uh, girl you were with, she’s real cute. She got a Snapchat?”
Shrugging his arm off, he continued walking, “Not for you, Chris.”
“Oh~,” Chris was his teammate, and unfortunately someone Jack could never find a middle ground with. He thought he had superiority since his father was a former professional hockey player, “Is she your girlfriend? That why?”
Jack turned the corner and entered the locker room, ignoring Chris’ comments and gossip but his fuse shortened every time Chris opened his mouth. Y/n wasn’t some girl to rotate around the team, he’d sworn to himself that she’d never go near the team ever. She was his person; she and hockey were separate, and he hated how badly his jaw tightened whenever her name left someone else’s mouth. All he wanted was to scoop her up in his arms and tell her how much she meant to him. He knew, oh knew painfully well how down bad he’d fallen for his best friend already.
Y/n almost dropped her phone when the doors to the lobby swung open to a Jack bundling through them at some inhuman speed. She whipped around, standing up to open her arms, catching him with a stumble. The cheesy grin on his face meant one thing, and it was that Jack was about to claim victory for the second time. With a playful eye roll, she cupped his jaw, little fires tingling over his skin and igniting more goosebumps than the cold could. Her lips softly met his cheek, giving it a sweet peck before he engulfed her in a bear hug.
Sixteen was such a socially vital age to be turning. Everyone had crazy sixteenth birthdays it seemed. She remembered Quinn’s well, he’d thrown a house party and when she found out she was invited, surprised was an understatement. Some guy had managed to get his hands on alcohol, and at least half the guests got tipsy, except this one girl who threw up in the garden. She knew that because it was her and Jack who’d hosed it down before Ellen and Jim got home the next morning. It was also her and Jack who’d nursed Quinn’s hangover and cleaned half the house for him, safe to say that it was a party people remembered.
Now it was Jack’s sixteenth, he hadn’t planned to celebrate socially until the weekend, savouring the actual day to have at home, just the two of them watching a marathon of The Mighty Ducks in the living room although spent most of the second movie eyeing up the present and card on the coffee table in front of them. Pausing the TV, he took the card between his fingers, slicing the envelope with his nail.
Y/n bit her lip, in excitement or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she struggled to sit still in anticipation as he pulled the card out. His eyes lit up, carefully holding the handmade card between his fingers, admiring the poster of himself in the format of his favourite video game cover (‘chel’/NHL). Pestering Ellen for photos was worth it after all, the edit looked almost real. No store-bought present could come anywhere close in value to the card in his hands, and the long message handwritten inside made his chest swell and tummy do somersaults like it was going to explode. Placing the card on the coffee table, he reached for the present, looking back at her for the go ahead before tearing the paper to shreds over the floor.
“Thank you so much, Sunshine.” He tackled her back into the sofa cushions, fingers gripping the marshmallow-scented cologne he’d mentioned one lunchtime.
“Anytime.” She fished for the remote, hitting the play button and accepting the fact that Jack had no intention of moving off her, nuzzling his head into her chest as if he couldn’t have been any more obvious to her. She didn’t mind, it was only Jack, and the weight was comfortable and brought a sense of security. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers carding through his hair until the sound from the TV slowly droned out, pairs of eyes fluttering closed, and they drifted off.
While passing by, Ellen’s heart swelled. In the years y/n had joined their lives, she’d never seen her rowdiest son so calm and hooked on someone like Jack was to y/n. Ellen never told Jack or any of her boys, but back when the kids were only young, Ellen and y/n’s mother hoped they’d become friends just as the l/n’s and the Hughes’ had, enrolling them in the same schools their whole lives just to ensure that if all ended badly, they’d still have someone in their lives. They always assumed it would be y/n and Jack hitting it off being the same age, but little y/n seemed to enjoy little Quinn’s personality more, likely due to being the eldest and always having a louder younger sibling disgruntling them, hovering all the same with that childlike fascination that there’s someone else living in their home too. But kids grow up and the heartbreaking part of being a parent was watching kids grow apart from each other until they were nothing more than neighbours and strangers on the same street, the kid from class until they’d completely forgotten that at one point, they were friends.
She draped a blanket over the two, carefully prying the cologne box from Jack’s hand and placing it on the coffee table and turning the TV off. To say that she was riddled with joy as a mother was nowhere near as descriptive as what she felt inside, even spotting the card y/n had made Jack just made her want to tear up. It wasn’t easy finding solace in someone, but as his mother, she knew that no matter who he dated, how many girls he dated, none of them would ever bring the peace of mind y/n had and unfortunately for that poor girl, y/n would always be his number one priority, whether Jack knew it himself or not.
*
People change ages and they also change mentally and emotionally with it. His sixteenth weekend social turned out to be one of the best nights of his life, not a great one for y/n (she was on drunk Jack duty after once again, beers had been smuggled in). She knew that one day, she would be second to Jack, he’d raved about girls to her day after day, his confidence never wavering when it came to his feelings. It started with Nicole when they were thirteen but nothing ever came of it, Talia at fourteen whom he had his first kiss with under the bleachers, he dated Emma when they were fifteen and he took her to homecoming, only for her to ditch him then dump him a month later and at late fifteen, Jack started dating Kenna but at sixteen they had recently broken up, yet Jack was still stuck on her. She never understood why, not because she was upset or jealous, but Kenna wasn’t ever clear with him whether she liked him or not, but Jack seemed to be into whatever it was. Above all those girls, he told y/n about every single one of them in crushing detail, calling until the silly hours of the morning like a lovestruck teenager. Y/n kept her crushes and boyfriends on the down low, they weren’t anyone’s business anyway. Jack had only met one of her boyfriends, and the air that day was as awkward as it came, behind Jack’s forced smile his shoulders tensed and jaw locked, poor Miles sweat like a pig for the whole interaction. But she couldn’t date Miles for long, couldn’t lead him on like she felt something real for him and after four months she called it off. He thought it was due to Jack, which would have been any guy’s default answer, but Jack had no idea about it until a week after. The worst part for Miles was that y/n didn’t shed a tear, she’d cried over Jack more.
Y/n and Jack stood outside his friend, Liam’s, house. Music thumping, echoing into the street outside and colourful lights strobing from the windows with teens seeping into and out the house as they pleased. It was the most college looking party they’d seen, but Liam’s parents were on the wealthier side, and they had a large enough house to host.
“Wack, I have a really bad feeling about this,” Y/n said, holding onto Jack’s arm. Her hand squeezing around his bicep made him all kinds of jittery inside.
“It’ll be okay, yeah? If you wanna leave, either come find me or give me the signal.” He smiled, giving her forehead a quick peck, “And if you can’t find me, find my friends, you’re okay with them, right?”
She was, she’d hung out with them on occasions and had classes with a couple of them. They weren’t on a level of friendship like Jack was with them, but they were the kind of friend where you’d still be relieved if you saw them in an unfamiliar place.
With a nod, they entered through the crowds, snaking through bodies to find Liam and the rest of Jack’s group. In a house swamped with people she knew, y/n had never felt so small and alone, clinging to Jack’s arm like she didn’t belong there at all. She could hold onto his arm the whole night and he wouldn’t have minded; his number one fear was losing her entirely or being unable to help her in a time of dire need.
After an hour of being at Liam’s, her vice grip on Jack’s arm was surrendered as soon as her friends arrived. Liam was only really friends with one of them, but the more the merrier, right? The level of tea that had been spilt while she and her friends dominated the sofas was astronomical, y/n had updated her mental filing cabinet of high school gossip completely, a full reboot and she’d contributed heavily to it. ‘Anyone who claims they don’t gossip is the biggest gossip’, that was their motto.
Her friend, Rachel, leant closer into their huddle, “Guess who just arrived? Kenna!”
“Kenna? As in Kenna who started dating Miles? That’s fucking bold.” Sarah gasped, the group’s eyes widening.
“Huh?” y/n choked on her beer, “They’re dating? Why?”
“Right!” Kylie’s posture straightened, her mouth falling in disbelief, “Though, I heard from Josh that Miles was super bummed when y/n/n dumped him, so maybe he’s in his revenge era?”
“Bold of him to assume I care about what he does.” Y/n sipped her drink, scoffing slightly.
“Really? Lily, the blonde one, said that Owen told Liam that Kenna and Jack had broken up and Kenna was so pissed about it because apparently Jack dumped her for y/n/n, which we know isn’t true because Jack and y/n/n aren’t together!” Jonie exclaimed. Y/n hated how her heart sped up, there was no way she was the reason Jack left the girl he was crazy about for her.
“That’s further from the truth,” y/n piped up, “Kenna dumped Jack a week before his birthday outside my locker, think she was upset that he planned to spend his birthday with me and not her. Fucking Cam was there too. I dumped Miles way before that.”
“Oh my God, maybe Miles thought you dumped him for Jack and Kenna assumed that you two were canoodling? Like, ‘Hey, sorry but I love my bestie more than you, you’re second place’ which is understandable, it’s normal.” Kylie raised. All drinks had been set by feet and the huddle tightened, the conversation just got juicy.
“One, never say canoodling, two, hold up. Why would Miles date Kenna to get back at y/n? And vice versa?” Rachel asked, the group subtly glancing across the room at the two victims of their night.
“Shit, Kenna knows Jack’s crazy about her and probably knows he hates Miles. It’s for the chase. Poor Wack.” Y/n rested her chin in her palm, her friends looking at her with sappy eyes hearing her use the nickname.
“You two are too cute.” Kylie cooed, y/n rolling her eyes. She despised that comment with every fibre in her body. Nobody broke her heart more than the comments about how cute she and Jack were, nothing fed delusions and false hopes more. Jack liked Kenna, and that was final. In no universe would she and Jack be more than friends, as much as that tore her heart out of her chest. Maybe some people aren’t meant to be.
As if they’d summoned him, Jack shoved his way through the crowds to the sofa and stood with panic in his eyes, “Sunshine, I need your help, like now.”
Jack dragged her to a corner of the living room, away from the majority of the crowd but not isolated entirely. When Jack said he needed him, she hadn’t expected the following sentence at all. He’d seen Kenna and Miles, and he’d fallen into their trap, and she felt nothing but sympathy for him.
“So, Kenna thinks we’re, like, a thing so I need you to kiss me.” He begged, y/n stood frozen, “Please, y/n, you know how crazy I am about her, I’ll make it up to you.”
She almost shook her head and walked away, but the way he flashed his puppy eyes and clutched her hands in his, she couldn’t resist. He was so adamant that by Kenna seeing them kiss, she’d come crawling back to him in some sort of jealous fit of rage. Kissing Jack would screw things up, y/n knew that. She knew that it may have not meant anything to Jack, it would fog her feelings and mind too much and she’d never be able to look at him the same way again. But they were best friends, they were supposed to be there for each other, and his happiness was her number one priority.
“All right, pretty boy,”
Her hands cupped his jaw, his lips gracing into a smile. He wasn’t supposed to feel excited; he wasn’t supposed to feel restless with adrenaline surging through him and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the way he melted into her palms and his hands embedded on her hips, pulling their bodies closer. He dipped down, closer to filling the gap between them as eyelids fluttered closed with hot breaths bouncing off each other's cheeks. The house of bustling teenagers yelling to each other over throwback songs and cheering from beer pong muted and everyone they were once surrounded by felt like they had disappeared into the void as just the two of them heard heartbeats pulse in their ears. Just Jack and y/n, y/n and Jack. Their lips pressed together, a thrilling voracity unleashing, and his tongue swiped her lower lip. She was only going to live once, and even though she’d never made out with anyone before, if she wasn’t great at it, at least it was only Jack. She opened her mouth, his tongue darting in with a fervent desire. With one hand sliding to his nape, tugging on the hairs and ripping a groan from the back of his throat, one of his hands left her hip and slid up her spine, pressing her body closer into his chest. She followed his lead, tongues lapping at each other in a rousing frenzy, like something they’d been dreaming of doing for months and getting it out of their systems turning them feral for the taste and affection. All the little touches, hugs, afternoons spent cuddling on his bed, time cooped up in each other's company with no proper understanding of their feelings finally bursting into fireworks.
He pulled back, chests heaving as they caught breaths with half-lidded eyes speaking more words of yearning than either would admit before Jack dove back in, deeply kissing her slowly, tongues roaming mouths and moans vibrating through chests as they physically couldn’t stop themselves from drinking in one another.
Perhaps they’d kissed a bit too long for it to be fake, kissed a bit too well for it to be a show. What they did was that dreaded limbo between a mistake and the experience of a lifetime. When they had pulled away for the final time, hands leaving each other hesitantly with sheepish smiles, Kenna stormed out the room, y/n and Jack watching her with giggles. The pair turned to each other and high-fived with strained hearts and trampled feelings being stuffed to the pits of their minds as they’d tried to forget the kiss ever happened. Not that they could, no, there was too much intent behind the way they touched, too many sparks between their lips for it to not mean anything at all. It meant everything to y/n, her first proper French kiss and when the world tuned back into play, she ascended to the heavens with pure elation. She hoped he felt the same, the way he kissed her had too much desperation and emotion behind it to all be just an act.
Another two hours drowning at the party, another three cheap beers and she just had to break the seal, and wetting yourself at a party was not what anyone wanted in their teenage years. She splashed her face, doing her best to keep herself away, perhaps another hour and she’d go lug Jack home. Fixing her hair and outfit, she slipped from the bathroom, exhaling before entering the lion's den once again but when she turned the corner, her stomach dropped to the pit and shattered into shambles. She was so wrong. She knew it was a bad idea and she should have stayed strong when he raised the idea because then she wouldn’t be watching Jack lip-lock with Kenna right in front of her. She had to remind herself, repeat it like a mantra to drill it into her skull, they were just best friends at the end of the day. Jack was into Kenna, and she knew that, but it should’ve been her standing there. It was her before Kenna, why did he like her anyway? She was hot and cold, on and off with him, one day they were snuggled up and the next y/n was the one cradling Jack through his rambles. Kissing Jack had always meant nothing, yet she deluded herself that it meant everything. With watery eyes, she took a sharp breath and kept walking, B-lining for Jack’s friends at the beer pong table. Anything to take her mind off the invasive fantasies being abolished. Getting drunk didn’t sound all that bad anymore.
“Hey, y/n!” Liam called as she approached, his t-shirt collar damp and stained, “You good?”
“Yeah, was wondering if you needed one more player?” she lied, hiding any drop of hurt behind her teeth.
They split into even teams, re-setting and refilling the red solo cups to the brim and playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who started. Liam won, lining up his aim and watching the ping pong ball bounce over all the cups, the other team (y/n’s team) letting out sighs of relief. The next guy took his shot, the ball landing in the cup and the round continued, y/n forgetting about Jack the more beer she threw down her throat.
One round quickly turned to two in the heat of the thrill, the beer slowly running low and so Liam pulled out the vodka he’d stashed away from the rest of the party. The vodka had one hell of a kick compared to the beer, the burning satisfying as it fell down her throat, yet it was the perfect remedy as the more cups she drank from, the less Jack entered her mind. Until the room started spinning and nausea hit her like a brick.
“I’ll be right back; I don’t feel so hot.” She tapped Liam’s shoulder, stumbling as she turned away.
“Shit,” Liam wrapped his arm around her shoulder, stabilising her, “hold on guys, be right back.”
Liam guided her to the bathroom, sitting down next to the toilet with her. She shook her head at him and leant over the bowl, panic rushing through him as his hands pulled her hair away from her face.
“It’s all right, ‘atta girl,” he soothed. He shouldn’t be the one with her in that state, she needed someone close and that she trusted, and Liam wasn’t sure if she was entirely okay with him seeing her in such a disastrous state, but if he left her, Jack would tear the place up.
She stopped retching, tears falling down her cheeks as she sobbed out hoarsely, “Just wan…ted to forget…saw.”
Meanwhile, Jack hung in the garden with a group of girls, Kenna and her friends, re-telling a half-exaggerated story from the summer when Owen blundered over to him and gripped him by the arm, spinning him around to face him.
“Hughesy! Your girl's not holding up so good, she played beer pong, Liam took her to the bathroom.” He explained hurriedly, watching Jack’s face screw up, brows knitting deepening on this forehead and suddenly the girls weren’t important anymore.
“And you left her there?!” he hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but his fight or flight kicked in and he shrugged Owen off, storming into the house, “Thanks anyway.”
Jack’s ears blocked out his classmates swear at him as he burst through the house, pushing his way to the bathroom like the place was on fire, swinging the bathroom door open and halting when his eyes laid upon y/n slumped against the cabinet, Liam sat opposite her.
“I got her, go. Thanks for keeping an eye on her.” He let Liam squeeze past before locking the door. Jack crouched in front of her, his chest tightening at her tear-stained cheeks tinted red, his palm resting on her cheek.
“Hey, Sunshine,” he said softly, y/n nuzzling into his hand with opening, puffy eyes, “why’d you drink so much?”
“M’was sad.” She uttered out, pulling her knees closer to her chest with a fuzzy head and weak jaw.
“And why were you sad?” his thumb rubbed her cheek, guilt building in his stomach. She was in dire need of him, and he wasn’t there. The evil voice at the back of his brain refusing to let it slide, howling it at him, ‘You weren’t fucking there! It’s your fault!’.
She lulled her head up straight, red, sleepy eyes staring into his, “Because…you kissed me,” she slurred, sniffing, “and I liked it, and I shouldn't have…because you kissed another girl. So, it meant…meant nothing.”
You kissed me and I liked it. It rang through his head like a parasite. Actions have consequences, his dad had always told him that since he was a child and he was finally realised that he didn’t just mean in hockey, but in life. Not only had he messed up his own feelings but now hers too and it was all his fault. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he just wanted to night to end, the moment to pass and a new day to begin where everything went back to normal. Where he could hug and hold her without thinking about a future where she was more than his best friend, where he wouldn’t be squatting on a bathroom floor, holding his drunk y/n’s head in his palm while evidently displaying the fact she had been crying because of him, even worse that Liam had seen her. Even worse that she felt the need to drink until she puked just to get it out her head.
“You’re drunk, y/n. You have no idea what you’re saying.”
She raised her hand and gripped his wrist, “I’m drunk, not stupid. You’re annoying…and annoyingly pretty. It’s not fair! Why dont guys like you like me!? Why do guys like Miles like me, he’s so…so lukewarm.”
She tried to stand up, wobbling but he caught her, his arm snaking around her waist as she put her weight into him. He would always catch her.
“You deserve better than guys like me, Sunshine.” He unlocked the door, walking with her through the foyer until they left out the front door, “The guy who wins your heart will be so lucky.”
It was midnight by the time they’d managed to trek home, y/n sobering up as they walked, leaning her body weight less and less into him but they walked hand in hand the entire way. Although it was nearly mid-May, the nights were still chilly, and both regretted not wearing jackets.
Jack walked her to her back door, her head still a bit fuzzy and his heart aching tremendously. Neither said a word, they gave each other a slight nod but to her surprise he planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he spun on his heel and left out her back gate.
*
Life moved on since the party and neither Jack nor y/n bought it up either, the whole event just seemed to fade into a memory vault. Yet too many nights of overthinking, too many hugs that lasted too long and sex dreams after the kiss just kept the feelings on a loop. But enough time passed for them to sit in Jack’s room at the lake house during the summer, chatting like usual and laughing at stupid jokes. Somehow, y/n had convinced Ellen and Jim to let her share with Jack, her point being that sharing with boys was awkward (even though she, Alex and Cole got along perfectly, harmonious to be absolute) and Jack couldn’t bear Trevor’s brutal snoring for another year. So, they let y/n take the mattress on Jack’s floor, emphasising the ‘no funny business’ rule once again.
Jack tossed and turned in his bed, shorts hiked up his thighs from wiggling so much, sheets twisted and his mind refusing to sleep. He tried flipping his pillow, turning the fan on a colder setting, and counting sheep but he couldn’t stop thinking.
“Jack, stop moving.” She whispered from the floor, irritated at the rustling.
“I can’t sleep knowing you have to sleep on the floor.” It wasn’t a complete lie, “Sleep here with me.”
Opening her eyes slowly, she gulped. He wanted her to share his bed? Even after they made out and she confessed her darkest secrets about it to him? He muttered a ‘Please’ before she threw her duvet off and slipped into his bed, Jack shimmying over next to the wall. They laid on their sides, facing each other with nothing but the whirring fan filling the silence. He tried to keep his eyes steady, to stop them from wandering to her collarbones and cleavage but why did she have to wear a tank top to bed? Was she trying to kill him? The bikinis during the day had him sweating and retreating to his room early to deal with his uncomfortably tight shorts as it was. What was she doing to him?
“Did you mean it? Did you really like it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.
She knew exactly what he meant, the only thing they hadn’t been talking about. “Why would I lie to you?”
“I liked it too. I don’t care if people know we kissed, by the way. I wasn’t ashamed. I just didn’t want to make things awkward, so I didn’t bring it up.” He placed his hand over hers on the pillow, as if to hold it.
She smiled at him, “It’s okay, as long as we’re cool.”
He paused and gazed into her eyes, admiring how they shimmered under the moonlight that seeped through his blinds. “You’re a good kisser, dunno if anyone’s ever told you that.”
“You too,” she giggled, “when did you learn how to make out?”
“Honestly, I winged it. That was the first time I’ve made out with somebody but I’m glad it was you. You were a lot better than she was.”
“What happened to her?”
Jack exhaled, taking his hand off hers and his arm winding around her waist instead, tucking her into his chest. Y/n’s arm snaked around his torso, the two intertwining and slicing the thick atmosphere that once separated them. With that action alone, y/n knew his answer, she was the only woman back in his arms again. As it should have been. As it should be.
The weeks before the annual lake house trip was always the most hectic. So much packing, cleaning, laundry and sorting out car and bedroom arrangements. Ellen and Jim had to spend almost two days brainstorming on how everything would work efficiently and make everyone happy. The more summers that passed, the more they got used to their big group and they didn’t mind anymore. What was supposed to be a one-off turned annual but giving the kids fond memories of their childhoods and adolescence was all that mattered. However, Jack had started dating a girl called Tabby from school which meant for weeks on end he pestered Ellen to let her join the lake house. Of course she was wary about space, but she didn’t want his teenage moods to ruin the summer. The settlement was final, Tabby could join for a week, but she had to find her own way there since their cars were full. Or so Ellen hoped. It wasn’t like she hated Tabby, she barely knew her son’s new girlfriend, but she hoped y/n would still be on the invite and if Jack wasn’t going to relay the message, then she would. She just prayed Jack still remembered he had a best friend.
Saturday nights were Jack’s turn to wash the dishes, even if he complained every time. It was good training for when he got older and would have to do it anyway. Quinn would do his part without question, Luke too, but Jack moved at one-hundred miles per hour, everything else was far more interesting than chores. Especially Tabby, the girl he thought he’d fallen in love with, thought about all the time, wanted to spend the little moments with.
Luke entered the kitchen, two plates in his hands and he placed them next to the sink, Quinn following with the last one. Jack scowled, placing a wet plate onto the drying rack. Both Luke and Quinn gave each other a side-eye, nudging each other’s ribs behind the middle’s back, silently gesturing who would speak up first.
Luke rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “Is y/n coming this summer? She better be, Jack.”
Jack shrugged, placing another plate to his right, “If she wants to.”
“Does she know that?” Quinn prompted, folding his arms over his chest.
“…probably?” Jack’s voice was far too dismissive to his brothers, like he didn’t even care at all, hadn’t even thought about it. Quinn’s tongue poked his cheek, Luke exhaling.
“You’re such an ass, I’m texting her.” The youngest exasperated, his dirty-blond curls bouncing as he pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers typing rapidly.
“Mum’s not gonna let you and Tabby share your room, by the way. That only works with y/n/n.” Quinn was his big brother, it was his job to tick his brother off, have the last word and assert that he was in the right.
Jack placed the final plate on the drying rack, roughly pulling the rubber gloves off and swung around to face his siblings, eyebrows knitted into a deep ‘v’, “You guys suck! Why can’t you be supportive?” He snapped, voice echoing through the kitchen and dining.
“You’re not seeing the point, Jack.” Luke kept his voice calm, even though his knuckles gripped his phone until they were white, “We don’t care if Tabby comes or not, we care if y/n is. And I just invited her so some friend you are.”
Quinn was almost shaking, seething as he hissed, “Don’t forget who was here first. Goodnight Jack.”
He shook his head with disappointment, turning and leaving the room, Luke tailing behind him. The clock ticked in the silence that swallowed Jack, his breathing heavy and rattling in his ears as his eyes caught sight of the photo on the wall. It was from last summer, a group photo of the usual suspects around the fire pit, wrapped up in hoodies and blankets with hot chocolates in their laps. The lawn chairs had all been taken, so he, y/n and Trevor sat on the log, y/n huddled between the two boys with their arms thrown over her shoulders. The same distaste coating his tongue as it did in the moment, something about how close she and Trevor had been that summer. The only thing making it better was how she fell asleep in his bed, in his hold and how she also was not ashamed of kissing him.
But he had a girlfriend now, so why did it still hurt to think about y/n?
Seventeen was such a floodgate age. You were in love with living and so dearly connected with souls, afraid to get old but at the same time you were so inconsolably fragile. Y/n’s stomach twisted whenever she saw Jack and Tabby together. Slowly, day by day, she watched him drive further into the distance while she was left in the rear-view mirror. She couldn’t control him; he was free to love and live how he wanted but didn’t think she would be easily replaced. At least she was the first to make out with him, the first to cradle him while he cried, fall asleep with him on sofas and beds, tell him he was pretty but now she was lucky to receive a text back. She hung out with Luke more than him since Tabby entered the picture. She played street hockey with Luke, watched movies with Quinn, FaceTimed Trevor, played games with Cole, texted Alex, spent Sunday’s shopping and took long drives with her friends instead. It was starting the feel like the older they got, the further apart they became. So much so that she found herself texting Cole, Trevor and Alex more than Jack. Hell, they thought they texted her more than they did Jack.
Trevvy
R u lake housing this summer?
Pls say yes cuz ik jizzy’s got his new girl and ur always no 1
y/n <3
You’ll have to take that up with Jacko, depends if I still have a place in his heart
I just say yes to the invite
I hope so tho I miss you and the boys
Trevvy
U’LL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART ANGEL
We miss u 2
I’m gonna be so pissed if ur not I wont go. Omg u can come to me!!!!
y/n <3
Thanks Twevvy
But gross no thanks
You should still go tho like don’t let me get between friendships
Trevvy
Ur so mean to me :(
Dw Tabby already did that
We r y/n/n supporters in this house <3333
y/n <3
Lukey’s invited me!! But snore in my ear and I’ll rip your balls off <3
She was just about to fall asleep, a new excitement flushing now she was officially going back to the lake house and away from the house for another year until her phone flashed. Her brother had only become worse, and she started getting used to the Hughes’ getaway home, that was the scary part.
Wack Huh🤕
I was gonna call u but its late but im sorry
Ik this is poor of me to say over text but it cant wait. Im sorry for kinda just leaving u behind now im w tabby. Idk what was wrong w me but Q and lukey opened my eyes and after thinking i realise ive been a dick abt it. Im sorry for not hanging out with u as much and for not texting or calling, im sorry i haven’t been sitting with u at lunch either. Im gonna go back to how things were w us. Im sorry for not inviting u to the lake sooner and that luke had 2 do it. I do want u 2 come ur my best friend ofc i do, i need u. I wont let it happen again, im so sorry sunshine i love u and u’ll always be my no 1 u were here first <3
She really didn’t know how to feel. There was no distinctive feeling but as he’d said, they were best friends, and she needed him too and it did hurt. It stung like a bitch but not forgiving and giving him a chance would have stung more.
Sunshine💪
Thank you
You’re forgiven but i miss you so please don’t let it happen again. Idc if you’re with tabby or not as long as you’re happy but you have friends too that love you more than any girl could
*
Tabby had arrived at the lake house a week after the Hughes’ and honorary Hughes did. She wasn’t a stranger to his brothers and y/n, but Trevor, Cole and Alex had never seen or met Tabby (only knew the name) so when some girl rocked up at the door, the three suddenly got the memo that Jack’s girlfriend had come to join him on their adventures, and avoided her like the plague, subtly. Y/n, Quinn and Luke, all had given each other looks, knowing that they wouldn’t see Jack for the week.
So, when Jack yanked y/n into his bedroom one afternoon out the blue, shock slapped her around the face. He closed his door urgently, eyes wide in a panic, his clothes skewed over his room, and he stood skittish in front of his mirror, dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.
“Be honest, do I look good?” he asked her, biting his nail.
Y/n blinked, processing how she’d never seen him so unsure of himself. Wanting to impress someone was natural, but Jack’s confidence usually never wavered, especially around people he was comfortable with.
“Stupid question. You look great, possibly the cleanest I’ve ever seen you.” She stood next to him, like they had done years ago when she cried over a bikini.
He fussed with his collar, spinning to face her, peering down at the way her eyes softened, “Really? Good, I’d be so lost without you. Why am I scared, y/n? It’s just a date.”
Her eyebrows raised. Date? Since when did he start planning dates? It couldn’t be helped when you could be in love with your best friend, that slither of jealousy choking her neck. Y/n swatted his hands away from his collar, straightening it out and patting it flat. Her hands slid to his chest, smile tugging on her lips as his hands moved in autopilot to hover over her hips, fingers barely ghosting the fabric of her (his) hoodie.
“Because you want to impress her. It’s normal, you want her to keep liking you and get to know her more.” She replied gently, watching the way his eyes glued to hers in a trance.
“You always know what to say, Sunshine,” his voice was deeper than last year, chest firmer and as much as she knew she had to stop enjoying her hands on his chest, she couldn’t back away, “s’one of the things I like about you.”
Thank the stars he’d closed his door, because if anyone had seen them standing almost chest to chest with hands in places they shouldn’t have been for just friends, the hurricane that would have broken loose would have been disastrous. Yet neither moved, thumbs rubbed circles over fabrics and thoughts spiralled, the same devilish thoughts from Liam’s birthday party. How soft lips looked, how pretty and handsome they’d become, how sharp jawlines were and how alluring eyes had become. Touches igniting the fires than tingled over skin all over again. The aroma of marshmallows that had her dying to bury her nose in his neck. That stupid cologne. How dare he wear it for a woman that was not her. The scent that triggered waterfalls of memories and feelings; him sleeping on her chest, her tucked under his arm.
“You smell really good, almost familiar.” She mumbled with a smirk, batting her eyelashes at him sinfully.
His lips quirked, “Marshmallows? I wear it when I need you around.”
To school, to hockey, to family functions, to parties, to dates, whenever she wasn’t there, the cologne was. It was his own reassurance, comfort. When he’d neglected her before summer, every time he wore the cologne, the smell would bring a longing, a sense of emptiness and he never figured out why. He didn’t care if anyone liked the way it smelled, unless it was y/n. Always y/n. Only y/n.
She slipped her hand to his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes gradually as he dipped down, wetting his lips. The action felt familiar, the attraction like a Siren’s song as their noses bumped hesitantly, breaths hitting cheeks and lips ghosting, sparks shooting through nerves and through bodies and hitting the fight reflex. She titled her head up, millimetres away from closing the gap and warmth pooling into her lower stomach. He wanted to kiss her again. Again, again and again. Recreate their night all over again and she needed to taste his tongue. But as their lips barely met, his door handle rattled and opened hastily. Jack let her go and y/n pushed him back, both stepping away and creating a sensible distance between the two of them, cheeks flaring at the realisation that they shouldn’t be left alone.
Tabby poked her head through the door with a smile, “Jack, are you- Oh hey, y/n! Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry I just needed to…ask him something…I’ll, uh, go now. Have fun!” She fumbled over her words, pulling her sleeves over her hands and slipping past Tabby, stumbling into Cole in the hall.
After leaving Jack’s room in a hurry, she hadn’t a clue where she was going until her legs took her to the back porch, sitting on the porch swing. The sun set in in the distance, the orange and pink hues cascading down the sky and the lake’s water twinkling. She sank back into the cushions with a gentle swing, eyes fixated on Trevor, Luke and Alex playing swing ball down on the grass. There was peace, nothing but quiet for once. She closed her eyes, relishing in the breeze and movement of the swing until the seat dipped next to her. Opening one eye, she was met with Quinn’s comforting figure. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat and swung next to her, watching the boys below hit the tennis ball with too much aggression for what it was worth.
“You know he’s just gonna keep breaking your heart, right?” He stated, gaze maintaining on the boys.
She suspired, a bittersweet smile on her lips and eyes, “And I’ll let him every time.”
Quinn’s heart sank, he’d watched his little brother obsess over her for years, talk about how pretty and cool she was, beg for her undivided attention and fear that she’d like his brothers more. The dramatic switch up hit like a brick, and if it was tough on him, y/n must’ve been feeling one hell of a storm inside. He scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leant her head on his shoulder, sniffing.
There was nothing romantic about the gesture, they’d known each other for so long it was more comforting in a brotherly way. At one point she may have had the tiniest crush on Quinn, but spending every week with him normalised his presence and spending more time around Jack made the feelings jump from one brother to another.
“Try not to think about him, hang with the others instead. You’re allowed to have friends too. Jack’s just annoying, remember that.” He reassured, attempting a light-hearted sprinkle of humour.
*
Boat days were always highest priority, even if waking up was difficult. She’d slept well for once, considering she was sharing the basement with the boys. She could have shared the spare room with Tabby, but from the kindness of her heart, she let her have the room to herself as she was considered the guest, and because y/n felt awkward. Besides, pillow fights in the basement hit different and Uno when you’ve got to be quiet turned out to be funnier than it should have been. The basement was just the vibe, kitchenette under the stairs, glass sliding doors out into the garden, pool table in the middle, fireplace with a scoreboard on the right side of the doors and a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV on the other side, bathroom in the corner.
Y/n wasn’t as upset as she’d thought she would have been, seeing Jack and Tabby together. Trevor had consoled her beforehand that she was welcome to join him and the other two on shenanigans if Jack was, in his words, ‘being a dick’. But she wasn’t upset when they all headed out into the lake, Jack and Tabby cuddled up together on one end of the deck while the other hooted and hollered at y/n tearing it up on the wakeboard.
“Lookin’ hot, y/n/n!” Trevor called, pulling his phone out.
“When did you get so good!?” Cole’s eyes almost falling from their sockets in surprise.
Tabby and Jack were in their own bubble, chatting with arms around each other while blocking out the laughter from the others. Though, Jack’s eyes couldn’t stay on his girlfriend for long, they seemed to flicker between her face and the way Trevor caught y/n as she stepped back onto the decking, handing her the towel before it was Luke’s turn. Something about seeing y/n with the guys just irked him.
The second time Jack found himself licking his teeth was on Tuesday night. The usual suspects circling the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and chatting until their eyes became heavy. Tabby was deep into sharing a story with the group, but it fell deaf on his ears, and apparently y/n’s too. She’d also apparently decided that wearing Trevor’s hoodie was more comfortable than his. Her melted marshmallow had bumped Trevor’s, and the pair were trying to unstick them while suppressing giggles as to not be rude to Tabby. Usually it was himself and y/n trying to stifle laughter.
Wednesday he’d taken Tabby to a flower show she’d been interested in. But the biggest mistake he’d made was opening his Snapchat to find, via Alex’s story, that his friends, brothers and y/n had gone down to the go karting track without him. In the video was Cole and Trevor pulling up, both boys flashing the camera a wink before he heard y/n voice ring out from behind the camera.
“That was so hot, Alex send me that.”
“You could just ask and we’ll do it again.” Cole’s voice muffled by his helmet.
“You do know your way to a girl’s heart, Caulfield.”
He had a girlfriend, why was he seething over a few banterous comments? It happened all the time, they were friends! It meant nothing!
Wednesday afternoon, only a couple of days left until Tabby had to leave and instead of planning how to make her days special, Jack watched his best friend teach Trevor, Cole and Alex how to shotgun a beer from the porch. They all laughed harmoniously, like seventeen-year-olds should, alcohol spraying everywhere when someone didn’t quite make it but grabbing another can from the crate Jim bought them as a treat.
“Tabs, you wanna go join them? It’ll be fun! Y/n’s super cool, she’ll teach you better than I would.” He interrupted his girlfriend, who was mid-ramble about a concert she was dying to see.
“Oh, no it’s okay. I don’t drink, but I’ll stay here and watch!” Tabby politely declined, she was too kind, but disappointed when she realised that Jack hadn’t been listening for the past five minutes.
He stayed, sitting back into the cushions and resting his arm over the back of the bench, eyes still blankly staring at his friends below.
Lukewarm beer pooled down Cole’s throat; his free arm raised in the air as he’d finally been able to successfully shotgun without the drink exploding over himself. The other three cheered, only Trevor left to gain success. He tossed the can around in his palm, puncturing the bottom with the key and tilting his head back only to have it spray over his face and t-shirt, his friends bursting into fits around him.
In an instant retaliation, he turned to the nearest person and held the can towards them. Beer sprayed over y/n’s t-shirt and hair, earning a squeal from her that rang through the yard.
“The fuck, Trev!” She swatted his arm away from her, grabbing his can and sticking it to soak Alex instead. Alex ran, only to have y/n chase him with the drink as it rinsed his clothes.
“You bitch!” It was his turn to take the can and chase Cole, who screamed the loudest blood-curdling scream as the others cackled, holding stomachs and dodging the firing line.
The evening Tabby bid her goodbyes before Ellen drove her to the airport was the worst moment of Jack’s teenage life. He’d barely seen his friends all day, making Tabby’s last day special before helping her with her bags and giving her a kiss goodbye before he watched his mum’s car drive down the road. He would have joined if his assistance wasn’t needed at the barbecue. Watching his girl leave wasn’t the worst part, it was what came after that.
He ran his fingers through his hair and stood in the foyer, strangely absent of that empty feeling when good times come to an end, that longing when you don’t know what to do with yourself. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to hurl himself into y/n’s arms, tuck his face into her neck and feel her fingers rake through his hair, tugging gently through the knots while she vented about how stupid the characters in a movie were. But he couldn’t. Was that…wrong? To want such a thing when his girlfriend just left. He wasn’t going to be a cheater, y/n would never forgive him if he did such a thing to anyone, and he wouldn’t forgive himself either. He loved Tabby after all, and clearly y/n loved Trevor’s company better.
Shuffling through the house and onto the back porch, Jack froze, the light in his eyes dimming, his jealousy growing from a thorn in his side to a leash around his neck upon watching his friends play basketball on the patio. Y/n shot the ball into the hoop, circling the rim before falling in. Trevor and y/n jumped for joy around a defeated Alex and Cole, y/n leaping into Trevor’s arms as they hugged in celebration. Jack grit his teeth, that should have been him spinning her around, holding her waist. But no, it had to be Trevor, his other best friend.
Actions have consequences, they said. And what they said was right. But Jack still hadn’t entirely grasped that concept entirely. To him, he was being replaced, that y/n didn’t want him anymore now he had a girlfriend.
*
After Tabby left, the basement dwellers moved to the spare room, but y/n didn’t retreat to Jack’s. He had half expected her to, but he ended up laying alone, ignoring the texts from his girlfriend and scrolling through photos of himself and y/n, wondering what life would be like if he didn’t have Tabby.
It wasn’t often y/n woke up in dire need of a drink, especially in the middle of the night. She also didn’t mean to hang around in the kitchen for too long, but the moon just shone beautifully, almost enticing her into her own little world. So much so that the footsteps against the floor startled her, fear running, thinking the worst-case scenario that either Jim or Ellen were about to tell her to go back to bed. But it never came. Her eyes met his in the reflection of the glass and she turned to face him calmly, a small smile on her lips seeing his blue eyes focus on her for the first time in a while. Jack’s body urged; legs restless as they just stood listening to the kitchen clock tick in the dark. Her feet concrete to the ground, with tears welling in his sullen eyes, swift like the breeze, his arms encased around her shoulders, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. Y/n hummed, winding her arms around his torso and listening to the way his heartbeat slowed. Jack could be told a million times that he’d hurt her, but the only way he’d realise was to feel it with his own heart.
“You guys are seeing what I’m seeing…right?” Cole asked, adjusting his seating when the leather starting stinging from the heat.
Y/n, Quinn, Luke, Alex and Trevor replied in unison with ‘yep’ and ‘yup’, the group blatantly staring at Jack and his new girlfriend sitting at the bow of the boat. After last summer, Tabby had broken up with Jack a couple of months later, something about just not being a fit for each other. Of course, Jack was devastated, but not as much as he thought he’d be which showed a lot about his feelings, but life moved on normally. He still had his best friend, and he still had his family. He still had his constants, especially that constant feeling like he was in competition. Regardless, it wasn’t long until he was laying on y/n’s lap, telling her all about this girl, Ari. And as everyone had assumed, Ari joined their lake house summer for a week.
“It’s kinda freaky, do you think he realises?” Trevor added, y/n shaking her head at him.
“Either he doesn’t and he’s really stupid, or he’s done it on purpose. I mean come on, she and y/n look so similar.” Luke said, overly thrilled that he was considered cool enough to be part of their group activities fully.
“Should I be flattered or worried?” y/n blinked at the couple, noting the familiar bikini Ari was wearing, “I wore that bikini when I was fifteen. He fumbled so badly when he saw it.”
“Don’t blame him, angel. Had me gasping for air.” Trevor chuckled, y/n slapping his chest.
“Yo,” Alex spoke up, the group turning to him, “I think Jack may be into y/n but just doesn’t know it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, kid’s into Ari and all those other girls he talks about. Don’t give me false hope.” She scoffed, folding her arms. They all glanced back at the couple and then at each other. It wasn’t like she was hiding the fact she liked Jack, in fact, she didn’t have to because it had been obvious since they were kids. If anything, they were all rooting for them.
“No, he has a point,” Quinn eventually piped up, pulling the boat to a stop and swivelling to face the back deck gang, “ever since you were fourteen, he’s been obsessed with you. Like all he would ever talk about. That kid would have never completed that project if you hadn’t been his partner and choked him.”
“You choked Jack?!” Alex and Trevor’s jaws dropped in disbelief, Quinn, Luke and y/n throwing their heads back and laughing.
“When do you think he’ll realise that y/n’s actually the love of his life and always has been, like girl’s willing to let him break her heart every year.” Luke jabbed, a cheeky glint in his eyes.
“I have an idea,” Trevor smirked, arm falling over her shoulders and pulling her into his side, “you guys in?”
*
From the get-go, Ari knew she’d never be number one in Jack’s heart. She shared classes with the two since they were freshman, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d seen the way they looked at each other with hearts in their eyes, the way y/n shone like the sun around him. She always envied their friendship, so when Jack asked her out, she didn’t hesitate but the guilt that ate her took the pleasure from it all. It wasn’t fair in her romantic mind. But she did love Jack, he was just oblivious and if it meant Ari had to break her own heart, she was willing to do so for love.
Ari poked her head out the patio doors, spotting y/n on the porch swing and smiling. She sat next to her timidly, mustering up the words while y/n stuck her nose into the novel she was reading.
“Y/n? Do you mind if I join you?” Ari’s voice was sweet, quiet compared to the rest of the lake house group.
“No, you’re okay. Something up?” Her eyes never left the pages, she wasn’t really reading them, just avoiding eye contact.
“Well, um, is Jack always weirdly protective of his clothes? He’s never offered a hoodie or anything and I was worried it was me?” she asked, recognising the blue sweatshirt y/n wore, Jack’s blue USA Hockey sweatshirt.
“I don’t think it’s you, he has this weird thing where he likes them to smell and fit a certain way. Or it was a gift.”
“Weird guy. Does he also not vibe with pet names? I called him ‘babe’ and he screwed his face up! I thought I said something wrong!” Ari just needed to prove her theory. Theory that she was not the one he loved, but the one who just needed to fill the gap.
“I’m not sure, actually,” y/n closed her book, looking out into the garden while she thought, “he’s not used to things like that, I guess. He might warm up.”
“But you call him ‘pretty boy’ or, or ‘hotshot’ and he doesn’t seem to mind. Is there a difference?” Ari knew she was starting to slip, sounding more upset than she had meant to, more accusing and she knew y/n wasn’t a bear to poke.
“I also call Trevor ‘sexy’ and ‘gorgeous’, Cole ‘cutie’. He’s your boyfriend, ask him. If it upsets you, you should tell him because he won't take a hint unless it's hockey, believe me.” She turned to face Ari, surprisingly calm, “Like this one time, we were at a party and this girl had just been dumped, and we kept nudging him to shut up and that it wasn’t the moment for jokes, but he didn’t get it. Literally had to slap my hand over his mouth for him to take the hint.”
Ari smiled and nodded, thanking her and getting up to leave while y/n opened her book. Data collected and conclusions made. The ambush was odd, especially the questions asked but y/n was in no position to think too deeply about it. Ari and Jack’s relationship wasn’t her business anyway.
*
With the sky clear and weather warm, the golf course swarmed with country club members of all ages, kids learning from their parents to the retired living their best lives with a three o’clock beer.
The usual suspects hung around their current hole, poking fun at Cole’s terrible shot. Y/n also wasn’t the greatest golfer, Trevor was teaching her that day how to play as they went along, claiming to be the best golfer of the group.
She stood by the tee, correct club in hand with her feet shoulder-width apart. Trevor tried his best to explain what to do but the complex terms he used just made the whole thing more confusing. He stood behind her, arms around hers with her back to his chest, guiding her hands to the positioning on the handle. He walked her through the process, voice rumbling in her ears.
“Relax, imagine I’m Jizzy.” He whispered, breath hot on her neck.
“No, I might cum. Besides, he’s got Ari.” She was glad she could make crude jokes with people, and if anyone was going to find it funny, it would be Trevor.
“Jack would have my head right now if he were here. No way would he enjoy watching this.” He muttered playfully.
“Yeah, but he sucks and isn’t here, so less talking more teaching, Yappy.” She giggled.
Jack’s phone flashed, the Snapchat notification that Luke had added to his story filling his screen. While Ari left for the bathroom, he unlocked his phone, desperately opening the story. Luke barely ever posted to his story; he knew they’d gone out but where was a mystery.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” He grumbled, grip tightening on his phone upon seeing Trevor Zegras with his body wrapped around y/n’s teaching her how to play golf. That was supposed to be him. He was supposed to teach her golf so they could go out and do it together. Until then, he thought the only way to have your heart broken was by being dumped or rejected, but for the first time he understood how y/n must have felt all the times he made an empty promise. It shouldn’t have bothered him; it shouldn’t have made him seethe but there was only so much he could manage before he was going to snap. The more summers that passed, the closer she got to his friends and even closer to Trevor and she never pushed him away, like she was doing it on purpose.
Then it clicked. They weren’t together, so she was allowed to do as she pleased. She wasn’t confined to a relationship like he was. When he was off the table, she’d retreat, let him go with a bittersweet smile, stay away from causing confusion, but when he was a single man again, she’d be there, smiling when he’d curl up in her arms like old times. Ari may have been right. He called her insecure when she’d raised the issue that she did not believe that Jack loved her the way he thought he did. They’d argued about it, about how y/n had clothing and pet name privileges over her, how she knew he was looking at her over dinner, fire pits, boat days, that he only talked about y/n and never her and the worst topic of all, how y/n was the only woman Jack would allow in his bed. To Ari, the signs were all there. Y/n was not just Jack’s best friend, he just didn’t know it. And it wasn’t y/n’s fault, she’d done nothing wrong. In that moment, Jack realised that if he didn’t wake up, he would lose the woman he loved the most.
*
Y/n slowly and softly placed her glass onto the draining board, trying her best to not make a noise because everything was louder at three in the morning for some reason. Three days had passed since golfing, since Ari went home, since the room arrangements changed again. Three days passed and Jack hadn’t made a peep to anyone.
She sighed, stepping back and hoisting herself onto the island counter, watching the waves in the distance twinkle like a sheet of glitter under the moonlight, the memory of last summer fading back into existence when she’d been watching the moon and Jack snuck up on her. Nothing hurt more than watching yourself slowly drift apart from someone you’d spend every second with. She missed his laugh, the playfighting, when he’d fall asleep on her, pull her into his chest and hug her longer than friends should. She missed the way he’d kiss her forehead, curl up on her lap, his scent and as much as she hated to admit it, his attention, his wandering hands up and down her spine and hips, eyelashes fluttering against her neck and that one open mouthed, shamelessly lewd kiss when they were sixteen.
“Hey, Sunshine,” his raspy voice echoed in the dark, the window just barely illuminating the room, “can’t sleep either?”
She peered over her shoulder to the boy leaning against the kitchen doorframe, arms folded over his bare chest and basketball shorts hanging off his hips. Even dishevelled he looked attractive. He pushed off the doorframe, ambling around the island until he faced her, leaning against the sink and blocking her view of the moon. Y/n shook her head at him, kicking her legs slightly just to occupy them from the suffocating gap between them, like a wedge had been jammed to keep them apart.
“I’m guessing you miss Ari too much to sleep…” she mumbled, voice above a whisper but not loud enough to wake anyone.
He hung his head before he responded, “I've been thinking about you a lot lately. About us,”
“Me too, Jack. About if we’re still friends…” she wet her lips, “because you haven’t spoken to me in over a week, haven’t really spoken to me properly for the past couple of years actually. So, what’s up, hotshot? Where did I go wrong?”
Jack let out a shaky breath and kicked the wedge that separated them away. Hands meeting the cold marble of the island counter and he stood between her legs, eyes coming directly in line with hers.
“I was supposed to teach you how to play golf. It was supposed to be an us thing.” He kept his voice low as she watched his gaze skip between hers and her lips, his hands shifting closer to her bare thighs. “And instead, I found out, via Snap, that you found a new best friend. I’m okay with you and Trevor being friends, but any closer and that’s off the table.”
“We’re just friends. You were busy and that was the only time slot open. What’s it to you?” She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. She’d never seen him like that, his forearms tensed and poison dripping from his words, but she truly did not understand what the big deal was. If he could go off all merry with his girlfriend, why wasn’t she allowed to hang out with her friends? They were also being cast aside like she was, so it was logical for all of them to band together and enjoy their summer either way. Plus, they were eighteen, they were getting too old to hold grudges against people, throw tantrums about whose turn it was to play with who.
Jack’s hands roamed along her thighs tenderly, hooking under her knees and opening her legs further apart, pussy throbbing at the sudden action. Excitement puddled in her stomach when he smoothly pulled her to the edge of the counter until they were close enough to hear their breathing, “I don't like sharing, especially not with hockey guys. You’re my person.”
“And I always will be,” he’d always been clingy, the king of her personal space but this was a whole new ground he marched on, it was territorial with how firm his stare was, how tight his shoulders and jaw held. She could feel the bubbling heat radiating off his skin, a green-eyed demon flaunting around his shoulders. After Kenna, her envy died into acceptance, but he never accepted that one day she wouldn’t be just his anymore. Not because he had that toxic twang to him, he was just protective of the girl that put up with him happily, blended with his family well, picked him up when he was down, tamed him when he was wild, choked him humble when he was arrogant. He didn’t believe that she deserved any harm or heart break after making his life so much more euphoric, “Jack, are you…jealous?”
“I dont know, why dont you go ask Trevor, you two seem close lately. Practically tangled in each other by the looks of the photo. Wouldn’t be surprised if you two fucked too since you’ve been all over each other.” A vein pulsed in his neck sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t have found it sexy, there wasn’t anything attractive about being accused but he looked so hot with how defined his biceps were, how his veins popped on his arms and hands.
Her lips twisted into an amused smile and titter, “Oh my god you are! You’re being ridiculous.”
He pushed away from the counter, taking a sharp breath and running his hands through his hair before turning back, hands slapping on the counter either side of her, “So you two did? Is that where the hickey came from? Did you go see him? Fuck my best friend because you weren’t getting attention?”
She only grinned at him. Before summer, she and her friends took a weekend break to New York for Kylie’s birthday, indulging in cute cafes and activities but somehow, Rachel had managed to get them all invited to some random frat party where alcohol was obviously on the table out in the open. She didn’t remember much from the party, but she did remember hooking up with some guy and waking up in her B&B with a purple blotch on her neck. She’d managed to hide it from her parents, but she thought Jack too, but she should have known that nothing slipped past Jack and when he’d asked her about it, he pieced the worst case - and dramatic - scenario together: New York? Trevor was in New York. Girls trip? Weekend away? Funny business, because Trevor was obviously the only man in New York.
“Oh jeez,” she rolled her eyes, “that really was a girl’s trip, Jack. You saw the photos.”
“You’re avoiding the question, Sunshine. Work with me.” He still hadn’t raised his voice, whether because he was trying to keep quiet or because he’d never raise his voice at her didn’t matter.
“Because you’re jealous, I can have sex with who I want, I’m not yours and I never was so why does it bother you so much?”
He sighed in defeat, hanging his head and resting in on her shoulder while his hands locked on her hips. Y/n didn’t touch him, didn’t speak, let him control his hammering heartbeat and get himself thinking straight before he’d say something he’d regret. She wasn’t mad at him; she couldn’t be mad at him even after he’d accused her of sleeping with Trevor. It wasn’t that deep, he was just jealous for reasons she wouldn’t know until he took a breath, calmed and confessed.
Jack went back and forth on what he would say. Worst case scenario was she never spoke to him again. Best case scenario was she reciprocated. His thumbs rubbed circles over her shorts unconsciously, as if seeking comfort by finding home on her hips. They’d always find their way to her hips, there was just something that took the weight off his shoulders and she never pushed him away.
He looked up wearily, chest rising and falling and palm cupping her cheek. She melted into his touch, the beacon of hope that she wasn’t upset. That she still wanted him. Her lips still looked as soft as they always did, inviting and waiting to be blessed and bitten. Eyes waiting on him, half-lidded and searching for reply. He couldn’t be a coward forever, too many times they’d been interrupted and too many times he’d wished he’d just gone for it, followed his heart.
With his hand tangling in her hair, he leant in, closing the distance between their pining selves, lips meeting for a bruising open-mouthed kiss. Y/n unfolded her arms, enlacing around his shoulders, pulling him in with a low moan emitting from the back of her throat when his tongue lapped hers the way it once did. He kissed her with a desperate yearning, slowly and sloppy, hand on her nape as lips connected and disconnected, tasting each other’s toothpaste with little mewls slipping through from the pleasure embracing them.
They pulled back, panting but hands remaining latched onto each other, “I'm in love with you. That’s why it bothers me. And I think I’ve loved you since the day you punched me in the face. And I’ve wanted to kiss you again since we were sixteen.”
She smirked. That was so hot, so goddamn hot of him to do with impatient passion driving him into a confession. She wondered what else he would do with enough provoking, what other feelings would he give into, “That all you got? I bet Tre-”
He kissed her roughly again, just as messy with twice as much appetite in the way his tongue danced with hers. Her hand slid to his hair, tugging and pulling a groan from him while his toyed with the hem of her shirt, his hand moving from her hip, gliding underneath the fabric and feeling up her waist and curve of her spine. They pulled away again, but he didn’t give himself much time to catch his breath before attaching his lips to her neck, leaving butterfly kisses down the column until she moaned in his ear. He nibbled at the spot at the base of her neck, biting and sucking on the skin, leaving a purple blotch in his wake. Y/n held his shoulder tight, continuing to play with his hair with a rousing desire coaxing her core and pussy, begging for attention as his body was just so close. Jack’s hand slipped from her hair to join the other under her shirt, palms groping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, with his lips assaulting her neck, nipping and suckling little red blossoms over the skin as if leaving his mark. Not that she minded, she finally got to be his girl, years of painfully watching from afar and hurting her own feelings rewarded with his tongue running over the spots where he sunk his teeth into her.
“I wanna fuck you so good you won't remember his name.” He grumbled into her ear, planting a kiss underneath her earlobe and sending jolts through her veins. She let out a whimper, aching for friction between her legs as he kneaded her tits like dough, feeling the smirk on his lips whenever he could get her to submit to a whiny, pathetic noise.
Letting go of his hair, her lips pulled into a devilish grin and fingers wrapping around his neck, pushing his head from her neck and squeezing at the sides. He huffed in surprise, cock twitching in his shorts and hands dropping from her chest to her hips again. He really hadn’t thought she’d be into anything like that, but he should have guessed since he caught a glimpse of Deja vu. It had been too long since they really talked, did he know anything about her anymore? Apparently not, but it wasn’t like he…disliked it.
“Do it,” she loosened her grip with honey lacing her voice, sliding her hand to grip his shoulder, “do it, Jack. I’m on the pill. Show me who I belong to.”
The fire lit inside him and without any ounce of hesitation, he was back to tasting her lips, fingers kneading her thighs and inching up underneath her shorts. He pulled them to one side, brushing his knuckle over her clothed clit, erection hardening with the way she mewled and ground her hips into his fingers. He toyed with the elastic of her underwear, pulling them to one side and ran his fingers through her folds, coating his fingers in her slick as they slipped through smooth.
“This fucking wet? For me?” He whispered into her lips, middle and ring finger landing on her clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in firm circles as she clung to his shoulders, relaxing into his chest and panting in his ear.
“Yes,” she sighed, “don’t stop, feels good.”
She left languid, messy kisses over his neck, biting when she’d pull a groan from him. No man had ever made her cunt ache to be filled like Jack could. The merciless cries to be filled and stretched out and it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamt about it, thought about it when he’d parade around shirtless and adjusting his swim shorts. Dreams do come true though, her message fell loud and clear into his ears, and his fingers that toyed with her clit sank into her cunt, warm, spongy walls taking him perfectly. Her jaw slacked, a winded breath replacing an elongated moan that would’ve got them caught.
“Mor…more,” she puffed, her nails digging into his shoulder muscles when his fingers plunged in and out faster, eyes rolling back when they curled into her. He bullied his digits at a fast but steady pace, knowing he’d hit her keen spot when her nails pierced into his skin and her hips rolled to meet his pace, arousal seeping from her.
He threw his head back closing his eyes, he slipped in her better than he’d imagined, he could do it every day, all day if she’d let him. The sheer salacious yearning that washed over him not enough to tend his fantasies. He needed more, to be inside her, feel his cock be squeezed and hugged as if his life depended on it. Needed to hear his name leave her mouth when he fucked her. His y/n, his person. No, it wasn’t just fucking, he wanted to love her, let the world know who makes her feel good.
“Fuck this.” He grunted, pulling his fingers out, taking them into his mouth and sucking them clean with low, erotic moans of satisfaction. She whined at the loss of pleasure, pouting and darting back to know why he suddenly stopped only to feel heat rush through her and pussy throb at the sight of Jack pulling his cock out his shorts. With a couple of blissful strokes and lustful gaze boring into her, he lined himself up, y/n placing her hands on his shoulders and giving him consent.
It wasn’t her first-time having sex, but it already felt better than the last. He pushed himself in slowly, y/n nuzzling into his shoulder as he disappeared into her until bottoming out, gummy walls hugging him with a sensation resembling ecstasy fogging his mind. She broke into a smile, he felt so perfect, stretching and filling her in all the ways she’d hoped and wanted. His pace started gradual, rocking his hips, watching his cock sink in and out with shaky breaths, hands gripping the globes of her ass.
His pace quickened, her whines muffled by his shoulder, the only sound that mattered to him, “You feel incredible, can’t help myself, y/n.” Rocking into rutting, his cheeks flushed red, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut as his craving tormented him as if he had committed the worst sins of all.
“Fas-faster, Jack, fuck,” her legs wrapped around his waist, locking her heels together and inhaling his scent as he hit deeper angles. She struggled to keep her voice down, if only she could really let go and let him hear how much she enjoyed the wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out of her sopping folds. His hips thrusted harsh, each fast stroke dragging whimpers every time he hit her cervix, sweat forming on his brow and sticking their skins together.
His fingers laced in her hair, yanking her face from his shoulder with a mewl and bearing her neck to the open, her eyes squinting closed as he admired his artwork cascading over her skin from earlier. Her cunt ached for him, relished in how he pounded in and out, in and out, squelching echoing into the kitchen. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to, y/n? I wanna hear you say it.” He rasped.
“You,” she croaked, breasts pressed flush against his chest. She only wished she had taken the t-shirt off to properly feel his skin cling to her, “you, Jack! I've wanted to do this for so long,”
Her words triggered an animalistic burst of energy, hips thrusting desperately. She’d wanted to feel him fuck her all that time and never said anything. He thought about how many nights she’d spent with her fingers inside herself, moaning his name and cumming at the idea of him. “Takin’ me so well. Made for me.”
“Oh fuck,” she moaned, slightly louder than she had intended but Jack’s mouth reattached itself to her lips, his grip in her hair falling slack as he kissed her deeply.
“Trevor couldn't make you feel like this, could he?” he growled, her pants hot on his cheeks as she batted her eyelashes at him, tits bouncing with every consuming buck into her. Her mouth opened to respond, no words falling out except small cries of elation and the pit of her stomach feeling a surge of heat spill into it, like a knot tightening on the verge of snapping.
His hands massaged her ass roughly, all those days of watching it fit snug in the little bikinis and it was finally in his clasp. The days of containing himself when she’d wiggle on his lap and clueless to how painful his raging erection was. Letting every pornographic fantasy that kept him up at night out in erratic, mouth-watering thrusts on the kitchen island of all places.
Y/n’s eyes snapped open, the warm and pleasant euphoria in her pussy suddenly cold and empty when Jack pulled out abruptly, pulling her off the counter all-together and harshly spinning her, back against his chest and voice husky next to her ear, “Bend over, sweetheart.”
With a coy smile, she did as she was told, sticking her ass out into his crotch and tits chilly and squished against the marble. He smoothed his hands over the curves and with his finger pulling her shorts and underwear to the side as before, shoving his cock inside her harder and faster.
“Oh shit-” she moaned in a hoarse breath, “Please fuck me, fast and hard. Make me cum, Jack! Wanna cum!”
Biting his lip at her demands, lust glazed over his eyes, “Fuckin’ tease.” Wrapping one hand around her throat, he tugged her back flush to his chest, pelvis bulling into hers as a rapid and feral pace. The only sound bouncing off the kitchen walls being the melody of skin slapping and short, high-pitched whimpers.
“That's my girl, make such pretty noises for me,” his stomach contorted, burned, he couldn’t let himself cum yet, she felt too good it couldn’t be over too soon. Fingers slipping down the front of her panties, he circled her swollen clit, her head falling back onto his shoulder as his grip around the sides tightened. Sensual, needy pleasure seduced her senses, choking on her saliva in spurts of whines. Pent up feelings and emotions encasing her into a paradise of raw, sloppy sex with her best friend. “Who do you belong to? Whose pretty pussy is this? Who treats you like the goddamn beauty you are?”
“Pussy belongs to you, belongs to you Jack, you,” her head lulled against him, his grip ever so slightly loosening. The knot building began to falter, harder to hold and keep tight the more he rutted with a brutal stamina. “M’gonna cum, please let me cum.”
He pulled his fingers from her clit, hand splaying over her stomach as his thrusts became sloppy, languid but deeper and exhilarating. His other hand dropped from her throat, sliding down her chest to grasp her tit as his hips burrowed into her from behind. He wasn’t far off, the pool of heat ready to overflow, pussy clenching around him tight.
“Squeezin’ me so tight, Sunshine. So fuckin’ perfect,” a strangled moan escaped her lips, heat dripping from her cunt and down her thighs, muscles relaxing into Jack’s body as he held her like a ragdoll against him while he made his last few thrusts, chasing his own release with soft grunts. He shuddered, jaw slacking and flooding her with warmth.
“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He pressed gentle kisses to her jaw, a ring of thick and hot cum soaking his cock. The kitchen fell back into an eerie silence, just heavy breathing and the clock hands reminding them that everything was louder at the unholy hours of the morning and that they both should hope no one heard them, or at least say nothing if they did.
He released her throat, arms winding around her midsection, nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck while his cock remained nestled comfortably in her. One of y/n’s hands lay over his on her stomach, the other reaching up feebly to pet his hair. They stood like that for a moment, catching breaths in a pleasant haze, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. As satisfying as the high was, as warm as his embrace was, she couldn’t let the thought go. They hadn’t found closure before they lunged for each other, did she let a taken man drive into her or not. The last thing she wanted was to be the other woman, it wasn’t fair on Ari. Sweet kisses littered her neck and up to her jaw, his lips laying the final on her temple before resting his cheek against her hairline.
“What about Ari?” she whispered, staring out into the abyss of the house, “What are we supposed to tell her now…”
“Nothing. S’just you ‘n me now…” a weight fell off his chest, finally saying it out loud, making sure it wasn’t a dream. The afternoon Ari left, she’d given him a poetic speech, a much needed one to drill it into his head that everyone was seeing what he wasn’t accepting or letting himself accept. Ari had grown up alongside them too, she’d seen their good days, their bad days, the days Jack pined over her, the days y/n pined over him. She told him to think about who he loved more and always had. Reminded him that love is a constant that sometimes falters, but always bounces back in the end. And that only person constant in his life was y/n. No matter what happened, she was always there, even if it hurt her watching Jack with someone else. And now, he got it. “I love you, a lot. Always have. Just not sure how you feel.”
“You’re so stupid. You think I kissed you to make your ex jealous for shits and giggles? Let you spend hours rambling about how in love you were with those other girls because I didn’t value your happiness?” she gave a small, airy giggle, “Let you make empty promises that broke my heart repeatedly and still let you cry in my arms? Let you fuck me in your kitchen, and you don’t know if I love you? Jack Rowden Hughes, I fell in love with you the day you told me that your home is mine.”
“Thank fucking God,” he breathed, craning his neck to capture her lips into a passionate and earnest kiss, no tongue, no teeth just souls connecting. They may have not pulled out and cleaned up yet, time was moving and getting closer to four thirty, but in their world, everything froze and felt as if the universe had fallen into place.
He pulled away, forehead leaning into hers, “You’ll come watch me play, right? In the NHL?”
“I’ll come watch you fall.” She pulled him into another sincere kiss and for a moment, nothing seemed to matter anymore.
It was October when Jack made his NHL debut for the New Jersey Devils. She was there on draft day; she was there afterwards, and she planned to always be there. Y/n had made it to university for graphic design, coincidentally close to him which worked in their favour. He always joked about how even after she graduated, she could work for the Devils social team, and he’d get on his knees and beg if he had to.
The crowds were always loud in the Prudential Center, a sea of red and black, chants and cheering with elation for another game. The team entered the ice for warmups, skating in laps, manoeuvring pucks with skilled hand work, and shooting practice before the game started. Y/n could have sat in the family room with the other wives and girlfriends, but when she’d mentioned her weekend plans to her university friends, they’d asked if they could tag along for the experience. So, there they were, screaming and waving at the players, offering trades for pucks and falling in love with athletes, into the realm of hockey men. Jack didn’t need to look hard; he could spot her for miles even in a crowd where everyone looked the same. After taking a couple shots at the net, he stopped in front of her and her squealing friends, tapping the top end of his stick at her and throwing a puck over the plexiglass. There really was no time like the present. All Jack’s nerves faded when she clasped the puck in her hands, looking back at him with a smile and a nod. It was just Jack and his girlfriend, y/n, now against the world.
warnings: language, unprotected piv (don't do it, please be safe), making out, smut.
ㅤ୨ৎ —˳ luke castellan ! reader
summary: part ii of "marry, kiss, or kill me." luke is enjoying the effects of his honesty in a simple party game. so are you.
𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠, 𝗦𝗟𝗢𝗪 but firm, like he wanted to make sure you felt it.
Like he was memorizing the way you tasted, the way your fingers curled into his shirt without you even realizing it.
His other hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face slightly as he deepened the kiss—not rushed, not desperate, but thorough, like he wanted to take his damn time.
Like he wanted to savor you.
And gods, if that wasn’t enough to send heat curling through your stomach.
You sighed against his lips, melting just slightly, and Luke—ever the opportunist—took advantage of it immediately, smirking into the kiss before dragging his lips just barely across yours, teasing.
His nose brushed against yours as he whispered, low, just for you:
"You taste even better than I thought you would."
Your breath hitched, but Luke didn't give you time to think. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you into his lap in one smooth motion.
You gasped against his lips, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss-hotter, hungrier. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you closer, like he couldn't get enough. Like he wouldn't get enough.
Your hands found his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low groan from his throat. The sound shot straight through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.
"Gods," he murmured against your lips, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to yours. "You're gonna kill me."
You smirked, "Then die happy."
His response was a growl, low and desperate, before he kissed you again-deeper, messier, his hands roaming like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.
And gods, you were so okay with that.
Luke's lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. His breath was warm, his voice rough.
"You sure about this?" he murmured, his hands still gripping your waist like he was barely holding himself back.
Your response was immediate-you tilted your head, giving him more access, pressing your body closer until there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. "Luke," you whispered, your voice breathy, almost pleading.
That was it.
His hands slid up, fingers teasing the hem of your dress before slipping underneath, warm against your bare skin. His lips moved lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, lingering where your pulse hammered hardest.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer. He groaned softly against your skin, the sound sending a sharp jolt of heat straight through you.
"You're not making this easy," he muttered against your collarbone, his teeth grazing lightly before he kissed the spot again, softer this time.
"That's bad?" you shot back, breathless.
Luke's hands roamed lower, gripping your thighs, his lips finding yours again—this time deeper, more desperate, like he needed you more than air itself.
Luke’s hands tightened on your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin like he was grounding himself—or maybe like he was trying not to lose control completely.
His lips were relentless, claiming yours in a way that could have killed you right there. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was holding back.
So you decided to push.
You shifted in his lap, rolling your hips just enough to test him.
Luke froze.
Then, a sharp exhale. His grip on you turned bruising, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a split second—like he needed to catch his breath.
"Stop that if you don't want me to just... gods, I'm burning," he muttered, his voice strained.
You smirked, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails up his stomach, feeling the way his abs tensed under your touch. "I'll burn with you."
That snapped something in him.
Luke’s mouth crashed against yours, rough and desperate. His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the curve of your ribs before his fingers tangled in the thin straps of your dress.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured against your lips, breathless.
"Thank you," you whispered back, tugging his shirt over his head, swallowing the groan he let out when your nails scraped down his bare back.
His hands were everywhere—exploring, teasing, memorizing. His mouth never strayed far from yours, only pulling away long enough to murmur things that made your entire body burn.
And gods, you wanted more.
Luke grabbed one of the straps of your dress, pulling it down just enough to show more skin.
Either way, you beat him. Before Luke had time to really process everything that was happening—which was saying a lot—your lips were on his again, tracing a path down his jaw to his neck, leaving lingering kisses on his skin.
Nothing would have made you happier than seeing his reaction when your mouth found his throat, placing a kiss on his Adam's apple, sucking a little. Luke could have died right there.
He let out a growl as low as it was inviting, his hands sliding from your thighs to your ass, taking it in his palms firmly, loving them. With his hands there, Luke knew it would be his new favorite toy.
A hand on Luke's chest, and the next thing he knew, his back hit the mattress with a soft thud. Your kisses moved from his neck, trailing hot kisses down to his chest, where you trailed up to his lips again.
"Shall we fuck?" he asked against your lips, a smirk forming on them. "Because I do want to fuck."
You rolled your eyes, shooting him a warning look. "You're ruining this."
The husky laugh that ripped from his throat almost made your knees weak. Seizing the moment, Luke's hands found the hem of your dress, lifting it up just a little.
"Lift your arms," he ordered, and you found yourself obeying without even thinking. Luke tugged the dress off until it was completely off you, tossing it somewhere in the cabin without taking his eyes off you.
When you were only in your underwear, Luke took a few seconds to admire you in a way that for a moment made you feel like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life... Until he grabbed you by the hips and rolled you both onto the bed. Now, he was on top of you, his eyes landed on yours, with a gleam as lascivious as it was mischievous.
"And here I was, thinking you couldn't look more perfect," he murmured just before capturing your lips on his again in a kiss that drove any logical thought from your mind.
Between your ragged breaths and the demigod who didn't let you breathe, everything became a blur. Everything was fast and fucking slow at the same time. You were going crazy with the way his tongue caressed yours.
Moaning quietly, you couldn't help the way your hand slid down, trying to find the button of Luke's jeans, needily trying to undo it. Luke chuckled against your ear, his hot breath making your whole body shiver.
"Let me help you with that." No teasing, no dirty tricks. He was just as needy as you were.
Your hand trembled, making it difficult to undo the button. Luke aided you in doing so, unzipping his trousers and giving you full access to his boxer-clad cock. You broke the kiss, staring down at the thick bulge in Luke's boxers. You couldn't help your bodily reaction, whimpering and bucking your hips up, attempting to hump his throbbing cock.
Luke growled at your movement, burying his face in your neck for a few seconds, trying not to fuck you right then and there. Then, with a hand on the back of your neck, he guided you back to his lips while he maneuvered to get your panties off in record time.
As soon as your panties were out of the way, Luke's fingers moved on their own, sliding his index finger between your slick folds. Wet. Hot. Soft.
Luke's cock throbbed at how wet you already were, and he had to stifle a moan at how easily his fingers slid over your pussy.
"Luke..." You whimpered at the feel of his fingers, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to keep him close, while also trying to hold on to your own sanity. The feel of his hand alone made your poor walls clench around nothing.
"I know, baby, I know," the man reassured you, even though his voice cracked a little mid-sentence. He vacated his hands with the sole purpose of removing his pants completely, looking at you for a few seconds before doing the same with his boxers.
As soon as he got rid of all his clothes, your breath left you. He was... beautiful.
The sight was simply wonderful. The way his cock stood, throbbing with a small amount of precum leaking out. The head swollen, leaky, a shade darker than the rest and with a few visible veins along its length.
Your mouth watered, and you looked up at him, almost surprised. Huge, throbbing, leaking. Gods.
Luke smirked at your reaction, his ego obviously inflated. "Something you like?" he said huskily, giving himself a few strokes before placing a hand on your knee, almost coaxing you to spread your legs for him.
And you did.
To be honest, you didn't even need him to coax you. Luke positioned himself between your legs, grabbing your calves and draping them over his hips, pulling you towards him. Close.
"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to think you're more scared than horny, love," his voice was low, almost teasing and snapping you out of your trance.
You blinked and blushed, frowning slightly, though you couldn't help the chuckle you tried to pass off as a snort.
He smiled.
"Spread your legs for me, darlin'," he requested, caressing your thigh. "I need you closer."
The way he said that last bit made your stomach flutter. Not romantically. Well, maybe a little, but mostly you felt like a wild bird trying to escape.
You obeyed his command anyway, thighs falling further apart to make space for Luke's large torso.
The first push of his hips into yours had you immediately breaking the kiss with a gasp, back arching against the sheets.
"Shhh..." he sushed you, repeating the same movement as you wordlessly hummed in agreement.
At first it was just the tip. And then... plap.
The whimper you let out when Luke thrust all the way in was... His balls slammed against you, and suddenly he was completely buried inside you, skin slapping against skin. Your first instinct was to dig your nails into his back, wincing at the sudden sensation of your pussy being stretched.
"Fuck!" you whimpered, and Luke placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, caressing your waist with the delicacy his movements lacked.
"It's okay... it's okay..." he whispered in your ear, his breathing relatively controlled despite the fact that he'd literally just buried his cock in you without warning.
Luke continued his movements, each push of his pelvis stronger than the last, his lips finally connecting to yours, just as he started grunting in pleasure.
He didn’t want to hear his own moans, only yours.
"That's good...?" He grunted, his lips trailing down your neck, bitting and then shooting with licks.
"Mph... fuck, yes... so fucking good..." you managed between whimpers.
Your nails raked Luke's back, likely leaving marks that would be visible tomorrow. Your back arched with every thrust and sensation Luke extracted from you, fucking you just the right way.
Luke's sounds began to get louder, going from grunts to moans at a pace that denoted how much he'd been waiting for this. His thrusts escalated almost as quickly, his caresses ceasing at your waist to bury his fingers in your hips.
A knot formed in your tummy, walls clenching around Luke's fat cock. He instantly knew waht it was, and buried his face in your neck for a few seconds before pulling away to look into your eyes.
He cupped your chin, making you look at him.
"Open your eyes," he urged, and for the first time, it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. "You're close, aren't you?"
You nodded almost frantically. Your eyes closed, and the only sounds leaving your lips were moans mixed with curses, a mix of Ancient Greek and English. Your mind was clouded with pleasure.
"No," Luke's voice was husky, dropping almost an octave. His grip on your chin tightened, but not painfully. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look at me while you cum, understood?" His tone made it clear that this wasn't a suggestion.
"Look at me," he ordered. When you opened your eyes, you met Luke's gaze. Dilated pupils, swollen lips, and messy hair, you nearly came at the sight alone.
"Lemme—Luke... wanna... wanna cum..." You begged.
You swore you'd never beg for anything. But not when you swore it was clear you hadn't met Luke.
"Don't close your eyes," he murmured. "That's all I ask."
And so you did.
You looked at him as his hand found its way between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit as his thrusts became rougher, messier, deeper.
You whimpered and finally let yourself go in Luke's hands, looking into his eyes as you did so. Your walls clenched around him, and he didn't stop moving as you came around his cock, chasing his own pleasure.
After a few moments, he slid out of you, his cum shooting all over your abdomen and sheets with the loudest groan he'd allowed himself to release that night. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders and chest covered in scratches, nail marks, and bite marks, all covered in a light layer of sweat, making his skin glisten in the dim light of your cabin.
He gave himself a few more strokes, making sure he was completely done before plopping down next to you with a soft thump on the bed and a exhausted expression.
"Gods..." he groaned softly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing.
You were tired too, and for a moment—when the pleasure stopped clouding everything—you turned to look at him. But he wasn’t looking at you. His hands stayed over his eyes, like he was gathering himself.
For a second, you figured he’d just mumble a quick thanks and slip out of the cabin. You closed your eyes, letting out a slow breath, your mind already drifting to the idea of cleaning up the mess and taking a shower.
Just as you predicted, the extra weight on your bed disappeared as Luke stood up. You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, waiting for some kind of farewell, maybe a lazy thanks.
It never came.
But before you could open your eyes, the bed dipped again under Luke’s weight, and something cold brushed against your stomach.
Your eyes fluttered open, and there he was again, kneeling between your legs, a damp towel in his hands as he wiped your skin. The contrast between the cool fabric and the warmth of his touch was both jarring and oddly soothing.
Luke glanced up at you, catching your surprised expression. A smug little smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head.
"What?" he said, his voice lazier now, relaxed. And yeah, he was still very much naked. "Already trying to kick me out?"
His tone was almost teasing—classic Luke. After a few seconds, a small smile curled at your lips.
"What? Were you planning to stay the night? Cuddle? Whisper sweet nothings in my ear?" you shot back, watching as he let out a quiet laugh, still wiping you down.
"Take out the whispering sweet nothings part and... yeah. That was kinda the plan," he admitted, that mischievous glint in his eyes mixed with something more genuine—something you weren’t used to hearing from him. It did something to your stomach, heat creeping up your cheeks.
Luke tossed the towel aside and flopped down next to you again, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. Your head rested against his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
"But first," he murmured, lips brushing against your hair, "we really need a shower."
a/n: I hesitated FOR A LONG TIME about writing part two of this, but I finally did, and here it is. Now that I think about it, I really liked the dynamic between these two characters. I'm seriously considering Part III. Should I?
taglist — open: in case i make a part iii or even series, the taglist is still open!
warnings: language, cursing, alcohol mention, idiot and horny teenagers, sexual tension, make out !
ㅤ୨ৎ —˳ luke castellan ! fem. reader
summary: part i. luke didn't plan that an "I'd fuck her" at a party in the woods would lead to being at night, in a cabin alone with... with her.
"𝗟𝗨𝗞𝗘, 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞, 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦, 𝗢𝗥 𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟," Chris said, shooting him a shit-eating grin.
Yeah, this was a bit of a twisted version of the classic kiss, marry, or kill, but no one really gave a damn about semantics. Not right now, anyway.
Luke wasn’t exactly feeling it—the whole campfire hangout (or, let’s be real, after-party) in the woods. But it was Sunday, and his so-called friends had dragged him here.
The actual party had died down a while ago, leaving only a handful of them—the ones not completely wasted—still hanging around the fire.
The flames flickered under the moonlight, the trees rustling just enough to send a cool breeze through the small clearing they’d basically claimed as Camp Half-Blood’s official party zone.
"Between…?" Luke asked, taking a slow sip of his beer, already bracing for whatever bullshit Chris was about to throw at him.
"Kayle, Jenna, and…" Chris let the last name hang in the air, scanning the girls around the fire, looking for the perfect final option.
Then, his eyes landed on you.
Oh, he was going to be an asshole about this. His smirk said it all.
He said your name.
Luke didn’t even flinch. Not on the outside, at least. Inside? Different story. His heart pulled one of those stupid, traitorous stunts the second he heard it.
Because Chris knew.
Knew that Luke had called you the hottest girl in camp.
But what Chris didn’t know was that Luke hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he actually thought about you.
Across the fire, you smirked, leaning in to whisper something to your friend from Cabin 4, completely unaware of the storm you’d just walked into.
Luke exhaled slowly, masking it with a lazy smirk of his own as he leaned back against the tree, arms crossing over his chest like this was the easiest question in the world.
"Kill Kayle," he said first, earning an over-the-top gasp from her—not that she actually gave a shit, of course.
"Kiss Jenna," he continued, throwing the redhead a teasing wink.
Then, without hesitation, "And I'd fuck her," he finished, tilting his chin toward you with an infuriatingly smooth grin.
If only you knew how hard it was to keep his voice steady when he said it.
Cheers and whistles erupted through the otherwise quiet forest the second Luke gave his answer. Stifled giggles, teasing remarks, and more than a few suggestive comments filled the air.
And, just to make things worse, when the playful chatter finally died down, the only sound left was the crackling of the fire.
You glanced around.
Every pair of eyes was on you, waiting for your reaction.
Your gaze met Luke’s for just a second—just enough for a spark of heat to shoot down his spine.
You casually tossed your hair over your shoulder, silently thanking the gods that the firelight masked the faint blush creeping up your neck.
"Oh, yeah?" You leaned in slightly. "What an honor, Castellan."
The exaggerated flirt in your tone sent another round of laughter through the group, though it quickly faded as everyone turned to Luke, waiting for his response.
Luke smirked, though his jaw was clenched a little tighter than usual. His posture was relaxed, but if you really looked, there was something a little too controlled about it.
Before he could say anything, a guy from the Apollo cabin jumped in with a wicked grin.
"Luke, care to elaborate?" He nudged him playfully. "What exactly would you do with her?"
"Come on, Castellan, at least take her to dinner first. Three drachmas, and I’ll play background music." He joked. Luke rolled his eyes, shooting him a look that lacked any real bite. Chris, on the other hand, was thriving.
The others laughed and hollered.
You simply smiled—sweet and a little too charming—never once breaking eye contact with Luke.
Luke tilted his head slightly, the firelight reflecting in his blue eyes.
"That," he said smoothly, "is classified information."
Even Clarisse groaned in fake outrage.
"Oh, come on, you can’t just leave us hanging!"
A few beats of suspense passed. Then, finally,
That signature cocky smirk of his curled at his lips as he leaned forward like he was about to let them in on a secret. The others followed suit, huddling closer to listen.
"Well, if you really wanna know…" he started, voice dropping into a teasing whisper.
"Ask her later."
You?
He finished with an easy shrug, feigning innocence. The entire group groaned, clearly unimpressed with his little stunt.
Gods.
There was no way you weren’t blushing now.
And as the words left his lips, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—you kind of wanted to find out.
The flickering orange glow of the fire danced across Luke’s face, making him look even more impossibly attractive. And for Luke, that was saying something.
Chris, grinning like the little chaos-bringer he was, let the game roll on after dropping his bombshell for Luke. The guy was going to have a field day tormenting some poor soul from the Hephaestus cabin.
With the attention finally off him, Luke let out a tired sigh. You leaned back, trying to unwind, but it didn’t take long before you noticed his gaze following you every time he thought you weren’t looking.
Honestly, you weren’t fooled. You knew he knew you knew. He never took his eyes off you. Not once. And you didn’t mind it. Not really.
Anyway, Luke wasn’t the type to dwell on things, so he just went with the flow, cracking jokes and making sure the victims of his pranks had a hell of a time.
But everytime he remembered the words, "I’d fuck her" slipping from his lips, his focus wavered. His eyes—those damn eyes—zeroed in on your lips every time you spoke. He couldn’t help it, even if he tried to play it off.
The night kept rolling forward, the fire crackling in the background, the air thick with laughter, alcohol, and the occasional whoop of drunken enthusiasm. And by alcohol, I mean the kind that was totally not allowed at camp.
You were enjoying yourself—honestly, you'd almost forgotten about Luke’s comment.
Almost.
"Come on, stop pretending," Lee chimed in. "Admit it. You’d totally fuck Luke if you had to choose."
The entire group burst out laughing. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Before you could throw some sarcastic retort his way, your friend leaned in, her voice heavy with mock annoyance.
"You know what?" she started, her tone dripping with mischief. "Great idea. Alright, darling," she said, turning to you, pulling all eyes on you. Just what you needed.
"Fuck, kiss, or kill," she continued, eyeing the guys. "Between Lee, Chris, and Luke."
A flash of heat ran up your neck. Damn it. You could feel all the eyes on you, some of them eager, some just waiting to see how you'd react.
You took a deep breath, took a long sip of your drink, and braced yourself.
"Kiss Lee. Kill Chris. And, I'd fuck Castellan."
The words spilled out like they were nothing. No hesitation. No second-guessing. And with that, you leaned back, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.
Silence.
Then, chaos.
The group exploded into laughter, hollers, and a few half-choked gasps. Someone actually dropped their drink. Chris clutched his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.
"Cold-blooded," he wheezed between laughs. "I’m actually offended."
"Yeah, yeah," you waved him off, taking another sip of your drink. "You’ll live."
Lee, meanwhile, was grinning like an idiot, throwing an exaggerated wink your way.
It wasn’t obvious—not to anyone else, at least. But you caught it. That tiny shift in his expression. That quick flash of something in his eyes, there and gone before anyone could clock it.
And gods, it sent a spark down your spine.
But you did.
"Well, well," Chris recovered quickly, his shit-eating grin returning at full force. "Looks like our golden boy is getting some love tonight."
Luke finally leaned back against the tree, arms still crossed, expression unreadable. But his smirk? Oh, that damn smirk.
"Guess I should be honored," he mused, voice casual—too casual.
You shrugged, mirroring his expression. "Guess so."
A beat.
For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, the noise of the group fading into the background. The fire crackled between you, but neither of you looked away.
Then, someone—probably Chris again—broke the tension with another wild round of "fuck, kiss, or kill," dragging the attention elsewhere.
You exhaled, finally looking away.
But Luke?
Luke kept watching you.
He wasn’t sure if it was the firelight or the alcohol—or maybe it was just you—but he knew one thing for sure:
This night just got a whole lot more interesting.
A while later, when everyone was either drunk enough or just too tired to stick around, they decided to clean up any evidence of the party and head back to their cabins.
Summer had ended a few weeks ago, so there weren’t many campers who stayed year-round.
You and one of your sisters were among the few who did, which meant you basically had the whole cabin to yourselves.
The thing was, when she got drunk enough—giggling and stumbling into her boyfriend’s arms—he decided he’d be the one taking care of her for the night.
The last thing you saw of her were her clumsy steps leading toward his cabin.
You huffed. You hated sleeping alone.
As you made your way to your cabin, you waved goodbye to the others, watching as they disappeared behind their doors one by one.
Rubbing your arms in a weak attempt to keep warm, you muttered a curse in Ancient Greek, annoyed at the unbearable winter chill.
You were walking alone when, out of nowhere, something warm draped over your shoulders—along with a familiar presence right beside you.
"I’m not cold," Luke said, walking in step with you.
You blinked, glancing up at him with a hint of confusion. "Your cabin’s all the way on the other side, Luke."
"I know." He shrugged. "Saw your sister leave with her boyfriend."
Before you could say anything, he spoke again.
"Let me walk you back," he said, flashing a small smile. "I know you don’t need me to, but a little company never hurts."
You hesitated for a second before sighing. "Yeah, I guess a little company wouldn’t kill me. Even if it’s literally five steps to my cabin."
Luke let out a quiet huff, eyes flicking forward—where, yeah, your cabin was already right in front of you.
"Too late?" he asked.
"Nah, I’d say you’re just in time," you answered.
Five steps later, you were at your door. You pushed it open, then tipped your head toward the inside.
Luke’s heart kicked up, totally unprompted. Inside your cabin? Alone? At night?
"You coming in?" you asked. "Pretty sure you’ve never been inside."
Hell, yeah.
He tilted his head, smirking. "You’re right about that," he said, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.
The inside of your cabin looked exactly how he’d imagined it would.
He approached carefully, masking it behind a curious look.
You made your way to your bunk, sitting down to kick off your shoes before crawling fully onto the bed. The wall beside it was covered with little things that, without a doubt, reminded Luke of you.
"This place is ridiculously you," he teased, though you could tell it was more of a compliment. At least, you hoped it was.
Like he knew something you didn’t.
Settling into the bed, you crossed your legs, sinking into the pillows. Much to Luke’s frustration, your dress rode up slightly as you moved, revealing just enough soft, bare skin to have his brain short-circuiting for a second.
The air in your cabin felt warmer than it should. Maybe it was just the contrast to the cold outside. Maybe it was the aftershocks of alcohol buzzing in your veins. Or maybe—just maybe—it had everything to do with the way Luke was looking at you.
Like he had every intention of figuring out exactly how far he could push you tonight.
"You’re staring," you pointed out, sinking a little deeper into your pillows, like that would somehow make you less aware of him.
Luke, still leaning against the opposite bunk, arms crossed, smirked. "You noticed."
You rolled your eyes but didn’t look away. Couldn’t, really. He looked too damn good standing there, bathed in the soft golden light of your cabin, hair still slightly tousled from the wind outside. He’d ditched his jacket—the one he’d draped over your shoulders like some kind of quiet excuse to touch you—and now, in just his shirt and jeans, he somehow looked even more effortless.
Luke’s gaze flickered down, just barely. But you caught it.
It was quick—just a second. A glance at your legs, where your dress had ridden up just a little as you shifted.
Interesting.
You smirked, slow and knowing, tilting your head just slightly as you let your fingertips skim over the edge of your blanket, pretending to adjust it.
Luke exhaled, like he knew exactly what you were doing.
"Something on your mind, Castellan?"
He let out a short laugh, low and warm. "You keep saying my name like that, sweetheart," he murmured, voice dropping a little, "and you’re gonna find out."
Your stomach flipped.
He was closer than before. You didn’t remember him moving, but suddenly, his fingers brushed against the mattress, right near your knee.
His eyes were darker now—not just from the dim lighting, but something else. Something heavier.
Heat curled in your stomach.
Luke tilted his head slightly, watching you, waiting. Maybe for you to say something. Maybe for you to stop him.
You didn’t.
Instead, you lifted your hand, slow, reaching for the jacket he’d given you earlier. You let it slide off your shoulders, fabric pooling at your sides, before casually tossing it onto the bunk behind you.
Luke’s eyes followed the motion, his lips twitching, like he was biting back a comment.
"You’re taking up a lot of space," you mused, voice light, teasing.
Luke chuckled, low in his throat. "Funny," he murmured, stepping forward until his knees brushed the edge of your bed. "I was just about to say the same thing."
The tension between you tightened, electric.
His fingers curled just slightly around the edge of the mattress.
He leaned in—just enough. Not quite touching, but right there, enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of pine and campfire still clinging to his shirt.
His breath ghosted against your cheek as he murmured, voice softer, slower—like a quiet dare:
"Move over, sweetheart."
You raised a brow, but you didn’t move. Not yet.
"Why?" you asked, voice smooth, steady—way steadier than you felt.
Luke’s lips quirked, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, searching. Reading. Like he was trying to figure out if you were just teasing or if you were actually going to make him work for it.
Finally, he hummed, low and thoughtful, tilting his head slightly. "Because I want to sit down," he said, voice lazy, like he had all the time in the world.
Luke just shrugged, playing it off like this wasn’t a game he was carefully balancing. "But, hey, if you wanna keep me standing here all night…" His voice dropped, just a little. "Be my guest."
You blinked. That was not the answer you expected.
You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. "Fine."
And you moved. But only a little.
Luke huffed out a quiet chuckle, but he didn’t waste any time. He sank down onto the mattress, one arm bracing behind him, the other resting lazily against his knee.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The warmth of him was everywhere now—closer than before, the bed dipping just slightly under his weight. Your bare knee barely brushed against his thigh, and you swore you felt the way his fingers twitched in response.
The firelight flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows across his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his lips parted just slightly when he exhaled.
And then his eyes—Gods, his eyes.
They flickered down, just for a second. Just enough.
And then back up.
When he finally met your gaze again, something shifted. Neither of you were smiling anymore.
Luke’s fingers lifted, slow, careful. Not touching yet—just hovering near the fabric of your dress, near your thigh, like he was waiting for something. For you.
The teasing, the casual back-and-forth—it was still there, under the surface, but now? Now, it was something else entirely.
Swallow.
Then, finally, you moved first.
Just enough to close that last bit of space.
Your fingers brushed against his wrist, featherlight, a barely-there touch that sent a quiet, sharp breath from his lips.
And that was it.
Luke didn’t hesitate this time.
His hand finally, finally found your waist, warm and firm as he pulled you just a fraction closer—just enough for his lips to brush against yours, teasing, barely there.
Your breath hitched.
For half a second, it was hesitation. Anticipation. The space of a heartbeat, hanging in the air between you.
And then?
Then, you kissed him.
Or maybe he kissed you.
You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, none of that mattered.
Because the second his lips fully met yours, everything else faded—your teasing, your nerves, the fact that you probably weren’t thinking this through.
synopsis. when theo sneaks into your room looking for a charger, he finds something way more interesting — your provocative polaroids. caught in the act, he might as well make the best of it. one thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're both tangled in a mess of teasing, dirty words, and desperate grinding. if you thought he was only good at pissing you off, well… think again.
pairing. brother’s bsf! theodore nott x reader
content/mdni. fem!reader, brother’s best friend!theo nott, dry-humping, enemies-to-lovers tension, degradation & teasing, slight praise (but mostly just theo being a cocky bastard), tit worship (theo is OBSESSED), rough sex, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it tho!!), dirty talk, name-calling (bella, slut, amore), overstimulation & slight dumbification (?), theo begging because he’s down BAD, messy, desperate, absolutely filthy
word count. 3.2k
a/n. first time writing! english is not my first language, so sorry for that! special thanks to my lovely ari (@nottsangel) for encouraging me to write and for making my (horny) gears turn in my head with her sexy blog! <3
“stop moving, jackass!” theo hissed, tightening the grasp on mattheo’s limp arm around his shoulders to steady his body. “where the fuck are your keys, mate?” he mumbled again, digging his other hand deeper in mattheo’s front pockets. it was just his luck that mattheo drank himself dumb and, as the ever-caring friend he was, theo had to drag him back to his house.
“hic– dig a little lower, sweetheart, and you will find the treasure itsel—” mattheo started seductively, and it was clear he was completely gone out of this world. whatever fantasy he was living right now, theo was having none of it. a nice and hard step on his shoe made mattheo frown and moan in pain, his dreams shattered. it also made the key to the front door magically slip into theo’s hand.
finally, he could leave this fool and go to his own place in peace.
luckily for theo, it seemed that you were nowhere to be found. probably out at a party, just like the two of them were minutes ago, perhaps drunk out of your mind, or possibly already snoozing on one of your friend’s couch, already blacked-out. not that he cared what your situation was, really.
dropping mattheo’s heavy body on his bed, theodore contemplated helping him out of his clothes, but when mattheo started calling him sweetheart again and threatening him with a good time, he swiftly stepped away from the bed.
“where’s your charger, mate?” he asked, more or less to himself, aware that his bloke of a friend was too drunk to answer him. looking around his cluttered desk and messy carpet, theo searched for any sign of a cable, but nothing of the sorts was to be found.
that stuck-up brat might have one, he thought, and that’s how theo found his way to your room. he knew the path like the back of his hand, and even after the few drinks he had, his stride was confident and unwavering. he has been there on multiple occasions, mostly running little errands for your lazy brother, yet he also beelined for your room on those days when he wanted to pour his frustration out on a seemingly innocent victim. seemingly, as you also do your best — or worst, in that case — to annoy the shit out of nott every time he stopped by your house.
“she’s definitely out.” he sighed as he sneaked into your room, door immediately bumping into a pile of clothes you’ve left on the floor while picking the perfect outfit for your outing.
the familiar aroma of your perfume entered his nostrils at a similarly fast rate, and he inhaled in deeply without even a second thought. he always loved the way you smell, and it pissed him the fuck off. it was sweet, but not too sweet; it was mature, erotic — yet not too vulgar; it was a mystery to him why he found himself attracted to your fragrance every time he registered it.
“looks like someone will have the surprise of their life.”
theo chuckled as he zeroed into the garments on the bed, three sets of bras all scattered aimlessly all over the sheets. no bra, something you usually do, and something theo can’t help but appreciate. be it your own comfort or simply your disregard for external opinions, he was glad you ditched bras on a daily basis. indeed, you make his blood boil with your bitchy remarks and spoiled attitude, but the sight of your freed tits under whatever excuse of a shirt you choose that day instantly rewires and redirects that blood lower and lower to his cock.
too bad he won’t see you tonight.
“charger.” he promptly reminds himself as he redirected his attention to your desk, full with opened make-ups and all sorts of products. messy just like her brother. and, by the looks of it, charge-less just like him. such a big desk, yet no charger for poor theodore’s phone. he was already on enemy territory, so he might as well check your drawers for it, just in case.
holy fucking shit.
no charger in your top drawer, but something even better. something he would have never imagine stumbling upon while searching for a mere cable.
very suggestive polaroid pictures. of you. in lingerie.
they were nicely stacked in the very far corner of the drawer, almost like your basic game cards. but nothing about them was basic– fuck, you looked so pretty, and so hot in them. even under the shitty light of the lamppost outside your window.
theo didn’t think twice and immediately turned on the colorful lamp on your desk, the glossy finish of the polaroids now displayed under a soft pink light.
you were so radiant, so confident, and with each and every picture he uncovered, he was sure it was all a dream he’s having while passed out at enzo’s house. he can’t get this lucky on a random wednesday like this.
oh, but he was about to get even luckier, as he finally arrived at the section where you started taking some of your garments off. the view of your bare tits, barely cupped by your palms, pushed forward into the camera lens, made theo let out a needy groan. and, as if the universe was listening to his thoughts, the next one was an even closer shot of the same position, red lips and soft boobs filling the whole picture frame.
if he thought about stealing a couple of the other ones before, he was for sure taking this one and putting it in his wallet.
his fingers gripped the edge of the polaroid tightly, and all he could think about was seeing such a view live. to have your perfect tits in his hands, to cup and squeeze and push them together. to leave wet kisses all over your skin, to place a big bite right on your sternum, to bury his face between them. shit, to put his cock between them as you let him tit fuck you like the slut that you are. maybe you’d actually be nice to him for once. and even if you’re not, he’d just have to push your red lips down hi–
“what the fuck?”
your voice hit him like a truck. the entire lewd image of you completely vanished from his mind, now seeing anger wash all over your figure as you stepped into your room. he registered your voice first, then your perfume, slightly mixed with cigarette smoke, and lastly, your skimpy little outfit.
no bra, just as he deduced.
“the fuck are you doing, nott?” you asked, and in that moment he realized – you caught him.
not only did he break into your room — initially for a very reasonable motive, a charger, but he also rummaged through your stuff, stopping at your personal pictures and acting like a pervert. “have you lost your mind?” it was obvious you were mad; you stomped in your heels all the way to your desk, crushing all your pile of clothes under furious steps. just as you reached your hand to yank the polaroid picture out of his hand, theo beat you to it and raised it so high up, even your shoes did nothing to help you.
“you always posing like a little slut, bella?” he might have been caught red-handed, but he wasn’t the only one: theo caught you too. yeah, you were in no shape or form a prude, yet these polaroids were something even for you. such scandalous pictures, and, unfortunately for you, he now knew about them.
“you always dry-humping desks, nott?” there it was, that smart mouth of yours; always ready with a retort.
you hit the nail on the head with this one, pointing out something he has been doing unconsciously ever since he found your cute pictures. heck, his tent was still pressing against the edge of the desk, offering him some sort of pressure on his aching hardness.
“matty has a desk like this too. go live your depraved wood fantasy in his room.” you scrunched up your nose, disgusted by his behavior, and pointed at the door with your manicured nails. the nice coat of red on your fingernails were the same shade as the ones in the polaroid, and he was now yet again thinking of the way the meaty flesh of your tits spilled between your fingers.
“but i keep the pic–”
“no way.”
“then i am not leaving.”
you visibly scoffed at his refusal, arms crossing over your chest, hips bumping into the edge of your desk. “give me the picture, you, asshole!” you shouted, banging one of your hands against the desk, shaking the polaroids theo has been placing on it for the past few minutes. “give it back and get the fuck out of here!”
oh, if only you could see yourself right now. you were indeed full of rage, throwing daggers at him with your venomous gaze, but you looked so attractive. there was something about the way your hips were resting against the desk, the roundness of your body nicely elevated by the short skirt you were wearing. and your chest, oh lord, your tits were so tightly enclosed in that stretchy tube top, he could see why you decided against wearing a bra. your make-up was a little smudged, but he was glad to see the familiar red shade on your lips.
“get it yourself, slut.” and with that, theo pinched the collar of his shirt and dropped the polaroid down his clothes. did it stop around his torso? did it dip down into his pants? the only way to found out was for you to start exploring.
“you crazy bastard.” now you were fuming.
without wasting any time, you removed yourself from the desk and, putting all your strength into your arms, you pushed nott alll the way to your bed. “don’t move.” you ordered in a serious tone the moment he was seated at the edge of the bed; rebellious theodore nott would never listen to your whiny little commands though, so, of course, he tried to stand from his seat.
“are you stupid, nott?” and with that you pushed him all the way down onto his back, nicely seating your own body straight onto his lap. “don’t do that shit again or i am sitting on you face next.”
“don’t threaten me with a good time, amore.” he had to bite back with that cocky smile of his, but he did not in fact move an inch again.
why would he, when he had you where he wanted you: straddling him, your ass on top of his hard cock, your wandering hands all over his torso, searching for that polaroid, your chest so conveniently close to his face. you were so caught up in your little detective play, you didn’t even feel nott’s warm hands leaving the sheets, sneaking underneath your skirt, and cupping the fat of your ass.
a moan escaped his lips when his nimble hands found your clothed cunt, one of his fingers slowly sliding underneath your thong, lifting it, then letting it slap back against your skin. the sudden action made you jolt on top of him, and the added friction of your body moving on him made his own hips jump upwards. gripping your ass tighter, theo manhandled your hips to his wants, slowly rutting into you at a steady pace.
“no, no– ah–” catching onto what he was doing, you stilled your wandering hands. one of them moved right on top of theo’s, a silent protest for him to stop his teasing and let you be. “d–don’t do that.” but you couldn’t lie to him, not after you whined so loudly at the contact of his bulge with your needy pussy.
“can’t work with a little distraction, hm?” god, he was so mean, mocking you with his usual arrogant tone like he wasn’t affected as well by the whole thing. “you seem to like it though, your hips are moving against me.” and it was true; your hips were subconsciously matching his rhythm, riding his tent at a similar pace, meeting his thrusts with enthusiasm. your poor clit was already so hard from him dry-humping you, and the rough material of his pants felt amazing with every tiny bumping.
“shut it, desk-pervert.”
“will you stop with the bloody desk? it was your pictures that made me rock hard.”
“you shouldn’t have seen them in the first place.” you were so so mean. you mean to say that he wasn’t meant to see your beautiful breasts in their naked glory? he must have heard it wrong, there was no way you’d say that. you were cruel, but not a monster.
“don’t say that, bella.” theo accentuated his favorite pet name for you with a sharp thrust, making you lose your balance and have your chest leaning more towards his face. “how could i live my life without your gorgeous tits, hm?”
“like you did until now.”
“in agony? no more.”
his words made your cunt sloppier, more and more wetness spilling through your sheer thong onto theo’s crotch. your skirt too gave up, already riding upwards on your hips and covering almost nothing. theo could see the way the shape of his cock disappeared between your clothed folds, the top part of his pants peaking at him from time to time with each thrust of yours against his lap.
“let me see those tits, beautiful.” he raised his hands and grabbed the swell of your breast, thumbling over you nipple to convince you to give in fully. “i will make it up to you, trust me.”
there was no denying it. you both needed relief. fast.
with a slight nod and eager eyes, the two of you removed your top — and more — in an instant. his clothes joined yours on the bedroom floor, and now you had no idea which ones were clean and which ones were due a washing.
“oh my fucking god, mi fai impazzire (you drive me crazy)!” straddling him yet again, this time theo had the honor of burying his face between your bare breasts, inhaling that lovely perfume of yours and mouthing at your feverish skin. moving slowly on top of him, now grinding your drenched thong against his bare cock, you allowed theo to worship your breasts like he promised. twisting and pinching each nipple with dexterous fingers, he got them up and perky for his greedy mouth to suck on. “they’re so soft and warm, fuck.”
“don’t ever keep them away from me, understood?” sucking a purple hickey on the side of your breast, theo looked up at you with his blown-out pupils. was it an actual order or was it a plea? either way, theodore nott was whipped for your boobs and you had no chance of escaping his hands and mouth any time soon. “talk to me, pretty.”
“yes, theo.”
“good fucking girl.” he groaned from between your tits, his lips never leaving your tender skin as he started roaming his hands all over your naked body, desperate to leave marks all over you.
his cock twitches against your aching core, your wetness already mixing with his precum and making a mess all over his crotch and abs. the stickiness had your bodies stay glued together, aiding your movements atop of him; feeling every ridge, every vein, every little throb of need.
“you’re fucking soaked, shit.” theo couldn’t handle it any longer, stopping his assault on your breasts and pressing his forehead against your chest in order to ground himself. he needed to feel you fully or he might cum only from humping you.
“let me fuck you, amore! i–” he gripped your hips to stop you from moving, otherwise he might have cum then and there. hoping to finish inside you, he eagerly asks for consent. you wouldn’t say no, right?
“apologize for breaking into my room.”
even horny beyond compare, you were still holding that over his head. such a needy girl you are, yet you seem to be the one controlling the strings right now. theo, ready to protest, could only groan when he felt you moving against him again, letting the mushroomy tip of his cock hit your clit. and, the cherry on top, it even slightly caught onto your entrance on its way back, teasing him with endless possibilities.
so he begged.
“i am so sorry, amore. i am a bastard. please– ah! please let me feel that pretty pussy.”
raising your hips just a bit, you dragged your thong to the side and positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance. slowly, oh so slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, your cunt warm and welcoming to the intrusion. with each inch swallowed by your pussy, theo’s eyes rolled more and more to the back of his head.
“you feel so good, fuckfuckfuck” theo was about to lose his mind over how great your walls felt against his cock. so hot, so wet; your cunt was sucking him in more and more.
and when you started bouncing on him, he was a goner.
“thank you, amore! fuck, this is heaven!” it could have been all the edging he has suffered while dry-humping, or the couple of drinks he had before, but he was extremely sensitive. his deep groans from before were sometimes substituted by high-pitched whines of pleasure and pain, a great addition to your own sultry moans.
“don’t stop, bella! shitshit” gripping your hips with desperation, he pushed you down onto his cock with more fervor than before, his own hips raising from the mattress and plunging into you at a faster pace. theo was using you like his personal fucktoy, slamming you with force against him, reaching deeper and deeper and bullying that sweet spot of yours with every thrust.
your bed was creaking with the intensity of your movements. your ragged breaths, your chanting moans, your wet squelches around his cock. all of it were increasing second by second, signaling that the end was near.
“look at you, amore! you were made to bounce on my cock.” dipping his head lower to your chest one last time, theo sucked one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. one of his hands sneaked its way down to your clit, rubbing tight little circles against it to make you orgasm.
“cream my cock, pretty! make a biiiig mess for me.”
his words pushed you over the edge and, with one last sharp cry, your orgasm hit you like a truck. your gummy walls clenched like a vice around theo, milking his cock for every last drop. his hips shuttered one last time against your cunt, his load shooting straight inside you shortly after. thick ropes of cum spilled into your pussy, some even dripping around his cock and down onto your sheets.
neither of you moved for a couple of seconds, just staring at one another and at the sticky connection between your bodies, heavy breaths and gasps of air filling the silence.
“i guess you got more than tits, huh, nott?”
“lucky me.”
a/n. feedback is always appreciated! thank you for reading!
summary: the five most recent times dustin henderson has been a "cockblock" - (steve's words) during steve and y/n's relationship
warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, kissing, makeout sessions, some allusions to smut but no smut written, slight swearing, takes place between s3 and s4! (not proofread)
a/n: guys this is only for @keerysbrowneyes if you're not aly.... BACK OFF
masterlist !
⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚
steve harrington was, to say it nicely, obsessed with his girlfriend. in the summer of 1985 he was brave enough to ask her to be his, after the duo (plus robin buckley) almost died on july 4th. of course y/n said yes, kissing him eagerly before he dropped her off at her house.
dustin henderson was the first to find out. steve and y/n figured the teenager would be happy about it.
"we're his two favorite people, what could go wrong?" steve's words tried to comfort y/n before the couple told her younger brother the news.
"no. no, absolutely not," a very stubborn dustin paces in front of steve and y/n who are sat on the couch.
"dustin!" y/n can't help but let out a scoff, "what's your deal?"
"i don't want him canoodling you!"
"dude," steve laughs.
"do not say canoodle," y/n responds.
dustin moves on with an eye roll, "how did you ask her?" he points at steve.
steve nonchalantly shrugs, "during summer."
dustin sends him a skeptical look. "was it before or after you guys were kidnapped by russians?"
"after," steve responds quietly.
"dustin," y/n butts in, "can't you just be happy for us? and not give us a round of twenty questions?"
dustin finally stops pacing, sitting on the coffee table in front of the couple.
"you," he points to y/n, "no pda in front of me or the party." y/n nods at his request.
"and you," he points to steve, "don't get her pregnant."
y/n lets out a chuckle into her hand while steve turns bright red, yelling, "dude!"
"do we have a deal or not?"
steve sends y/n a helpless look, making y/n simply shrug, before turning back to dustin.
"you have a deal," y/n states.
"ah!" dustin interjects, while holding out his hand firmly.
y/n rolls her eyes, shaking his hand, making a deal with her brother. steve does the same, before dustin walks down the hallway to his bedroom.
"looks like no little harrington's for you," steve pokes y/n's side.
"oh please!" y/n gasps before chuckling again, "like that was going to happen anytime soon."
during the following month, the couple seemed to take dustin's "instructions" very well. they made sure to keep pda behind closed doors, and if it was in front of the party it was simply hand holding or light forehead kisses here and there. nothing some thirteen year olds couldn't handle witnessing.
1 - september 15th, 1985
"thank you steve," y/n smiles at steve in the driver's seat of his dark red bmw.
"of course. i knew our first real date had to be special," steve sends a smile back, while taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.
steve pulled his car in front of the henderson household, and was quick to run to the passenger side to open y/n's door.
"you're ridiculous," she states as steve helps her out of the car.
"and you're gorgeous," he responds, before kissing her temple.
steve walks her to her door, like any true gentleman would. y/n turns to steve, and leans up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.
steve tilts his head, "you missed."
y/n lovingly rolls her eyes, but leans up again and presses her lips to his. steve's hands move to hold her waist, and y/n can't help but let out a giggle, causing steve to deepend the kiss slightly.
as he was about to press his tongue past her slightly swolen lips, a creaking sound disrupted their moment.
"ahem," dustin lets out an overly obnoxious cough.
y/n and steve both turn to see dustin, eyes locked on the two, with his arms crossed.
before the pair can get any sort of lecture, steve kisses y/n's cheek, before yelling out a response while running back to his car. y/n follows his lead, and runs into the house past dustin, and down the hallway to her bedroom. now leaving an annoyed, butthurt dustin by the front door.
2 - october 31st, 1985
"why'd you have to pick such a nerdy costume?" steve complains, fixing his brown vest adoring his torso.
y/n turns from finishing her hair in her bedroom mirror. "because you love me and my nerdy interests," she smiles, looking up and down at steve's outfit.
steve rolls his eyes as she walks over to him, running her fingers lightly over the unbuttoned fabric of steve's white shirt. "plus you make a hot han solo," she whispers before kissing steve's jaw.
as y/n pulls away to add her final accessories to her costume, steve grabs her wrist to pull her back to him.
"well you make a hot princess leia," steve smirks before pulling the girl into a kiss.
y/n's hands move to run through steve's soft and tamed hair, making him involuntarily groan against her lips. the kiss deepens as steve bites her lower lip, allowing his tongue through.
"steve," y/n breathes out between mind numbing kisses. "steve," she calls again.
he simply mumbles a response, moving from kissing her lips to leaving heavy kisses down her neck.
y/n blushes as steve starts sucking right below her jaw.
"babe, we have a halloween party to go to," y/n words say something different than her actions, as she only holds the boy closer to her, her hold on his shoulders never faltering.
"we could just stay here," steve kisses down her neck, leaving more dark spots in his wake. he talks in between kisses, "have a nice," kiss "quiet," kiss "night in."
y/n was well aware of the hidden meaning behind steve's words, knowing he'll take care of her when the time is right.
she lightly tugs on his hair, finally pulling his lips away from her neck. she's met with a doe-eyed steve, who's swolen lips are parted and cheeks are pink. she's about to respond, however another voice catches both older teens off gaurd.
"what the hell steve!" dustin calls from the ajar door of y/n's bedroom, pushing it open slightly. he's quick to notice the trail of hickeys leading down his sister's neck, making the girl turn her head to hide behind steve.
"what? it was behind closed doors!" he yells, watching as dustin just shakes his head and grumbles something under his breath while leaving down the hallway to meet with the party.
3 - november 24th, 1985
one thing y/n always found weird, was going to the same school as her brother. she was in her senior year of high school, while dustin was finally in his first. she was just thankful she still had nancy wheeler to talk to, that is when she wasn't being harassed by her brother to join in on his new friend's dnd campaign.
"thank you again y/n. seriously i owe you," nancy flips her reporters notebook closed, finally being able to breath at having the details from the basketball game the previous night.
the two girls bid goodbye, and just like magic dustin is now standing next to y/n as she closes her locker.
"no," y/n deadpans, knowing the next words that will come out of her brother's mouth.
dustin begins with his usual ranting of 'please' over and over again, as the siblings walk down the hallway.
"y/n come on, mike can't make it this week because he got grounded again for talking to el instead of finishing his history work. we need a fill in!"
"dustin, how many times do i have to tell you. i'm not joining your campaign. i don't care about dnd, and i don't want to be in the same room as eddie munson for two hours."
the siblings are now outside, walking towards the large parking lot.
as dustin begins begging again, he cuts himself off at the sight of steve leaning against his car, "what is he doing here? he graduated already."
"picking me up," y/n responds, earning a groan from her brother.
"when will you man up and get a licence?"
"i don't need a licence if i have a boyfriend to drive me everywhere."
"you're impossible," dustin gives up, stopping in his tracks as y/n happily jogs over to steve, greeting him with a kiss on the lips.
"what took so long?" steve asks, his hands rubbing up and down y/n's sides, causing goosebumps to fill her exposed skin.
"nance needed some newspaper stuff, and dustin would not stop bothering me about joining the campaign."
"he's asking again?"
y/n nods, "i guess mike is out and they need a replacement."
"did you say no?"
y/n simply nods again
steve smirks, "good," he leans down to bring his lips to y/n's.
"come on," steve tilts his head to his car, "that means we have a house to ourselves for a bit."
"why can't we just go to your house if we don't want dustin being dustin?" y/n asks while getting into the passenger seat, turning slightly to steve.
steve's cheeks blush ever so slightly, "you're room is just so nice, and comfortable."
"aw, baby you're cute," y/n giggles and leans over the center console to kiss steve's cheeks.
"you missed," steve says his favorite way to get his girl to kiss him, causing her to roll her eyes and grab his chin, forcing him to look at her.
"and you're annoying," but y/n kisses him nonetheless.
before the kiss can progress any further, a heavy knock on steve's window breaks the two apart.
steve sighs, and wipes off any possible lipstick from his cheeks or lips, as he rolls down the window.
"before you bone my sister," steve and y/n grimace at dustin's words before he continues, "how would you feel about joining eddie's dnd campaign tonight?"
steve is shaking his head before dustin can even finish his question, "no way."
"you both suck!" dustin groans while taking defeat and walking back in the direction of the high school.
steve rolls his window up and shrugs, "oh y/n does, and pretty well i may add."
y/n immediately slaps him against his chest as he drives off, however her cheeks are now tinted pink, and it's not because of her blush.
4 - january 9th, 1986
"why did i agree to you helping me study," y/n groans in frustration.
"because you love me," steve smiles while flicking to the next flash card.
"we haven't gotten anything done," y/n argues, "i couldn't possibly tell you anything about certain equations or formulas."
"maybe you're in need of a stress reliever," steve slyly suggests, tossing the flash cards onto y/n's bedside table.
"what do you mean?" y/n's eyebrows furrow, watching steve sit up closer to her. he turns his head kisses right below y/n's ear, nipping at the skin. his hand moves towards her hair, pulling it slightly so it's out of the way.
"steve," y/n tries pushing him off, "this is not going to he-"
y/n's words are cut off as she exhales deeply as steve begins kissing lower on her neck. his other hand makes it's way up her thigh under her skirt. y/n looks down at his hand, making steve move his lips away from her neck.
"do you trust me?" his voice is soft. y/n looks into his eyes, seeing nothing but a home inside the dark brown color. she nods, but steve shakes his head.
"i need you to say it baby."
y/n nods again anyways, "i trust you steve."
steve smiles warmly as he leans back in to kiss y/n. his hand remains on her thigh as hers move to grab his shoulders. the two don't dare disconnect as steve easily maneuvers them. he's sitting back against her head board, while she's placed on his lap, feeling how hard he is between her clothed legs.
steve pulls away, barely, as his breath mingles with hers, "we're home alone right?"
y/n nods, "yeah, yeah no one should be home until later." she leans back in to kiss him again, feeling almost dizzy as steve's warm hands begin to bring her skirt down her legs. he does it so effortlessly, she can't even begin to feel embarrassed as she's almost half naked on top of him.
y/n's hands run down from his shoulders towards the bottom hem of his shirt, playing with the fabric. she begins bringing the material up, making the two disconnect as steve lifts his arms so she can remove his shirt.
y/n can't help but stare at the sight of steve's toned and suddenly hairy chest. she can't resist the urge to squeeze her thighs together.
"you're unbelievable," steve smiles while kissing her again.
y/n takes her opportunity to move her lips away from steve's and trail them down slightly, gently kissing over the three prominent freckles adoring his cheeks, before moving down to kiss his neck.
he tilts his head back and groans at the feeling, while kneeding the flesh of her thighs underneath his hands.
while y/n continues her work on his neck, her hands roam until they find the metal of steve's belt buckle.
she begins fiddling with the accessory, until a large banging sound, accompanied by many sets of feets fill the void of the quiet house.
y/n looks just as confused as steve as he whispers, "you said no one was supposed to be home."
"yeah- yeah my mom's at that school fair thing and dustin's with the party."
just as y/n gets the final syllable out of her lips, dustin barges into her room, without knocking.
"jesus!"
"what the hell dustin!"
steve is as quick as he can be to cover y/n's lower half with a throw blanket from her bed, as she watches dustin searching through her room.
"what is your problem dustin?" y/n now begins moving from steve's lap, however he quietly grips her hip, hoping she gets the gesture. her cheeks turn pink again at the feeling of steve's arousal between her legs.
"mike's atari finally died on us, so we're using mine," dustin easily responds, continuing his search through y/n's closet.
steve and y/n turn their heads at the sight of the party standing at y/n's now open door awkwardly.
"dustin," y/n grits through her teeth.
"yeah?" dustin finally takes a look at the couple in their compromising position. his eyes widen, before he starts yelling out profanities and running out of the room. the party is quick to follow, but not before max mayfield yells out an apology while closing the bed room door.
y/n just sighs, and rests her head against steve's chest.
"i'm sorry," she mutters, while steve begins running his fingers through the ends of her slightly knotted hair.
steve shakes his head even though the girl can't see his actions, "no need to be sorry baby. it's not your fault your brother's an idiot."
a moment of silence passes, until y/n speaks up, "i still want it to be with you. i trust you."
steve swears his heart stopped beating at her words. he smiles like a little kid in a candy store, then leans down pressing a comforting kiss to the top of y/n's head.
5 - march 22nd, 1986
y/n was more than grateful spring break finally arrived. no tests, quizzes or annoying sheets of homework for seven whole days. that just means she gets to spend seven whole days with her boyfriend at his house with an unoccupied pool.
with the party.
y/n absolutely adored the party, even if they were starting to get on her nerves more times than they weren't. she still loved them.
since the incident a little over two months ago, steve can tell y/n has been sexually frustrated. the two have had differing schedules with school and work, and could never find a time alone lately.
they still couldn't on this warm march day in hawkins, as steve, y/n, dustin, max, mike wheeler, and lucas and erica sinclair were all in steve's backyars, enjoying his refreshing pool.
dustin, lucas and mike were busy having some sort of fight in the water. a fight y/n didn't want to pay attention to.
erica was busy soaking on the sun on a faded beach towel.
max was reading in a lounge chair in the shade, content with her book and iced lemonade.
y/n and steve were sharing a lounge chair, as they talked about an upcoming trip they had created for the summer after y/n graduated.
y/n giggled at something obnoxious steve whispered in her ear, as max called out, "hey steve? could i have some more lemonade?"
steve nods at the younger girl's request, "i'll just bring the pitcher out for you."
max yells a 'thank you' as steve walks inside. y/n can't help but stare at steve as he closes the sliding glass door. she stands from the chair, thankful that the party is all too busy to notice her follow her boyfriend inside.
she makes her way into the kitchen, watching steve pull out the cool jar of lemonade from the fridge, as well as a container of watermelon.
"oh hey hun," steve turns and notices y/n walking towards him. "you need anything?"
y/n doesn't respond. she simply brings her hand to lightly scratch at his back, knowing he absolutely loves it, as she places a peck on his tanned shoulder.
she looks up at him in a way that could make steve surrender. he starts shaking his head, "baby everybody's outside. we can't."
she stands on her toes to press her lips to his, "after?" she asks in her softest tone.
steve quickly nods, "god yes," he breathes out as y/n pulls away, only for him to push his lips on her again.
"you're lucky i'm not dustin," max speaks up as she walks in the kitchen, causing the two to split up.
"thanks for the lemonade," she sends steve a look, before walking out with the pitcher in her hands.
steve turns at the sound of y/n giggling, "you're lucky you're cute."
Summary: Lo'ak broke your heart all those years ago. If he plans to woo you once more it is going to take a lot more than a debonair grin.
Warnings: angst, aged up Lo'ak, future NSFW, broken hearts, cheating, swearing, etc.
A/N: I wrote the majority of this in a couple hours so.....it's rough.
You prayed to Eywa it would fit. Getting Lo’ak’s measurements without him becoming suspicious had been a job in and of itself, but now it was sure to pay off. With your relationship being kept on the down low there were truly only a few ways you could publicly show your affection for the youngest Sully brother. Creating this arm band for him had been a delight and had set butterflies off in your stomach.
There was something about the notion of forbidden love that had your heart racing at every moment the two of you stole together. It was new and exciting but even more than that it was a risk that made you feel alive.
It was hard to believe that the two of you had gone from lifelong frenemies to lovers in only a few months. Of course the greatest level of intimacy you had shared were a few tender kisses and snuggling embraces. Lo’ak had been your first kiss, sweeping you off your feet until every other ignorant young male had paled in comparison.
Since then there had been no hope for your young heart to resist. It was everything and more that you had dreamed of since you were a child hearing of your parent’s own love story. Love had been found in the most unexpected of people but it was true. You could no longer deny how hard and fast you had fallen for the male. And tonight you were finally going to tell him.
With a courting gift worthy for the mightiest of warriors your love would be proclaimed and hopefully his own would be there to reciprocate.
A jittering tingle raced down your arms and legs, pushing you to run faster through the forest. It was a miracle you didn’t throw up from the motion after the way your own nerves had tied your stomach into knots. However, running gave your pent up energy somewhere to go and now more than ever you needed a release. Lo’ak didn’t know the two of you were meeting today.
That’s what made it all the better.
A perfect surprise the trickster himself would never see coming.
He would be under the Tree of Souls as he always was in the afternoons, the place where he claimed to have his best thoughts. Someday he would surely tell you what those thoughts were but today you prayed his mind would be full of you. Just the way the bastard always managed to cram himself into every nook and cranny of your mind. It seemed only fair that he suffered the same.
Light still prevailed but new colors painted the sky as Eclipse came inched closer.The tendrils of Vitraya Ramunong were already beginning to shimmer from where they hung.
Your cheeks hurt from smiling when you spotted his slim form, even as your own knees trembled with anticipation.
Just play it cool, you reminded yourself. There was no reason to worry so long as you managed to get out three little words. The intricate beads of the arm band started to create imprints in your palm from how tight you held it.
One last steadying breath before you scaled down the tree trunk. A giggle almost escaped your throat when you had the brilliant idea to sneak up on him. Last week he had given you quite the scare while you were weaving a basket. Now would be the perfect time for payback.
“It’s so beautiful!”
Your feet scraped against the bark into a halt.
“I told you this is the best time to come here.” Lo’ak responded and he wasn’t alone. From this new vantage point you could now see a smaller female figure behind him, her eyes casted upwards at the enchanting view of the Tree of Soul’s increasing glow.
“Yes but I thought that was only your way of getting me alone.” Those long lashes fluttered back at him, a playful smile sweeping over her lips. Lo’ak shrugged, an ever familiar smirk lacing his own.
“So what if it was? I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight.”
“The best predators know the importance of giving their prey a false sense of security.” Her eyes danced with a maturity so beyond her years it was almost vulgar. Lo’ak’s tail whipped back and forth, eating up every taunting seduction from the palm of her hand.
“Well I only let the prettiest girls catch me in their webs.”
The distance was closed between them with only a few steps before she was reaching up on her toes and dragging him into a sinful kiss. One oh so different from the type you two had shared. A sensual kiss that you had only heard of but never experienced. And that was one thing you could tell from this other female, she wielded so much more power and experience than you ever could.
Still that wasn’t what mattered because when they finally pulled apart for gasps of air it was sweet promises of affection and future mating that poured from Lo’ak’s lips.
The same vows that had been clutching your heart over the past few months.
The same lullabies that filled your dreams with fantasies of your lives together.
Today, they sang for her instead.
You were foolish to think they ever belonged to you, nothing more than a beautiful mirage your first love had woven to snatch you up.
A small sob alerted them to your presence. Eyes wide you only stared back at him for a moment before bolting to the trees.
The crafted armband abandoned on the ground.
Lo’ak had always been a pain in the ass. There was no better way to describe him. Not when he was your childhood nuisance turned to first love to then first heartbreak. The day his family left for Awa'atlu you tried to stay strong. At that point things had already been ruined between you. His player nature had been exposed and the male had only a week of trying to explain himself before the incident happened and the Sully family left the Omatikaya for good.
Or at least, what you thought was for good.
Their return had been something that many had hoped for but one that you had never allowed yourself to believe. Even when you were still in the mourning stages of your relationship and their disappearance you had fortified one single idea in your mind. Lo’ak leaving was for the best. It would allow you to move on.
And so you had. Taking much longer than you would have liked but slowly your hammock dried of tears and you began to focus on other things outside of the youngest Sully boy. Your foolish young heart had grown strong in wisdom and might. Your skills as a healer had become more polished with every day you spent under Mo’at’s instruction. Adulthood came and fell upon you in a way that suited your new talents and attitude. Not a day passed where you weren’t seeking to support the clan and People in one way or another.
Tarsem was a wonderful Olo’eyktan. He led the People with the necessary vision and courage it took to keep the Sky People out of your lands. Some days came with great losses, exposing you to more curious injuries by their machines than you could have imagined in the healer’s tent. However, those days you took with pride too. The Omatikaya never lost heart. They never gave up on protecting their home.
You weren’t the only ones either. Stories of battling demon ships traveled overseas, ingraining the memory of mighty Metkayina defending their lands and conquering against all odds. Each time those stories found their way to the fire’s circle you had tried not to envision Lo’ak’s part in all of it. Some days were easier than others. And yet some you couldn’t shake the visual of the warrior that you patched up in front of you being a certain Sully boy and not another Omatikaya warrior. It frustrated you to no end the lengths of your care for him but over time you made peace with the fact that his death was never announced.
And that was good enough.
Because that fact was the only one he had deserved for you to care about and nothing more.
It had taken years, the battle shaping so much of your shift from adolescence into adulthood. When all was said and done, however, the Sky People burned the forest with their demon ships one last time and then they too became nothing more than a star in the night sky. A celebration unlike any other had immediately gone underway. Your older sister, Talu, could hardly breathe with how many beaded and feathered tops she had been commissioned to construct for various men and women in the clan.
Your own work had graciously slowed down and for the first time since perhaps the day those demons invaded Pandora, you relaxed.
Peace was not yours to be had, however.
You had been halfway through washing in the hot springs when the news had come. The Sully family was set to return by the night of the celebration. And not to visit but to reclaim the throne and be herded back as one of the Omatikaya once more and forever. The shrieking females that had run to tell their other friends didn’t seem to notice when you accidentally swallowed and choked on a mouthful of spring water.
They were too busy hypothesizing what the Sully brothers would look like now. Some even made bets on whether or not they would be returning home unmated. The conversation had been the opposite of peace, prompting you to sneak away and have your panic attack in the privacy of your own home.
“Will you stop squirming for one minute?” Talu reprimanded but an amused giggle laced her voice.
“Ma Talu, please tell me you are almost done.” Another pearl was carefully strung through your long wavy hair.
“Art takes time.” She smiled softly. “And that’s what you are. A magnificent piece of art.”
Talu had not necessarily been wrong in her statement. After the countless hours she had put into constructing your curved top out of rare gems and strung your hair with bioluminescent pearls, you had transformed into something of ethereal beauty. And yet, the last thing you wanted was to stand out. What had started as a celebration to be anticipated had for you turned into a nightmare just waiting to happen.
Eywa had given you three days to prepare for tonight. Three whole days where you had solidified your resolve and reminded yourself that Lo’ak Sully was no longer anyone but another clan member to you. You were going to be cordial and respectful like you would another clan brother but no flicker of even remembering your past with him. Not a single mention of how he had shattered your young heart into a million pieces and left you there to weave it back together for years.
The old you was dead and with that so was your relation to him.
It still didn’t ease your dread however. As Na’vi of all ages gathered around hometree and looked to the skies, you had scrambled to look for an excuse to be elsewhere. The air buzzed with excitement and every yip and call in anticipation felt like the chiming of a clock to you. One second closer to facing a part of your past you had buried too deep.
Talu had been immersed in the excitement with everyone else. You had never told her of Lo’ak’s betrayal. Even on the night you found him kissing another girl under Vitraya Ramunong you had fled to cry alone in the woods. Truth be told you had never even told her of the relationship in the first place. It had been something of a secret between the two of you and one that Lo’ak had insisted upon. Of course the truth of why that was important to him had eventually come to light.
Talu yelled and jumped with the others as the far ikrans dotted the horizon. Perhaps she would ask where you had wandered off to later but you had time to think of an excuse. No one had even noticed your absence as you seeked refuge in the depths of Eywa’s forest. The clan had burst into such a ruckus that it took a good distance to turn that shrieking into a distant rumble.
You had escaped in just the knick of time.
The small glowing river fish had swirled around the branch you glided through the water for what felt like hours. It was calming, spending time with creatures that knew nothing of your demise. Still, you couldn’t hide forever. Talu was sure to be looking for you and it was customary to take part in clan events, especially ones as momentous as this.
So many years had already passed and your growth had been profound. Lo’ak had no right to make you scatter and hide like a timid prey. Besides, he most likely would not remember you in the first place. So with that perspective he did not deserve to be remembered either.
Na’vi of all ages bounded and danced with such fervent zeal it could only be described as instinctual. Joy radiated from every pore and each movement was honored as another prayer of gratitude to the Great Mother. Naer [Alcohol] of the finest quality was freely passed and taken until laughter bounced from the trees. Of course the most elaborate and breathtaking attire was worn by clan members, especially those who remained unmated.
Surely post war would be a time for many such pairings to come about and furthermore the ideal moment to start a family.
You shook your head at the thought. It was a charming idea and you had been with more than your fair share of men intimately since reaching maturity but now was not the right time for you. Even then, the right male had not deigned to present himself yet.
Color drained from your cheeks when you finally spotted Talu. Her eyes sparkled with happiness in the moonlight and cheeks ached from smiling so much but she was not alone. A tall figure faced her, leaned against a tree trunk with crossed ankles. Immediately you recognized the specific pattern of jagged stripes that covered his skin.
However, that was perhaps the only thing you recognized from Lo’ak. He had grown. Grown oh so much and you knew he would have, but not like this. Somehow a part of you had still expected the same beanpole of a fourteen year old to show up. Now…Lo’ak had grown in stature in a way that only a Metkayina could. His build was accentuated with thick biceps and broad shoulders that only further brought out the contrast of his tapered waist.
It was as if your eyes were playing tricks on you, searching to find where that lanky boy had gone to leave behind this sculpted male.
His skin was different too. Those stripes you had come to adore during adolescence had now been joined by dark ink. Curious designs lined his side before traveling into swirling patterns that danced over his hips and even outer thighs. Squinting in the fire’s light you could just make out how that ink traveled straight to the band of his loincloth before slipping under.
No.
Nope.
That was dangerous territory and simply none of your business.
Trying to distract your over curious brain you find yourself observing his hair instead. Those two signature braids still hung over his forehead but they were adorned with various objects and shells that you did not recognize. Even more surprising, his decorated braids were tied together as a top knot. It brought out the shape of his jawline and cheekbones, chiseled until they could cut like a knife.
Life was unfair. If you didn’t know it before you surely knew it now because how else could this traitor grow to be so impeccably handsome? Such an enchanting mix of two cultures swirled into one male at his prime.
Your teeth grinding was cut short by a firm hand around your bicep.
“Come, child.” Mo’at sternly directed. She didn’t offer an explanation as you were led to the front of the celebration but you knew better than to ask for one.
Mo’at lined up every healer in front of the ravenous crowd. All it took was one hand in the air to silence the commotion. All eyes turned to their Tsahik.
“My People,” She called in a boisterous voice. “We gather together tonight in thanks of our Great Mother. By her will, we have prevailed as a People with strong hearts. By her mercy, the balance of life has been restored.” The crowd broke out into a chorus of calls and yips that rumbled the forest.
“In gratitude we must not grow weary. Our hearts forever imprinted with the memory of what has been sacrificed. To this I call upon you to look at your brothers and sisters and rejoice! See all that they have given.” The yelling increased tenfold and you swallowed that lump in your throat. You are not about to cry in front of the entire clan.
“I thank those especially who stand before us.” The focus shifted to fall upon you and the other handful of healers to your left and right. Even with the attention born between the group of you, it still weighed heavy. “Those who have stitched our wounds and lightened our sorrows. As Eywa herself has taught us, there is nothing that can not be mended by gentle hands.”
Mo’at stood now between you and another healer, one hand placed on her shoulder and the other on yours. As the cheers bellowed into the sky, you caught a glimpse of Talu pointing you out as Lo’ak leaned forward. She said something you could neither understand nor wanted to know. Gaze forced away by pure will, you barely escaped seeing when Lo’ak’s gaze finally pinned you down.
It didn’t matter, though.
Not when those golden orbs burned like liquid fire through your veins.
There were so many people you could occupy your time with. At this point you were willing to talk to Neteyam if it meant avoiding his younger brother. Pushing through the crowd was more difficult than you anticipated but you prayed that it would be enough to keep Talu and her new friend at bay too.
“Ma Neteyam,” You hastily greeted, signing ‘I see you’ as he turned to face you. It was a miracle you had even been able to recognize the eldest Sully in the first place with his new tattoos and metkayina clothing.
“Ma Y/N.” Although surprised, he returned the gesture with a polite smile. “You look well, sister.”
His voice was so much lower than you remembered.
“As do you.” An awkward silence threatened to settle between you and if you wanted to ward off potential advances you needed this to appear as enthralling as possible. “That is a charming necklace. What is it made of?” Your dainty fingers shakily came to thumb over the obscure object. To Neteyam’s credit, he only barely flinched at your unexpected touch.
“A special sea glass from Awa’atlu. Some beaches are littered with them.”
“Wow, that is fascinating.” It wasn’t. Any other day it might have been but you couldn’t focus enough to appreciate it fully.
“That little piece is truly nothing once you’ve seen the whole beach.” This voice rumbled at your back, just close enough to feel his body heat prickle your skin. Your composure was not easily won over but it was forced into place just as you were forced to finally face him.
“Sister, we have been looking all over for you. Such a busy body.” Talu nervously laughed but one look told you that she knew about your earlier ditching of festivities.
“Y/N.” Lo’ak gave you the same gesture of respect, voice gravely and low in a way that had chills racing up your spine. His eyes made contact with your own for only a second as you returned the polite formalities, eyes shifting to his right shoulder as to feign looking at him properly.
“Lo’ak.” It came out snippier than you intended, evident in the way his eyebrows turned down at the edges.
“I apologize for my absence. I was…caught up.” Lo’ak’s tail flickered at the last part but a charming grin still stretched across his lips. Stepping out of his line of fire you divulged a distraction by initiating Talu and Neteyam’s greetings. This way you were able to take some much needed steps away from Lo’ak and focus primarily on the other members present.
Neteyam and Talu filled the conversation easily, only requiring a few additions from you upon occasion. Even when it waned into subjects you were far from interested in, your body remained braced and alert as if you were swallowing every word said. The perfect defense against meeting Lo’ak’s gaze again. Even a protection against drooling over his muscular physique that had surely been carved by Eywa.
“Well I shouldn’t leave my sister.” That snapped you out of your daze immediately.
“She can dance with Lo’ak.” Neteyam smiled, as if he hadn’t just granted your worst nightmare come true. And to him he hadn’t because when you stuttered to find a response that reaction was only seen as adorable nerves. One that Lo’ak quickly stepped in to charm away.
“Do not worry, tanhi. I’ve learned to not trip over my feet now.” And he grinned. That bastard had the audacity to jest and tease like the two of you had been old friends. Talu sent you a pleading look, one that said you would never hear the end of this if you didn’t play a good wingwoman right now. There was little that could be done about it now as he led you into the crowd.
Lo’ak was true to his word. He had become quite the dancer, enough so that your own actions could easily follow his lead. When your hands occasionally brushed you tried to sweep them away as soon as possible.
“You’ve grown.”
“What?” You shouted back over the banging drums and he laughed in response.
“I said you have grown up, tanhi. Can’t believe it.” His fangs peeked out as he grinned, so carefree and genuine it sent your mind racing. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Well that happens.” You answered shortly, strategically choosing now to swerve into a spin. Anything to avoid his gleeful expression.
“I mean yes of course but I just didn’t think it was possible for you to become even more beautiful.”
The spin grinded to a halt. Lo’ak stopped dancing too but where his expression flitted with flirtatious amusement your own was nothing but pure ice. It cut through him until that smirk was wavering.
“Are you fucking serious?!” The heaving drumming was a welcomed source of privacy, distracting the others from your rage. Everyone besides Lo’ak, whose brows knitted before letting out a short laugh.
“Um yes? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh I wouldn’t put it past you.” Bitter and harsh like the look in your eyes, Lo’ak was taken aback.
You didn’t give him time to recover, however as you slipped past the other dancing Na’vi. Lo’ak caught up easily, long legs keeping him right on your heels.
“Woah woah hey, y/n. Where are you going?”
“Away from you. I don’t have time for this.”
He caught your arm when the two of you had just reached the outskirts of the celebration. Hois hand was slapped away but that didn't stop him from blocking your escape.
“Time for what? I’ve just missed you is all.”
“Missed me?” His words were so infuriating that you found your own sputtering to form sentences. Was it possible he suffered a brain condition? Memory loss? How else could he stand before you now and pretend that the last note the two of you had left off on had not been him shattering your heart. “You….” Another steadying deep breath in. “You think that after what you put me through that you could come back in and sweep me up for a hook up?”
Lo’ak shuffled backwards slightly, away from your accusing finger.
“Tha-”
“Or maybe you have already forgotten what happened. I’m sure it would be easier to ignore how you acted like the clan’s whore while spewing promises to me.”
His jaw dropped, all evidence of that confidence swept away.
“Well in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve already screwed over this girl so cross me off your list.”
It seemed that his brain was lagging because this time when you shuffled around him you weren’t immediately cut off. Still, it appeared he had maintained his forest legs because he didn’t struggle to make up for lost ground.
“Y/n, I didn’t….” He sighed through his nose. “It’s just that….that was so long ago. I didn’t even know how much of that you remembered.”
“Excuse me?” You wheeled back on him, taking secret pleasure in the way Lo’ak did in fact trip over his feet this time. He recovered quickly but there was a frazzled energy to his movements.
“No, no! Shit I…. that came out wrong.”
You save him the trouble of trying to string together an explanation. It was worth neither of your times not to mention how silly you felt for bringing it up in the first place. What did it matter after all these years? Nothing. That is what you had always told yourself and his appearance was not going to change that.
“Lo’ak, mawey. You’re right it was a long time ago so let’s just put it behind us and make one thing clear.” His ears perked, eyes rounded as it appeared the very breath in his lungs became stagnant. “We are not friends. I’m happy for you and your family but only in the way everyone else is happy for your return. You stay in your lane and I will stay in mine. That way, everyone is happy.”
“Not everyone.” He murmured, ears pressed flat against his braids.
There was a flicker of hope present in his eyes, as if waiting for you to spontaneously forget the past and welcome him with open arms. You hoped your speedy exit was enough to blow that flame out.
This is my random little story I've been working on to keep my mind off the break up. If you like it, please let me know and I will continue to work on and post the next parts:)
unofficial tag list: @pandoraslxna @pandoraslovesworld @faintfill @rivatar @neteyamssyulang
He’s constantly in everybody’s face, pulling jokes and pranks like a plea for the tiniest of smiles.
But most often? He’s in your face, teasing you and trying to make you laugh. Most of the time, he grabs whatever book you’re reading and holds it above his head because, as much as you hate to admit, you are the only demigod shorter than him on the Argo ll, and therefore the only one who can’t reach your book. Which is what you were trying to do now.
“Leo,” you growled. “Give it back.”
“Whoa!” Said boy raised his other hand in triumph as he cheered. “Y/N just said four words to me! Did any of you hear that?”
A ripple of laughter echoed through the dining table of the Argo ll, but it seemed to drop dead at Hazel.
“Leo,” the roman girl said. “Give it to her.”
The Latino whined. “But, Hazel-”
“Now!”
You knew that tone could never come from someone as sweet as Hazel, so you turned your head toward the voice.
Frank was standing, hands resting on the table as he glared daggers at Leo. “Give Y/N her book back,” he ordered harshly. “Now.”
Leo glanced from you to Frank, sighing as he decided it wasn't worth it. He handed you back your book, which you accepted without hesitation. You made toward the door without another word, giving Hazel and Frank small nods of gratitude. Well, at least they thought it was gratitude; it was rather hard to tell with you, since you had a permanent frown upon your face.
You marched up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door so hard behind you, it shuddered on its hinges. Leo winced at the noise.
“Too much?” He asked. When no one responded, he sighed. “Too much.”
Piper frowned at him. “That is not the way to get a girl to like you, dumbass.”
Percy nodded in agreement. “I was stupid, not mean,” he said, gesturing to Annabeth.
Annabeth snorted. “You sure were, Seaweed Brain,” she teased before returning to seriousness. “Leo, I don’t know why you do this. If you like Y/N, show it in your actions! I mean, we all know you’re too cowardly to admit it straight to her face, so let her guess. She’s cold, not idiotic.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Leo muttered. “Whatever. She’ll never like me now.”
Frank scoffed. You were his best friend besides Hazel, and he was extremely protective of you. He thought of you as a little sister- the daughter of Apollo who preferred throwing knives and daggers to actual archery, and the son of Mars who used a bow rather than a sword. “You think?” He demanded.
Piper shook her head. “We know what you’re like when you’re not being a cocky jackass,” she said.
“Hey!” Leo complained loudly.
“I’m not done yet,” Piper scolded. “As I was saying, I like how you act when you're not being an asshole. I might help you get the girl, Valdez.”
Jason rubbed his eyes. “I’ll leave you two to your scheming,” he said. “I’ve got first watch.”
Annabeth grabbed a pen and notebook, flipping it open to a blank sheet of paper. “If anyone would like to be able to still lie to Y/N’s face about nothing going on behind her back, I’d leave now.” The daughter of Athena cracked her knuckles. “‘Cause shit’s about to go down.”
You flipped a page in your book. The author had just left you on a cliffhanger, and you desperately needed to find out if the main character managed to save the love interest in time or not.
“No,” you muttered when you saw a sticky note adorned with sloppy handwriting was stuck on the page labeled, ‘Chapter Nineteen’. This was supposed to be chapter eighteen! There couldn’t just be a sticky note!
You felt anger bubbling inside you as you read the note. That arrogant little Latino- the nerve to rip out a whole chapter and keep it to taunt you!
Did your feelings for him change, though? No. You still liked him, and you found that highly annoying.
You glanced around for your diary, surprised when you didn’t see any sign of the notebook. You were sure you’d put it…
Oh, shit.
You stormed out of your room and back down the stairs once again.
The scene at the dining table was not your favorite, that’s for sure. Percy, standing on the table as he read aloud to Annabeth, Piper, and Leo. He kept stumbling over the words as his eyes scanned your diary.
“Ugh,” Percy read. “I don’t know how I’m going to… surfer- ah! Survive on this boat for much long…er. Leo just won’t stop bugging me, and m-my emotions won’t either!” No one seemed to notice you as you snuck into the room. “How could I like someone who keeps… testing? No. Teasing! That’s it, teasing me.”
Piper squealed, clasping her hands together. “Well, there’s your answer, Leo!” She cried. “Y/N does like you!”
All of your anger surfaced. “Jackson!” You screeched.
All heads whipped toward you, and your eyes flicked over everyone, reading them each like a book.
Percy: Terrified, hoping that Annabeth would get him out of this, but not the slightest bit regretful.
Annabeth: Looking and acting calm, but is actually panicked on the inside. Is this how she loses a best friend? Will Y/N ever forgive her? She’s also very sick of getting Percy out of situations like this, but is already formulating a plan to get her boyfriend out of this mess.
Piper: She’s secretly pleased. She doesn’t want to have to lie to you, not ever.
And Leo… you find him staring at you already, never taking his eyes off you while the others avert their gaze or exchange glances with each other.
“Perseus Jackson,” you growled. “Give me my diary.”
Percy gave it to you without protest.
You sulk all the way back to the door, only to turn around when you hear Leo call your name.
The Latino is grinning wickedly. “You think it’s hot when I steal your office supplies?” He asked.
You felt your face flush. “Shut up,” you said, exiting the room, only to hear Leo continue.
“You like my curls, right? That’s what Percy said. I heard you also like my, and I quote, ‘Beautiful big brown eyes.’ I know you fancy me, Mi alma-”
“Shut up!” You yelled. “Didn’t you hear me the first time, Valdez?”
Silence.
You stomped back up the stairs and to your room. You locked the door behind you and threw yourself onto your bed.
It was all ruined. He knew. He knew! It was all over.
You grabbed a pillow and squeezed it with all your might. You wouldn’t cry; you couldn’t feel the tears. But you could crush your sorrows with rage. Yes, you were quite capable of doing that.
A knock.
Your head shot up, your deathgrip on your pillow easing slightly.
“What?” You snap.
“Uh… Y/N?” A voice that sounded suspiciously like Leo’s responded. “Could you maybe… open the door?”
“No.”
“Y/N,” Leo said, deadly serious for the first time since you’d met him. “Open the door.”
“No!”
“We need to talk!”
“No!” You cried, raising your hands to your temples to banish your headache. “No, we don’t. Just go away, Leo.”
“Y/N, please,” the boy begged. “Just let me in.”
You didn’t respond, turning your back to the door.
There was a sigh loud enough for you to hear from the other side of the door. “Okay,” he said. “I didn’t want to do this but… Frank!”
You jumped as a loud bang sounded behind you. You turned your head to glare at the Chinese-Canadian Baby-man that now stood in the doorway. “Frank?” You asked in disbelief.
“Sorry,” your best friend muttered, rubbing his shoulder as if it hurt. “I was bribed. With bubble tea.”
“Ah.” You nodded. “You’re forgiven. I would’ve done the same.”
Leo popped his head out from behind Frank. “Thanks, big guy,” he said, patting Frank’s arm. “I got it from here.”
Frank gave Leo a look of pure distrust before turning and walking away.
You kept your back turned to Leo as he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right,” he murmured. “This wasn't how I imagined it would be, but I’ll try my best…”
You felt a tap on your shoulder, but you didn’t look back at him, keeping your eyes trained on the wall in front of you.
“Y/N… I like you too.”
“Enough,” you said softly.
“What?” Leo asked.
“Enough games. Enough teasing. I don’t need your pity.”
You couldn’t see it, but Leo smiled cheekily at you. “It’s not pity, Mi amor. It’s love.”
He gently grabbed your chin, turning your head to face him. He pressed his lips against yours delicately, as if you might break, might shatter into a million pieces.
You pulled away first, still scowling. “Alright. You say you really love me, as I love you, but the only way to prove that is by letting me sleep in your room.” You gestured at the splintered remains of your door. “You broke my door.”
Leo grinned. “Correction: Frank broke your door.”
You rolled your eyes. “Correction to your correction,” you said. “You bribed Frank into doing it.”
“Fine. It’s worth it. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”
summary: your christmas turns into a chaotic mess when your boss can’t fly back home and you end up stuck in New York City with him.
millionaireboss!steve harrington x assistant!fem!reader | friend-ish to lovers | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type or body type.
word count: 26.7k
warnings: this one shot and the content i write are +18, minors do NOT interact. heavy slowburn, lots of pining & yearning. | slight age gap between reader and steve but is not specified | ANGST, tw: loss of a parent (reader’s) | SMUT, spitting, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m receiving).
author’s note: hi cuties ! ♡ i’m so sorry it took me so long to post this but it’s a LONG one so it took me ages to finish it and ages to edit it. this was the first idea that popped into my mind when i started writing down ideas for the christmas library, so i’m so so happy to finally share it with you ! enjoy and lmk what you think x
[banners: @adornedwithlight & @cafekitsune]
‘So, all the presents you pre-approved have already been sent to your father’s home.’ You said distractedly while looking at the list of tasks on the iPad. ‘All wrapped. All carefully tagged for each member of your family.’
‘Right.’ Steve said sitting next to you. You didn’t notice the way he observed you from his seat, eyes focused on how your hands typed quickly on the keyboard as you mumbled nonsense to yourself.
You only lifted your head briefly when the sound of the wind outside became too loud. Your boss’ eyes followed your confused stare until your eyes fell on him. The subtle, shy smile on his mouth made you frown. The way his brown eyes lifted, adorned by young wrinkles, made you feel equally flushed and annoyed. Mr Harrington had this thing sometimes; he would simply look at you and not say anything until you lifted your eyebrows or asked him directly.
‘What is it?’ You said going back to the list on the iPad. ‘Just fifteen minutes until you can start boarding the jet.’
You saw him shake his head from the corner of your eye, still looking at you.
‘Are you excited to go back home?’
‘Absolutely.’ You said going back to the list. ‘Thrilled.’
He let out a snorty laugh to your indifference, and to your surprise, you smiled softly.
‘Who’s waiting for you there?’ He pressed, moving softly towards you. The smell of his expensive pine cologne engulfed you; it had a subtle note of smoke underneath. Somehow that scent always managed to make you feel equally stressed and relieved. ‘Cousins? Grandparents? You have a stepdad, right?’
‘I do.’ You said locking the iPad before looking back at his expectant brown eyes that rarely intimidated you this much. ‘It’s just him and my mom.’
He nodded softly, looking down at his freshly polished shoes. You wondered if he knew the reason they were so shiny was that you had remembered his staff to polish them twice this week. If he knew the reason he was wearing his favourite suit was because you had selected this one for him that morning. That you were the one that had bought the navy cashmere scarf he was wearing, just because you knew his confidence would boost considerably that way. He hadn’t put gel on his hair today, making the few premature grey hairs above his ear more visible.
You resorted to look back at your work phone to stop staring at him.
As his Personal Assistant, you had a vague idea of what was waiting for Mr Harrington back home, the heir of one of the wealthiest corporations in the country. The disapproving stare of his father, siblings that expected he’d make a mistake so they could take over. He had never told you that he didn’t even want to do any of it, but he didn’t need to. Having worked for two years with Steve, you could see it very clearly by yourself.
That could be the reason why he was asking so many questions about you, things he knew already. Just so he could focus on something else.
‘Do you hang out with any school friends?’ He asked then, you lifted your eyes to find his lit up with cheeky interest. He was too unaware to notice, though, that you’d never give him more information than necessary. ‘Got a boyfriend to catch up with over there?’
You were very aware that he knew the answer to that question, having played this game so many times before.
‘I’ve got something better than a boyfriend.’ You said, to what his eyebrows lifted with more curiosity. You opened your mouth to say something, when your personal phone started buzzing inside your pocket. Standing up, he followed your movements with his eyes as you looked back at him with unusual humour in yours. ‘I’ve got two boyfriends.’
You heard his subtle, chesty laugh behind you as you walked in the toilets’ direction.
‘Hey, mom.’
‘Hey, sweetie.’ She said when you walked inside the ladies’ with two other people behind you. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good.’ You replied softly, feeling the anxiety rushing to your chest. You rested your back against the wall, avoiding your reflection on the mirror. ‘Just… busy, you know? I’m at the airport right now.’
‘Hopefully to come visit your mother?’ She pressed.
‘Mom.’
‘Gosh! I just can’t believe that obnoxious man won’t let you spend Christmas with your family!’
‘It’s just…’ You started to say, but your eyes fell on the woman who washed her hands on the sink next to you, trying to hide the fact she was staring through the corner of her eye. You rarely got recognised, but it could happen. Lots of people wanted to get close to Mr Harrington, sometimes you were the quickest way to do that. ‘We’re just very busy this time of the year.’
‘No one should be working on Christmas.’ She argued.
You bit your lip as the woman dried her hands with some tissues. She smiled at you, and you had to be polite enough to return the gesture.
‘I-I was there for Thanksgiving.’ You said once she left the room.
‘Just for three days.’ Your mother complained. ‘Three days.’
‘I know, mom. And I’m sorry.’ You sighed, looking at the ceiling, pondering about what to do. The winter wind outside echoed against the walls of the private airport, and you wondered if it had started snowing yet. ‘Listen, I— I might have an interview scheduled in the next few days.’
‘You’re going to quit?’ She asked after a while.
‘Maybe.’ You swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know. If I get a good offer, I might.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ You rolled your eyes, ‘I just hate to see you working for that spoiled man. And his father! I can tell he’s vile, too. The stories you’ve told me—’
‘Mom— Mom, those are confidential, okay?’ You said quickly. ‘It’s not gossip that you can share on your knitting club, you hear me?’
‘I crochet.’
You rolled your eyes again, checking your watch. ‘Listen, I’ve got a plane to catch, okay? I love you. Hopefully I’ll see you for New Year’s Eve.’
‘Hopefully? You know very well I need you here by the 30th.’
‘I’ll try.’ You said before hanging up.
Outside, you found Steve standing next to his and your hand-luggage. You smiled softly, checking your list once again, and making sure that everything was in order.
‘I know the journey’s super quick, but I made sure to pack some books for you. They should be in the jet already— What?’
‘Nothing.’ He laughed softly when you looked back at him, his eyes took over your frown for a second before he shook his head. ‘Do you have everything? For your family?’
‘Me?’ You asked, before letting out a silly laugh. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Good.’ He said, licking his lips. Almost hesitating. ‘Good. Well, uhm…’
His eyes saw the way yours got lost behind him, probably checking that he was in the right gate.
‘…Try to disconnect a little, okay? Get some rest, maybe turn off every single device you own for a few hours.’
‘What?’ You said looking back at him. ‘Don’t be silly, Mr. Harrington. We’ve got work to do.’
He always laughed when you employed a formal tone with him, and it never failed to make you roll your eyes.
‘I got work to do.’ He said then. ‘You just have to enjoy your Christmas.’
‘Right.’ You said sarcastically under your breath before standing up straight, you opened your mouth to say something, but the noise of the wind against the airport’s rooftop forced you to close it.
Steve observed you in the few seconds it took for the weather to calm down, playing with something inside his pockets. You smiled uncomfortably at him before your eyes fell on the few other people that were around. Cleaning staff, security, a few pilots that walked towards other gates.
‘Why are you being so awkward today?’ You finally said, looking back at him.
‘Me?’ He laughed in that cocky way that irritated you, making you lift your eyebrows in disbelief. ‘I’m just figuring out a way to wish you a Merry Christmas.’
‘Well, Merry Christmas, then.’ You said as politely as you could, ignoring the heat that rushed to your cheeks. ‘I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll try my best not to call you, but please keep an eye on your emails— What’s so funny?’
He was smiling, amused probably by your irritability or your nerves. He shook his head softly, looking at you with unbearable condescendence.
The speakers called for him then, announcing that his jet was ready to board and wishing him a good journey. This was it. Yet he stood a few seconds in front of you, almost hesitating. Your eyes lingered on his weird posture, on the way he kept playing with his pockets, on the tap of his shoe on the floor.
‘Merry Christmas.’ He simply said with a shy smile.
You didn’t leave until you saw him walk through the gate.
It had been a couple of hours since you had said goodbye to your boss, when you received a call from the recruiter. She had said something about New York’s weather and having to drive back home from Christmas, and now you were having your interview today.
It was fine. You were prepared, and most importantly, you were done with Mr Harrington. The experience you had acquired this last couple of years was invaluable, really. He was generous, and apart from his usual forgetfulness and chaotic private life, he was a good boss. But it had been weeks, maybe months really, of feeling that you needed to leave this job.
If you only knew why you felt this way.
‘I’m so sorry about this.’ Robin said as she walked down the corridor in her red suit.
You stood up from the seat on the reception to her office, shaking your head softly.
‘I just need to leave before the weather gets worse, you know?’ She spoke. ‘The news are showing the forecast’s terrible, and we all need to be home for Christmas, right?’
‘Right.’ You said shyly as you followed her inside.
Maybe not you, though.
‘Please have a seat.’ She said as you walked inside her luxurious office, though you had seen prettier and bigger. Steve’s was probably the size of the whole floor.
You did as she said, your eyes getting briefly lost on the snowy skyscrapers behind her as she sat in front of you.
‘Right.’ She said enthusiastically putting her glasses on, ‘Let’s get to the point. I know you’re familiar with my clients’ work. Not much to say, she’s easy to work with. Believe it or not, most authors are. At least they’re easier than millionaires.’
You laughed softly.
‘Well, I love Miss Wheeler’s work and have followed her since I was in college. It’d be nice to maybe use my skills for the area I specialised back then.’
‘Well, I have to say, your CV is impressive.’ She said going through the piece of paper with your name on top. ‘You could work for the president if you wanted to.’
You smiled softly at her flattery, yet there was something inside you that felt different. Something that felt wrong.
‘It says you’ve been Harrington’s publicist for most of this year too?’
‘Oh. Yeah.’ You sat straighter on the chair. ‘That’s temporary, though. His PR representative… Hannah, she’s currently on maternity leave.’
‘She’s been on leave for six months?’ Her eyes observed you under her glasses with incredulity.
‘Uh, well— Yes.’ You said shyly. ‘St— Mr Harrington, he offered her paid leave for the first year.’
Robin sat back, letting out a defeated laugh. You felt insecure somehow, observing the way she removed her glasses to chew at the temple’s tip.
‘But I can’t offer you that.’
‘Well, you don’t have to.’ You straightened your back even more. ‘I mean, I’m not even planning to—’
‘But you might.’ She left the CV on her desk, biting her lip as you felt your confidence melt. ‘There might be stuff he’s giving you that my client won’t be able to offer. Nancy can be generous but she’s still an author. An Editorial PA earns considerably less than an Executive PA.’ She laughed. ‘Much less. For some it’s like an entry level job, and you’re past that at this point.’
‘But I want this job.’ You argued. It came out so small you didn’t even believe it.
‘Why?’ She asked perplexed.
‘Because I’m…’ What? Because you were what? Steve had always treated you with respect and trust. He was the reason why you were able to buy your first apartment, the reason why you were almost done paying your student loans. Then what was it? What was it about him that made this job so unbearable? ‘I’m unhappy.’
‘Unhappy?’ She repeated. ‘How? Is he a creep or something?’
‘No!’ You rushed to say. ‘No, of course not. Mr Harrington is good— he’s uhm, he’s kind. He’s been very kind to me. I’m just, perhaps… A bit bored.’
You tried hard to believe your own lie, but the truth was that every day with Steve was different. He was always somewhere, doing something new and unique. He was very smart too, it was hard to keep up sometimes, but it challenged you. This, him, was everything but boring. The thought made the heat rush to your cheeks, and as if you had evoked him, your phone started buzzing on your pocket.
‘Boring?’ Repeated Robin as you took the device out to confirm it was Steve. You did something you had rarely done and sent his call to voicemail. Robin’s laugh made you look back at her. ‘Well, I’m afraid to tell you I wouldn’t call working with Miss Wheeler fun. In fact, it will be very monotonous.’
‘I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.’ You pressed. ‘Listen, just because I want a change it doesn't mean I’m capricious…’
‘It’s not that.’ She said leaning in on over the desk. Her eyes were full of kindness, and still, you hadn’t felt this childish in a long time. ‘Listen, you’re overqualified. And Nancy can’t afford you.’
You sat still on your seat, processing her words for a few seconds before nodding.
‘I mean you could apply to work with the FBI.’ She said. You tried to conceal your annoyance the best way you could. ‘Or as I said, with the President.’
You were pretty sure your frown turned worse with every suggestion, so all you could do was try to smile politely. Robin sat down more comfortably, looking back at you with interest.
‘I can check with my contacts if there’s any kind of offer that’s appropriate for your level of knowledge and experience. Someone who could afford you.’
‘You mean other corporate executives.’
‘Possibly, but not necessarily.’
You repressed a sigh, considering your alternatives.
‘I just…’ You started to say, but you seemed unsure of what to say, looking through the window at all those snowy skyscrapers you had learned the names of in the last couple of years working for your boss. You looked back at her with honesty overflowing form your eyes. ‘I have a deep hatred for those kind of men.’
‘You don’t seem to hate Mr Harrington.’
Precisely, you thought. You didn’t. You couldn’t.
It had been a few hours since you had left Robin’s office, and the sense of failure hadn’t left your body. It was odd, you considered, sitting down against the window of your hotel room wearing your silk robe over your pyjama dress. It had been a long while since the last time you hadn’t gotten something that you wanted.
The city looked silent from the window of the Plaza Hotel, a thick layer of snow falling over the buildings, the streets, and the people. You drank the last drops of wine from the glass, surprised at the weight of the bottle once you stretched your arm to refill it. Somehow you had managed to drink a whole bottle by yourself before dinner time.
Once you found the courage to stand up, the room around you moved slightly before you could find your balance, realising you underestimated how drunk you were. You needed some room service, maybe a bath and an early night. And then you’d fix your broken heart tomorrow.
But when you walked to get the telephone to order food, the screen of your work phone showed three missed calls from Steve. He had even called you once on your personal number, the screen had shown you had a pending voicemail.
Your heart beat hard against your chest for some reason, immediately returning the call. You’d listen to the voicemail later, the only thing you were focused on now was the sound of your pulse in your ears as the dialler beeped.
‘I’m so sorry.’ You said as soon as he picked up the phone. ‘I’m genuinely, genuinely sorry.’
His laugh on the other side of the line made you even more embarrassed.
‘It’s fine.’ He said softly, you could hear the heavy noise of the wind on the line. ‘Listen, we had to fly back to the city. The wind was too much, apparently there’s going to be a snowstorm tonight, so… I need a hotel room.’
You shut your eyes, nodding and hating New York City like you never had in your life.
‘Sure.’ You spoke. ‘Right. I’ll sort it out, just give me a few minutes.’
‘Thanks.’ You heard him laugh awkwardly as you searched for your laptop in between your luggage. ‘I’m sorry, too. Like, I was really gonna try hard not to disturb you during the holidays. Did you make it home safely?’
The softness of his tone would’ve had a different effect on you if it wasn’t for the fact all the hotels in the city were booked. You felt your anxiety rise on your chest, the stress starting to beat your temples, thinking about what to do.
‘Are you there?’
‘Yeah.’ You said. ‘I, uh… I-I missed my plane too. I’m staying at the Plaza. I’m gonna try to get you a room here. Otherwise, I will, uhm, maybe have a look at that penthouse we went to see during Thanksgiving?’
‘Right!’ He said as you put him on speaker. ‘I should’ve really bought it, huh?’
You laughed softly as you took your robe off and replaced it with your trench coat.
‘I told you; you need your own place in the city.’ You said looking at yourself in the mirror. If you fixed the buttons and the belt nicely, no one would notice you were wearing just a slip dress underneath.
He sighed in resignation while you fixed your makeup and hair in the hallway mirror.
‘I should listen to you more often.’ He said.
‘Can’t argue with that logic.’ You said walking towards the bathroom to use some mouthwash.
Steve stayed silent for a while as you spit on the sink, it was so quiet you thought for a second that he had hung up.
‘Maybe I should ask my dad—’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ You interrupted him. ‘I’ll get you a room here. At the Plaza.’
‘It’s gonna be impossible.’
‘Not for me.’
He laughed softly, almost tenderly. It was unbearable.
‘I’ll call you as soon as I have a room.’ You said before hanging up.
‘That’s not true.’ You said calmly as you stood in front of the reception counter. ‘I happen to know the person who manages Mr Munson, and I know for sure, that he’s not gonna be staying at the hotel tonight.’
The reception was busy with important guests walking around in their evening gowns and smoking suits. There was jazzy Christmas music coming from somewhere and the cold wind sneaked in from the revolving door every time someone walked inside. You felt overwhelmed, still a bit affected by the alcohol, but there was no way you’d take no for an answer.
‘I can’t confirm or deny confidential information, Ma’am.’ The manager said from behind the counter. He was a tall man with the moustache of a 1940’s detective, almost caricaturesque in the least convenient way.
‘It’s confidential for you.’ You said carefully. ‘Not for me. I know Eddie Munson’s not going to be here tonight because he couldn’t fly to New York. I know that his booking is cancelled. And I know you have a Vanderbilt King Suite available for my client.’
‘As I said, we can’t deny or confirm that information.’ He said with a polite smile that hid everything but politeness behind it. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, Ma’am. There’s no rooms.’
‘Listen.’ You said, feeling defeated. ‘You’re trying to do your job, and so am I. My boss is about to get here in fifteen minutes. He’s a public figure, he needs privacy and security. His family has been staying at the Plaza for generations. I need to get him a room, and you need to provide a service that meets the standards of the hotel. However, I’m willing to make adjustments if that’s needed. He doesn’t need a butler, for example.’
‘Ma’am.’ The way he looked at you made you clench your jaw. It happened sometimes, in restaurants, hotels or venues, when people realised you were just an employee to someone else, and any respect they could have felt for you disappeared as soon as their impression from you changed. ‘I’m sorry. But we have no rooms.’
You swallowed hard before taking your purse and walking out of the lobby. The cold wind burned your cheeks when you stood over the red carpet of the luxurious entrance wondering what to do, as the valet received the well-dressed guests that were arriving. You were so irritated, and so behind work now that instead of relaxing like you were meant to, you were about to cry.
Until you saw Steve’s silhouette getting out of a taxi. He saw you immediately too, it was impossible not to, as you were standing above the steps, almost like waiting for him.
You saw him thank the valet for taking his luggage inside and you felt a sense of defeat once he stared climbing the stairs.
‘Any luck with the room?’ He said fixing his coat as he stood in front of you. Your eyes lingered on the navy scarf a bit too long, and you blinked away your tears so he wouldn’t notice how frustrated you really were.
‘I’m working on it.’ You smiled, trying to hide the fact that you didn’t know what to do.
‘Cool. Should we have some dinner first?’ He asked as soon as you crossed the golden revolving doors.
‘Dinner?’ You frowned. ‘No, I— I’m going to sort this out first. You go ahead and eat something at the restaurant.’
‘You can’t work if you haven’t eaten.’ He said blocking your way before you could walk in the direction of the elevator. He looked down at you with his tired brown eyes and a soft smile. You felt his fingers subtly brushing yours. ‘C’mon.’
‘I definitely can.’ You walked around him in the elevator’s direction.
Steve stayed on his place as he saw you walk inside the open elevator and ask the bellboy for your floor, before he quickly decided to follow you.
‘You’re so stubborn.’ He said under his breath.
‘That’s why you hired me.’ You reminded him, hugging yourself over your coat. You could see from the corner of your eye, how he was fighting the smile that threatened to take over his face.
And yet that stubbornness was so useless sometimes. The beautiful penthouse Steve had thought of acquiring last month had been sold to a famous tennis player a week ago. You tried to get literally anything, from standard hotel rooms to smaller apartments that would fit your standards, but everything was either booked, unavailable or unhabitable. And the snowstorm was so merciless you couldn’t even consider renting a house outside of the city.
You sighed deeply, fighting the need to rub your eyes as they stung from looking at the screen, when you suddenly closed the laptop.
‘Right.’ You sighed before standing up. He was laying on the bed, reading one of the books you had packed for his trip. The sight was actually calming, you always liked seeing him wearing glasses. ‘I think I can make a couple of calls and see if any of my friends would let me crash at theirs. You can keep the room.’
‘What? No. I’m not kicking you out.’
‘Well, you need a place to sleep—’ You started.
‘So do you.’ He laughed sarcastically before sitting up. ‘What am I? The spoiled asshole that can’t fend for himself?’
You frowned briefly, before letting out an offended snort. You had never had an attitude with each other, not even in your most stressful days at work. Not even when he made your life more chaotic by his mistakes.
‘When did I ever say that?’
He just shook his head briefly, taking his phone out of his pocket.
‘Who are you calling?’ You crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably, feeling that you had failed him, but being too proud to admit it.
‘My dad’s secretary.’
You swallowed hard, nodding once before you tried to find what to do with yourself. It didn’t help that he was observing your moves the whole time, that was worse than being ignored.
Out of habit, you picked your personal phone to scroll on social media, but the first thing you saw was his missed voicemail from earlier. So, you locked it again.
‘She’s not picking up.’ He said frustrated before putting the phone back inside his pocket.
You both stayed in silence for a few seconds, your bare toes played with the carpet in attempt to calm your nerves.
‘I don’t—’
‘M sorry for snapping on you like that.’ He said. ‘I’m just— I’m sorry, what were you gonna say?’
‘I don’t think is a good idea to keep searching tonight.’ You said, still looking at your feet, too prideful to accept his apology. ’You won’t get anywhere in this weather.’
You lifted your gaze to look back at him, his piercing eyes were looking at you deeply. As if they were trying to decipher something.
‘We can share tonight.’ You finally said, softly and as indifferent as possible. As professional as possible.
He stayed quiet for a while, until you saw the way he swallowed hard at your proposal. It flattered you that the idea could make him feel nervous, but the possibility itself was absurd.
‘I won’t let anyone see us.’ You assured him immediately. ‘You know, rumours and… privacy. I’m still your publicist.’
He let out a choky laugh, quite awkward and low, before nodding.
‘Yeah. Okay, I guess we’ll have to.’ He sighed, looking at you from where he sat on the bed. All trace from stress and tension had left him. You envied that, how he always seemed to let things go easily. ‘Let’s eat something, okay?’
‘You can go ahead and—’
‘No.’ He stood up, taking a step towards you with a boyish smile on her face. ‘How many times do I have to remind you that you need to eat?’
You looked back at him patiently, a cheekiness you were trying hard to hide taking over your face.
‘I meant, you can wait for me downstairs.’ You said slowly, trying hard to repress the smile that mirrored his. ‘I need to change.’
‘You look great.’ He shrugged.
You took a deep breath, looking to your side before your eyes fell on him again.
‘I’m not wearing much under this coat.’ You clarified.
‘Oh.’ He said then. Almost clumsily, he took a step back. It was really tender, the way his cheeks had turned a shade of pink, how he swallowed hard at the mental image of whatever he was thinking about. ‘Right.’
‘Right.’ You repeated, silence taking over while you moved to grab some clean clothes from the small wardrobe next to the room’s door. ‘Can I ask you a favour?’
‘Huh?’
‘Can you try not to make this any weirder than it already is?’
You looked behind your shoulder to find the man standing up in the same place you had left him, hands in his pockets, cheeks flushed and nothing but shyness behind his eyes.
‘We already need to share a bed and spend Christmas together.’ You said, resting your back against the wardrobe. You didn’t seem annoyed by the idea, and neither did he. Still, there were unsaid rules to respect and boundaries to enforce. ‘Let’s keep it professional.’
‘Of course.’ He said after a while, running his fingers through his hair. The warm light of the room mixed with the reflection of the snow outside. He was still blushing, the forbidden grey hairs in between his brown locks turning messy with the movement. You felt very warm in his presence too. ‘Yeah, I would’ve never—’
‘I know, Steve.’ You smiled softly. You couldn’t hear the rest of that sentence; you wouldn’t be able to face him if he finished it.
A few seconds of silence opened between you two before you moved to change in the bathroom.
‘I still think we can have a nice Christmas, though.’ He said before you could close the door behind you.
You nodded softly.
‘I think we can try.’
As much as you tried not to, you always felt out of place. It didn’t help that since you had dived into the luxurious world of the wealthy two years ago, you were more conscious of social cues, more educated on protocol, and therefore more self-aware of your humble upbringing.
You walked into the hotel’s restaurant searching for your boss and trying not to check if people were judging you, with your minimalistic red lip and your simple black turtleneck. It was nothing compared to the fancy dresses the other guests were wearing or their designer shoes.
The restaurant was beautifully decorated with warm Christmas lights and velvet bows of a deep red shade, waiters dressed in white suits walked around with silver trays while an elegant old woman played a jazz piece on the piano. You could appreciate the magical atmosphere, the hopeful air of Christmas Eve that filled you with a deep sense of nostalgia. Often, especially during the holidays, you would ask yourself what it must have been like to grow up like this, to grow up like he did. Surrounded by all this luxury and comfort. And that just made you miss home even more.
Hugging your iPad closer to your chest, your eyes finally landed on him. He was talking enthusiastically to the manager. You lowered your gaze as soon as he made eye contact with you, fitting perfectly in the room full of vain guests. Your boss nodded at you, feeling once again embarrassed by the fact you had been arguing with the man he was talking to just a few hours ago, and still, you hadn’t succeeded at getting Steve a room.
You walked towards his table noticing how everyone around was engrossed in their own conversations. You had learned very early that if you didn’t try to impress anyone, if you didn’t try to pretend you were at the same level as them, they wouldn’t even notice that you didn’t fit in. They wouldn’t feel entitled enough to remind you that you would never fit in.
‘There she is.’ Said Steve as soon as you made it to the table.
‘How are you tonight, ma’am?’ The manager said, pulling the chair out for you.
You looked from Steve to the man for a few seconds before sitting down.
‘I’m okay.’ You whispered softly, sitting more comfortably, and skimming through the menu to avoid Steve’s eyes.
‘I’m deeply sorry about our misunderstanding earlier.’ He said, standing in front of the table.
‘There was no misunderstanding at all.’ You said taking the wine list. ‘As I said, you were doing your job and so was I.’
You closed the menu and looked back at him with an attempt of a polite smile.
‘I’ll have the Malbec.’ You simply said. ‘And olives for starters, please.’
‘Sure, ma’am.’ He said in the same tone, not without smiling to Steve before leaving.
You resorted to have a look at the main courses again, just to distract yourself.
‘I hate it when you do that.’ You said after a while.
‘Do what?’ You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling.
‘Force people to apologise to me.’
You finally looked back at him. He shrugged, looking at you with that soft smile of his that made it all a bit more difficult.
‘You deserved an apology. And I didn’t force him.’
You shook your head as you unlocked the iPad, you had to update Steve’s calendar and therefore yours had to be arranged too. If you managed to squeeze some work here and there, you’d might be able to visit your mother on New Year’s Eve.
‘Next time I’ll book an extra room just in case, like I did that time in São Paulo.’
‘God, I miss Brazil.’ You heard him say under his breath.
The fond smile that lifted your lips was impossible to conceal. Your eyes seemed lost in the menu, but they were lost in distant memories. You had been working for Mr Harrington just for a couple of months, in which you had indulged your perfectionism to always be one step ahead, perhaps to prove yourself to him. Yet you had miscalculated the days you were supposed to be in South America, and you ended up having an extra twenty-four hours to explore the gorgeous city. That’s when you really started to get to know each other.
‘It was a nice time.’ You agreed.
‘I think that’s something I wanna do more often next year.’ He said as you kept fixing his schedule. ‘Just… travel, see some new places. I only went to Europe twice this year and I can’t stand the fact I only got to see Amsterdam and Zürich through the Taxi’s window; you know?’
‘Maybe sometime in February?’ You said distractedly, tapping the keyboard on the screen. ‘Since January’s going to be insanely busy for you.’
The odd silence after your comment made you lift your eyes. Steve was looking at you with a confused stare on his face and his lips partly open, as if your words had caught him off guard. The heat rushed to your cheeks then, though you weren’t sure why. You were so confused yourself that you were about to double check on the iPad if what you said was true, when the waiter came back with your drinks.
‘Are you ready to order?’
‘Sure.’ He said then.
The tension dissipated as you both ordered, and he behaved as his usual self with questions and little jokes that flattered the waiter. It was noticeable that a few people had clearly recognised him now, as you scanned the room with your eyes, but though curious, they didn’t seem like the kind that would disturb him.
‘Thank you.’ You heard yourself say when you returned the menu.
‘Any bets tonight?’ He asked playfully as he took a sip of his wine.
‘Mhmm.’ Your pondered as you played with a few drops that slid down your wine glass. ‘M sure the pretty one by the fireplace would love a picture with you.’
From the corner of your eye, Steve cautiously looked for the girl you were talking about. She was very young, with that innocent look in her eyes that you had once too. She was more than pretty, with a delicacy in her manners that could only be the result of a fine education somewhere in Europe. You noticed her very early, as soon as you sat down, and her hopeful gaze had turned into a longing stare towards your boss as soon as she recognised him.
‘Green dress?’ You murmured when you realised he still hadn’t noticed. ‘Uhm, she’s wearing a ponytail.’
‘Oh.’ He said. ‘Oh no. God no, she looks nineteen.’
‘She looks at you every three seconds.’ You hid your smile behind your glass before taking another sip. ‘Oh, she’s looking now.’
Steve imitated you and took a sip of his wine, looking the opposite way in a poor attempt not to entertain the girl’s attention.
‘Ah, this one likes you too. Brunette, blue shirt, sitting at the bar. She would totally send you a drink.’
The woman you spoke about had a more feline air than the girl, her movements were slow and yet confident. She was probably known inside some social circle you could never conceive or imagine. Playfully, she ordered a drink before looking behind her shoulder and giving your boss an intentional smile. An invitation.
‘Jesus.’ He whispered to himself. ‘She could be my mother.’
Your eyes fell on him then, sitting more comfortably on his chair, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the familiar pink shade tinting his cheeks.
‘She seems used to being admired.’ You murmured, taking another look at her.
‘I guess.’ He said, playing with his napkin. ‘A lot of people are. I’ve never been good at it.’
‘You do have a weird relationship with praise.’
It took you a couple of seconds to realise you had said it out loud. Your heart immediately raised its pace, feeling the embarrassment washing over you.
‘Wow—’
‘I’m so sorry.’ You sat back, looking at him with the outmost terror overflowing your eyes. ‘I’m— that was so unprofessional of me.’
‘No.’ He laughed, it didn’t even seem like it had offended him. He visibly relaxed against his chair, as if this was a casual conversation and not a professional dinner. ‘I’m genuinely curious about why you say that.’
You sat silently, trying to find a way to put your thoughts in order, or to find a better apology.
‘It’s not my place to make any judgments about your character.’
He shrugged, that careless smile that equally irritated and intimidated you was taking over his face again.
‘You clearly have already.’
You took a deep breath, following the wet rings your wine glass had imprinted on the fancy tablecloth.
‘Well…’ You shrugged. ‘Listen, it was just a silly assumption. I’ve just seen…’ You looked back at him shyly. ‘An interesting number of congratulation cards in the trash since I started working for you.’
‘Hmm.’ He was looking down at his napkin before his cheeky brown eyes fell back on you. ‘You don’t miss anything, do you?’
‘It’s none of my business, anyways.’ You said looking down at your glass again.
‘I mean, I guess it’s not.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t mind it. You are a bit right though, but you’re also a bit wrong. I just don’t enjoy this… artificial flattery that surrounds business.’
You nodded then, encouraging him to keep going if he wanted to. He observed you, studied you, licking his lips as he contemplated the possibility of saying more.
‘Here we are.’ The waiter said when he made it to the table with your order.
Discreetly, you put the iPad and your phones aside to make space for the food, dying to know what else he had to say, but relieved at the possibility of him dropping the subject.
You both said your thanks and started eating as soon as he left, only the sound of your cutlery against the plates and the soft jazz in the background filling the void.
‘That’s one of the reasons why I hired you, you know.’ He suddenly said.
‘Sorry?’ You said cleaning your mouth with your napkin.
‘You’re good at reading other people’s character.’ He clarified. ‘You’re also very discreet, which works for you, but it rarely favours anyone else.’
It was uncertain for you if that had been a compliment or not. He was smiling and so were you, wondering if you should press him on the subject.
‘What do you mean?’ You finally said.
‘You just know.’ He said, taking another sip of his drink. ‘I don’t know how you do it. If I introduce you to someone; a new business partner, a potential client, I don’t know, a lawyer… I just know that things aren’t going to go well if you don’t seem receptive.’
You processed his words slowly, a bit impressed at this facet of yourself you weren’t really aware of. Of course you were protective of Steve’s relations, but that’s why he hired you. It was part of your job to preserve his reputation and legacy, whatever that was.
‘That’s what you pay me for.’ You joked nervously, taking another sip of your wine.
‘Uh-uh.’ He said smiling once again. It felt weird now, as if he had caught you falling back into a bad habit. ‘No, at first I thought: Well, she’s just starting, maybe she’s intimidated by these people or something. And then it became a pattern, you know? A reporter would walk in, and you’d get quiet or tense, and then a few weeks later that interview would become a problem. Or someone would come in, proposing a new investment, and you’d stop doing whatever to keep listening to their pitch. And then months later I’d find out they were bankrupt or selling again.’
You smiled to yourself, feeling rather proud that he was able to see that. You let him stare at you for a few seconds before you reached for your wine again.
‘You do meet a lot of stupid men.’ You admitted, trying to drop the subject.
‘It’s not just men.’ He said then, and this time you weren’t going to look at him as you rearranged your fork and knife neatly over your empty plate. ‘I mean Cecelia was—’
‘Please.’ You murmured awkwardly, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks. ‘Steve.’
‘I should’ve just, followed my gut, you know.' He said. ‘But what my gut said was that if you two didn’t get along then it would never work.’
You shook your head softly. The names of different guys you had dated in the last couple of years came to your mind: Eliott, Dan, Victor, Theo. There were some others, always complaining about the number of hours you put into work, always insensitive about your sacrifices, and always, always annoyingly noisy about your relationship with Steve.
‘Not every woman you date is going to like me. I mean…’ You let out a scoff-like laugh, it was impossible not to feel a bit uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken. ‘We spend way too much time together.’
Your words hung out in the air as you stayed in silence, and you were unable to look back at him. You did so briefly and failed, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts, biting the inside of his cheek.
Slowly, the restaurant started to take shape around you two. Most of the guests had already gone into their rooms, only the lonely, quiet people who sat at the bar were chatting softly. Taking a deep breath, you smiled at your boss, and Steve tried to return the gesture before he asked the waiter to add the bill to the room.
The wine had only made you more tired and sleepy. You both made it to the room in silence, moving slowly and used to each other’s quietness after a long day.
In the room, you took your pyjama and robe and excused yourself to change in the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the subtle shake of your hands as you removed your make up and washed your teeth. Things were about to become so awkward between you and him, and you didn’t know how to stop it.
The screen of your personal phone lit up as soon as you turned the tap off. Almost as if it was a reflex, you looked behind your shoulder, knowing very well there was no way Steve would even think about opening the bathroom’s door.
You locked it anyways, completely lost in your thoughts as you sat on the floor to read Robin’s email. Judging by the few spelling errors, you assumed she had written it on a rush to leave the city.
The job offers listed were equally interesting and disappointing. You didn’t know Eddie Munson was in search of a Personal Assistant, and though the idea sounded attractive, it was also incredibly non-practical. You knew his habits and character by the brief interactions you had had with him in the past, and you knew for certain that the rockstar lifestyle would never be your thing.
You rolled your eyes at the sight of Billy Hargrove’s name, having known him for the last couple of years and certain that you could never work for a man like him. For starters, Steve despised him. You knew he was a terrible boss as well, by the way his PAs seemed to come and go so quickly.
And then lastly, there was Jonathan Byers, whose movies had been continuously acclaimed by the most elitist film festivals in the last five years. Taking a deep breath, you thought about it, you considered it. A movie director that was respected and discreet, someone private enough that wouldn’t compromise your own integrity. He travelled as much as Steve, but he dealt with other kind of pressures that would certainly be less demanding for you. You could do it. Most importantly, you wanted to.
You leaned the back your head against the bathroom door for a second, feeling your heartbeat increasing, until you finally got the courage to reply to the email and stating you were interested in Mr Byer’s offer.
When you went out, Steve was calmly reading on the bed once again. Only the lamps on the bedside table were on, but he was still wearing his shirt and suit trousers. The sight of his glasses, of his undone cufflinks, and his messy hair filled you with bitterness, maybe envy. Deep down, there was also something else, a strange kind of sadness that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t really get rid of. You felt so young, hugging the robe against your body to avoid showing off the silk underneath, but he was too engrossed in his novel to notice your shyness.
You sat on your side on the bed, silently getting rid of your jewellery as you heard him close the bathroom’s door behind him. Absentmindedly, you wondered if it had been you who had made things weird as you turned your lamp off and got inside the covers.
The sight next to you was beautiful, the snowy city quiet behind the thick glass of the hotel’s window. You had been working for him for two years, but it felt much more than that, like a lifetime. Maybe it was a thing about your age and experience, but you had never gotten so attached to a job. And you should’ve never had on the first place, that’s why you had to leave before it was too late.
A smell of body wash and toothpaste filled the air when you heard him turn the light off behind him. You were too warm under all those layers but there was no way you were going to sleep next to him wearing just your slip.
He sighed before turning the light off, and you had to bite your lip to fight the need to ask him if he was okay, if he needed something, but you stayed quiet as he made himself comfortable in the tense darkness.
‘Goodnight.’ You heard him whisper tiredly.
You swallowed hard, too nervous to say anything, pretending to be too exhausted to even reply. After a few minutes, you laid back in the dark, trying to relax and failing at it.
‘Earplugs.’ You whispered then.
‘Uh?’
‘Your earplugs.’ You repeated in the dark. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot them—’
You were about to sit up when you felt his hand touch your forearm softly under the covers. The tender texture of his thumb brushing your wrist soothingly kept you from moving at all.
‘Don’t worry.’ He murmured in the same tired tone. Something inside you, something pure told you that his eyelids were peacefully close. ‘I only need them when I sleep alone.’
‘Oh.’ You said before nodding. Your eyes were slowly getting used to the darkness, but you didn’t dare to look back at him. ‘Right, I did not know that.’
‘S fine.’ He laughed softly, a sweet sound that came out of his chest. He moved, his hand wrapped around your arm delicately, rubbing the space between your elbow and wrist underneath the robe. ‘It helps me to hear someone else’s breathing. It’s weird.’
‘S not weird.’ You whispered sweetly.
‘This okay?’ He asked in the same tone as he kept stroking your arm. ‘Calms me down.’
‘Hm.’ Was all you could say, hearing your heart beating hard against your chest. Nerves mixing up with something else, feeling like you already missed this, missed him like this. ‘S okay.’
‘You’ve got goosebumps.’ He whispered before moving closer to you, feeling all the warmth he radiated in the space between your bodies. ‘Are you cold?’
You shook your head.
‘M fine.’
You both stayed silent for a few seconds as you got used to each other’s presence, each other’s bodies. You knew he was awake, and he knew you were as well. There was certain peace to it though, there was something so indescribably soothing about this shared moment.
‘M sorry you can’t be at home for Christmas.’ He finally said.
You shrugged, finally getting the courage to look at him. He was already looking at you, and for once you didn’t see him as someone who had a professional relationship with. For once, you saw him as just Steve.
‘It’s… fine.’ You said, lost in your thoughts and in his touch.
You wondered if there was really a way in which you could separate this different side of him from the man you saw every day at work. From the man in the finance magazines and newspapers, from the strategic businessman sitting at the end of the table in the meeting room, and the lonely man you sometimes saw looking at the city through his office’s window.
‘Hmm, it’s not fine.’ A subtle smile slowly took over his mouth, and you felt your own lips lifting too. ‘I’ve got some stuff planned to make it up to you.’
‘What?’ You whispered surprised. ‘No, I mean— it’s fine. I’m fine with having a quiet Christmas.’
His soft laugh made you frown before he spoke again.
‘You didn’t even let me cover your plane tickets so you could fly home.’ You looked down in embarrassment, feeling guilty for lying to him. ‘The least you can do is let me try to make it up for the money you lost, and the fact you’re stuck with me during the holidays.’
You wanted to tell him right there, that you had never bought tickets to go home, that you had lied to him and everyone else, because your plan had always been to spend Christmas inside this hotel room applying for jobs, and working, and waiting for his call.
‘Steve…’ You whispered his name in the dark. It wasn’t your intention to make it sound so needy, to make it sound so sad. Maybe it was time to tell him that you had just accepted a job offer, that you couldn’t do this anymore.
‘Please.’ His hand was still brushing your arms softly, his skin was still warm, maybe warmer than before. ‘I haven’t had a nice Christmas in years.’
‘Now, that’s manipulative.’ You joked, and he let out a boyish laugh that made your smile wider. You stayed like that for a few seconds, soothed by the sound of each other’s breathing. Maybe his idea wasn’t so bad, and this would be a nice way to say goodbye. Maybe, for once, you could enjoy his company and the moments you shared together without feeling guilty. ‘I guess I haven’t had a good one in a while either.’
The light woke you up, so you moved to your side where it was less bright and comfier. The rest of your senses started to awaken as well, it was very warm underneath the covers, you suddenly realised your shoulders felt cold, and there was a familiar scent in the air; woody, like pine and cinnamon. It made you calm, but also a bit nervous and tense, because it belonged to him.
Steve was already awake when you opened your eyes, sitting next to you with a different book between his hands. He had changed his pyjamas for a casual outfit that still looked classy on him. His hand was running through his hair, his glasses on top of his nose and eyebrows frowning in concentration. You stretched, at first lazily, and then out of sudden you were sitting up.
‘What time is it?’
‘Good morning.’ He closed the book to look back at you, his eyes studied your face and then the rest of your body as you looked back at him, staring like an idiot. Instinctively, your fingers searched for the robe to find that it had loosened throughout the night. Steve cleared his throat as you fixed it again. ‘It’s uh, eleven.’
‘Eleven?’
He observed you amused as you searched blindly for your phones on the bedside table, but there was no sign of your work phone as you ignored the few text messages you mom had sent to your personal one.
‘What the fuck.’ You said under your breath.
‘I heard your alarms,’ He said then, ‘But I thought it’d be nice to let you sleep.’
You sat quietly for a seconds before scoffing softly.
‘Steve, I’ve got so much work to do.’ You said, breathing softly to try not to lose it. ‘I swear, you’ve no idea. I’m so behind.’
‘You’re not working today.’
‘Of course I am.’ You stood up, securing your robe again as you looked around the room for your work suitcase. ‘I need to update your calendar for the first two weeks of January. Then change your mailbox address of your office in Boston because the moving’s next week, and send someone to get your clothes at the drycleaners back at your parents’ because you’re not there now, so…’
‘You’re not working today.’
‘I have to find time to send Hannah a Christmas present for the baby under your name because I was supposed to do that yesterday, and… Where the fuck is my laptop?’
‘In the safe, with the iPad and the phone I got for you.’
You turned around to look back at him, you felt betrayed and still you couldn’t help but bite your lip when he looked back at you with a rising eyebrow and boyish cheekiness behind his brown pupils.
‘Steve.’
His challenging eyes didn’t leave yours as he stood up from his place in the bed.
‘This is not gonna be a discussion.’ His hands found your shoulders and he leaned a little to have a better look at you. ‘It’s Christmas Day.’
It was too early to feel this flushed, and the way his thumbs were starting to massage you over your robe was only making it worse. You looked back at him, feeling stressed and unsure of how to react to his carelessness.
‘Your life’s going to be a disaster if I don’t.’ You murmured.
‘S very sweet for you to think that my life’s not already a disaster.’ He pinched your chin out of nowhere, and you felt like a shy teenager when your cheeks turned warmer. ‘But we have a lunch reservation in an hour, and you need to get ready.’
His phrasing stayed with you as you styled your hair after your shower, and as you finished your make up. Your eyes stayed on him as he wrapped the navy scarf around his neck while you walked together down the hotel’s corridor. You hadn’t stopped to consider for a second that maybe New York City’s weather had conspired in Steve’s favour and maybe it had kept him from facing things you didn’t even know about.
‘How’s your coffee?’ He asked as you looked at the snowy city through the café’s window.
You nodded as your eyes looked back at the expensive piece of porcelain that you had stained with your red lipstick after your first sip.
‘Delicious.’ You said. ‘Thank you for bringing me here, it’s really pretty.’
The café was as beautiful and as luxurious as any other place that he attended regularly, with long columns and marbled floors. All the little Christmas details had made the lunch a bit more special too: the green and gold serviettes, the pinecone shaped butter, the mini eggnog mousse they gifted you and Steve after the meal.
‘Dad used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid.’ He said before taking a sip from his own cup. ‘I always ask for the same table because this is where we used to sit.’
‘That’s so sweet.’ You heard yourself say. ‘Does it still look the same?’
‘Yeah,’ He leaned in slightly to have a look through the window. ‘It’s outside that always looks different. I used to sit where you are and make sketches of the street sometimes. Have I ever told you I wanted to be an architect at some point?’
You shook your head softly, thinking of a younger version of Steve, with glasses and suits too big for him, who used to sit where you sat now. He was here, as well, looking through the window, staring curiously at the world outside.
‘Come here. Look.’
You leaned in subtly as well, taking in the busy image of the white-coloured street where taxis and bikes coexisted with birds and trees.
‘There used to be a square where that building is now, and a carousel where I wasn’t allowed to go on.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘I loved that thing. I drew that same view so many times I can probably still do it by memory.’
‘I haven’t seen you draw in a while.’ You whispered to yourself before sitting back. You lowered your eyes as you grabbed your spoon and dip it in the mousse once again. ‘You used to do that a lot when you first hired me.’
‘Hmm. Yeah.’ He considered your words, sitting back as he tried to read you while you finished your dessert. ‘Well, you used to leave those little notepads in my office the first months after I hired you and I didn’t know what else to do with them. I thought it was adorable.’
You shut your eyes briefly then, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you took another sip of your coffee.
‘I thought you needed to… write notes.’ You bit your lip as you tried not to laugh at your own naivety. ‘And— I don’t know, important stuff.’
‘Because you thought I was an important man.’ He said resting his crossed arms on the table to get closer to you.
‘Only for the first month.’ You joked before looking back at the window.
‘Oh, wow.’ He laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it.
He always acted like a teenager in the rare instances where you had friendly exchanges like these, but you were careful not to cross any lines or get too funny. It was hard though, because it was nice and even if you knew it wasn’t true, sometimes it was good to feel like you were friends.
‘What is it?’ He said when he saw the way you were putting a strand of hair behind your ear as you looked to your side.
‘Can we…’ You nervously played with the tablecloth underneath your coffee cup. ‘Uhm, can we talk about work?’
The way he licked his lips with amusement worried you. You were both two days behind work now and the idea of knowing there was a concerning number of emails accumulating in your phone was making you anxious.
‘Listen,’ It took you by surprise when his hands found yours over the tablecloth, it wasn’t until then that you realised you were cold, just because he was so irresistibly warm. You were too overwhelmed to even know if he realised. ‘You’re an amazing assistant. You’re smart, very capable. Incredibly stubborn. You have a weird relationship with authority but somehow that—’
‘What!’ You exclaimed offended. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You hate following orders.’ He said carefully before squeezing your hands.
‘I don’t!’ You argued, attempting to sit back, but his hands held yours over the table, and he seemed to be enjoying this little argument way too much.
‘You do.’ He laughed like a little kid. ‘You fucking do. Like now, I told you to relax because it’s Christmas and you’re not doing as you’re told.’
‘You’re unbearable.’ You said finally sitting back and feeling your cheeks hotter than ever. ‘Like, I swear. You think everything is a joke.’
‘Right.’ He took a sip of his coffee while you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling your hands turn cold at the absence of his touch. ‘Okay, let’s make a deal.’
‘What kind of deal?’
‘A business deal, who do you think I am?’ He joked.
You scoffed softly, feeling even more flushed than before and wondering where all this confidence was coming from, he had never dared to employ so many double-meaning jokes with you. He had also never dared to touch you like he had been doing or smile at you like he was smiling now.
‘We’ll get to do one work thing— Listen, I’m your boss, so I’m trying to help you out here, okay?’ He said when you were about to roll your eyes. ‘We’ll get to do one thing for work, if you do one thing I have planned for you.’
‘Are we seventeen?’ You scoffed. ‘Absolutely not, Steve.’
‘Come on.’ He insisted. ‘For once, I get to plan your day rather than the other way around. I like it.’
‘So what? You want to be my PA today or something?’
He shrugged, sitting more comfortably in the little booth.
‘It’s my Christmas wish and only you can make it real.’ He said sarcastically.
You took a deep breath. From your place, he looked like the conceited teenager he’d probably had been once, the private-school little shit that you read about in magazines. He’d never get a no for an answer, but you probably could never say no to him either.
‘Do I get my iPad back?’ You asked, biting your lip.
You observed him quietly as he searched for something inside his pocket. He seemed to hesitate for a second, as if he was realising something, and you looked at him with inquisitive eyes.
‘What is it?’ You asked.
He took a deep breath before placing your work phone on the table.
‘You get this for now.’ He said. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘All I’m saying is let’s leave the calendar for after New Year’s.’ He argued.
‘The calendar is for January.’ You said hugging yourself as you walked next to him. ‘January is literally right after New Year’s. It needs to be updated now.’
‘I don’t want it updated yet.’ He simply said.
You took a deep breath, walking right behind him as you checked your email and added more things to the list of things you had to do. You had also completely forgotten to call your mother, but the idea of doing it in front of him didn’t make you comfortable.
‘Well, okay.’ You stopped in the busy sidewalk. ‘I guess if we can find a quiet place I can change the address—’
‘I already did that this morning.’
‘What?’
‘While you were getting ready.’ He said. ‘You already called the drycleaners, so we get to do something I planned. Something actually fun.’
He started walking again and you put the phone on inside your pocket as you caught up with him.
‘Being a PA is not about planning fun stuff, you know?’ You said.
‘No shit.’ He said sarcastically. ‘No wonder why I hired you.’
You let out an offended laugh-scoff before punching his side with your elbow.
‘That was very mean.’
‘What kind of boss would I be if I wasn’t a little mean every now and then?’ He said as you followed him inside a shop.
You were about to say something when you realised where you were.
‘…I have an appointment at four.’
‘Of course, Mr Harrington.’ Said the pretty Salesgirl before she offered to take your coat.
‘Do you prefer Dom Pérignon or Grand Siècle?’ She asked you then.
‘Uhm, well I’m work—’
‘We’ll have the Siècle, please.’ Said Steve said instead.
The pretty girl nodded once and got lost behind a corridor as you entwined your hands in front of you and looked around you like a lost deer.
‘Why did you bring me here?’ You murmured shyly at Steve.
‘We’ve got plans tonight.’ He said shrugged. ‘And it’s Christmas. You need a dress.’
‘But this is like…’ You looked around you, detailing the beautiful High-Couture sample gowns that the mannequins modelled. They were all breath-taking pieces, but you couldn’t imagine yourself wearing anything like this. When you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise.’ He said sweetly, studying your worried semblance as he took a few steps towards you. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to wear anything too fancy. I called them beforehand and let them know that you often wear deep shades and lots of black. Thought I have to say, red would look so elegant on you I asked them to add a few specific pieces I thought you’d might like.’ He shrugged, swallowing as he looked away from you. ‘But you don’t need to try them if you don’t want to.’
You blinked a couple of times as you tried to find words to thank him, feeling equally flattered and impressed, but still not sure if this was a good idea or not.
Where were you supposed to draw the line? You thought as you stood in your underwear in front of all the different dresses that had been picked for you. If only you hadn’t left your work phone inside your trench coat, you’d have some way of calming your nerves right now. You weren’t sure if this was a good idea at all, if indulging yourself in this friendship with your boss was the safest thing to do.
It was all coming to and end though, you thought as you placed the thin strips of the red dress over your shoulders. In a few days you’d have to sit down with him inside his big office and break him the news, so why were you still worried about being unprofessional?
You took a deep breath, downing the champagne the salesgirl had given you to put your doubts aside. Once the dress was all zipped up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was so pretty you couldn’t help but smile, with a midi skirt that ended just below your knees. You stroked the front fabric to find out it had pockets, and that somehow convinced you.
It was like feeling like a child again. You opened the door of the changing room and shyly walked the little corridor that took you back to the room where he waited for you.
‘I told you I’d do everything that was on my hands, and I couldn’t.’ You heard him say.
You walked into the room frowning, feeling as you had so many times before on instances where he was having a work call that turned into a personal one. Or in hard moments when he dealt with relationships outside work, and you didn’t know if he needed an assistant or a friend.
‘Well, I don’t think I’m on a position where I care at this point.’ He said gravely as he took a few thoughtful steps. ‘Why don’t you ask…’
As soon as he turned back his eyes locked with yours, standing above the little steps that led to the room.
‘Dad, I’ll call you later.’ He hung up while his eyes were still on you, and you shyly walked down the steps to meet him in the middle of the little room.
‘Is everything okay?’ You tentatively asked.
‘Everything is perfect.’ He said with an idiotic smile as his eyes looked from the dress to you. ‘You look so beautiful.’
You looked at him, then, ignoring the compliment as you searched for answers in his eyes. He knew that you were trying to read him and succeeding at it.
‘Steve.’
‘Everything’s fine.’ He insisted as he took a step towards you. He looked down at you with a sided smile, his brown eyes overflowing with a happiness that anyone could’ve described as delusional.
As much as you wished to be able to show your emotions as freely as he did, you were still worried about his father’s call, about the state of things back in the office once this little fantasy of his was over. You were about to open your mouth to speak when the touch of his hands on yours stopped you. He looked into your eyes with an intense honesty that you had never seen before.
‘Miss.’ The voice of the Salesgirl made you turn around immediately. If she had seen something, she didn’t say anything, she only walked down the steps towards you, carrying your coat carefully. ‘It’s your phone.’
You smiled at her softly before searching inside your pockets, hearing the distant buzzing and thinking that it was probably your mother. As soon as you took the devices the blood left your face at the sight of the name on your work phone.
‘Would you excuse us for a second?’
The pretty salesgirl nodded discreetly before she walked out of the room. Steve stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at the marble floor and avoiding your eyes as only the sound of the buzzing phone could be heard.
‘Don’t pick up.’ He finally said without looking at you.
‘It’s your father.’
‘Don’t. Pick up.’ He finally lifted his eyes to look back at you.
‘I work for him, Steve. I can’t just—’
‘You work for me.’ He said taking a step towards you. All the softness that overflowed from his brown pupils was gone, in exchange for a coldness that you had only seen him employ with other people, but never with you.
Steve walked away towards the window as you nodded once. The insisting phone still buzzed on your hand as he looked out, isolating himself in that way you often witnessed at his office, and just as all those times before, you stayed silent. He had hurt you, but deep down you also knew you’d never be petty enough to betray him by picking up that call.
Things turned even more awkward when the phone stopped buzzing, the uncomfortable silence falling between you like snow on Christmas day. You waited for one, two, three seconds, and when he didn’t say anything, you climbed the little stairs and walked towards the changing rooms.
The air was cold as ice when you walked out of the shop wearing your clothes and trench coat. You needed to think. You needed to think about what had happened today and last night, and what had been happening in the last two years since the day you started working for Steve Harrington.
It wasn’t hard to make a decision when you crossed the street and got inside the first shop that caught your eye, your heart beating hard with anxiety as you did. As soon as you walked in, the first notes of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer started playing as if they came from a musical box.
The toy shop had a giant, carrousel-like column in the middle, where pretty dolls were displayed inside their boxes, new and perfumed and magical. Christmas trees of all sizes had been placed around the shop, surrounded by train sets that looked exactly as if they came from those movies you used to watch as a child.
It wasn’t as busy as you thought it would be, tourists walked around taking pictures and videos of the picturesque shop while you browsed in silence and smiled to yourself every now and then. The place gave you a weird sense of nostalgia as your fingers stroked the hand painted roof of the biggest house doll you’d ever seen. You thought of past Christmases back home, the smell of your mother’s food mixing with the scent of wrapping paper, learning how ride a bike on the snowy pavement, the fading memory of your dad’s face…
Blinking away your tears, you found a sunny spot to sit outside, next to the river, hearing the seagulls and the distant melody of the carol singers. Taking a deep breath, you took the phone to your ear and called your mother.
‘About time.’ She complained right before laughing.
‘I’m sorry.’ You shut your eyes before messing your neatly brushed hair. ‘Merry Christmas. I miss you.’
‘Merry Christmas, sweetie.’ She said. ‘When are you coming?’
‘Uhm,’ You bit your lip. ‘I’ll try to get tickets for tomorrow. Or the day after. Or whenever. I’ll be there before the 30th.’
‘Does the evil boss know his?’ She joked.
You swallowed hard, feeling the salty taste of tears in the back of your throat.
‘I’m working on it.’ You sniffed quietly. ‘But don’t you worry about it. How’re things? Was Santa generous this year?’
‘Very generous.’ She said. ‘I got a new perfume, a nice purse…’
‘…And?’ You smiled to yourself. ‘A nice cashmere scarf I hope?’
‘I loved it very much.’ She said. ‘Thank you, sweets.’
‘You’re welcome, mom.’ You said looking at the city beyond the body of water in front of you. ‘I know it’s silly, I guess it just— I don’t know. It’s a nice tradition.’
‘Oh, honey! I know, It’s not silly. It makes me happy too, you know that.’
You laughed weakly, feeling in the verge of tears again, when you felt a body sitting on the bench next to you.
‘Uh, mom, I gotta go.’ You said looking back at him before your eyes focused on the river once again.
‘What?’
‘Sorry, it’s just… work.’ You sighed. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘In person.’
You made a pause, taking a deep breath.
‘Sure.’ You finally said. ‘Merry Christmas. Love you.’
‘Love you too, honey.’
Steve leaned forwards to have a better look at you as soon as you hung up, and you hated that. You had so many reasons to cry right now and you didn’t want to face any of them, so all you could do was hug yourself while the air froze your cheeks.
‘I am so, so sorry.’ He finally said.
‘How did you find me, anyways?’ You looked back at him.
‘Uh,’ He shook his head, and you could’ve sworn he had blushed a little. ‘Your phone. Your work phone. I can access its location in case you lose it. You know, confidential information and all of that.’
‘That’s quite invasive.’ You tried to joke, but it came out much more passive aggressive than you intended.
‘I know, but it comes in handy when I behave like a complete asshole.’ He said. ‘I’m sorry.’
You looked down, playing with one of the buttons on your coat and thinking about what to say. Maybe the best thing to do was to quit right then. Offer Steve an honest explanation, hand him the phone back and pack. He could keep your room, your check, your heart. Anything he wanted. You just wanted to be alone.
‘Sometimes…’ He swallowed. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to separate work from personal attachments. Especially when there’s not a lot of people around that I can trust.’
Your eyes kept looking at your skirt, your legs, your shoes… anywhere that wasn’t him. It was too hard to look up, to sit here and hear him call this a personal attachment, a business relation, everything except what it was.
‘I keep doing this thing…’ He said. ‘Where I put you in these… complicated, and awkward situations because I desperately need a friend…’
You couldn’t help but look at him then, feeling a mix of compassion and pity and fear and sadness for him.
‘…And it’s so unfair to you.’ He said softly, anxiously looking for a sign of forgiveness on your face. ‘I’m so sorry.’
It took you a while to find the words, to get the courage to look back at this lonely man. It took everything in you to tell him right then, that he wasn’t lonely at all, and that you had always been right here, and as long as you could, you would.
You shook you head softly. ‘I know things with your dad are complicated—’
‘It’s not only about my dad.’ He said moving closer to you. You looked back at him as the freezing breeze blew a few stands of your hair. The sight was overwhelming: his softly frostbitten pink cheeks, his cosy scarf, the scent of his woody pine cologne filling you with longing. You couldn’t help but arch your eyebrows subtly when one of his hands extended over the bench to touch your face, but he seemed to abandon the thought quickly, placing it behind you. ‘You were there when Cece left, too.’
‘Steve—’
‘When she moved out, when she—’
‘Steve.’
‘…Lost the baby.’
You took a deep breath, taking your hands to the bridge of your nose and fighting the need of screaming at him.
‘You know, I don’t need this today.’ You said facing him.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ The touch of his thumb on your cheek caught you completely by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t so angry anymore. ‘I could’ve handled it; I should’ve been there instead of you.’
It was getting harder to keep your tears to yourself, but you still managed to. You had to. You were sure she must’ve told him everything before she left, how she hung on to you after months of ignoring you while she was engaged to him, how she begged you not to say a word until she was ready. And you did. You did, because the idea of seeing him suffer shattered your heart.
And it did anyways. It hurt when he asked you to call the interior designer to get rid of the baby blue wallpaper, when you secretly donated the packs of diapers he had piled inside the closet. It hurt to see him show up to work the next few days as if nothing had happened, to pick up those calls from his therapist every week for a month, asking why he hadn’t shown up. It hurt to find out Cece was pregnant again through the press a year after, not a millionaire businessman this time, but a senator of some kind. It hurt that she called you and thanked you for supporting her through it all.
‘You seemed so happy.’ Your voice almost broke at the end of the sentence, looking back at his eyes helplessly. ‘And Cecelia… she didn’t want you there. I— I had to respect that.’
His mouth turned into a line then, you could see he didn’t like what you were saying, but his touch was still soft as his eyes moved from your eyes to your lips while he considered your words. His bitter frown didn’t change even when his soft palm moved to your neck, and his eyes looked back at yours again.
‘I can’t need you this much.’ He murmured then. ‘It’s not fair to you.’
Your hand caught his on your neck and you gave him a sad smile before looking down at the way your knees instinctively touched his. You wished you could tell him it was perfectly fine, that not only being needed was an intrinsic part of you, but that being needed by him was all you thought about every day.
‘Don’t say that.’ You whispered, squeezing his hand. ‘I’m your friend. You know that.’
‘I’m still sorry.’ He whispered with a sad smile. His thumb drew a line from your chin to your jaw as you looked at each other, sharing a silence full of bittersweet understanding. A few snowflakes that fell from a above sat on your lashes and you both finally laughed together. A thin layer of snow was painting the river white, yet you still felt warm, sitting on this bench next to him.
‘I’ll tell you what.’ You said sitting straight, your hands instinctively started playing with the hem of his navy scarf and you smiled softly at him. The gesture seemed to have lifted his spirit, by the way his lips lifted subtly, and his brown eyes were full of dreamy tenderness. ‘I just saw the biggest, pinkest house doll ever inside that toy shop over there. If you get that for Hannah’s daughter, I’m willing to forget this and actually try to have a fun Christmas with you.’
‘She’s not even one.’ He laughed softly.
‘She’ll love it.’
He nodded once, studying your face while he smiled softly.
‘Consider it done.’
‘We’re going to be late.’ You said in the car, checking the time on your phone.
‘You don’t even know where we’re going.’ Steve said, rolling his eyes at you. The gesture almost made you smile, so used to be the one that always rolled her eyes at him.
‘You said we needed to leave by seven.’ You said annoyed, hugging yourself over your coat. Yet you could still feel the warmth of his shoulder resting against yours.
‘That was just so you could be ready by six.’ He murmured, the warmth of his breath on your scalp made you realise how close you were from each other. You could feel his chin hovering over your head as he looked through the window, the Christmas lights making the snowy streets colourful, the people walking, the distant sound of sirens.
You felt nostalgic, or maybe just deeply comfortable in the back of the car, stillness within the chaos of traffic. Maybe it was something else, you thought as you felt your body getting warmer, you were safe. The thought kind of terrified you, but at the same time, you thought as you leaned in and rested your head against him, it wasn’t so bad to indulge yourself in his company, was it? After all, it was Christmas.
‘Are you okay?’ He murmured.
You leaned even closer to him then, and he heard you swallow hard as your hand wrapped around his bicep. His body couldn’t simply not react to all that warmth, to all that tenderness, and he finally gave in and placed his chin softly on your head.
‘I’m just feeling a bit homesick.’ You confessed in the dark of the backseat.
‘Hmm.’ The back of his finger stroked your cheeks softly to get your attention. You lifted your eyes shyly, giving him a subtle smile before you sat more comfortably. ‘You wanna go back to the hotel?
‘No.’ You smiled at him, sitting back. ‘No, I just— Sorry, it’s just… Christmas, it always— it makes me kind of crazy.’
You laughed awkwardly, feeling more flushed every second you didn’t move away from him.
‘What do you miss?’ He asked then.
You almost choked as you sat better; your cheeks turned even hotter before you could speak again.
‘From home?’ You placed your cheek against the seat and looked back at him as he nodded. ‘I don’t know. I guess more than missing something specific, what I really miss is being a child.’ You looked away, still feeling his eyes on you as you smiled sadly. ‘Sometimes, when I wake up too stressed or overwhelmed, I stay in bed with my eyes closed and I take a deep breath. And you know, just for a second, I feel like I can smell my bedroom again. Isn’t that weird?’
‘It is weird.’ He murmured as you looked back at him. ‘It’s also very cool that you have such a good memory. I always feel like I don’t remember anything about my childhood.’
‘You remembered the carousel back at the café.’ You reminded him.
‘Yeah, but I don’t have memories there. I just remember not being allowed to get on it.’
‘Hmm.’ You considered it for a few seconds before looking back at him. ‘What about your childhood home?’
He shrugged, looking something unspecific in the distance.
‘I don’t know. I guess it smells like my dad’s office.’ He admitted. ‘That’s why I’m always so paranoid about having candles and plants all over my place.’ You laughed then, thinking it was odd but kind of funny too. ‘Even if I spend most of my time travelling, I can’t bear coming back to a house that smells untouched. Like a hotel.’
And yet he still did, you thought as you looked through the window beyond his shoulder. His maids were always telling you how boring it was to work for Mr Harrington, because all they did was clean dust. There was no mess or things to clean inside his home. There was nothing.
‘We’re here, sir.’ The voice of the driver made you sit down properly, looking through the window next to you this time.
The city lights reflected on the river like little candles with dancing, twinkling flames. You were surprised you hadn’t thought about this possibility, but when the driver opened the door for you, you didn’t know exactly how to feel about the luxurious yacht that sat next to the private pier in front of you.
‘So,’ Steve Said once he had made it out of the car. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s nice.’ You simply said.
‘We’ll watch the fireworks from the river.’ He said enthusiastically.
‘That’s nice.’ You repeated shyly. ‘It’s quite, uhm, big.’
‘I know, I had completely forgotten I had it.’ He said taking your hand before he pulled you towards the pier.
You let out a laugh of disbelief as you followed him, feeling his warm fingers entwining with yours.
‘How could you forget you have a yacht?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I never use it. I used to party in these a lot when I was in college, but I don’t really have time for that anymore.’
You took a deep, patient breath while you climbed the stairs towards the upper deck. Your eyes looked around for other people, lingering on the lights of the yacht and the dark waters underneath. You could imagine what you’d find inside, but that didn’t mean it would surprise you less.
‘Give me your coat.’ He said once you walked in behind him.
Inside, the yacht hid a luxurious lounge with leather couches, an extensive bar and a pool table. You let him take your trench coat as your eyes lingered on the other side, where there was a giant TV screen and a couple of armchairs. Somehow the heat rushed to your cheeks at the sight of it all, before a loud pop behind you made you jump.
You looked back to find Steve pouring champagne in two glasses from the other side of the room. He was still wearing his coat, but yours was laying on the chair behind him, and you suddenly felt flushed as his eyes lingered briefly on your uncovered shoulders.
‘This is obscene.’ You said once you stood in front of him.
He laughed then, loudly and childishly while he offered you the glass of the bubbly alcohol. You took it carefully, feeling warm under his stare.
‘You have no other option but enjoying yourself tonight.’ He said with a smile before clicking his glass with yours.
You took a sip of your drink before rolling your eyes and he smiled back at you. He seemed to be enjoying your shyness, your inadequacy, way too much.
‘I didn’t want the crew to stay during Christmas, but they did leave some food so we’re having a proper holiday dinner upstairs in the dining hall. And then I also asked them to leave a swimsuit for you, in case you wanted to try the jacuzzi.’
You let out a nervous laugh, before looking to your side. Steve frowned softly as he placed his glass on the bar’s mahogany surface.
‘What is it?’ He said, taking his coat off.
‘Nothing.’ You shrugged.
‘You want to go back to the hotel?’ He asked.
‘No.’ you said, feeling a bit helpless, a bit lost. ‘No, it’s not that. This is very nice, Steve.’
‘But?’ He asked, searching for some sort of validation in your eyes.
You shrugged, looking around you before your eyes landed back on him.
‘I just can’t stop thinking about the fact that you had a place to stay the whole time.’ You said softly.
Realisation fell on Steve’s eyes, and something else, something deeper that sadness took over them. He was angry. If it was at you, or at himself, you wouldn’t know. His fingers held the glass he had placed on the bar, pondering with a frown. As if you had caught him doing something bad, something improper.
‘I guess I just didn’t want to be alone on Christmas.’ He played with a few drops that fell from his glass before looking back at you. He swallowed hard. You opened your mouth to say something, regretting your words immediately, but Steve kept talking. ‘Listen, honestly, I didn’t even remember I had this place until this morning. I know maybe spending Christmas with me is not the most appealing idea in the world but—’
‘Steve, it’s not like that.’
‘… I just want you to have a good time.’ His eyes were full of honesty as he looked at you, but a part of you felt he had grown cold at your words. ‘Whether that is here, or back at the hotel, or anywhere. It’s kind of my fault that you’re stuck here, anyways. I shouldn’t have made you work on Christmas Eve.’
You took a deep breath, looking away and feeling the guilt rising on your chest. He had tried to give you a decent Christmas. He had bought you this lovely dress, he had requested a proper Christmas dinner, and all you had been doing all day was lie to him.
‘I’m sorry.’ You finally said, taking a step towards him. ‘It’s not your fault, I’ve spent the whole day being stubborn. I guess I didn’t want us to get behind with work, and— if I’m honest with you, I’ve always had a complicated relationship with Christmas. It’s not your fault.’
You looked at each other for a few seconds before you bit your lip, trying to repress your embarrassment.
‘Okay.’ He finally said, considering your words. ‘What if… instead of going all the way up to the dining hall we just have dinner here in front of the TV, huh? We can watch a Christmas movie or a horror movie or like, a documentary…’
You let out a snorty laugh then, nodding as you smiled at him.
‘Okay.’ You said then. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Great.’ He said with a smile.
It took little time for you two to get used to the comfort of the understanding silence as you brought the food downstairs. As the evening started, you slowly stopped caring too much about the yacht and its excessive luxuries. This was Steve’s life, after all, but there was also no reason why you had to stick to those unwritten rules you followed in professional instances tonight. A few minutes after your third glass of champagne you were taking your shoes off and walking around barefoot as you filled your plate with turkey and stuffing, and potatoes.
Steve followed you by getting rid of his jacket and shoes and you both forgot the armchairs and sat down on the floor to watch The Parent Trap.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never seen this masterpiece.’ You said once the ending credits rolled. You dipped your finger on the cup of gravy before taking it to your mouth. ‘This is on my top five of comfort movies.’
‘I can see why.’ He cleaned his mouth with a napkin before sitting back against the bottom of the armchair. ‘I guess that’s what I get for growing up with no sisters.’
‘You’ve got, what? Five brothers? And none of them were really into cheesy movies?’
He laughed.
‘Apparently not. They all have their own thing.’ He shrugged.
‘Hmm.’ You said putting your plate aside. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, you know Nick. He was always very into music. And then Trevor’s always been into fencing, he always wanted to do it on an Olympic level, but he’s never been that good.’ He joked, placing his elbows on his knees as his eyes got lost on the patterns of the carpet. ‘Jake’s an aircraft engineer, so he thinks he’s the smart one. And then the twins surf, but Dan is better at that than Richie. I don’t know, they all have a thing.’
‘What’s your thing?’ You asked then.
‘Huh?’
‘What’s your thing?’ You repeated.
He shrugged.
‘I don’t think I have one.’ He admitted.
Steve and you stayed quiet as you thought about his words. He rarely spoke about his family to you, but you had learned things about them in discreet silence. It was widely known that Nick Harrington had a substance problem; Steve himself had driven him to rehab many times. You had only learned this because you had to help Hannah handle the scandal that one time the press leaked the address of his rehab centre.
You knew that Trevor and Jake didn’t get along with Steve, by the way he absently signed the birthday cards you posted to their addresses every year. You always made sure to date them on the inside, above the empty, cold Happy Birthday printed on the card. You knew that the twins were spoiled and ungrateful, because they never cared to learn your name or address you nicely every time they called Steve for money when their father refused to indulge yet another one of their fleeting business endeavours.
‘How come?’ You asked softly as he took the remote control. Steve stayed quiet for a while, switching to a jazz playlist on Spotify.
You thought for a second he wasn’t going to give you an answer, until he entwined his hands behind his neck as he rested his back against the armchair.
‘I don’t know.’ He said as his hands fell slowly on his knees, losing himself in his thoughts before he looked at you. ‘I don’t think I was given the chance to.’
He stayed in silence for a second as your eyes lingered on his face, as if no one had ever asked him this question before. Then he laughed softly, bitterly, and you frowned.
‘Isn’t that funny?’ He said. ‘The guy with all the opportunities wasn’t given one.’
You lifted your eyebrows as you looked down to your knees, processing his words.
‘S fine.’ He shrugged before standing up. ‘I don’t want to think too much about it right now.’
Your eyes followed him as he moved to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine before walking towards you and extending his hand.
‘C’mon.’ He said with a soft smile. You didn’t know how he did it, or why he didn’t really care about the sad conversation you almost had. ‘I wanna show you the place.’
You grabbed his hand while holding the two empty wine glasses on the other, and he took you on a tour of the yacht. You had already seen the dining hall, big and impersonal but decorated by a giant red rug that felt soft and cozy under your feet. The staff had managed to place an improvised but prettily decorated tree on the further conner, and a few Christmas lights around the place.
It wasn’t until he took you towards the helm that you realised how comfortable you had felt holding his hand the whole time. The area consisted of three luxurious screens that surrounded the captain’s seat, along with the steering wheel and the engine controls.
‘You wanna drive it for a while?’ He joked in the dark as you looked at the weather and pressure data on the screen.
‘Absolutely not.’ You said immediately. He laughed at it, rubbing his thumb against your hand softly as he took you out of the little room. ‘Do you know how to?’
‘Nah.’ He said as he took you through another room, much more luxurious than the one downstairs where you had eaten. There were more L-shaped couches, and a piano at the end. Beyond that, you could see through the windows that there were lounge chairs outside, probably a pool too. ‘…Could’ve learned at some point, but I never liked boats that much.’
You let out a sarcastic laugh as your eyes lingered on the jacuzzi on the other side of the room. Then, walking past him, you took the wine bottle while he looked at you with an amused stare.
‘What?’
You filled your glass before placing the bottle next to his on the crystal table in the middle of the room. Once again, you kneeled next to the table, looking at him still standing up on the other side of it.
‘You know, I’ve heard things about your times in private school.’ You said with a childish smile that he seemed to find funny as he lifted his eyebrows. ‘I used to think they were just rumours, but I can only imagine the kind of things young Steve Harrington could be up to in one of these.’
He rolled his eyes then, walking around the table to sit on the couch like an important man. His brown eyes piercing, almost mischievous, as he rested his back against the cushion with his legs open. The couch was so big he wasn’t even taking all the space, but this was Steve, he was used to having it all.
‘So…?’ You pressed, taking another sip of your drink. ‘Am I wrong?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re not wrong.’
‘So, it’s true.’ You said almost pleased. ‘King Steve.’
‘Oh, Jesus.’ He looked away, shaking his head as you giggled. He took a deep breath, looking back at you as if you were a trouble kid and he didn’t know what to do with you. He leaned in a little bit, placing his elbows on his knees before entwinning his hands. ‘Listen, of course it got out of hand sometimes. You can’t raise a kid telling him he’s got all the money and power in the world and expect him to be a decent teenager. I never said I wasn’t spoiled.’
‘You never said you were indecent either.’ You said softly, looking back at him as you took a long sip of your wine.
His eyes lingered on your face as you swallowed, lifting your delicate hand to clean the drop that fell down your mouth.
‘Some of us have secrets.’ He said after a while. He extended a hand to fill his on glass as you considered his words. ‘You, for example, have many.’
You lifted your eyes to look back at him, thinking that maybe he had figured you out. You thought maybe someone he knew had told him all about your plans to quit, after all Steve knew everyone. You could’ve said something there, act offended or tell the truth. But instead, you just took the bottle back to fill your glass.
‘I’m not interesting enough to have secrets.’ You smiled softly, eyes focused on the pouring liquid as you avoided his stare.
‘I don’t agree.’
‘I know you don’t.’ You simply said with a smile before taking your glass with you as you stood up.
You knew his eyes were on you as you walked around the room, placing the glass on the edge of the jacuzzi before your hand ventured to stroke the still water inside. The sudden bubbling of the water startled you as the lights of the thing turned on, and you heard Steve’s soft laugh behind you.
‘I thought it’d be warm.’ You said foolishly as the heat rushed to your cheeks. Only then you realised how drunk you were, feeling that your skin was more than just warm, your lips were a bit dry, your thoughts all over the place.
The water did turn warm a few seconds later, and you dared to touch its surface again, this time diving your hand a little bit as you rested your chest against the edge of the jacuzzi. It was very quiet, your eyes lingered on the soft waves that the bubbles below created, taking in the colours of the exploding fireworks on the water before you looked up to the window.
You lifted your eyes to look at the sky when Steve turned the lights of the room off, his slow steps echoing through the room until he stood beside you. Only then you wondered how you were supposed to go back home this week.
Resting your chin on the extended arm that stroked the water, you saw Steve placing his crossed arms over the edge of the jacuzzi. He stayed quiet as if you had commanded him to, as if he knew that you needed him to stay like this. As if this silence was his present to you, it felt like that in a way.
‘One Christmas,’ You said then, ‘When I was seven, mom and I woke up and dad wasn’t home. She called him after a couple of hours, and he said he was buying fireworks for that night, and like, that wasn’t weird, really.’ You paused to take in the beautiful explosions in the distant sky, the silhouette of the skyscrapers being illuminated by the colours, the warmth exuded by the attentive body next to you. ‘So, we waited for him to have breakfast together, but he didn’t show up. He also skipped lunch, and we didn’t see him until the evening when he came home and set his fireworks outside. He spent the whole night lighting them up while ignoring us.’ You made a thoughtful, bitter pause before looking down at the water again. ‘He was mad. He had found out he had cancer. I think he didn’t really know how to tell us.’
You felt him swallow hard next to you, and only then you stood straight. Your eyes looked back at him as you rested your fingers on the edge of the jacuzzi. His stare was still on the water as he tried to find his words, but you knew what he was thinking: What can you say to that?
‘Sometimes keeping a secret is just delaying the truth, I suppose.’ He said then. It surprised you that he had come to that conclusion so quickly and effectively, while all you had done was overshare the sad little story of your dad’s diagnosis.
‘I guess so.’ You murmured unsure, before looking down at the water. You both stayed silent for a while, looking at the water as if the jacuzzi was a well that hid all the answers to the drunken questions in your head.
Delaying the truth. Was that what you had been doing these last two years?
‘I need to fly home tomorrow.’ You said, taking a step back, looking at your feet before you started climbing the steps to get inside.
Steve’s eyes lingered on you as you started undoing the zip of your dress. With his lips partly open he offered you a hand that you took as you made it to the border.
‘Mom and I always visit his grave on the 30th.’
‘I can get you tickets.’ He said as you let his hand go, taking a step back as you started undoing the straps of your dress. Something shifted then, the silence was cruel and definite, as if time had turned slower when the dress gently slid down your body and you kicked it to the side.
You couldn’t look back at him as you stepped inside the water, feeling like it wasn’t warm enough to sooth your flushed skin. And yet you kept telling yourself that it wouldn’t happen, that he’d kept it professional and polite between you two, but maybe you didn’t want him to. He had been touching you all day, you had slept in the same bed, for fuck’s sake.
Maybe all you wanted was to challenge him, to see if he dared to. Because if he didn’t do anything here, as you looked behind your shoulder to find him resting his arms over the edge again, then that could only mean that this had always been a one-sided thing.
‘You don’t get to share secrets like this.’ He whispered, shamelessly looking from your face to your body under water before he looked back at you. ‘It’s not fair.’
You turned back fully then, looking into his eyes and knowing he was dying to take a peek at your breasts under that lacy black bra you were wearing tonight. But he didn’t, instead he looked down at his hands as you walked slowly towards the edge, tendered by the red tint on his cheeks. This was so bad. It was so, so bad. Deep down you knew he was weak right now, that there were rules you were breaking, roles that you weren’t adhering to.
‘I know it’s not fair.’ You said searching for his eyes. ‘A lot of things aren’t.’
He looked up again, his eyes studied your face this time. Little drops of water had fell on your cheeks, but your make up was still shimmery under the lights of the jacuzzi.
‘What do you want me to do?’ He leaned in then. Straightforward surrender, maybe the only logical solution. Your faces were only inches away from each other as he challenged you. ‘If you tell me you want me to leave, I’ll leave. If you want me to join you there, I will. If I need to get you out of the water myself, take you upstairs, and make love to you in my bed, I will.’
Your hands played with the water that surrounded you as you looked back at him with partly open lips, wondering if Cecelia, Giovanna, Conny, Harriet or the rest whose names you had never cared enough to learn had been here before. But that didn’t matter, did it? They didn’t have what you had. They weren’t forbidden like you. They were nothing.
‘This is wrong.’ You whispered it as a fact, knowing very well that you didn’t mind, that it was just a cliché that needed to leave your mouth before things could really go deliciously wrong.
‘I don’t think you care.’ He said then.
‘Do you?’ You lifted your eyebrows then, placing your hands on the edge of the jacuzzi as you looked back at him with anxiety written all over your pretty face. ‘Care?’
Steve smiled then, blinking a couple of times as sweet sincerity took over his features slowly, unbearably gentlemanly and patient. His hands found yours over the edge, entwining your hands when his forehead brushed yours and you looked down at the buttons of his shirt, hiding from him.
‘Why don’t you get out and find out?’ He whispered then.
You nodded softly, the silence tense and sweet before you pushed yourself up as he took a small step back and you shyly sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi. He didn’t stay far for too long, catching himself biting his lips at the wet, half-naked image of you splashing water everywhere. His hands found yours on either side of your thighs as he took another tentative step forward, and almost instinctively you opened your legs for him, finding his brown locks with your wet fingers.
His own hands tested your comfort, landing on your hips as you looked down at him with a shy smile.
‘Hi.’ You whispered.
‘Hi.’ He said in the same tone.
You smiled softly, this time more cheekily, as your fingers wandered down, sneaking into his partly opened shirt just because you wanted to feel his burning skin, his chest hair, those corners that you had once forced yourself not to look at.
Unconsciously, you fisted his shirt when he dared to lean in subtly, following your head as your noses brushed, poking yours playfully to break the tension a little. Oddly, knowing that he was enjoying himself in his own time gave you a sense of confidence, you even dared to smile a little before you pulled him in.
You tasted his smile before his lips, maybe he found funny that your urgency seemed almost young and inexperienced, but you knew what you were doing. It took him a few seconds to breathe deeply under your mouth, to gain control by squeezing your waist and lean in even closer to you as your tongue demanded for space in his mouth.
A soft noise left his throat, and you chased his lips to swallow it, begging him to give you another one, please. But now his hands were cupping your face, and you felt more and more like a feather in his arms. It got much worse when he lifted you from your butt with sudden confidence, swallowing the sweet whimper of surprise you let out while he led you to the closest couch.
He let his body fall as you comfortably sat on his lap, making a mess out of his locks as his hands repositioned your thighs closer to him and his needy mouth search for your neck to kiss and bite.
There were so many different instances in which you had imagined the texture of Steve’s tongue before, but you would’ve never thought he’d be so gentle with his teeth as he played with your body. Then, as if he’d reminded this was the first time he had you this close, he chased your mouth for a soft, almost innocent kiss before looking back at you.
‘You okay?’ He asked with a nod.
‘M fine.’ You stroked his face: his beautiful boyishly blushed cheeks, before you leaned in to bite his lip playfully.
The silence was tense as you looked at each other with a cheekiness you would’ve never thought you discovered in each other. You knew now you were driving him crazy, and he knew you were dying to prove yourself. Still holding your challenging stare, his soft hands started to pull down the fabric of your bra.
You were waiting for the moment that his eyes fell on your bare chest, but he was amusing himself by staring at you with his heavy eyelids and cheeky sided smile. Steve was too busy looking at the safest places of you: your eyes, your lips. Yet the boldness of his face slowly died when his hands finally cupped your breasts, and you let out a shaky breath when his thumbs brushed your freezing cold nipples.
He nodded encouragingly as your hands climbed to his shoulders under his shirt and he kept massaging your breasts while your nose brushed against his. While your breaths turned heavier, and your hips started moving softly.
Steve’s eyes were still open, eyelids heavy and pupils glossy while his lips brushed against yours and he swallowed the air your exhaled. His hands wandered down your back, finding a way to sneak under the side straps of your thong, and suddenly the tiny piece of fabric didn’t feel as discreet as you’d thought it was. He gave your ass a good, loving squeeze that left you breathless, and he seemed to enjoy that, by the way he was smiling when he pushed you against his body until your mouth was on his again.
It all turned much slower but much more sensual after that. You skin was hot and full of goosebumps as he held you by your waist to lay your back against the couch. You were dazed, and so overwhelmed as he left a trace of wet kisses between your breasts down to your ribs.
Then, with the patience of a child holding a bird, he placed his cheek against your belly button and looked back at you. His lips were puffy, his cheeks preciously pink. You dared to do something you’d always dreamed of doing and dived your fingers inside those dark brown locks of hair, slowly stroking the hidden grey strands next to his ear.
You could’ve both simply fallen asleep like that, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was stroking your thighs so softly, and your pussy got warmer and wetter the more you felt his weight on top of yours. You held your breath when he pulled your underwear aside, and his finger finally dared to brush those nerves, a thin thread of wetness connecting your pussy with his finger as you kept stroking his hair and he simply looked down to that deliciously sensitive slit in between your legs.
You should’ve been blushing by the way he seemed fascinated by how your pussy pulsed every second he teased you, by how your wetness leaked out, staining his couch in the most sweetly obscene way. He could lick that, yeah, starting from the bottom and then all the way up to your clit. He’d do that for you until you moaned his name, or the word please, he wanted you arching your back, fisting the cushion underneath you. He had thought about this so often that somehow it was hard to know if it was really happening or if this was just another one of his fantasies, another one of those dreams that tended to leave him with insomnia, sweaty and hot in his lonely bed.
There just seemed to be so many endless ways to taste you for the first time and he couldn’t decide which one, so he just went for the easiest one, rubbing his face against your perfumed skin as he slowly left a trail of wet pecks until his mouth was finally kissing your pretty needy pussy.
Steve sighed before you even could, diving his head in between your legs and eating you selfishly as his hands squeezed your thighs. He licked slowly and sensually, from the entrance of your cunt up to your clit before sucking gently, as if he had all the time in the world.
‘…taste so fucking good.’ He said to himself before leaning back. You held your breath as he looked at your shamelessly open and wet pussy while he removed your thong fully, before pushing you knee softly outwards to spit on you. His saliva was warm, and you were so sensitive, the gesture made you release a little moan before his finger dived inside you and you were arching your back again.
His free hand wandered up your hip, admiring your squirming body, the way your chest ascended when you took a deep breath and then softly descended when you released it in the shape of a sweet longing sigh. He grabbed one of your breasts then, this time more firmly, as if he was entitled to, and your own hand squeezed his over it.
‘Fuck.’ You moaned when his finger managed to stroke a particularly nice spot. He had rarely heard you swear before and now he wanted to hear you do it all the time, because your voice made it all sound sweet and harmless. ‘There.’
‘Hmm?’ He asked sweetly, keeping the same sexy rhythm, touching the same damn spot. ‘There?’
‘Ha.’ You moaned almost painfully. ‘Mhm. Yeah. There.’
You were shutting your eyes now, trying not to think too much about how you looked as the wetness leaked out of your pussy the closer you got, feeling it drip down your thighs and ass. Steve’s lips were puffy and wet when he kissed the side of your knee, his hair was stroking your leg unintentionally, his other hand wasn’t pressing your breast anymore, just merely letting you hold it as your breaths turned faster.
‘I don’t wanna cum like this.’ You begged then, opening your eyes to look back at him with arched eyebrows and sweaty cheeks. His eyes were still on you, mesmerised and heavy as he kept his rhythm, not stopping yet.
‘I don’t understand.’ He whispered before kissing your knee again. ‘You look beautiful. I wanna see you like this.’
‘I—’ You sighed heavily, feeling on the edge every second that he kept touching you there. ‘I want you inside me.’
‘You’ll have me.’ He murmured lovingly, still fascinated by the obscenely sweet image of your agonizing body. ‘Soon, baby. So soon. Cum for me first. Cum like this.’
You let out a moany breath again, nails scratching the cushion on your side as he rested his cheek against your knee, drunk by the greed of being the one who could do this to you. You swallowed hard as your hips started to convulse with the rest of your body, and then he felt it, the contractions of your inner walls, your puffy clit pulsing right there under his eyes, glistening with the mix of your wetness and his spit. Your open mouth, noiseless as you held your breath and your breasts pointy and exposed for him before your back landed on the couch again.
‘Shit.’ Your voice sounded so soft and defeated as you closed your eyes lazily, feeling his body hovering over you. Your hands instinctively dived inside his hair when his lips kissed your neck and ear.
‘You were perfect.’ He whispered as you felt the fabric of his pants rub against your sensitive clit by accident, and you were rolling your eyes at how something so subtle was arousing your again.
‘Mhm.’ Your moaned when your blind mouth could finally find his and this time you were messier and dirtier than before, licking his lower lip and wrapping your sweaty legs around his waist. ‘Fuck me.’
He moved you both onto your side, your wet back now against the cushion of the couch as he melted into your body and his arms wrapped around your waist.
‘You’re half asleep.’ He laughed softly, squeezing your naked frame.
‘I don’t care.’ You looked back at him, tasting the wine in the back of your throat and knowing that all your make up was probably ruined by now. You must’ve looked so pathetic, sweaty cheeks, smudged eyeliner, and fucked-out face. It didn’t matter. ‘I’m in love with you.’
He leaned back softly then, studying your face before his hand brushed your cheekbone softly. You were looking at him, pleading that he wouldn’t let you humiliate yourself like this, all vulnerable and naked in his arms.
Steve softly arranged your bodies more cosily on the couch, he lifted himself briefly before placing your head against his chest, stroking your precious hair, smelling your perfumed scalp as your legs remained entwined. And all you were begging was for him not to be too cruel, too patronising, when he’d inevitably break your heart tonight.
‘Are you cold?’ He asked after a while, brushing his fingers against your bare back that was full of goosebumps.
‘Aren’t you going to?’ You were unable to be patient anymore, but you couldn’t face him, otherwise it’d be too embarrassing. And then you had to use that awful wording he used before, belittling yourself even more. ‘Aren’t you going to make love to me?’
Something came out of his chest then, and you frowned. It couldn’t be a laugh, though, there was nothing funny about this.
‘Of course, I am.’ He said then. ‘Just not now.’
‘When, then.’ You said more angrily than you intended to as you leaned back to finally confront him. God, you were drunk. You were a mess of emotions and alcohol, your throat was dry, your ears still buzzing by the long-forgotten orgasm.
It was as if his limbs were instinctively connecting to you, fingertips hovering on your face as they traced a line from your cheek to your chin.
‘I’m tryin’ to find the courage first.’ He explained very seriously. ‘To tell you that I love you.’
You blinked softly, stubbornly, as you frowned. You weren’t unhappy but somehow mad, that you were both this stupid. He stroked your cheek again, his nose looked blindly for yours, and it was if you didn’t want him to kiss you out of sudden. Rejection would’ve hurt less.
‘Come here.’ He said searching for your mouth.
‘Steve.’
‘Come here.’ He said more insistingly this time, pulling your jaw towards him and what else could you do but to give in? He had promised he’d made love to you, and he intended to, by the way his body was turning unbearably hot under all of those layers. He kissed you more purposely then, as your legs wrapped around him again and you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, softly scratching any bit of skin you could find in the process.
His intentions were patient, but his body wasn’t. You could feel him getting harder as he went in for your neck, your jaw, your temple. At some point he grew too desperate, and the sound of his belt was followed by a clean pull of his boxers and pants, all falling down on the end of the couch.
Now your fingers were able to discover more, to stroke much more skin: the hairs on his stomach, the faded stretch marks under his hips, he had round, firm butt cheeks that you would’ve loved to tease him for, if this wasn’t a sad scenario, if things between you were different.
Your nails left half-moons on his shoulder when his dick first pushed a little through your entrance. Eyes-shut, open mouth and breath held in your chest as he didn’t dare to push himself fully.
‘Easy.’ He whispered on your open mouth, his top lip against yours as he cooed you into it. ‘Slow. Take your time.’
You nodded enthusiastically, because this time you didn’t want to be stubborn, and you really wanted to enjoy this, him. He let himself partly out before pushing a bit deeper, and you seemed to release your breath out, feeling a bit more relieved. One of your hands dived inside his hair as you pulled him closer to you, and he let you guide him as your walls progressively opened for him.
‘You’re so tight.’ He laughed to himself, and you swallowed it before he kissed your shy smile. ‘Goddamn it, your pussy feels so good, baby. You hear that?’
It was the obscene noise of your wetness, of his dick sliding inside you repeatedly in a slow pace.
‘Mhmm.’ You moaned softly as your nose brushed against his, and your hands stroked his cheeks lovingly. ‘Show me?’
The grip on your waist turned tighter then, holding onto you to pull his hard cock in and out of you while your arms wrapped around his neck, and he was finally making love to you, but you were just hugging him, you were saying goodbye to everything he had meant to you.
The thought didn’t let you live, but you were still letting out throaty moans every time he thrusted into you in this sensual rhythm and his cock made you feel blissfully full. You could’ve tried to move your hips a little, but you didn’t want to ruin the perfect synchronicity, and he was so thick you could feel yourself getting wetter while one of his hands held your thigh and your hands stroked his hair lovingly.
‘Where can I?’ He asked urgently. ‘Where?’
You leaned back to have a look at his pretty fucked face, those reddened cheeks, puffy lips, glossy brown eyes that drove you insane. You couldn’t help but leave soft kisses all around his cheekbone, his nose, his jaw.
‘Where do you want to?’ You purred. ‘Huh? Where do you wanna cum?’
He let out a choky breath resting his forehead on yours. You frowned as he slowed his rhythm, letting out an awkward laugh.
‘I don’t know—’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t know if you’re on the pill, or…’
You shook your head then, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. ‘I can take something tomorrow.’
He shook his head then, smiling softly with his eyes closed.
‘Tempting,’ He breathed heavily. ‘But no.’
‘Steve…’
‘Where else?’ He said, frowning painfully as he squeezed your waist and his rhythm fastened once again. ‘Where else can I cum, baby, c’mon on. Please.’
You looked at him with perverse adoration then, wondering how many times you had imagined this scenario before, and how pleased you were by his sweet desperation.
‘Mouth?’ You asked tentatively.
‘Mouth?’ He repeated. His eyes opened in disbelief, panting heavily as you looked at him expectantly. ‘Your mouth?’
You laughed softly. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah?’ He asked again.
‘Yeah.’ You moaned sensually as you searched for his mouth, leaving a sloppy kiss on his lips. ‘Want it inside me. Wanna taste you. Swallow you.’
He sighed heavily before nodding, and you could’ve sworn he had rolled his eyes at your irresistible descriptions.
‘Okay.’ He kissed your temple then; you could see that he wasn’t making much sense anymore and that meant he was probably really close. ‘Lay back for me.’
You did as he said, letting him roll you carefully in the little space until he was hovering on top of you. It was exciting in a completely different way: your eyes could linger on the way his muscles flexed as he supported himself in one arm, on the back of his fingers brushing against your cheek as he adjusted himself inside you again.
Because you weren’t searching for an orgasm now, it was much easier to get lost in the details that would’ve escaped from you if you had been drunk by frantic desire. You discovered he had a nice pretty mole on his chest, hidden by all the hair next to his nipple. The image of his dick getting lost inside you would haunt your nights for years as he squeezed your hip. He had this thing too, where he always licked the skin of your neck before nibbling on it, almost preparing it for its teeth. It was sweet, you thought to yourself as you smiled. He had been as gentle as you had always imagined.
‘M so close.’ He said under his breath, placing his head on your breastbone as he prepared his manoeuvre to cause you the minimal distress.
‘Okay.’ You said softly, kissing his scalp as you tried to encourage him. ‘That’s fine. ‘M ready.’
He let out a humming noise, a repressed whine that turned into a moan as he got closer and closer and you kept stroking his hair, as you kissed the protuberant vein on his temple.
‘Open your mouth.’ He instructed when he pulled out and you did as he said. ‘Open your pretty mouth, goddamn it.’
And you did, yes you did. It was a bit messy, but only a few drops fell on your chest before his dick found a warm place to cum inside your mouth. He didn’t try to push it in, or to do anything else, and you trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t. Steve simply stayed there, mesmerized as you sucked the sensitive tip with the right pressure, as he saw the movement of your throat swallow his hot, bittersweet release. You made out with it, with him until there was nothing else. Until he was clean and soft again.
His eyes lingered on your puffy, glossy lips when he pulled it out of you; his hand stroked your mouth and cheek as you both breathed heavily, and he thought about what had just happened. What you had trusted him enough to do.
Your expectant eyes looked back at him from below, waiting for something, anything to happen as you leaned in against his palm.
‘Bed?’ You finally asked.
He nodded, exhausted, feeling that there was so much he wanted to say but he didn’t know where to start.
You weren’t going to ask any questions or let out any more embarrassing confessions. In silence, you moved in the darkness of the room as you headed for the stairs fully naked, leaving the room intact with the smell of sex and the shame of sadness.
A little scratching noise woke you up a few hours later. When you opened your eyes, it took you a while to remember where you were, as all you could see was the curious face of a seagull poking the window of top of you. Behind the silly animal there was a white sky, a few remains of snow melted on the corners of the glass, and all you could do was take a deep breath as you gathered the strength to move.
Next to you, Steve slept peacefully. Your eyes lingered on all the moles that adorned his back, and the messy locks of hair that rested against the pillow. You remembered he had fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder, and how you stayed at least an hour looking up at the early morning sky through the window before you were able to fall asleep.
You still didn’t know what to do. The events from last night replayed in the back of your head and all you wanted was to pretend that none of it had happened, but inside the yacht it was impossible, considering that everywhere you looked took you back to the texture of his mouth, or the heat of his skin against yours.
Eventually, you slowly climbed down the bed before tiptoeing towards the toilet, where you found a bathrobe to cover your body with before walking down the steps to the second floor. You tried to repress a smile when your eyes wandered around the crime scene: his clothes still on the couch, your underwear on the rug, and the red fabric of the dress scattered on the floor like shameful evidence.
Trying to put aside your embarrassment, you picked all your stuff and got rid of the bathrobe, dressing up as your eyes got lost in the desolated deck outside. The underwear was still damp from the jacuzzi, but it’d have to do. The dress hadn’t suffered any damage; you flattened the skirt, thinking about your shoes and trench coat that were somewhere downstairs.
You took a deep breath, sitting down on the couch where you had let him do whatever he wanted with you last night, eyes lingering on the half-empty wine glasses, on the expensive bottle still resting on the glass table as you pondered. You needed some time to think.
You could think back home. You could book the tickets, leave tonight, and have a few days away from this jungle of a city to think things through, to make a decision. But it was obvious that all the possibilities of staying in this job had disappeared after what you had done last night.
After a while, you resorted to go down to the first floor to get your phone. Maybe call your mother and for once not worry at all about emails or calendars, but it seemed that the more stairs you climbed down in this place the more lucid and terrified you felt about the events of the last few hours.
It was as if you were an intruder in Steve’s paradise of luxury, there was no fucking way there would be space for you in this world of his beyond the job of an assistant. In the back of your mind you had flirted with the possibility, of course, many times. Of maybe becoming something else, as you both had confessed last night, but there was no way this thing between you would survive.
The coat was still resting on the chair next to the bar, and you put it on quickly before your hands dived deep into the pockets to find your phones. And you did find them, but the feeling of something else made you frown as your fingers encountered the velvet square box inside.
Your heart beat hard against your chest as you squeezed the little box in your palm, thinking that if you’d squeeze it hard enough maybe it would become less real. Maybe it would disappear, but no. It was small, and hard to the touch, and very real.
Just then, your phone started buzzing and only when you sniffed softly you realised that you had tears in your eyes. You hoped to God that it was your mother, but instead your personal phone just showed a random number, and it took you a few seconds to make the decision to pick up the call.
‘Hello?’
‘Is this Miss—?’
‘Yeah.’ You said weakly. ‘This is she.’
‘Oh. I’m Jonathan Byers?’ The name filled you with anxiety in a completely different way, looking around the room as you cleaned your face. ‘Sorry, is this a bad time?’
‘No.’ you said immediately. ‘No, Mr Byers, it’s fine. How are you?’
‘I’m okay.’ He said carefully. Your breath still felt trapped inside your throat as he kept talking. ‘I was hoping we could schedule an in-person interview soon? I just wanted to speak to you first before I make you an official offer.’
‘Of course.’ You said, trying to process his words. ‘I just, uh, got caught in some extra work. Is it possible to postpone it after New Year’s?’
A tense silence set on the line as you held your breath before he released an awkward laugh.
‘I thought you needed to leave your current job? That’s what Robin said.’
‘A-And she was right.’ You said, feeling your scalp warm and sweaty. ‘I do.’
Your fingers wrapped around the velvety box inside your pocket once again, holding onto it as if it was an amulet. The words stayed on your throat as you repeated them in your head: I do. I do. I do.
‘What about this afternoon?’ You suddenly said. Looking for a clock anywhere around you. ‘I need to book a flight back home, but I’m staying at the Plaza and if it’s not too far from you, we could meet there.’
‘Right.’ He said then, thinking about it for a second before he took a deep breath of relief. ‘I have a new production starting on the 15th and…’
You nodded as he spoke, looking behind your shoulder when you thought that maybe you had heard something behind you, but there was nothing. Steve was still sleeping peacefully upstairs as Mr Byers kept talking on the phone and you took your work phone out of the coat to place it on the mahogany surface of the bar.
‘Sure.’ You said to whatever Jonathan was saying before you swallowed hard, finally getting the courage to pull out the tiny little box from its hiding place. A frown took over your face as your thumb stroked the perfect red surface of its lid, licking your lips as you tasted salty tears on your throat. ‘Of course.’
‘…Looking forward to meeting you.’ He finally said.
‘Thank you, Mr Byers.’ You said softly.
Your eyes were still holding the phone against your ear when he hung up. The temptation of opening it was taking all over your body, but you weren’t sure if you would be able to leave this place if you confirmed your suspects, if after all it ended up being true.
So, you did the brave thing, which was also the coward thing to do, and placed it on top of the phone where he had called you so many times before the last couple of years. All through different time zones, during the holidays, or from the office. Whenever he needed you, as an assistant, a friend, or just someone to talk to.
You stood there, looking at the sad little image, knowing that you had to leave soon if you wanted to be on time to get your things ready, check out from the hotel and meet Mr Byers. But you were trying to find a better way to do this. There had to be a much better way to leave without breaking his heart in such a cruel way. You just didn’t know how.
Carefully, you let out a defeated sigh, tying the strips of your coat around you before you searched for a pen, something you could write him an extensive and sincere apologetic letter. But there was not much that you could say or write, was there?
Sighing, you grabbed a napkin from the bar, feeling that time was melting the more you delayed your leaving, the more you searched for words. It was only then that you wondered, really wondered, if there was anything you could offer the man you were in love with.
Give me some time, was all you could write on that miserable piece of paper
The flight back home was short, or at least it felt that way because you couldn’t remember much of it. The whole time you had been looking at your personal phone, now your only phone, wondering if you’d have a missed call from Mr Harrington once you landed.
There was still an unheard voicemail from him that you didn’t know if you had the courage to listen to. You had to start drafting an official resignation letter now that you had a new job, and in the next few days you had to start organizing Mr Byer’s schedule for January while leaving everything in order for Steve’s new assistant.
While your mother drove home, you wondered if there could be anyone who paid attention to the little things as much as you did. Would this new person know in which order to organise his meetings so he could be more efficient? Would they remember to get him some earplugs for his long flights? You bit your smile as you remembered how sometimes you used to tell him that his Friday afternoon meeting had been cancelled when really it was scheduled on Monday, just so he could have an hour or two for himself when things were too heavy. But you knew very well now that most of those things had nothing to do with the role and everything to do with the way you cared about him.
‘Are you listening, honey?’ Your mother said that night when you jumped on the table, thinking that maybe you had heard the buzz on your phone when really it had been your stepdad’s. ‘I said Mrs Vandermann’s now too old to manage the Christmas dinner for the homeless shelter so I thought I might volunteer next year.’
‘Right.’ You nodded. ‘Yeah, sorry, mom. I’m still a bit tired. That’s nice.’
‘Oh, ‘s that awful boss of yours.’ She said standing up from the table, she squeezed your shoulder before getting lost in the kitchen as she kept talking. ‘I’m so happy you won’t be working for him anymore. Ask Allan, he’s everything I’ve been complaining about for the last few days.’
Your stepdad didn’t really say much as he quickly scrolled down the news in his phone. You fought the need to roll your eyes at some of the headlines on those sensationalist websites he used to read, but you weren’t going to start a discussion after skipping Christmas, not now that your mother seemed so happy.
‘There you go, you two.’ She said placing two plates with fruitcake in front of you, before clapping enthusiastically. ‘Oh, I’m so happy we finally get to be together as a family.’
Oh, a family. The thought didn’t leave your head as you finished your dessert, and your absent eyes got lost in the worn face of your father in the pictures. You wondered if you’d tell him about Steve if he was still here, sitting on the place where your stepfather was playing Candy Crush while he complained about the news with your mother. Or maybe they would’ve eventually ended up getting divorced, like most of your friends’ parents who had fallen in love in High School and stayed in town.
That night you lay on your childhood bed, among young adult novels you probably needed to give to charity and boyband posters that the sun had bleached until you couldn’t recognise the face of your favourite member anymore. You had seen him once or twice in events where Steve had been invited to, quietly observing him in the distance, wondering what had your teenage self seen in that man. Then Steve had playfully squeezed your shoulder, mockingly asking you if you wanted to be introduced.
You remembered those things fondly as you played with a worn teddy bear your grandparents had brought to the hospital the day you were born. The thing was missing an eye, and some stitches had given up with time, but you still placed your cheek against its fluffy head in the darkness of your room, hearing the snores of your stepdad in the distance.
Give me some time. That had been your request, and in exchange you had received not only time, but also space and silence. Checking your phone for the thousandth time, your eyes lingered once again on the voicemail notification from two days ago.
You took a deep, terrifying breath before taking the phone to your ear. The dial beeped a couple of times before the robotic voice of the operator told you what you already knew: that you had a missed voicemail from Mr Steve Harrington.
‘Hey.’ He had said, only the sound of his voice had you shutting your eyes hard as you moved to your side on the bed. ‘I, uh. I hope you have a happy holiday. I also hope you rest. Like, really rest. Seriously. Or you won’t get your bonus this month.’
The sound of his laugh almost made you tear up. You both had really ruined something precious, huh? Something innocent and harmless that had your broken heart beating fast now.
‘I just wanted to thank you for your support. These last few months, you, uh, you’ve been incredible. And you’re much more confident, and talented and smarter than the girl I met two years ago in my office. I always knew you’d be great at this job… Maybe too great. I—, well. I was calling for two things, actually. First, I wanted to say I forgot to give you your Christmas present at the airport.’ He made a long pause, sighing softly. ‘Actually, I didn’t exactly forget. I… I want to talk to you in person. I don’t want you to think anything weird about this, and I understand if you think I overstepped, but I just recommended you for a job. With someone else.’ He had stayed silent for a while again, maybe searching for the right words. ‘Someone better. It’s a long story. I just don’t know if I want to… be this person anymore. This… busy businessman, disappointing firstborn. Hated brother. I, uh… It doesn’t matter. It’s got nothing to do with you. I know you won’t agree. Because you see the good in me.’ You sobbed in the pause he took, thinking of all the things that had happened in the last couple of days. ‘Because you’re good. You’re the best, actually. And I hope you have the Merriest Christmas.’
A night of insomnia followed a couple of days of walking around absently, forgetting silly things like where the glasses were or where the shortcut you used to walk through whenever you went to the supermarket was.
‘Here.’ Even your stepdad was a bit worried, surprising you with a humming cup of tea a night while your eyes stayed on the TV without really watching anything. ‘You look a bit sick.’
‘Thank you.’
You did feel sick, worse than that, you felt ashamed. You were going through your resignation letter again, checking for spelling errors or unclear sentences, but it was all very simple: you thanked him for the opportunity and set your last day of work as the 31st of December.
All those ideas you had of leaving things ready for the next person had vanished after you listened to that voicemail. Steve had legal decisions to make, he had to decide which one of his siblings to transfer the business to, if he wasn’t thinking about selling or leasing. He had to call in emergency meetings with partners and employees, he had to inform the press eventually. This was new territory that you could’ve navigated with him if only you hadn’t fucked things up. If you hadn’t left that phone and the little box on top of it. If you were still deserving of it.
Taking a sobby breath, you pressed sent before closing your laptop. You still needed to start catching up with Mr Byer’s calendar and book plane tickets to go back to the city. But there was too much in your head and still nothing at all. It was 29th of December. Tomorrow it’d be a hard, long day, one of those that reminded you that you had never been good at forgetting.
Steve parked in front of the little cottage, trying to imagine a childhood version of yourself in this very porch, walking around in a Halloween costume or waiting for your mom on the first day of school. He tried to imagine you filling the car with boxes when you were leaving for college, and he tried to imagine you on a day like this, years ago, when your father passed away.
He knew that what he was doing was invasive and probably crossing the lines of rudeness, but after receiving that impersonal and abrupt email he needed to come see you. You didn’t get to reject him just like that after two years of hiding his feelings for you, of dodging the accusations of his girlfriends, of fighting the need of touching you in events where it had seemed imprudent and even indiscreet. Two years of night calls that started as business updates and ended in whispered small talk, while you were in New York and he was working in San Francisco, or you were in Boston while he called from London.
You just didn’t get to end things like this.
His eyes lingered on the Christmas wreath hanging from the door before he dared to ring the bell. It was cold, despite the fact he had gloves he still hid his hands inside his coat, wondering what he’d do as soon as he saw your face. If he’d be brave enough to tell you everything or if he’d just melt and cup your face in his hands.
But it wasn’t you who opened the door, exactly. Someone like you, but older. Steve would’ve hoped that your mother might have been as welcoming and sweet as you, but her eyes hid an unexpected indignation that he could’ve never predicted.
‘Hi, Mrs—’ He said your last name, not sure if your mother still went by it. ‘I’m St—’
‘I know who you are.’ She said, still looking quite irritated. They both stood in silence for a few seconds as she studied his face, until her eyes fell on the navy scarf he was wearing. Steve couldn’t miss the way her semblance shifted just subtly, as if she had realised something. ‘How can I help you, Mr Harrington?’
‘Please, call me Steve.’ He said softly, almost as an apology. ‘I know today is a mourning day for your family, but I was hoping I could speak to your daughter.’
She took a deep breath, considering his words for a few seconds, before she closed the door behind her.
‘Listen, Steve.’ She took a slow pause. ‘You’ve already ruined my family’s Christmas by keeping my daughter working absurd hours.’ She said crossing her arms over her chest. ‘She’s been miserable the last few days, missing her father I suppose, as she always does during this time of the year. I need you to respect that.’
Steve frowned, trying to process your mother’s words as he stood on his place, staring at her like an idiot.
‘Mrs —’ Steve repeated her name, but he didn’t really know what to say.
‘Coming here, on the day of her father’s death, trying to get her to work for you again…’ She shook her head, feeling bad for the lonely man that stood on this threshold asking for you. ‘Even for a powerful, educated man like you, there are limits, honey. You should be home with your family.’
Steve stayed in silence for a few seconds, trying to understand where this all was coming from. His mouth was open, but the words seemed inaccessible to him as he tried to solve this puzzle in his head.
‘Is this what she told you?’ He murmured. And your mother must’ve seen the outmost hurt that his brown eyes exposed so sincerely, because suddenly she felt flushed and a bit foolish at what she had just said.
‘W-Well…’ She said unsure, her eyes falling on the scarf once again before looking back at his face. She then released a long sigh, fighting the need of rolling her eyes as she surrendered. ‘Come on in, I’ll make some coffee.’
Steve’s eyes looked for you, and you were everywhere, in pictures that hung from the wall or were placed above the chimney. His eyes lingered on framed drawings from the first grade, on a poetry contest certificate with your name that must’ve been ten years old placed on a bookshelf.
‘She’s on the basement playing chess with Allan.’ Your mother said, bringing a tray with two cups of coffee into the living room. ‘Those two never agree on anything but they’re insanely competitive.’
Steve smiled to himself at your mother’s words.
‘I’ll let her know you’re here.’ She said after a while.
‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’ He said then. ‘Thanks for letting me in.’
Your mother stood on her place on the other side of the living room table, hesitating, until she got the courage to speak.
‘He used to wear those all the time.’ She seemed a bit moved, by the way her eyes shone momentarily as she looked at Steve’s scarf. ‘My husband. I guess that’s why I let you in. That child, she’s always been good at keeping things from me, but I would’ve never thought...’ She sighed as she shook her head.
Steve stayed still as she looked away thoughtfully. He kept silent, trying to remember where he had gotten the warm piece of fabric that he wore every winter, but he was unable to. It had always been there, on the hotel bed next to his pressed suit, inside his suitcase, hanging from the coat rack in his office.
The sound of steps made them both lift their gaze.
‘Fucking cheater.’ You said under your breath once you made it to the top floor. You were about to walk towards the kitchen when your eyes fell on the scene happening in the living room from its entrance.
Only then, Steve realised he had never seen you wear jeans before. It certainly made you look much younger, the thin layer of skin that peaked between the hem and your cardigan, the way your wrists got lost in those wool sleeves. It was so endearing and warm, and God, he was supposed to be mad at you, but he had missed you too much for that.
‘We’ll talk later.’ Your mother whispered on a passive aggressive tone as she walked past you, getting lost on the hallway behind you.
The heat rushed to your cheeks, you didn’t know if it was because of her disappointment or by the way you hadn’t been able to take your eyes off him sitting inside your mother’s living room. He looked so out of place, inside your childhood home where there was barely space for the Christmas tree.
‘Hey.’ He finally said. There was coffee on the table. She had let him in, and she had made coffee for him. There were some pictures somewhere here, of you taking a bath when you were five years old. You needed to get rid of them as soon as possible, before he saw them.
‘Hi.’ You said then, stepping inside the living room with your hands in your back pockets.
Outside, something moved. You both looked out through the window into the snowy landscape, before a little white bunny hopped away back into the forest.
‘I’ve got your email.’ He said then. Steve stood up as your eyes fell back on him. Forgetting the coffee, and everything else he had prepared to say.
You nodded.
‘I’m sorry that I can’t keep working for you.’ You said after a while.
‘It was either you quitted, or I fired you.’ He sadly admitted. ‘Jonathan said he was impressed by your interview… I told him you don’t disappoint.’
‘Hm.’ You smiled softly, playing with the sleeves of your cardigan. ‘Thanks for the recommendation. He never mentioned it, but I know— I know now.’
He swallowed hard, looking away towards the window, before his eyes got lost in the untouched cups of coffee.
‘I wanted you to be safe.’
You nodded once again; your hands fell on the armchair that stood in between you when you took a step forwards.
‘Thank you, Steve.’ You said sincerely. ‘For everything you’ve done for me.’
He shook his head softly, a soft sad smile taking over his mouth as he studied your face.
‘I should be the one thanking you.’
The awkward silence in between you was filled by the distant noise of your stepdad watching the TV, and your mother’s steps in the kitchen.
‘Would you like to go for a walk?’ You asked then, unsure of what to say. All your life, you had never brought a boy home and suddenly he was here, and you didn’t know what to do. ‘This is a small town, but most people keep to themselves.’
‘A walk sounds nice.’ He cleared his throat.
He guessed you were right; it was a small town but also a desolated one. You walked together around the house towards the forest, hearing the noise of the wind and the sound of your steps over the snow.
‘It’s very quiet in here.’ He said after a while. ‘I like it.’
‘Yeah.’ You said softly as you walked towards a distant bench on the other side of the park. ‘I couldn’t stand it as a child. I needed to leave.’
He stayed silent for a while; you could feel his eyes on you as you kept walking towards the bench, the silence progressively turned worst the longer it lingered between you.
‘Is that why you lied to your mom?’
You looked back at him with an offended frown. ‘What are you exactly accusing me of? Not wanting to come back to my depressing hometown during the holidays?’
He stopped in his tracks there, feeling that his patience was running out as he looked at you. You, who had left. You, who had broken his heart.
‘I’m trying tounderstandwhy you would tell your family that I forced you to work on Christmas.’
‘But you do understand, Steve.’ You said looking back at him, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks. ‘For the same reason you didn’t spend Christmas with yours, because I can’t stand being here. You never really planned on getting on that jet, did you?’
He looked back at you with a blank face, swallowing hard before you resumed your walk and he tried to catch up with you.
‘How do you know that.’
‘Uh, well—’ You turned back, feeling the tears rushing to your eyes. ‘Maybe the fact that you were planning on giving me a ring?’
His eyes turned soft at the mention of his present, his eyebrows arching as he pictured the circlet inside the little box. One he had chosen carefully with months in advance, one day of September in which you had called in sick. That never happened, it was a sign. The little box had been inside his pocket when he was at the airport, he had played with it back in the café, while you sipped your coffee absently. It had felt like a weight inside his pocket the whole time until he sneaked it inside your coat.
‘Listen, it’s not like that.’ He said softly, taking a step towards you. ‘It’s not that type of ring.’
‘Not that type of ring.’ You sobbed, feeling the cold wind burning your cheeks as you looked back at him, pathetically admitting your defeat. ‘What does it mean, Steve!’
‘Sweetheart,’ He took a step towards you, his gloved hands finally cupped your face as you looked back at him with the outmost desperation. ‘It means whatever we want it to mean, I— I was going to explain it all to you later that same day.’ He blinked softly, swallowing hard. Yet his voice was still hoarse and full of despair when he spoke again. ‘I just didn’t think you would leave me like that.’
You released a sobby breath, looking away into the forest because his hurt stare was too much to handle.
‘I’ve been preparing my resignation since the summer,’ He explained as his thumbs stroked your cheeks, catching your tears as your hands finally held onto his wrists. ‘My plan was always to tell you, but… You know, I needed to speak to my family first. And the more I delayed telling them the more I delayed telling you, that I wanted a life with you.’
You released an exhausted breath as you let him guide your wet face into his chest. You hid your face there, before your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. Lazily, you moved when you felt he was searching for your skin with his mouth, tiny little pecks warming the skin of your jaw and ear.
‘I love you.’ He whispered.
‘I love you too.’ You said stroking the back of his neck. You could’ve spent hours like this, with no witnesses around, only the snow and the wind surrounding you.
‘What are you doing?’ He laughed against your skin as your hand blindly searched for something on the side of his coat.
‘Nothing.’ You admitted leaning back softly when he started helping you.
He smiled to himself, taking the little box out of his pocket. You stood there looking at the way his eyes went from happy to serious to terrified.
‘You don’t have to take it now.’ He said softly, stroking your cheek as his eyes looked everywhere in you face except your eyes. ‘I can save it for you. It’s yours anyways.’
You shook your head softly then, sniffing a little as you placed your hands on top of his scarf, fixing it even if it wasn’t needed.
‘If it’s mine, I want it.’ You whispered. ‘Can I have it?’
Steve’s soft stare lighted up at your words, and he finally opened the little box in between your bodies. You bit your trembling lip at the sight of the delicate gold circlet, with the simplest, tiniest diamond on top of it. It was whatever you wanted it to be, but you both knew exactly what it meant.
You offered him your shaky hand, looking back at him, your eyes full of terror and adoration as he took it out of the little cushion.
‘Am I allowed to—’
‘If you kneel, I swear I’ll kill you.’ You laughed in between tears.
He laughed again, licking his lips as he slid the ring down your finger. Then his lips clashed against yours, he tasted sweet, he tasted certain while his squeezing embrace hurt your ribs. You tasted his tears and his joy as he leaned back to look at you, all teary and happy.
You both sighed when his forehead rested on yours, finally able to feel the sweet relief sitting on your shoulders, taking over your chest. Your hands climbed to pull him from his scarf as he looked down at you, shaking his head.
‘You’re insane.’ You whispered.
‘I know.’
‘We should keep this to ourselves.’ You whispered again, though no one could hear you here though, not even the forest was awake enough. And the city was far, so very far.
‘I know.’ His finger stroked your cheek as a foolish, childish smile started forming in his mouth. ‘Good thing we’re good at keeping secrets, huh?’
🏷️: @keerysfolklore @starrgurl46
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
"can i wrap a fruit roll up on it?" with percy jackson
(its ok if you cant i js thought its super silly 😽😽)
HELPHELPHELP I LOVE THIS
——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
“want a piece?”
you hold out a small portion of your long fruit roll up. percy shrugs and takes it from your hold, eating it quickly.
you let your feet idly kick behind you, taking small portions from the candy one by one and popping them into your mouth. and you were a little too silent for percy’s liking— you were never this content unless you were up to something no good.
“are you gonna strangle me with that roll up?”
you furrow your brows. “I would never do such an awful thing. also the orange prison jumpsuits clash with my hair.”
“you told me that before,” he points out.
“I’m glad you listen when I talk.” you eat another piece, eyes averting back to your busy hands.
it’s quiet for another moment before you speak again. “perseus?”
“sweet girl.”
you bite your lip to stifle your giggles, calming yourself to speak. you let your chin rest on the palm of your hand. “can I wrap a fruit roll up on it?”
he opens his mouth for a split second, attempting to find the correct response to your nonsense statement. he closes it quickly, then reopens it again. “what?!”
“I can even eat it off if you’re into that.” your face remains stoic and serious. though the majority of your statements are serious.
“no! you’re not doing that, what if it gets stuck?”
you think for a moment. “then I’ll amputate it.”
“no! no, you’re not. get your fruit roll up away from my genitals!” quickly, he backs himself towards the headboard of the bed nearly afraid of you.
“percy, pleaseee,” you whine, rolling onto your back, pouting. “I will never live to experience the unreal joy of wrapping your genitals with my fruit roll up… and eating it off.” you sigh wearily.
he does not give into your advances.
“I’d let you lick whipped cream off my tits.”
he doesn’t respond. for one because you know that he would do that— and if you’re right that means he’ll never hear the end of it for as long as he lives.
“pleaseeeee?”
“no. let’s change the subject. I really liked those cookies you baked the other day, will you make more?”
“only you would talk about food in such a difficult time such as this.”
percy rolls his eyes. “give me that fruit roll up.”
he rips it from your hands, shoving the entire roll into his mouth. your mouth hands open.
“that was my fruit roll up!”
he only shrugs. you suppose in a way that says ‘mine now, too bad.’
and after this fiasco, you were no longer allowed to eat fruit roll ups or whipped cream.
Can you do the different kinks the boys have if you haven't done so already
——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
percy jackson is most likely the biggest enthusiast for any type of sex revolving water whether that’s showers, baths, the ocean… etc. despite me being the biggest sub! percy truther I also think that, like, he enjoys being stronger in the water?? idk bear with me here. I feel like he also has a food play kink n WILL eat food off of you, like I said in my fic this morning, licking whipped cream off your tits or when you eat a juicy fruit he’ll lick it off your chin, or lit anything you get the point.
connor stoll is into exhibitionism, unfortunately (I can confirm, I experienced this first hand). like I feel that he just doesn’t really care where he’s fucking you but if he’s horny there’s really no stopping him ☹️. even if it’s only semi-public sex like that’s still his thing— he’ll really take you anywhere it doesn’t really matter. like if you’re at a campfire, and you’re kinda towards the back but it’s not really?? n you just look awfully pretty sittin’ there with the fire glow illuminating ur features n it’s OVER!!!!!
jason grace, and I will never say this enough, has the most awful knack for when u sit on his face! I literally have no specific reasoning behind why I think this I just know that he likes it n that’s that. or restraints too, I also have no reasoning behind this I just feel like he enjoys it, you gotta trust me here. or like what if he’s tied up while u ride his face that’s also an option here, he gets the best of both worlds, this is his favorite ever!!!!!
leo valdez, I wholeheartedly believe has the absolute WORST breeding kink this universe has ever seen 😞 like I know for one he really wants to have ur babies but like the SECOND he sees you holding a baby whether it’s family or friends it’s like a fucking light switch n then suddenly he’s got a through-the-roof boner n he’s imagining you holding his baby and he’s fighting for his life???? someone get this man his baby…
luke castellan either has a size or praise kink, or possibly both. like the size lit has no reasoning behind it I just feel like he has a thing for women smaller than him— not children, don’t be weird. n with the praise kink, I think he just likes being acknowledged for the things that he does, and enjoys when you’re, well, praising him, especially and specifically when it’s you. I think he just really likes you in general though 😕
Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader (AFAB, GN pronouns & pet names)
Summary: The gate closes before you can follow your friends through it, leaving you and Steve in the Upside Down to fend for yourselves. Searching for another way home, you lose yourself on a detour neither you or Steve could even imagine.
WC: 10.7k (oops)
Includes: friends to lovers (more like idiots to sluts— now with Feelings™️!), some angst, straight up filth— sex pollen, tentacle-esque vines, dub-con, spit kink, frotting, heavy petting, oral sex (m & f receiving), PiV unprotected sex, dirty talk, switch!reader, switch!steve, dacryphilia (kinda? sorta? maybe?), light anal play (m receiving), choking, cum play, semi-mind manipulation (? Not sure how to tag that one), hurt/comfort (re: abandonment issues), happy ending
A/N: it’s funny how i thought sex pollen fics were a joke years ago but ended up here………. anyway. is this ridiculous? yes. does it make sense? fuck no. is there a plot? maybe if you squint real hard, from space. if this is your kind of thing, cool! i hope you like it! if not, don’t you have something better to do? bye. (banners and dividers made by @saradika-graphics! and i can’t draw hands to save my life, so those brushes came from this artist here.)
read on AO3 || dusk ▸ chelsea wolfe
“and I would give you my life / one sin leads to another / and I would go through the fire / to get to you”
Cheating death at its own game is sure one hell of a drug.
Maybe that’s what’s running through your veins tonight: pure adrenaline. And anxiety. And dread. … And maybe some hopelessness.
“We’re so fucked. We’re so, so fucked, Steve.”
You had been walking around for god knows how long, in search of a gate to go the fuck home. Robin, Eddie, and Nancy made it through the one at Eddie’s trailer, but, just your luck, it closed before you or Steve could make it to the other side.
Ready to collapse against a rotting tree, with vines twisting around its crumbling trunk, Steve jerks you away, keeping himself calm and only releasing a harsh exhale through his nose.
“I told you about those vines,” He hisses, grip tightening with the irritation in his words. “For once, just once, would you listen to me?”
When your eyes won’t meet his, guilt washes over him.
“Look, I—“ He can’t bring himself to apologize. What the hell am I sorry for? “Just… stick close to me, alright?”
Yeah, there’s definitely a ton of hopelessness drowning you from the inside out right now. You hug yourself weakly, shaking your head.
“We’re never gonna find a gate, we’re gonna die out here.”
This— the Upside Down and all its horrors, wrapped up in a little, filthy, decaying bow— isn’t new to Steve. To you, though, this is a brand new, shiny, living nightmare.
“And we’ll fucking die out here if we don’t try.” He’s losing his patience, despite reminding himself this all freaked him the fuck out years ago when he first was roped into it all. He’s trying, really, he is, but the constant cloud you drag over your head is swallowing any hope into darkness. “I need you to get your shit together, and be quiet.”
Steve knows it’s not your fault; you were kept in the dark up until tonight.
After graduation, you isolated yourself, and no one could figure why. What happened? What could’ve set it off? You were rarely seen outside of your home, unless at work, running for necessities, or finding comfort in your local video store. It helped to play movies on in the background, helped drown out the deafening silence of your lifeless home.
Visiting Family Video often had pipelined to a rekindled connection with Steve; once your childhood friend, even a silly crush you hadn’t moved on from— before the facade of popularity ran straight to his head— now just a stranger who fell from grace. Trusting him again hadn’t been easy, but watching how easily his and Robin’s friendship flowed gave you some peace of mind.
It wasn’t until the day Dustin and Max ran in, desperate to find Eddie’s whereabouts as you browsed the new releases, that you got sucked into this entire mess. It wasn’t until then, that the side you were convinced Steve had grown out of began to show again.
Following carefully behind him, he spits, “You should’ve stayed the fuck home.”
And yeah, maybe you should’ve, but in the whirlwind of it all, you were caught up every bizarre moment with everyone, no end or exit in sight.
You keep quiet, hoping if you let him vent, he’ll eventually cool off.
Naturally, he doesn’t.
“This would’ve been avoided if you stayed on shore with the kids.”
Steve can’t see it, but you nod silently behind him, tiptoeing around the vines.
“Nobody asked you to get in the boat.”
“Well, no, but I—“
“No one said you had to swim to the bottom of the lake, too.”
You can clearly hear the way he grits his teeth as he speaks. Your throat burns as you swallow the temptation to give into crying.
“I was scared, you all left, I- I didn’t know what to do—“
“Oh, like none of us are scared? Grow the fuck up.”
With each word he hurls your way, dripping with vitriol, he can feel the regret only grow bigger, and bigger. Yet he can’t stop.
“You’ve been through this before!”
Steve stops abruptly, scoffing as he turns around with his arms crossed over his chest. He glares at you, watching his step before meeting you, toe to toe, way too close for your comfort.
“Yeah, without a crybaby like you.”
“Oh, crybaby, really, Steve? Really? Is that the best you can come up with?” You roll your eyes; you have to, or you’ll start crying, proving him right. “How about you try growing the fuck up for once?”
“The best I can come up with would drive you away again.” He shakes his head. “And I’m really not trying to hurt you.”
“How thoughtful of you, asshole.”
Steve runs a hand down his mouth, glancing away from you to sigh.
“Maybe fixing our friendship was a mistake.”
Your heart drops to your stomach, eyes searching his for any sort of bluff. “You… you don’t mean that.”
He doesn’t answer you, only staring back as your bottom lip trembles.
There’s no use trying to hide your tears. Why did you have to be an angry crier? Why couldn’t you shout back, or give a cold shoulder, anything else, when you’re rightfully pissed off? On top of that, all you want to do is get far away from here, far away from Steve.
“Great.” He scoffs, watching your face twist into distress and rage. “Just great. Here we go with the—“
Shoving Steve away, you run off in the opposite direction, no care for where you’ll end up. Splitting up is a death wish, but you’d rather take your chances facing an imminent end than be berated by Steve.
Time is completely lost on Steve as he pedals through the decrepit mirror of Hawkins in search of you.
“Fuck, shit—“ He’s worn down, energy nearly nonexistent after swimming down to the gate in Lovers’ Lake, battling off the demobats to survive, and now, this.
You’re nowhere to be found, and guilt is eating Steve alive; if a monster doesn’t tear him to shreds, the regret of letting you go will. He’s checked every possible hiding place that crossed his mind, but not a trace of you can be found.
This could’ve been avoided if Steve kept his cool, didn’t lash out at the last person to deserve such jagged words thrown at them. He knows that. He knew it as you shoved him away. Worst of all, he let his pride take the wheel and watch you run off, then turned away to continue through the woods alone.
That only lasted a few minutes until remorse and common sense took over, shaking him by the shoulders to get a fucking grip. He had to find you, alive, and get you home safely. There were no other options or plans; this was a rescue mission, not one of recovery.
If it wasn’t so dangerous, Steve would be shouting your name, but he can’t risk attracting unwanted attention to either of you.
What the fuck do I do?
Rattling him from his thoughts, the bike’s front tire rolls over something in the road, catching his eye; he squeezes the hand brakes roughly, skidding along gravel, rolling to a stop. Throwing the bike to the side, he rushes over to an object in the road—
It’s your shirt, torn to shreds and left behind.
Bile rises in Steve’s throat, yet as he notices there’s no blood, the panic-induced nausea is suppressed.
Think, think, think— where the fuck would they be?
A scream pierces the unsettling silence hanging over him, violently grabbing his attention; his stomach drops as he recognizes his surroundings. An ominous, familiar shell of a building he knows once held hell itself in— at least, in his dimension, not here.
Now, though, the sounds of torment and a contrast of shimmering lights, pouring out of the windows, are enough to come off as a candy-coated nightmare.
Glittering out of the building are specks of rose-gold light, almost eerily similar to the ones you all found in Nancy’s room, communicating with the others through the Lite Brite. Some speckle across his skin, lightly tickling him.
It’s the first thing to really draw Steve in as they swirl around him. The second thing: your screams pouring out of the broken windows.
“Shit.”
The remnants of your shirt slip from Steve’s fingers as he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what’s to come as he dashes towards Hawkins Laboratory.
It doesn’t take long to find you. Following the sounds of terror and shimmering lights, Steve stumbles upon you in a mostly empty exam room. Save for the stainless steel exam table, vacant, open cabinets, and slithering vines, of course.
They’re slipping in from the outside, through cracks in the walls and missing tiles from the floor. An unknown blooming plant, mimicking the petals of a demogorgon, is rooted in the middle of the room, illuminated. A rose-gold glow pulsates around it, petals slowly unfurling, and waving back inward. It almost looks like it’s breathing.
It is breathing.
Steve scans the room, finding you in the waves of glittering light, breaking through the shadows. You’re pinned against the wall, in a barely conscious daze as the vines wind themselves around your wrists and ankles. Missing most of your clothing, you’re left in what’s remaining of your underwear; he does his best to shy away from ogling at your bare chest.
Worst fucking time for that.
Frozen in fear, he witnesses another vine unravel from the ceiling, caressing your face before circling your neck. One step in the door, he stops as you whimper, arching your back off the wall as the vine tightens its grip everywhere, including around your throat. Yet another slithers up to you, teasing its way to your core. It flicks itself softly along the apex of your thighs, drawing out from you a pathetic, shaky moan.
Too tight. Steve’s pants are too fucking tight, and this is not the time or place to become aroused like some kind of pervert.
Focus. You need to get them out of here, safely, and for good.
He runs across the room, barely passing the shimmering plant before a saccharine aroma slams into him. Entranced, he stops for a moment to stare at the bizarre bloom, and that’s his first mistake; a vine whips around from behind, hooking him in by his waist.
It’s not until another vine winds around one wrist, then another, that he realizes he’s in peril. Yet, he’s slow to react; by now, he’d be kicking and screaming, but his legs have been restrained, too. He’s calm, too calm for what’s unfolding.
“Shit—“ He writhes in the grasp of the vines, but they keep a steady hold, a nonverbal promise they’ll never let go.
A needy noise slips out of you, but it’s muffled quickly; Steve jerks his head up, observing in horror the vine that has snuck past your pretty, pliant lips. Groaning around the appendage, your eyes roll back as it sinks deeper toward your throat.
“H- hey, this is—“ Steve has to put all of his energy into breaking from a daze his mind so badly aches to fall into. “Hey! Stop!”
Who he’s yelling to, he’s unsure, but it’s a fruitless attempt to take the vines’ attention away from you; there’s just far too many, more than enough to hold the both of you captive with ease.
Concern slowly falls away, hypnotized by the way you’re sucking and gagging on one of the vines. Something about the scene before him is arousing, and before shame can take over, slap some sense into him, pins and needles take over his entire being. It’s an intense, tingling sensation, riding high under his skin and through his veins. The longer he fixates on the way you’re being used, the more he begins to burn everywhere.
Steve’s only uncomfortable at first, just enough where he can still tolerate it. The warmth building within him begins to radiate through his skin, starts to make him sweat.
When the vines drag you closer to him, leaving the two of you suspended by their hold off of the floor, the heat heightens. He becomes feverish, burning becoming more and more unbearable as the seconds pass.
Eyes parting open, you whine in desperation at the sight of him; you need his help, and that’s enough to just barely break through the trance again. The vine in your mouth retreats completely, leaving you panting and drooling down your chest.
“Steve?” Unaware your vision was blurred before it begins to refocus, taking in the sight of Steve struggling against his own set of vines holding him hostage. Your mind fights to break through the haze that’s comfortably settled over any other thoughts or feelings, but it’s no use.
All you want— no, need— is him.
“It hurts, Steve,” You don’t have the chance to elaborate before the vines tormenting him are ripping the majority of his clothes off, too.
There wasn’t much to begin with, besides his pants and Eddie’s vest, but now the prominent outline of his bulge is clear as day before you. His shallow breaths quicken in a panic, head jerking around to watch more vines gang up on him.
“H- help,” You rasp out as a vine glides against your still-clothed cunt. Grinding down on it, you find some relief, but nowhere near enough to take the pain away. Everything has been burning since you’ve been trapped, to the point where the pain is so sharp, it starts to feel ice cold all over.
“I’m— I- I’m trying,” He sounds so exasperated, wrestling against the lengths that keep him stationary. “What hurts? M’gonna g- get us out of here, okay? Just—“ A flash of searing pain rolls through him, and he cries out.
You should be scared. Honestly, you are scared. That doesn’t put your filthy thoughts on hold, though. Another vine spirals up Steve’s leg, tearing his briefs off and springing his cock free. He groans at the relief as it slaps against his lower tummy, pearlescent pre dripping down his length as it kicks. Your next thought, a poorly timed fantasy, barely registers when you’re watching it play out in real life.
Head lolling back with a guttural groan, the vine slithers flush against his shaft, slowly rutting against it. He can’t resist meeting its thrusts for extra euphoria, practically frotting with it. When his head falls forward, staring down with lust-heavy lids, he whines, shudders, and a sob follows. He looks so pained, so desperate, enveloped in nothing but sinful desires.
Licking his lips, Steve’s gaze is back on you, on your chest, specifically. A vine, the slimiest one you’ve encountered yet, toys with your nipples, leaving them peaked, aching, and soaked with whatever filthy, syrupy substance these creepers are drenched in.
His pupils darken over the view, and through the thick fog of lust, something hits you.
“Steve… what are you thinking about? R- right now— ah!” One opens wide at its end, mimicking the pulsating flower nearby; it attaches itself to your nipple, suckling softly. The other side is latched onto by another crawling appendage, mirroring the first.
Where there should be shame and guilt, both are replaced by greedy lust, so he answers honestly.
“M’thinkin’…” He shudders as another vine wraps around the one moving in time with his cock, almost guiding the two in identical thrusts. “Wanna taste ‘em. Tease ‘em all night.”
You gasp at how forward he is, “F- fuckin’— I- I—“ There’s a flicking motion rolling against both nipples, like the vines have goddamn tongues now.
This is all beginning to feel like the plot of a very terrible porno.
To test your theory once more, you imagine one of the inhuman lengths opening its end, like the ones currently latched to you, sucking on his cock’s neglected head.
And it does.
Grunting, Steve’s jaw drops, helplessly watching the third vine suckle on his throbbing tip.
“I- I think this— we— somehow our thoughts—“ It’s way too fucking hard to focus with how sinfully good these vines feel against you, just barely easing the pain. “They k- know what we’re thinking and acting on our d— fuck— d- desires.”
Steve’s face is flushed crimson, eyes heavy with lust and exhaustion as he glances up at you.
“Huh?” It takes a minute for him to process your revelation, smirking when it clicks for him. “Like…. this?”
Your underwear are ripped away without Steve even touching you. The invasive creature teases along your folds, flicking ever so softly against your clit. Hips jerking forward, you manage to narrow your stare at him.
“Y- yeah, like that, but that— we— maybe if we think about stopping, it’ll let us go.”
Another beat of silence floats heavily between the two of you, until he breaks it.
“Wh— maybe I don’t wanna st- s- stop.”
This shouldn’t turn either of you on. At all. This is wrong. This is beyond fucked.
“Fuck, you’re soaked, honey.”
Your stomach flips, and you’re a goner, admiring the way Steve bites his lip harshly while rubbing against a vine.
“St— f- fuck!” A tiny, nearly shoelace-thin sized vine opens wide before latching onto your clit, suckling away. “Oh, f- fuck you, Steve.”
“M’trying to get there.” The sinful scene of several vines manipulating your body deep into pleasure is almost enough to make him come. You tremble in their relentless grip, whimpering as you try squirming away from the one on your clit. “S’okay, just let go. I’ve got you.”
“You don’t have me, the fuckin’ vines do!”
“Same thing! Didn’t think o— ah— ah!” Another length slithers up to tease his balls, while the others still keep their steady pace frotting and sucking. “Fu- fuck you!”
In a nasally, whiny voice, you mock him, “I’m trying to get there.”
“Okay, ye- yeah, real mature,” In retaliation, he imagines a vine occupying your mouth again, and it does within seconds. Sliding between your lips like before, your eyes roll back, groaning around the appendage. “Much better. You always talk so fuckin’ much.”
Climax hitting like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under, far from sanity, you feel full. Nothing is inside you, not even a vine, but you feel like you’re filled to the brim.
And Steve, a strong, fluttering grip wraps around his cock; though invisible, it feels like he’s coming while deep inside of you— not that he’d know, not yet, at least. It’s a tighter hold than the vine wrapped around his length, and it makes no goddamn sense.
This entire place has never made sense, though, why attempt to figure it out now?
From between your swollen lips, the vine retreats, leaving you to pant and drool onto yourself all over again. If the winding, hellish plants weren’t holding you in place, you’d have surely fallen over by now. Fighting to stay conscious, you fixate on Steve as he catches his breath; lids heavy, shoulders heaving as he slows his panting, it’s an eerily similar sight to his state earlier, after killing a demobat with his bare hands.
This time, though, he’s still restrained by some unworldly creature, allowing his body to fall limp in its hold.
This time, it’s not blood dripping from his lips— thank fuck— just a lot of spit. Like, a lot. It tumbles from his pretty, pliant lips with ease, glistening as it runs down his chest, sticking to the soft yet thick hair on his body.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ— you can’t take this anymore.
“Did that— are you— did it help?” You manage to croak out. Steve barely shakes his head, whining; you’re not sure why you’re the one more in tune with the situation than he is, but you’re not going to let either of you suffer any longer. “Didn’t help me either, it— fu- fuck, it felt good, but it’s— I still— it still hurts so bad, Steve.”
Lifting his head weakly, he glances over at you, only feet away, “Hurts me too, s’hot, every— it burns—“ Steve winces, hisses as the fire within him continues to burn white-hot. “S’cold, too, I- I don’t fucking get it.”
“Can I try something? I don’t… M’not sure how else to stop this,” You murmur, feeling hopeless.
If only you hadn’t run off, just like the crybaby Steve pinned you to be. Neither of you would be in such a disgusting disaster like this.
“An- anything, please,” Steve’s desperate; he’ll take any relief at this point. He lolls his head towards the suspicious bloom, hypnotized by it’s captivating glow. “M- maybe we should touch it—“
“Steve, don’t.”
His lips curl downward into a nearly comical pout, but this entire situation, no matter how bizarre and outlandish, is very real, and the pain you’re both tempted to succumb to isn’t something to laugh off.
Struggling against the vines, he tries to reach towards the plant, but it’s useless. Your thoughts and desires are still connected somehow to the vines, and he’s too drunk on pleasure to use this detail to his advantage; it’s simple, to imagine him restrained tightly by the vines, only for them to hold him still as he writhes in their grip.
“Please?” He’s so deliciously pathetic like this, exposed and bound by monstrous entities. “I- I need— this— you—“ He stops himself, eyes glazing over as he pleads with his stare for some kind of relief.
You shouldn’t take advantage of this, you really shouldn’t, but there were two factors adding to your inner conflict—
1: You’re also suffering, desperate for relief of some kind, any kind. You’re just handling it with more… grace, for lack of a better term, than he is.
2: Steve Harrington is the reason you’re both in this mess to begin with. And, sure, you’re just at fault, but that fucker made you feel low enough to run off into danger.
He owes you something. He owes you an apology, at the very fucking least.
“B- baby? C’mon, I— please?” The longer he radiates such a pathetic, needy energy, the more you feel sorry for him.
Realistically, you also owe Steve an apology, at the very fucking least.
Breathily, you bargain with him, “I can— I’ll help you f’you help me?”
Ogling at the arousal dripping down your thighs, he doesn’t respond at first.
“Steve.”
“H- huh?” You’ve lost count over how many times he’s licked his lips over the sight of you. “Oh, shit, sh— yeah, uh-huh, anything, I- I’ll— I fucked up, baby—“
Your mind would be spinning alone from the way he calls you ‘baby’, if it weren’t for the fact that moments before this, the two of you quite literally mind fucked one another using the vines.
Trying to imagine the vines releasing the two of you, it’s the only desire that doesn’t come to life.
Shit.
You think about the vines bringing the two of you together, bodies nearly touching, and in an instant, they grant that wish. He’s dying to look at you, but he’s caught up in the sight of your chest against his; both of you still panting, bodies melding into one another as they concave and convex in perfect harmony.
“So… so fuckin’ pretty—“
“Steve, they won’t let us go, we— we’re gonna have to work ‘round that, okay?”
Finally, Steve lifts his head, gasping softly when he realizes how close your faces are to one another.
“Fuck,” He breathes, blissed-out gaze falling to your lips.
You can’t help mirroring him. “Yeah, fuck.”
A vine winds around your waist, securing you flush against Steve as it pulls him in, too. He shudders against you, painfully hard and hot-to-the-touch member sliding between your legs, along your folds. When it grazes your clit, equally aching and searing with an unbearable heat, the two of you cry out at the brief window of relief.
“This is fucking crazy…” He breathes against your lips. You nod, brushing your mouth against his, and he gutturally moans from the slightest touch. “Taste so… so good. Need you s’bad.”
God, you need this, you need him too, but this will change everything between the two of you, forever.
“No going back after this, Steve,” You restrain yourself, though your hips twitch against his, core dripping onto his shaft. “L- like once we—“
He manages to break from the haze, for only a moment, “Shit’s already weird. We’re far past the point of n— oh— f- f- fuck—“ You glide against him as his cock nestles between your folds. He fights to regain some composure, nodding frantically. “W- weird. It’s weird. It’s— fuck, just— kiss m—“
Sloppily, you smash your lips against his, not even bothering to ease in with a soft, sweet kiss. No, you’re hungrily kissing him, aching for more, more, more. Parting his mouth against yours, Steve hums and moans as his tongue flicks against yours. It’s messy, causing you both to drool on one another; it would absolutely turn the two of you off outside of this moment, but right now you can’t get enough of him.
You’re both distracted, too lost in one another to notice the bloom’s glow sparkling even brighter. Glittering particles float delicately over the two of you, tickling your skin with pinprick bursts of relief; they only last for a second, but it’s a sensation you’ll gladly accept.
Groaning into him, he pulls back as the little specks of light dance across his skin; he’s licking his goddamn lips again, smirking, unable to look away from you.
Unbeknownst to you both, the illuminating dust radiating off of the bloom just pulls you deeper into lust. The further you lose yourself in chasing bliss, the dryer your mouth becomes, the more antsy your body is— this is only getting worse.
“C- can I— I gotta— need to taste you, honey…” Steve nuzzles his nose against your cheek, whimpering as the head of his cock catches on your entrance. “Please? I- I’ll do anything, I swear.”
“It’s not up to m- me, Steve…” His tip presses into you, just barely, and you’re ready to suck him in, but you resist. The vines don’t force it.
Falling silent, he concentrates on the position he wants the two of you tangled in; pulled to the grimy floor, back against the filthy tile, the vines keep Steve pinned in place. He grunts, wriggling against their grip, but knows it’s pointless.
The rope-like creatures pull you down, but in a peculiar position above him.
“Oh— Steve, what the—“
“C’mon, please? Please, please, please—“
You shut him up by lapping at the head of his cock; he jerks underneath you, thrusting up toward your mouth, a reaction to your touch. The vines bind the two of you together, where legs meet arms, and wind around your torsos, for good measure; you’re bound perfectly in a 69 position. He wastes no time, flitting his tongue against your swollen clit before sloppily making out with your cunt.
“God— fuck— fuck!”
You take him in all the way, nose nestling against his balls as he fills your throat. Steve can’t help the way he fucks up into your mouth, gagging you.
“M’sorry, oh, god, I’m— I- I’m so sorry,” He sobs into your folds, sucking your clit roughly— once, twice, three times, before tapering his tongue and fucking your entrance.
That apology dissolves quickly as you involuntarily grind on his face.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Even muffled, he’s so smug about it, lapping up every inch of you he can reach. “Ri- ride my face, baby. Just like that.”
Steve’s always had a reputation for being smooth with his lovers, so to hear him stutter constantly around you is getting to your head.
It’s obscene, the way he slurps and sucks so loudly at your cunt, only spurring you on to fully take him, all of him, gagging around the base of his length each time your face meets the tufts of trimmed curls around his cock.
You’ve never given, nor received, head like this before, and god damn, it’s sinful. Downright filthy, pornographic, absolutely lewd and out of your comfort zone— except right now, it feels perfect. You can’t get enough of one another, and it shows in the way you devour him, and how he reciprocates ten fold.
It startles you to feel his strong hands hold your hips, keeping you close to his face; the vines still keep him restrained, but loose enough to give him some creative freedom.
And Steve has no problem getting creative.
“Wait— hey- h- hang on—“
The slick tip of a vine dances along your entrance, teasing you. There’s no holding back any pathetic noises by now; the two of you are completely at the will of these grotesque extensions of this wasteland, only able to control them so much.
“What’re you scared of? Didn’t you get fucked dumb on these yet?”
“N- no.” You try to crane your neck, try to glance back, but a vine winds around your throat, and you panic. “Fuck— fuck! Steve, stop—“‘
“It’s not me, I- I swear—“ He’s cut off as another length slinks around his throat, too. It’s too reminiscent of the bat that tried choking the life out of him just hours ago. He rasps out weakly, “Sh- shit—“
Steve’s mind spirals while he begins to hyperventilate; This is bad. This is really, really, really fucking bad.
There’s nothing either of you can do, not while you’re trapped, bound together by the most repulsive, living restraints. An idea— albeit a terrible one, but it’s an idea— crosses your mind.
Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen to your own brain right now, and you’ll regret it later, but all you can do is plunge your mouth back onto him. Hoping to appease the vines, you hope that it gives him a needed distraction from the panic, too.
Within seconds, the vine around Steve’s throat releases, and he’s left gasping for air.
Yet the rush of that, and your mouth working on him intensely is enough to draw his balls up, hips bucking and forcing his length to the back of your throat. Spit is practically pouring like a faucet from between your lips and his shaft, down onto his lap.
“M’gonna— I— hah- ah—“ Steve silences himself, barely catching his breath before delving into your folds, sucking crudely on your clit; the vine still hooked around your neck finally loosens, too. Your thighs attempt to slam shut, crowding around his head as he grunts into you.
All fear dissipates again as the two of you lose yourselves in the pleasure of an impending high.
“Could eat ya’ all fucking night,” He mumbles into your pussy, kissing, sucking, lapping in a pattern that’s sure to make you crumble any second now. When you try responding, despite knowing you’ve got his cock shoved to the hilt down your throat, he slams his hips up into you. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s fuckin’ rude.”
This is absolutely a bad porno; one too corny even for that back room in Family Video.
… But it’s still enough to shove you over the edge.
You’re moaning so loudly, you’re sure if he wasn’t stuffing your face, you’d be easily heard from this dimension into your own. You’re grinding onto his mouth with everything you’ve got, twitching and fluttering around nothing yet again, soaking his face.
Steve’s not too far behind you; the way you gag and attempt to cry out on his cock is enough to make him finish. He holds his grip on you tightly, groaning so roughly, his voice cracks; you’re certain there’ll be bruises around your thighs, and he’ll lose his voice later.
“Fuck— god—“ He gasps, eyes rolling back as he shakes, spilling his arousal down your throat. You try swallowing, and manage to take most of it, but there’s too much; you pop off of him, spend still pulsating from his slit.
Still catching your breath, the vines manhandle you off of him, just to flip you around and bind the two of you together, flush up against one another again. Your faces almost touch; both of you take a second to get a better look at the other, equally ashamed and aroused.
Covered in your own slick and his sweat, Steve’s face glistens as he breathlessly smiles up at you. Eyes glued on you, he admires the way his arousal sticks to your lips, dripping down your chin onto him.
“Hey, are you ok— oh— uh—“
Licking at the corner of your mouth, he allows the sticky spend to trail back onto his tongue.
This kiss isn’t as rushed, but it’s just as sloppy as the first; the messes on your faces combine, making it easy to taste one another, swapping arousal between your tongues. When you pull back, a string of saliva follows from your lips to his. He flits his tongue out to catch it, desperate for the taste of you in any form he can get it.
“Open your mouth,” You order, and happily he obeys, tongue out, too. Slowly, you spit into his mouth, slick drooling onto his taste buds. On contact, his eyes roll back with a gravelly groan, hips rutting into yours. “Good boy.”
Steve shudders, precum already leaking onto both of your stomachs. You’re both impressed and a little freaked out.
“How are you hard again?”
“Never stopped, won’t go away,” He rasps, brows knitting together as his eyes flutter shut; a pained expression takes over. “It— it hurts, baby.”
“What hurts, Stevie?”
Whining, he writhes underneath you, certainly not helping either of you as his member rubs against your clit.
“Fuck, don’t— will you stop humping me for five fucking seconds?! Can’t fucking think when you do that—“
Like the petty son of a bitch Steve Harrington is, he thrusts up against you, biting his lip through his cocky power trip.
“This is your fault!”
“Here we fucking go…”
“Didn’t think you were so desperate to get fucked you’d let yourself get groped by these fuckin’ things—“
“No, enough, we’re not playing this game, Steve.”
Wordlessly, Steve has the vines yank you off of him, tossing you onto the exam table to pin you down. They’re much gentler with him, easing him off the floor, almost allowing him to walk towards you. He clambers up onto the table, towering over you.
“We both want this, what’s the problem?”
“You! You’re the problem, Steve. You’re always the problem! I’m not some part-time, back-burner friend for you to abandon when you’re bored!” The words leave your lips before you realize the damage they hold, watching as Steve’s face falls. “Wait, St— I didn’t mean that— I—“
He’s so torn, conflicted in the whirlwind of emotions and desires that goddamn blooming plant has the two of you drowning in. He hates that he hurt you earlier, made you feel like running off was better than sticking with him, staying safe under his protection. He regrets anything he’s said to hurt you— tonight, in the past— anything that’s harmed you when he should’ve continued to care for you, he wishes he could take it all back.
And yeah, he knows you have every right to be mad. You have every right to lash out and express the hurt this caused.
But to be called a problem? Something about that hits so deep, too deep, he’s not sure where to begin, to try untangling why it aches so badly. That’s all he’s ever felt like, to everyone, during everything— a problem. One big, never-ending problem.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t— that was so fucked up for me to say.” You try sitting up, want to hold him, make it well known he’s the complete opposite of a problem to you. The vines, however, have no issue keeping you pinned to the stainless steel surface.
To your surprise, he pushes past it. You can see the hurt in his eyes, but the control he’s under forces that to the back of his mind.
“Shouldn’t have told you it’s your fault,” He mutters, leaning down towards you, kissing your neck lazily. It’s safer to keep moving, keep pleasuring one another, so the vines don’t attempt choking the two of you again. “I was so mean to you earlier—“
“Had every right to be, I really was a cry—“ A sharp gasp cuts your own words off as his smooth, ruddy tip brushes against your clit. You instantly feel relief from an ache you had forgotten about among all of the emotional pain. “St— Steve… again…”
Your senses are hyper aware, as you assume his are too; it’s so easy to feel his slit right against your throbbing clit as he rubs himself against you.
“S’okay, honey, gonna make y’feel better.”
It’s like relief is almost in reach, just far enough from your fingertips to try grasping it; this isn’t enough. You need him inside you. You need him to ruin you.
“Apologies later, okay?“
“Uh-huh…” He must be thinking about the vines spreading your legs, because they split apart with ease, held back by their strength. Which, honestly, right now you’re kind of glad they’re doing the work instead of you. “Gotta help each other.”
It’s unreal how soaked you both are, trembling as he slides his length between your folds with ease. The two of you are hot to the touch, alarmingly hot.
“Still hurts?”
“So fucking bad, so—“ You reel back a sob, taking a deep breath. Your palm splays wide open, fingers wiggling weakly towards him. He takes the hint, sliding his fingers between yours before giving a firm, steady grip. “St- Steve?”
“Yeah, honey?” He sounds so winded, restraining himself from railing you into the table.
“Don’t hold back.”
The words barely leave your lips before your vision goes white; a ringing in your ears drowns out surrounding sounds, but it doesn’t last very long. It takes a second to realize what’s happening.
The sinful bliss you were submerged into was Steve slamming into you all at once. You’re gasping, trying to catch your breath as the focus comes back to your vision.
“I didn’t mean t- to— the vines pushed me,“ He whimpers, shoved in to the hilt, throbbing against your velvety, tight walls. “I- I was gonna go slow, I didn’t wanna hurt you—“
“S’okay, I wanted it,” You croak out, clamping down onto him. Steve’s eyes roll back before ducking his face into your neck as you confess, “I’ve always wanted it.”
“Always wanted y— this.” He nearly fumbles the correction. The vines pull his arms behind his back; despite the lack of upper-body support, he has no problem fucking you fast and deep. “Even if y- you’re an idiot. Pretty, but a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Could say the same about— ah! Ah— y- you, asshole.” He rests his forehead on yours, shallow, rapid breaths tearing through him, meeting your own. “You’re— could’ve warned me you’re s- so fucking big.”
Despite hitting rock bottom in the sea of lust, he manages to laugh weakly against your lips. “What— you just sucked the life out of my dick! You knew what I— I’m— ” He’s flustered trying to point out that you did see and feel how big he was, while still trying to stay humble.
How fucking precious.
“Christ, your dirty talk is weak,” You tease, scrunching your face as your tongue pokes out. Steve takes the opportunity to kiss you, parting your lips with his before sucking softly on your tongue. It’s fucking weird, but oddly enough, such a fucking turn on, too.
Some vines dip their very tapered tips into your mouth, just at the corners to pull your lips apart. Steve spits onto your tongue, shuddering over the way you squirm. Another vine circles the base of his cock, giving a taunting squeeze.
“Not as weak as you and— a— “ Words collapsing on his tongue, he realizes that he’s no match for the vines and what your filthy thoughts are capable of. He’d take control, but it just feels wrong not succumbing to your desires over his own. “Tight, too fucking t— tight—“
The vines holding your lips retreat. “You can’t finish a sentence around me, can you?”
“Huh?” He stares down at you, puzzled, as your walls hold him deep within you; there’s no letting go, not now, and to him, not ever.
“You’re this pussy drunk already? Seriously?” Where the confidence stems from, you’re unsure, but you’re running with it against your own free will. “I knew you liked me, but I didn’t think you were down this bad.”
Steve slams into you mercilessly. “Shut.” He thrusts again. “Up.”
“I’d watch your mouth if I were you.”
Tightening around his wrists, the vines tug him back, preventing any further movement.
“Wh— what the fuck— hey!” He wriggles against the relentless grip, brows knit together and nostrils flaring as he sighs roughly. “Enough of this shit!”
A laugh slips past your lips, but Steve’s unamused.
“Say please.”
Now he scoffs a laugh. “Fuck you.”
“You’re already doing that, babe.” Your gaze falls between your bodies, fixating where you both meet. “Or, well, you were. What happened, Stevie? Guess the rumors in school were never true, huh?”
The jab clears the haze, for a moment. “Will you— I’m trying to get us out of here, stop being such a b—“
The vine at the base of his shaft tightens, strangling out a moan.
“Does someone need a break?” You pout up at him, only for a vine to pull your bottom lip down; your mouth opens just enough to spit harshly onto your tongue. To his dismay, you make a pleased noise and smirk.
“You’re fucking disgusting.” His insult makes your walls clench around him, and he laughs bitterly. “Oh, you like that, you like all of this shit, huh?”
Okay, yeah, sure, maybe you’re into some degradation, if you squint, from a distance. Maybe you’re just a little into being humiliated, on an off day. His comment still pisses you the hell off, though.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Bet you came in here willingly, too.” He snarks, regaining the control of the vines; he bottoms out into you, a little too satisfied at your gasps. “What? Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home to rub one out? Had to just find something to get off on.”
“I said—” You grit your teeth, grabbing control of the vines as his own thoughts waver; he’s too busy feeling all high and mighty with his weak words to keep his hold on you. He’s tugged off the table and onto the floor, while the vines allow you to stand, towering over him. “— watch your goddamn mouth, Steve.”
Slithering tendrils spiral around his ankles and wrists, pinning him down into a spread eagle position. His head whips around, breathless as he can only watch this switch in defeat.
“M’sorry, I- I’m sorry,” He whines, vines tightening around his limbs. Your name falls so pitifully from his pretty, kiss-swollen lips; a plea for some kind of mercy. “Hon- honey, please.”
There’s a power trip you and Steve continue to swap back and forth, and now that it’s back in your hands, you’re stunned by the sight of him helpless, pinned by the vines underneath you.
This is all hard to grasp, and so quickly, too.
Because you grew up with Steve. You were friends for so long, until his mean streak in high school, trading in genuine friendships for the promise of popularity— a tale as old as time.
The man writhing underneath you, torn between pain and pleasure, isn’t the boy you chased around the playground many years ago. He’s not the insufferable jock you were forced to watch him pretend to be. He’s not the guy you graduated with, barely recognizable after his fall from grace.
Hell, you’re not even sure if this is the same Steve you reconciled with.
This version of him, the one nearly sobbing as the vines keep him pinned to the filthy floor, he’s someone you’ve only met tonight.
Steve will never be the same after this, neither will you.
You can’t help admiring his broken form, so fragile and weak. You too, are incredibly delicate at this point, but to watch this version of Steve beg you to help, beg you to give him any sort of relief from this nightmare that cursed plant and these vines are forcing you through…
Well, that’s just one power trip you can’t pass up.
Arching his back off the floor’s chipped tiles, your breath hitches, mesmerized by his presence. He’s veiled in a sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly with his shaky breaths. The plant’s glittering flecks of rose gold float around him, creating an ethereal glow; it’s a welcomed contrast to the agony written all over his beautiful face. He’s crying softly, babbling to himself about how badly he wants you, how he needs to be deep inside you or he might die— his words, not yours.
Whatever version of Steve is slowly going insane before your eyes is still your Steve, and power trip or not, you can’t stand seeing him suffer any longer.
You lower yourself, swinging your leg over his lap; hovering over his length, your folds barely touch his shaft. He whimpers some more, tears still slipping down his pretty features. And god, he’s so fucking gorgeous, especially in this state.
Steve tries flexing his hips up, tries to push into you, but you will the vines to pin his body down even more; they sling around his waist, keeping low to avoid his wounds. Though you don’t move away, he spirals into panic.
His mindless, desperate babbling begins again, “Don’t— please don’t leave me like this, d- don’t— I need you, I need you so bad…” When you gently glide your slick core along his cock, he gasps sharply, eyes rolling back as his jaw falls slack. A sob rumbles through his chest, body alight with an invisible, unbearable flame, one that can’t be extinguished without you.
“You need me?”
“Yes! What— I said that!”
“Say it again,” You order. “Beg me to fuck you.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?!” He wheezes, wrestling his lower half underneath you, fighting against the vine steeling his hips in place. “I don’t— how else do you want me to say it? Tell me what you want!”
Leaning in close, your lips brush over his as the vines loosen just enough; now, it’s your turn with the creative freedom.
Caressing his face gently, you kiss away some of his tears; his desperation shouldn’t arouse you this much. You’ve never been one to be this bold, never enjoyed power trips at the expense of a partner, but that fucked up plant has unlocked a whole new perspective for you.
“I want you to admit it, Steve.”
His breaths slow, sobs devolving into hiccups, eyes nearly crossed as he fixates on your expression up so close.
“Ad- admit what?”
It’s so delicious to hear Steve hang on your every word, waiting to obey whatever you order of him. The way he clings to any shred of hope that you’ll help him, so long as he’s good for you. The agony of his sinful desires are burning him alive, and he will do anything if it means you’ll snuff those flames out, once and for all.
Granted, your need for him is just as leveled; you won’t make it out of this feeling alive without his help, too. For now, you’ll play pretend, healing your ego he bruised earlier.
“One: that you like me.”
As you sit up, his brows knit together while he forces out an incredulous laugh.
“I— no, I don’t— are you that fucked up right now?”
“No, but you sure seem to be if you’re still balls deep in denial.”
“I have never, ever— we’re friends! Why—“ He pauses, narrowing his stare with a scoff, “You just want me to like you.”
The vines even allow you to cross your arms, glaring down at him; it drives the sting a little deeper, to see these ghastly creatures side with you in such a tiny, yet mighty way.
“What I want, is for you to stop being an asshole.” Hands falling to his hips, you sink your fingers into his skin and grind onto him, just for a moment, enough to make him tremble and whine. “Two: I want you to admit how mean you were earlier—“
“I- I was not being mean,” He sputters another skeptical chuckle. “Maybe you were being difficult!”
Pretending to understand, you nod softly before running your core over him again, allowing the tip to catch at your entrance, pushing in, ever so slightly. A strangled moan escapes him, eyes rolling back again.
“And finally,” You reach down, running your fingers through his hair, pulling rough enough to mean business. “You need to admit one more thing. This one’s real important, Stevie.”
“Ok- okay, what?”
As a wicked smirk graces your features, he gulps audibly.
“That I’m not a crybaby— you are.”
You don’t give Steve a chance to retort, impaling yourself onto his cock all at once. He screams, but it’s a near-silent release, voice cracking at the back of his throat as he convulses underneath you. Tensing up, his veins protrude through his tan skin, covered in sweat and grime. His cock kicks and pulses inside you, wordlessly begging to finish already.
“You can’t cum ‘til I do,” You roll your hips slowly, leaning down to match up face to face once more. Again, you grind as he babbles more pleas of mercy and pleasure. “It’s okay, I’ll make it worthwhile, I promise, babe.”
Capturing Steve’s lips in yet another slovenly, vulgar kiss, relief finally floods through his body. Not completely, not enough, but it’s reassuring you won’t leave him hanging. Again, you know you can’t finish without him, either, but he’s so lost in the high the bloom unleashed on him, that detail is meaningless.
“H- ho— oh fuck— honey, please, I- I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I’ll— you—“
This poor man’s brain will disintegrate if you don’t let him come soon.
“Yeah? How?”
“Y- you— I like you, I really li- like you, and I’m not just saying it—“ He takes a deep breath as a vine teases along his balls; its end opens in petal formations, similar to the ones teasing your clit earlier, sucking on the sensitive skin. “I’m sorry— fuck, fuck m’so sorry—“
Cutting him off with a kiss, he groans into you; guard let down for a moment, the vine around his waist loosens, and he bucks up into you, unable to control himself.
“Apologies later,” You remind him, tapping his cheek, and without a spoken order, his mouth falls wide open. You spit onto his tongue, and he bucks up into you again; fingers digging into his chest, your nails claw at his skin, careful to avoid the wounds from earlier.
Every so often, one of you brushes against the other’s injuries, earning a hiss or short howl in pain, but coddling those aches and stings isn’t priority. Caring for one another— even under the layers of sarcasm, unresolved anger and abandonment issues— that’s all that matters right now.
“So pretty like this, Stevie,” You lean back to hit a sweet spot, one you both go dumb over. He’s still panting heavily, sobs slipping from his kiss swollen lips every so often. “You’re such a good boy when you’re helpless.”
He rambles between apologies and expressions of gratitude, sweat beading down his face, teaming up with his tears. His lower half jerks wildly underneath you, but his cock isn’t throbbing like it’s about to release. You glance back, finding the vine once on his sac, now slithering down to his ass.
You’re not the one willing the vines to do this.
The petals open back up on its end, splaying out along his puckered-pink hole; it gently sucks at the taut entrance, and Steve trembles beneath you. Your jaw drops, turning back to see his face twisted up in pleasure that’s unimaginable to most.
“Didn’t know you were this filthy…” You smirk down at him, admiring the way his lids continue to flutter rapidly, eyes rolling back enough where you only see the whites. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?”
Amidst the lust-induced blathering, he admits so easily, “Wish it was you instead… oh, god, wish it was your pretty fuckin’ mouth instead.”
You don’t just inch closer to your climax, you leap towards it. His confession pulls at something deep in your stomach, makes your clit throb with the thought.
“Yeah? You’d want that when we get home?”
A guttural groan rips through his throat, deep from his chest.
“So bad, so s- so bad, please, I—“ He gasps sharply, hips wriggling down onto the vine. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— wish it was your tongue in me right now.”
“It’s all yours when we make it out, I promise.” You grind down on him, hips rutting faster as he hits your sweet spot sloppily. “I’m all yours, I swear, Steve.”
“M’all yours too, honey, all f- fuckin’ y—“ His mouth falls open, breath hitching in his throat before sputtering, “I- I’m gonna— m’sorry I can’t— I need to cu—“
You slide off his dick, and he cries out, devastated that his high was ripped away.
“Why the fuck would you do that?!”
“I said you couldn’t finish ‘til I did.” You lower yourself, just above the tip, taunting him.
Steve’s tongue prods his cheek for a moment, brows raised, trying to steady his breathing, but he just slams up into you instead. Rage is written all over his face, with a hint of guilt underneath, but he takes you back, anyway.
These vines aren’t siding with either of you, they just like toying with you both. They’ll give just enough freedom to whoever takes charge, but won’t release completely. You wonder if they’d keep you here forever, if they could.
He uses the vines to flip on top, throwing you into a mating press while the tendrils tighten you in place. He wastes no time shoving himself in to the hilt; the stretch is wicked and intoxicating, dragging you back into subspace.
“Who had to come find you?”
“You…”
He rests so much of his weight onto you, pinning you down harder than the vines; you hiccup a sob, head thrown back on the floor and eyes screwing shut. You’re an insatiable wreck, wishing he could suffocate you, go even deeper, devour you whole.
Steve grabs your face roughly, large hand squishing into your cheeks as his palm rests under your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you refuse to open your eyes, his hand disappears, only to slap your face; light enough to not be violent, just enough to give you that delicious sting across your skin.
He’s relentlessly drilling into you, pupils blown wide with lust.
“Who had to save your ass?”
Sweat drips down his face onto your own.
“You!”
He’s grunting in time with his thrusts, spit dribbling from his lips, also landing on your face. Tongue out as you pant, a few droplets hit your tastebuds, causing you to clench and whimper. Right now, you’re sure you could cum just from being soaked in any of his fluids.
And that’s fucking disgusting.
“Whose pussy is this?”
You barely can rasp out, “Y- yours…”
“What was that?”
“Yours! It’s yours!”
Satisfied with your pathetic answer, Steve’s reaches for your clit, bring you both to ecstasy—
The vines quit listening to either of you; they drag you both upward into the air. They wind and weave around your bodies, forcing you together, like earlier, but even closer (as if that was even possible). Your legs are pulled around his waist; they impale you on his cock again, forcing your lower half to roll and grind onto him. Steve’s dragged back into his subby state from earlier, and you’re already lost in your own.
A thinner vine than most wraps around both of your heads together, shoving your faces, your lips, against one another. You’re bound together so tightly, you couldn’t turn away if you wanted. When a cry slips out of Steve, your tongue slips past his lips, massaging his own. He continues to keen into you, while the two of you drool all over yourselves.
It’s sticky. It’s hot. It’s repulsive.
You love it.
Neither of you can warn the other you’re about to finish, only your bodies do the talking; climaxes spoken through violent jerking and jolting, skin slapping on skin, limbs shaking and moans vibrating into one another.
You’re floating. At least, you feel like you are. And okay, yeah, sure, technically you are while the vines hold you up.
Everything is blinding, bright white in a flash, every sensation burning you up under your skin turns into a relief you’ve never felt before. It’s like dunking your head in cold water during a heatwave, or when you finally lay down in your bed after a long, long day. Something like that, tenfold.
All of the intense, searing pain leaves your body, flooding through with bliss. So. Much. Bliss.
There’s a ringing in your ears, but it’s not harsh, doesn’t ache; it fades in time with the blinding white brightness surrounding you.
As it all falls back into place, as you come back down from the most insane orgasm of your life, you can hear Steve’s shallow breaths, loud moans quieting down. Settling back into reality, his heartbeat calms with yours; you can feel one another’s with ease, bodies still shoved together.
The vines finally retreat, releasing you both carelessly, sending you tumbling to the floor. Steve lands on top of you, catching himself in time as his hands hold him up. There’s a chill that rests on your skin; the unbearable burning has vanished, and the absence of the vile vines and their grip plunge you both into relieving shivers.
It’s only heavy, heaving breaths and stunned expressions exchanged with one another. His arms shake, absolutely worn down from whatever…. Whatever the fuck that was. Managing to lift your arms, you wind them around his shoulders; you ease him into your embrace, allowing him to rest on top of you. At first, he sighs, but it turns into shudders as he processes everything.
Both of you begin to babble apologies at the same time.
You’re whimpering an, “I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so, so—“ while he whispers shakily, “It’s my fault, m’so sorry, honey.”
He shakes his head, sweat and grime rubbing off on your shoulder— equally gross, you’re certain.
“No, I drove you away—“
“You didn’t force me to stomp off and get lost like a fucking moron.”
“I mean years ago, not just tonight.” His grasp gingerly circles your waist, mindful of your own battered body, holding you close. “I fucked up, I pushed you away… and this friendship was never a mistake. Fixing it was never, ever a mistake. I wish I could take back every awful thing I’ve said and done.”
“I wasn’t making it any easier tonight. Seriously,” You gently push his face off of you, holding his in your hands.
You realize how close the two of you are, it makes you nervous, despite having the most X-rated, nonsensical sex of your life. Now that the bloom’s effects have worn off, you don’t feel as confident, or desperate, to make any bold moves.
You also can’t help but wonder if he ever actually wanted you the way you always wanted him.
“I should’ve stayed. You were just trying to get us home safely.” Your eyes scrunch shut as you take a breath, letting the last of your guard down. “I’ve been so afraid to lose you again, to some stupid shit, and then all of this… this Upside Down bullshit… it terrifies me. Steve, I was so scared I lost you for good at the lake.
“You’re not a problem, either. I wish I never said that, ‘cause it’s far from the truth—“
He cups under your jaw, thumb gently caressing along your cheek, touch taking your breath away. Like the two of you weren’t just all over one another in the most sinful ways.
“Think we both said some awful shit to each other, shit that neither of us meant. And I think we both are sorry, yeah?”
You nod as your eyes open, bottom lip trembling a little.
“I’m not going anywhere, not without you.” Steve searches your gaze for any other hidden truths, his own stare glassy. “But you can’t keep hiding anymore, either.” He hesitates before asking, “What happened?”
There’s no reason to keep your pain bottled up anymore, not when you’ve bared all to one another tonight.
You can’t look him in the eye when you answer; “No one leaves if you don’t let them in. Can’t be abandoned when you keep your distance.”
Steve’s heart aches; he has his own abandonment issues, and yours are best to be unpacked another time, when all of this is said and done. For now, he does what he’s best at: wearing his heart on his sleeve, while holding you close; he hopes in time you can trust him again.
“I think we need each other… now more than ever.” He kisses your forehead; what a contrast to the way he kissed you so greedily earlier.
Squeezing tightly back, you’re mindful of his wounds, too. “We do.”
Over his shoulder, you glance over at the plant, now wilted, rotting rapidly before your eyes.
“Stupid fuckin’ plant.” You flip it off, as if that does anything.
Steve chuckles for a moment before asking, “Are you okay? That’s— like I know what we just went through was fucked up—“
All you can do is laugh with him, because really, what the fuck just happened? “So fucked up.”
“But you’re not hurt at all, are you? I- I mean more than before— I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Oh… uh, no. M’kinda sore, but nothing I can’t handle.” You shyly answer. “Are you okay?”
“Kinda sore,” He repeats you, smirking, “Nothing I can’t handle.” His stare falls to your lips, lingers there. “We should probably find our way back… but I can— uh.” He forces his gaze back on yours, blushing deeply. “I can give some, um, real aftercare, y’know, when we get back home… if you want… maybe even talk this thing out… feelings, and stuff.”
You’re taken aback by the unexpected, vague confession, but also so smitten by how flustered he’s getting.
“Yeah, I’d like that, Steve.” You lean in to kiss his cheek softly. “I can take care of you, too.”
He begins to grin, “Okay—“
Distant shouting and footsteps startle the both of you, freezing in place. Steve shields you with his naked form, as if that’d do anything from whoever— or whatever— is in the building.
“Guys, you in here—“ Eddie runs in, only to shriek at the sight of you and Steve on the floor, completely nude. “Jesus H. Christ—“ He grabs his vest from the floor, the one Steve wore and somehow still intact, hurtling it at Steve with his eyes shut. “I said for your fuckin’ modesty, Harrington!”
He stomps out, returning to throw some lab coats, drenched in soot and grime your way. “Glad you two got to have your moment, and all, but we should probably go home.” As he wanders out the door, he mutters, “Perverts.”
Both you and Steve throw the coats on, giggling to the point of tears as Eddie’s voice echoes down the hall to who you assume to be Robin and Nancy, “I was right! You two owe me $10 each!”
Steve shakes his head with a sigh, yet his smile never fades; he takes his time, carefully pulling you up with him. Hand outstretched to you, he asks, “Walk of shame time?”
You groan, but a smile cracks across your face as you lace your fingers between his.
Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader (GN terms & pronouns, reader has breasts & a vagina)
This is part two of one sin leads to another (both also on ao3), I highly suggest reading this first so you’re not lost! Also, this is the end of this little two-part fic. MDNI!
Summary: The catastrophic destruction of Hawkins leaves Steve utterly hopeless. You refuse to give up on him, trying to find a shred of comfort to offer among tragedy.
WC: 10k+
Includes: angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of grief and survivor’s guilt, suicidal ideations, PTSD, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of memory loss, brief appearances of other characters, friends to lovers, fuck-ton of feelings, smut— handjob, soft dom!reader, sub!steve, dirty talk, PiV sex (unprotected), nipple play, oral fixation, praise kink, etc.
A/N: I wanted this out months ago, but life happened. This one is heavier than the first, focusing on Steve’s feelings/pain post-s4 destruction, but there’s comfort smut and a realistic happy ending as promised. If it’s not your cup of tea, I understand. Please heed the warnings if you decide to read! I appreciate y’all so much<3 title is from dusk - chelsea wolfe, and dividers from @strangergraphics!
Despite only just reconnecting with your childhood best friend again, you still knew the way to Steve’s house like the back of your hand.
What you weren’t so great at navigating were the roads all torn to shreds, cracked wide open. Down the street, you can see the front of Steve’s house, with no smoke or fire in sight; you assume his was one of the lucky ones that weren’t sucked into the ground.
Rolling to a stop, feet away from a fissure in the ground, you sigh; foot on the brake, chin atop your resting hands on the wheel, you break the silence.
“Steve?”
He barely has the energy to acknowledge you, weakly humming in response. It’s hard to fight the weight tugging his eyes shut, but he somehow manages to.
“I don’t think I can get any closer to your house from here.”
You offered to drive, after all was said and done; everyone was hurting, emotionally, physically, but you knew Steve was in no shape to be behind the wheel.
“S’just a bump in the road,” he murmurs, not bothering to peer out the windows.
“I’m not wrecking your car trying to get through this shit.”
“Drive in the grass. Who cares?” He still won’t look out the window, stare landing on you instead. “All these fucks are gonna move after tonight anyway.”
Steve’s not wrong about his neighbors, wealthy enough to quickly find homes elsewhere, you know that. Hell, his parents will probably never set foot in Hawkins again after tonight; won’t even come home to assess the damage, gather personals, just leave a mess for their son to handle.
But the damage hasn’t discriminated what paths to take; some houses are crumbled wrecks, too, falling into the mini canyons the earthquake created. If you could even call it that.
“It’s not safe—“
“I don’t even care if the car gets scratched up—“
“Even if I found a way around this shit, there’s a chance we’d fall right through the ground.”
Silence falls between the two of you, and you wonder if Steve fell asleep. Seconds of quiet feel like hours, but he eventually answers, and it’s not one you’d like to hear.
“Fuck it. Not like this was worth surviving anyway.”
Your heart sinks, and it sinks fast. Never once have you heard him so hopeless before. Not even in the past day.
“Steve, don’t say that—“
“Bet it was nice to just… be asleep during this shit.” He throws a hand out to the ruins of a nearby house, void of any faith left in existence. “Not even know the ground opened up wide under your house, die in your sleep— it- it’d be so quick, you’d never even know. You’d be stuck in a dream, forever.”
You want to counter that with the fact his dreams— more often than not, are nightmares— but you hold your tongue.
The last 24 hours alone have changed you drastically; you can only imagine the amount of change Steve has undergone time, and time again these last several years. But this isn’t him; no past, present, future version of him would ever sound like this.
This is a polar opposite of the Steve you’ve always known.
You blink away tears, scorching hot, while your throat threatens to close, aching as you do your best not to give into your emotions.
Don’t be a crybaby. Don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t fucking—
“How can you say that?”
No tears, not yet, thankfully. You’re shaking, though.
“It’s true—“
“It’s not true, Steve. I- I can’t imagine how awful this all feels, how heavy this weighs on your heart every time something terrible happens, but you can’t believe that.”
“Well, I do, so deal with—“
Rage shoves sorrow into the backseat, takes control before your mind can catch up with your mouth. You slam your hand on the steering wheel.
“Don’t you dare tell me to “deal” with you feeling so hopeless like it’s… like it’s some fucking chore. I know you feel awful, you have every right to, but I’m not going to ignore the way you’re talking, either.” Resting your head on the wheel, you sniffle harshly. “Eddie is dead, an- and Max… she’s barely hanging on. I am not trying to guilt you, but goddammit, Steve, this group can’t afford to lose you, too.”
You take a deep, shaky breath, sitting up again.
“Dustin looks up to you and Eddie, you’re both practically older brothers to that kid.” Steve slinks down in his seat, almost trying to make himself small, picking away at the callouses on his fingers. “Don’t make that harder on him.”
A mirthless laugh bubbles out of his chest. “Now you’re definitely guilting me—“
“Fine! Maybe I am! A- and maybe that’s fucked up, but we all need you. We need you here.”
“Always needed, but no one ever wants me to need them.”
You’re balancing on a line between empathy and anger, a very dangerous, thin, wavering line. So, you don’t respond, you only reverse his car away from the fissures, find a safe enough spot to park it on the street, cutting the engine.
“Get up. We’re walking.”
“What?”
You’re already out of the car, slamming the door behind you; rounding the hood, you tug his door open, hand outstretched towards him.
“Out.”
“Just leave me here.”
“I—“
A shrill static flows out of the walkie on the floor of his car, followed by a tinny voice.
“Hey… what’s the status on your house, Dingus?”
Dustin cuts in, “Robin, you’re supposed to say ‘over!’” He sighs dramatically.
The sound of the kid’s voice— somehow strong enough to still be a little shit after the traumatic night— brings tears to Steve’s worn eyes, fixated on the floor. He can’t bring himself to grab the walkie to respond, so you do.
“Uh, we have to park a few houses away, the street’s all torn up. I think his house is safe, though.” You’re quick to add, “Over”, before Dustin can scold you. While Steve rubs his glazed-over eyes, a hint of a chuckle escapes him. It gives some relief; an ounce, but it’s relief, nonetheless.
While you give the others the rundown, you watch Steve disconnect from the present, face blank and weary stare off in the distance. They agree to meet at his house, since everyone else’s are blocked off by carnage, or completely uninhabitable from the destruction.
Next step: convincing Steve that rotting away in the car isn’t an option.
“Do you want me to help you out? Or do you want to wait for Robin? Because she might drag you out.” You feel like you’re trying to bargain with a child mid-tantrum. He scoffs, crossing his arms; how fitting. “And if she doesn’t, you know damn well Dustin will. Do not make that child drag your grown ass out of this car—“
“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Cautiously, he climbs out, hands gripping the door’s frame. His stare flits to yours, only for a moment; it falls to the cracked ground. “I’m sorry. This— I can’t stop thinking— it just feels like…”
Steve trails off, unable to either find the right words, or unable to speak them into existence. You give him a moment, but he just runs his hand through his hair with a sigh.
“C’mon.” Gingerly, you wind your arm around his torso, tucking it under his arms to help him walk. It’s impossible to remember where his wounds are under his shirt and jacket, so you do your best to keep a gentle hold; he winces as your hand brushes against a raw spot. “Sorry, should I let go?”
It embarrasses him how quickly he responds, swallowing down his pain as he gasps, “Please don’t.”
“S’okay, I got you.”
What should be a five minute walk feels like an hour long trek, weaving around the fissures and splits in the ground; illuminating red, the sweltering heat radiates out, while thick smoke billows out of a few. Some neighbors are missing their cars, or parts of their house have been swallowed by the ground beneath them. You wonder how many of them were home when this happened.
You wonder how many of them are still alive.
Steve has to pause every now and then, catch his breath and assess the surroundings; one wrong step could be fatal for the two of you.
“God, I can’t wait to sleep,” He murmurs as his house comes into full view. A sigh of relief spills out at the sight of his house completely intact— at least, from the front, it seems. “Gonna crash as soon as we get in.”
“You can’t go to bed like that, you’ve got…” You give him a once-over, grimacing, “… Upside Down gunk on you.” He snorts as you make your point. “And you have to clean your wounds.”
“Yeah, do I? Thought I’d let them get gross this time around.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.”
The rest of the journey is uneventful, much to your relief; you get Steve inside and help him up the stairs. He begins to wander to his bedroom, but you gently redirect him, hands on his shoulders, pushing him into the bathroom.
“Nope. You’re gross. I’m gross. I can guarantee we’re both still covered in each other’s—“
Steve groans, more out of disgust than anything.
“God, yeah, okay. Yeah.” He carelessly shrugs his jacket off onto the tile floor. Dirt, soot, and dried blood sprinkle off the leather, tainting the pristine surface. “I’ll… tomorrow.” He’s too tired to care about complete sentences right now.
Removing his shirt is another story; the fabric catches on his bandaging before he can pull it over his head. He winces, hissing in pain.
Blood soaked through his makeshift bandaging from his wounds— which really should’ve been re-dressed by now, but there were bigger concerns at hand. Now, it’s been— and still is— seeping through the fabric, through his shirt, sticking it uncomfortably to his skin as it dried over, and over, against the gashes on his torso.
The discomfort makes his head spin, like he hadn’t paid much attention to the severity of his injuries until this moment; he reaches for the edge of the bathroom sink, breathing shakily.
“Did it— is it kinda hot in here?”
“Hm? No, I kinda think it’s a little cold— shit—“
Steve’s knees buckle, and you don’t completely catch him in time, but you attempt to anyway. Quickly, you throw your arms out behind him as he falls; you lose your balance as he stumbles back against your chest, slamming against a wall.
“Okay,” you groan, holding onto him tightly. “You need to be at the hospital, not here—“
The fear in his eyes reflects in the mirror before you, breaking your heart.
“Yeah, no, that’s not an option—“
“It’ll have to be if you’re just gonna bleed out on the floor—“
“Well maybe that’s for the best,” he grumbles, finding his footing again only to lower himself clumsily to the floor. “The room’s spinning like I have the worst hangover, I have a headache the size of Alaska, and—“ He squints up at you, frowning. “There weren’t four of you before, when did that happen?”
“Yeah, I’m calling 911–“
Steve uses the little strength left in him to grab your ankle, anchoring you in place to the floor.
“Don’t.” He forces himself to sit up, wincing with a sharp hiss. “M’fine, and there’s no reason for me to take up a bed a the hospital when someone else might need it more.”
You drop back down to the floor in front of him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Sounding more wounded than pissed, Steve can’t meet your gaze; he averts his stare as he tilts his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “For once, can you stop putting others needs before your own? You mean well, I get it, but you need help, too.”
“I can’t go.”
“Give me one good reason why not.”
That’s when you notice a tear cascade down his face, then another, and another.
“I’ve never seen anyone outside of our friends deal with this shit. What if I— shit, this is so stupid—“
You take his hand in yours, embracing it with a reassuring squeeze.
“If it upsets you, it’s not stupid at all.”
His eyes screw shut, attempting to stop the tears, but his body betrays him, only letting them flow freely.
“I can barely handle seeing any of our friends getting hurt, and I just know if I see anyone else we know, it’ll make all this shit more real. A- and I can’t see Max. I know we should visit, but—”
“Steve, it was only a few hours ago. They’re taking care of her, and probably wouldn’t allow visitors anyway, and you’re in no condition to check on others right now.”
His shoulders jump as he suppresses a sob, but it’s no use when the dam breaks. He blankets his face with his empty hand, splaying it over his spiraling expression. He shouts into his palm, voice raw from agony, “We shouldn’t be living through this shit- why the fuck are we living through this shit?!”
Sliding closer, you keep your voice calm, even as it wavers with the threat of your own cries; somehow it’s easier to push your emotions aside to take care of Steve, though.
“We shouldn’t… and I don’t know why, but we’ve survived it this far, so we gotta keep going.”
Steve shakes his head, his cries steadying into full-blown sobs. Hand falling away from his face, you notice how swollen his eyes are already.
“I don’t want to, I don’t fucking want to!” He removes his hand from your own, glaring back at you. “I don’t want to be strong, or brave, or any of this fucking bullshit. I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up. I want th- this shit to go away. I want to go away.”
It’s years of turmoil, torment, and trauma, all spilling over into what he believes to be a last ditch effort to end the suffering.
“Can’t help my friends—“
“You do, Steve—“
“One of them is dead!” He’s inconsolable; while it’s better to let out the emotions than bottle them up, you’re scared of the way he’s spiraling so rapidly. “One of them is dead, one is barely alive, we all got hurt one way or another— I couldn’t— I just want everyone to be safe, but I can’t even protect anyone.”
“It’s not your job, and realistically, you can’t protect everyone. No one can. We do our best to watch each other’s backs, help out where we can—“
“And you,” his bottom lip curls into a trembling pout, while his bloodshot eyes bore into your own. “You could’ve been killed, and it’s my fault you were hurt to begin with. Then those— the fucking vines, god, the more I think about it, the more I realize how insanely fucked up that was.”
“But we survived, Steve. I’m okay, I promise.”
“That shit was against our will,” voice cracking, he runs his hands through his hair, tugging with stress. “Wh- what the fuck do you mean you’re okay?!”
You scoot closer, hands softly grabbing his face on either side.
“I’m okay, ‘cause it was with you. I wish you never went through that, never even saw what happened, but you saved me anyway.” Calmly, you reassure him you’re fine. Granted, you’re not, you’re far from fine, really, but you’re more stable than he is right now; if he won’t take care of himself tonight, you will.
His grip slips out of his hair, expression softening with your touch.
“We’re beat up, and mentally, we’re fucked. For life, probably, just from those stupid fucking vines.” Tilting your head forward, you rest against his, sighing. Steve shudders with a small, broken noise, face twisting up with grief. His tears drip onto your cheeks while he reaches out to you. “But we’re alive, we’re home.”
He brings you closer, cautious of the physical state you’re both in. The moment he ducks his head into the crook of your neck, the cries build back up.
“I don’t want this to be home anymore.“
“I know, sweetheart,” you hold him close, choking back your own tears.
There’s no bright side to look to, no silver lining hiding in the clouds; you have no words of comfort that’ll actually relieve his pain. Reassuring he’s not alone won’t do much here either.
What the fuck do you do? How do you convince him surviving this tragic, reoccurring, living nightmare is worth it?
Instead, you let him sob it out, whisper anything you can think of to remind him you care, his friends care, that it’s worth sticking around than disappearing forever.
Time is lost on the both of you, and if he needed all the time in the world to cry on your shoulder, you’d let him. When he starts calming down, he begins to murmur something into your shoulder, but makes a frustrated huff.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Will you… would you mind… helping?” He nervously asks, face still squished against you shoulder, breath tickling your throat. “Helping me, I mean… with the- in the—“
Steve has put everyone first for so long, it’s as if he forgot how to ask for help for himself. You realize it’s not that he doesn’t want to ask, he doesn’t really know how. Not without feeling like a bother to others, or that his problems are minuscule to anyone else’s.
“Of course, I’d help you with anything, y’know.”
He slides back, loosening his grip with a teensy, tiny, fraction of a smirk, “Anything? You’d rob a bank with me?”
“I’d even bury a body for you,” you joke, but cringe at yourself; the timing isn’t the best.
Read the fucking room.
Yet he allows his smile to grow, not much, but enough for it to be visible. “For me? Not with me?”
Snorting, you roll your eyes teasingly, rising to stand with your hands held out. “Can you stand?”
It takes patience, soothing encouragement, and keeping him upright to get him undressed and into the shower safely. Unfortunately, that’s not the hardest part of this process.
Steve leans against the shower wall while you strip quickly, worried to watch him collapse again. As you fiddle with the water temperature, you hear his breath hitch; you glance over your shoulder to check on him, still facing the shower head.
“What’s wrong?”
His gaze is fixated on your back, eyes wide with concern.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
Your brows scrunch together, turning to him as the water finally feels comfortable enough. “What are you talking about?”
Trembling hands gently spin you around by your shoulders while he examines your back.
“Shit…” He breathes, fingers gliding along your skin. “Your back is all scraped up.”
“Goddammit.” Poking your head out of the shower, you glance down to your shirt on the floor; sure enough, there’s blood stains on the back of the garment. “Is it bad?”
“The marks don’t look deep—“
“Then I’m fine.” You push past the sharp stinging in your wounds as water rolls over them.
“Bullshit.”
“Fine, okay, yeah. Compared to you, though, I’m okay, so let’s clean you up first, alright?”
Steve’s first instinct is to argue, but one glance at the look you give, and he bites his tongue instead. Allows you to guide him under the water, murmuring for him to take his time. You brace yourself for his cries as the blood and grime washes out of the gashes on his body, but they’re nonexistent.
It hurts, it really, really fucking hurts, more than any other injuries he’s had in the past— and that’s saying a lot after everything he’s endured, yet he can’t react. His emotions feel frozen, stuck in between bottling them back up, and breaking down all over again.
“I hate that you’re quiet right now,” you suds up soap between your hands. “If you need to cry, or scream, or whatever helps, you can.”
Steve shakes his head, stare far away in some distant thoughts, exactly like earlier, while trying to coax him out of the car.
“Okay… well, you’re safe with me. You know that, right?”
“Don’t want to scare you after… all of that.” He means the outburst he had— minutes, maybe hours, who fucking knows— ago.
“After tonight, you’re the farthest thing from scary.”
The light teasing leads him back, just enough, to the present, to you; he snorts, and it brings you some relief.
“Was I scary before?”
“Oh, the scariest,” you quip, careful to keep your touch light as you massage soap onto his forearms. He groans as you sweep your fingers along his biceps, aching from exertion. His limbs feel heavy with pain and grief, but your touch is a soothing balm amidst the suffering. “Never met anyone as scary as you.”
He’s not used to this, being doted on with extra care and precision, and the bonus hint of playfulness, too— but maybe he can get used to it, as long as it’s with you.
You take your time, washing around his wounds, trying to avoid and divert any soap slipping into his wounds. It surprises you how still he stays, but you notice the way his jaw tightens when your fingers wander too close to some of the gashes.
“You doing alright?”
“Kinda, y- yeah, nothing I can’t handle,” he mirrors your words from earlier, after the vines finally released you.
“Can you turn around for me?”
Steve’s eyes snap wide open, “What? Why?”
Your brows knit together, “So I can clean up your back too?”
“Oh. Right.” He turns, hands planted on the shower wall for support. You continue your meticulous work of cleaning away dried blood and soot from the Upside Down off his skin. In time, he’s free of any filth that hell left behind.
Tenderly, you massage any areas far enough away from the wounds, hoping it brings some relief. It’s relief in itself to watch his shoulders relax, while he releases a soft sigh. It goes on like this for a bit, until you get closer to Steve’s hips. That’s when he tenses up again.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” he strains out.
You’re not buying it. “Steve, what’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer you, rather, mutters to himself, “Christ, am I really—“ Steve forces a laugh, hair flopping forward as the water weighs it down. Sighing, he leans his head against the wall, eyes shut. “Ah, fuck.”
“What’s up?” Your hands wind around his hips, fingers brushing low against his hard-on. “Oh. Well, I guess you’re up.”
It bubbles a laugh out of him, a real one; it’s weak, but you’ll take it.
“Wow, that was—“
“Smooth, right? I know.”
He doesn’t answer, only turns slowly, hand splayed out against the tiled wall for support.
“Second time in 24 hours I’m hard when I shouldn’t be. That’s fucking embarrassing,” he mutters, shaking his head with a bashful smile. You quirk a brow at him, a smirk curling along your lips.
“Second time? When was the first?”
Steve’s eyes meet yours over his shoulder, before looking away. He murmurs, “When I found you.”
Oh. Duh.
“Why are you embarrassed? It happens. The— getting hard part, I mean. Not the whole… weird mind-controlling pollen that turned us into insatiable freaks thing, that… that doesn’t happen. Often. Ever. At all.”
The two of you hold one another’s stare for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter. He’s caught up in the brief moment of joy, he doesn’t notice you step closer, eyes pinching shut as he snorts. Not until your hand slides around his shaft, then the laughter dies abruptly; his breath hitches for a moment, then he shakily exhales.
In a languid motion, you stroke him with one hand, while the other finds his face, palm resting on his cheek. His head lolls into your touch with a whimper.
“Hey, you don’t— it’s— don’t feel like you have to do this.”
“I know I don’t. I want to.” Your thumb rolls over the head, catching a bead of pre from the slit. You laugh softly, hand sliding down to his neck while you kiss the opposite side.“Actually, what I really want is to get on my knees for you, but there’s no way I’d get back up right now.”
Steve begins to smile, but you stroke him just right, enough pressure over that prominent vein to lure out a beautiful, breathy moan.
Without disturbing his injuries, you lean as close as possible into him, head resting on his shoulder to gaze up at the pleasure written all over his face. The blush on his face has crept down his neck, spreading along his chest; you can feel the heat under his skin turning red. His eyes screw shut as he bites his lip, muffling the sweet sounds you’ve grown to love in the last 24 hours.
For a split second, Steve appears tortured in his expression, but sinks deeper into bliss. Your hand on his length slows, while the other lets go of him, concerned.
“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head frantically, managing to look down at you without losing it right there.
“N- no, it— pl- please keep going.”
His back arches off of the wall, reminiscent of the way he writhed on the floor for you earlier. Now, though, he’s not bound by vines, nor is he in a frenzy, looking for a way to put the fire out. It’s your gentle touch turning him to putty; a drastic contrast from the way you treated one another in the Upside Down. One hand slides around your waist, holding you even closer, while the other cradles the back of your head, kissing the top and lingering there. His moans are quieted while he nuzzles into your wet hair.
God. This man is un-fucking-real.
“When you said no one ever wants you to need them… that just isn’t true,” you mumble into his neck. “I need you, and I want you to need me, too.” You’re trying not to get emotional while giving your friend— boyfriend? whatever— a hand job, but the vulnerability won’t stop pouring out. “I’ve always wanted you. I’ve always needed you. And I’ve always wanted you to feel the same.”
Steve tucks his head against your shoulder, “Close…”
“You’re so good, Steve. So good to everyone. So good to me.” You wish you could shut up, you’re probably ruining the moment, but it’s true. It’s all true. The praise seems to spur him on, regardless; he’s thrusting into your fist and panting. “Shhh… let me take care of you, for once. I got you. Do you trust me?”
“Yeah, I- I do,” he’s whining into your skin, sucking marks along your shoulder. “I trust y- you, I really—“ He chokes back a wavering whimper.
“Don’t be afraid to be loud with me,” you reassure him, stroking him at a steady, delicious pace. “S’okay, Stevie. I got you.”
Just as Steve finally reaches his peak, about to release some of the most sinful, beautiful moans you’ve ever heard, the front door slams shut.
“Hellooooo?”
Eyes clamped shut, he bucks wildly in your grip, whimpers building into those sounds you were oh so lucky to hear earlier. You already know from experience he is loud, and you just encouraged it, but you’re forced to mute his audible bliss, throwing your hand over his mouth.
Steve’s eyes spring open, glancing down at the hand over his mouth, trailing his gaze to you, only to nearly cross as they roll back. The vibrations from his moans shake you to your core, but never mind that. He spills over— your hand, the shower floor, his stomach, your leg— it’s all a mess, matching his demeanor.
“Good boy,” you whisper, rewarding him with soft, slow kisses, planted along his neck, under his jaw. He shudders, your hand still guiding him through the last of his climax, but then he jolts under your touch, squirming and panting under your palm. Barely finished, another wave of pleasure rolls through him, and he’s shooting pearly, thick ropes everywhere again.
“Is that really all it takes to get you off? Just some praise and kisses?” Steve nods aggressively, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps against the wall. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
“Are you guys here?!”
His head falls back against the tile, catching his breath. “Ah, shit.”
“Yeah… um, sorry for the whole ‘be loud for me’ thing… kinda got carried away and forgot they’re coming over.” When your hand slips away, he gives a drained, yet content smirk.
“Thought this whole time—“ He holds a finger up, trying to ease his breathing steadily. With lids still hooded, he glances over your way, smirking ever so slightly. “— You weren’t into taking control.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“I thought it was just that pollen and the vines earlier.”
BANG!
“Christ on a fucking—“
“I hope you’re not dead in there!”
“We’re actually far from it—“ Steve slaps his palm over your mouth this time, glaring as you whine.
Well. This is horrible timing.
“We’re alive, just— just give us a minute!”
“Us?” Nancy’s tone would pair well with a pearl-clutching expression. “Are they—“
“You two are gross!” Robin chastises through the door, kicking it for emphasis. “Wasn’t once enough?!”
Dustin gasps, “Once? Wait, are you saying—“
“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” Steve grumbles under your palm, head falling onto yours, sighing. You pull his hand off your mouth, rolling your eyes.
“Steve was bleeding out, and I was trying to— ugh—“ Frustration overwhelms you while calling out your defense; to be fair, you’re not lying, just… not telling the entire truth. “— can y’all for once, just once, not make it weird?!”
Though they don’t sound like they’re buying it, Robin, Nancy, and Dustin murmur apologies through the door before walking away.
Sighing with relief, Steve’s arm slides around your waist, reeling you in closer. Water continues to tumble down between your bodies, rinsing away evidence of his arousal. Under calmer, lighthearted conditions, you’d be happy to clean him with your—
“Hey,” Steve’s hand cradles your face, leaning in to kiss you softly; it’s quick, but reassuring, breaking you from your thoughts. “Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean.” He’s got a dazed smile on his face, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, but he’s content, just enough in this moment.
“Not sure if you’re thanking me for making sure you didn’t bleed to death, or for the handjob, but you’re welcome—“ He clasps a hand over your mouth again, eyes wide.
“Shhh!”
“Not even 24 hours ago, you were railing me with a buncha’ fucking vines—“
“Oh my god.” With a groan, he glares at you, “Please shut up—“
“And now you’re too shy to talk about a handj—“
Both hands fly up to cover your mouth, which you only giggle under them.
“You’re so lucky we’re not alone right now.” It’s cute, watching him try to take control all on his own; he’s a flustered mess without the pollen running through his system.
“Oh, please, like you’re in any state to fuck me at all.” You slip out of his grasp before he can pathetically try to silence you once more. He rolls his eyes, but again, a hint of a smirk lingers.“Lemme bandage you up before we go downstairs.”
“Hang on,” he grabs your hand, stare falling to your back again. “Gotta take care of your back, first.”
“It’s fine, really—“ Hands flying to your hips, Steve gently leads you under the water again. His forehead rests against yours, lips brushing together.
“Let me take care of you, too.”
He sounds so broken, desperate to repair something within him by doing what he knows best— putting others before himself.
You don’t have the heart to deny him right now; with a simple nod, you allow him to dote on you, too.
“Fucked up we can’t order food right now,” Robin grumbles, digging through the kitchen cabinets. “Could really go for some comfort pizza.”
Dustin frowns, “Robin, people died.”
“Like I don’t know that— I’m trying not to think about how many people we might know that didn’t survive tonight, so let me whine about pizza, okay?!”
“Pizza would be in the freezer, not the cabinets,” Steve, fighting sleep that he needs in the worst way, counters. He’s leaning against the kitchen island, chin in hand, elbow on the table, falling asleep every so often. It’s when he begins to fall over that he wakes up, and repeats the process all over again.
“Okay, y’all just go— go be comfy somewhere, I’ll make something.” When Steve lingers while everyone else files out, you narrow your eyes. “Steve, babe, that means you too.”
“You don’t need help?”
“With what? I still know where everything is.” You begin opening cabinets and drawers, not looking when you name the contents correctly. “Plates, silverwear, mugs on the bottom, glasses on the middle shelf, top shelf has the nice glass—“
“How the hell do you remember this?”
“— The really fancy glass is in that hutch,” you throw a thumb over your shoulder in its direction, rummaging through a drawer. “The one your mom hated us running around when we were kids.” Steve’s silence catches your attention, finally looking up. “You alright?”
He opens his mouth, ready to speak, but can’t find the words he needs. He loses them, like a dream slipping away after waking up, just dissolving the longer he thinks about it.
“Steve? Did I say something wrong?” You step closer to him as he shakes his head, running a hand over his face with a sigh. “Is it weird that I remember this stuff? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t, you don’t,” his voice splits with despair as he gets up suddenly. “I— I need to lay down.” You don’t get a chance to comfort him as he rushes to the stairs, wincing and hissing from the deep aches and stabbing pain all over his body.
Instead, you’re left standing alone, stumped, and a little hurt.
What did I do?
“What happened?”
Nancy’s soft voice, laced with curiosity, startles you out of your thoughts.
“Sorry,” She grimaces, but notices how tense you are. “Are you okay?”
“I… don’t know. Not really, I guess.” You still stare where Steve was moments ago. “I have no clue what’s going on. I think I upset him,” You tell her what happened, slumping into a chair nearby, sighing with defeat. “He just… froze, and left.”
Nancy seems to catch on immediately, nodding with her lips pursed. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
She slides into the chair next to yours, sighing with a shake of her head.
“He’s been pretty beat up the last four years, but the damage left behind is worse than he likes to let on.” She glances down at her hands, folded in her lap, speaking carefully. “He’s still himself, but sometimes he— he has these memory lapses, and gets really frustrated with himself, even if it’s out of his control.”
You feel sick. This is a detail he shouldn’t have left out while reconnecting with you. You’d never judge him for what he can’t control, and of course one could only take so much damage before there’s heavy consequences.
“I think the trauma kicked it off, because it’d happen at times when we—“ She cringes, pausing, not wanting to cross a line, but you’re not bothered by the past they have.
“S’okay, you don’t have to tiptoe around it, Nancy.”
Offering an apologetic smile, she continues, “He’d forget things here and there, when we were dating, but it wasn’t enough for the alarms to go off, at least not for me. It changed quite a bit after Billy nearly beat him to death. We weren’t really close anymore at that point, but it was still noticeable, even from a distance.
“Some days seem to be better than others… at least that’s what Owens said. Then last summer, he was even more roughed up, and this time has to be the worse yet.”
Yet.
God, you want to vomit.
“It’s the trauma and head injuries combined,” she explains, voice wavering. “Steve’s still Steve, but sometimes he just… loses himself for a bit. It’s not so life-altering that he can’t be independent, but it’s gotta be terrifying just… forgetting your own life, even for a second. Especially while we’re still young.”
“So that’s why he left,” you realize aloud; Nancy nods solemnly. You need to check on him. “I— do you care if I go—“
“I got it under control, it’s all good.” She rushes over to the pantry, pulling out boxes of pasta— angel hair’s easy enough to make with low energy.
“Thank you so much, Nancy.” You wipe your eyes as you head for the doorway, but she calls your name, spinning you back around.
“I’m glad you two found each other again, even if the timing is shit.” Her sincere sentiment eases any lingering tension. “He needs someone like you.”
The door to Steve’s bedroom is ajar, and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, looking through a book.
“Steve?” You call out softly, poking your head through the door. He whips around, dropping the book, facing you with a bloodshot stare. “Shit, sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
He gives one, dismal laugh, “I think you know the answer to that already.”
You step inside, gently shutting the door behind you. As you move closer, you notice he wasn’t holding a book, but a photo album; when he dropped it, some of the photographs spilled out onto the floor.
Most of the images are of you and him throughout your childhood years.
You crouch down, collecting and handing them back to him. Your eyes meet his own, soaked and swollen in sorrow.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the memory loss?” It’s not out of anger, or hurt, it’s out of concern, if anything at all.
“Would you believe me if I said I forgot?” He chuckles, but again, it’s lifeless. “I wanted to say something, but I kept pushing it off, and really did just… forget.”
Shuffling next to him on the bed, you wind your arms around him as he continues.
“When you brought up that old memory, it scared me that I couldn’t remember. The photos help, and shit eventually comes back to me, but those moments where everything dissolves away is—“ He chokes up, “It’s fucking terrifying.”
Steve rests against you, head on your shoulder as his arms lock around you, like you too, would dissolve at any moment.
“I scared you enough earlier, didn’t wanna do it again.”
“It scares me for you, but really, I could never be afraid of you. This is out of your control.” You kiss the top of his head, fingers running through his hair, gently scraping along his scalp in soothing, slow repetitions. “But you can’t get rid of me that easy, Harrington.”
The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, holding onto one another for dear life.
After managing to stomach some food and water— all five of you weren’t hungry in the slightest, but needed something in your systems before sleeping— you finally get Steve alone again, cozying up to one another in his bed. Clothes strewn around the room, you burrow under the covers, tangling around one another without fabric barriers— aside from bandaging, wanting to feel as close as possible.
You figured the two of you were both far too exhausted and depressed to fool around, but he’s determined to try and return the favor; you’ve tried telling him there’s nothing to return, you were happy to distract him, make him feel good, even for a little bit, but he wouldn’t have it.
“As much as I want this right now, we both really need sleep.”
“Please? I jus’wanna be good for you,” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sporadically leaving kisses on your skin. “Please…”
It pains you to say no, but you shake your head anyway. “Steve, you were ripped apart earlier, a- and flung around like a damn rag doll. I need more than anything for you to rest, okay?”
Silence hangs heavy above the both of you, buried beneath the sheets of his bed. Steve’s the first to shatter the quiet, barely above a whisper:
“What if you leave? What if I go to sleep and wake up and you’re gone?”
You lean up on your arm, trying to get a better look at him, but it’s too dark to make out his expression.
“Why would I leave?”
“Everyone always leaves.” He shudders a breath, adding, “You did.”
“Whoa, wait…” You’re baffled. “Steve, you left me behind. You walked away from our friendship for some—“
“Earlier, I mean. When you ran off. You just… left.”
“Because you were saying awful shit to me—“
“‘Cause you didn’t need to get tangled up in this mess!”
“It’s too fuckin’ late to argue that, Steve. It’s said and done— why the hell are you upset over this now? I don’t get—“
“I could’ve lost you!” His voice breaks into a pitchy rasp, trembling against you. “All of this has been so… so… confusing. Do you know how relieved I was to see you come through that gate, but how badly it pissed me off you’d even put yourself in danger to begin with?!”
“We talked about this—“ The sheet covering your naked form falls as you abruptly sit up, scoffing. “I was scared, and you never even asked what I was afraid of. Did it ever cross your mind I was scared to lose you?”
Steve shakes his head with a mirthless, forced laugh. “You said you were scared because everyone left—“
“And you never let me finish that thought, ‘cause you were too focused on being some… some know-it-all dickhead.”
“Yeah, yeah that’s real mature,” He sits up, close to you, but it’s still too dark to make out the details of his expression, whatever that may be right now. “Did it ever cross your mind that I never wanted you to see that place? That maybe I never wanted you to experience a hell like that? That— this— all of this has ruined my life. I’d never want you to feel what I feel— or what I don’t feel sometimes.”
“I’d follow you into hell, any form of it, if it meant helping you stay alive.” You say it so calmly, like it’s a no-brainer, and it is.
To Steve, it’s just another display of your well-intentioned naivety. He grabs you by the shoulders, hands shaking through his grip.
“What don’t you understand?” His voice cracks, weakened by exhaustion and hopelessness. “Why would I want you to do that? I want you safe. Not down there with me. I wanted to you stay here. Stay safe.”
“Well, sometimes, when you care about someone, you do stupid shit for them—“
“No, no way, you don’t get to use that as an excuse,” He flatly laughs. “You don’t see me pulling stupid shit ‘cause I love you.”
Your ears ring, nearly drowning him out as he begins to nervously ramble.
He what?
“A- and look, I get— I’m sorry. I really am. I know we said earlier we’d leave that shit behind, but I need you to know it was out of—“ He pauses, catching himself before letting the word slip again. “It was never a mistake fixing our friendship. Not for me, at least, but you’ve always deserved better. Fuck—“ His hands leave you to press the heels of his palms into his eyes as he sighs; that much you can tell from the sliver of moonlight creeping in through the window. “I never wanted you down there ‘cause you deserve better. You always have. If anyone deserves to live a normal life, it’s you.”
“Oh, fuck normal, Steve.” Pulling his hands away from his face, you lace your fingers between his. “When has normal ever been my thing? I don’t care how much it pisses you off— I love you enough to follow you into hell, and did.”
This is the version of you he knew all those years ago, before leaving you behind for a chance of a higher status that never would matter in the real world. A version so unapologetic your own skin, to defend what and who your heart embraces the most.
You’re climbing onto his lap, swinging a leg over to straddle him, and all he can do is watch you with a perfect balance of hearts and stars in his eyes.
One hand leaves his to cradle his face, skin tingling as he turns his head, kissing your palm. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble, with the— y’know—“ Talking about the vines is a little difficult without the intoxication of that sinful, stupid, demonic plant you found. “But I’m not sorry for loving you.”
Steve’s struggling to find the right words, eyes searching your own for any doubts, any signs to keep his guard up; all he can find is the sincerity you’ve always shown him, but it’s deeper now, rooted in love.
His hand reaches to the back of your neck, fingers splaying out and up to clumsily pull you towards him. You gasp once his lips meet yours, matching the hunger he kisses you with. It’s passionate, but slow, at first; in mere moments, he’s pressing his free hand to your back, pushing you even closer into him, whimpering into the lip lock.
Bucking up against you, his bare length glides along your slick heat; you’re caught off guard, completely forgetting the two of you never bothered to get dressed before bed.
“Shit—“ You throw your head back and grip tightly onto Steve’s shoulder. He hisses in pain, pulling you from the haze you’d began to lose yourself in. You immediately release your hold, realizing he was bruised badly. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.”
“S’okay, I kinda— I forgot the vines did that,” He rests his head back against the headboard, wincing as the burning ache lingers. “You were right, we should just go to sleep. Neither of us are in the best shape right now, and—”
“What if I do all the work?” Your offer catches his attention as you run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be gentle, I promise, and you wouldn’t have to do a damn thing, ‘cept take it like a good boy.”
Steve shudders, cock kicking underneath you, still nestled between your folds. He wants it. Wants it bad. Real fucking bad. But, ever the gentleman that he is, there’s still concern over your current state.
“Yeah, but you’re not… you’re pretty beat up, too.” He swallows a gasp, hips twitching as he holds himself still. “Don’t wanna hurt you just to make me feel good.”
You shrug, like the pain’s not a big deal, and really? It’s not, not one bit. All you feel is love and heartache all at once, and you both need a distraction, to channel out the energy built up in that confession.
“I’ll let y’know if it’s too much,” You kiss his forehead, leisurely making your way down to his lips, only ghosting yours over his own. “But I’m gonna be so real with you, Steve—“ When you shift your hips, sliding tauntingly slow along his length, he whimpers, biting his lip to muffle what would’ve been a beautiful sound. “Can’t stop thinking about fucking you since yesterday.”
“Oh, fuck…”
“Shh, gotta be quiet for me, honey.”
It’s a surreal sight, having Steve writhe underneath you with overwhelming desire, whimpering again with his eyes rolling back as you call him honey.
That’s when it clicks; all Steve’s ever wanted is someone who can be as soft with him as he is with them. He just wants to be seen as precious and important as he sees you— wants to feel as treasured as he tries to make you feel.
And god, Steve Harrington is the most precious, important soul in your life. He’s so treasured, every fiber of his being— everything, even the stubborn, bitchy moods— you love all of him. Always has been near and dear to your heart, and always will be.
“Do- don’t think I can,” He pants, desperately trying to keep his voice at a whisper as the head of his cock catches at your entrances. Bucking up into you, he’s rushing out, “Just need t’be inside you. S’all I want, all I need— I- I need you so bad, angel.”
“I know, Stevie,” You grind down onto his cock, biting your lip to mute your own pleased sounds. “It’s all I want, too.”
His arms wind around you, reminiscent of the vines in their selfish urgency, but otherwise, his embrace is filled with a tender adoration.
Eyes flicking down to where your bodies meet, you glance back up at Steve, and oh, what a fucking wreck he is already; stare hooded with lust, mouth parted as he pants, the anticipation of your next move has him on edge, to say the least.
You search his expression for a final grant of consent, and he offers it in the form of a frantic nod, whimpering, “Mhm.”
The stretch as you slowly impale yourself onto him will take time getting used to; it was easier under the spell of some fucked up aphrodisiac, but completely tuned into reality has you taking it slow.
“Fuck. Fuck— Were you this—“ A moan attempts to leave him, until he strangles it into a grasp while you sink further onto him. “T- this fucking tight yesterday?”
Jaw falling open, you keep the cry of bliss to yourself, fully sheathing him while your breaths fall shallow. “M’sorry, I— give me a—“ Steve surges forward to kiss you, hoping it calms at least one of you.
He breaks the connection, just barely, to whisper against your lips, “I know, s’okay—“ The way you scrunch your eyes shut catches his attention, drags him out of the fog of lust, just for a moment. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Gently, he holds your face. “If it hurts we- we can stop.”
Your gaze is glassy as you open your eyes, shaking your head as your body trembles.
“I- I don’t know how to— it’s like you’re—“ You take a deep breath, then another, for good measure. “Yesterday was… intense, but you… you’re here, we’re both here.”
Steve’s puzzled. “Well, yeah, f’course we are—“
“I thought— shit, m’sorry, I was trying so hard to— I didn’t want to fuckin’ cry.” You mirthlessly laugh at yourself; the action flutters your walls around him, but again, for your sake, he finds the strength to ignore it, pushes back a throaty groan. “S’like… knowing we’re somehow still alive makes it I- I sound insane—“
“Not even close, honey.”
“I feel— you feel closer, somehow. I- I- don’t know how to describe it, but I feel you everywhere, and now that I know y’feel the same, it’s— you—“
“Shhhh, sweetheart, just breathe for me,” You take a deep breath, inhaling rapidly and constricting around him; with a sharp gasp, his cock throbs inside of you. “Okay, not— fuck— not like that, or I’m gonna lose it.”
The lapse of restraint gives you a step up, helps you regain control over your emotions. With a few more slow breaths, you settle down, anchor yourself into the present.
“Are you okay?” You manage to ask, and Steve, in need of rest more than anything, smiles dopily at you.
“M’good, you?” He grabs your hips, lazily guiding you back and forth on him.
“Uh-huh.” When you discover a rhythm gratifying enough for you both, he moans out, too tired to react in time to quiet down. “Steve.”
“Can’t help it,” He leans into your neck, kissing and failing to keep his mouth busy. “Not with a pussy like this.”
Flexing his hips into you, there’s nothing you can do in time to cover the quick yelp you make,“A— ah! Oh my god…”
Steve tries his hardest to hold back his needy sounds, but has to bite down onto your shoulder to muffle the noise somehow.
You rush out in a whisper, “Oh, fuck, Steve! Shit…” Riding him with a steady pace, you pant, “Wish I had something to gag you with.”
“M’sorry, m’so sorry,” He whispers frantically as you bounce on his cock. While you keep a gentle hold on his face, he parts his lips, turning his head towards your thumb, inches from his mouth. A brilliant idea crosses his mind, “Shit… use those.”
“Use… what?” He manages to flit his tongue out to the pad of your thumb, whimpering some more as his taste buds hit your skin. “Oh. You want this?” You bring your hand closer, and happily, greedily, he sucks your thumb in, tongue lapping around your digit.
“More,” He mumbles around your thumb. “Please… more.”
How could you deny his simple, yet sweet, request?
Sliding your thumb out, you replace it quickly with your pointer and middle fingers; selfishly, Steve takes in your ring finger, too, sucking sloppily on all three. With his mouth stuffed, just enough, he begins to drool a little at the corners of his mouth, while gazing up at you so lovingly.
“You’re fucking perfect, Steve.” You praise him, grinding down into his lap. He twitches, desperate to fuck up into you, but holds his composure. “So good for me, so, so good… this feel okay?”
Tears prick his lash line as he nods wildly, still gagging himself on your fingers as you fuck him.
“Here I was, trying to make love to you, but you still need it to be filthy, huh?”
“Mhm,” is all he can manage to reply with, but nearly loses it when you remove your fingers. “N- no, wait—“ The noise of protest dies on his lips as your hand curls around the back of his head, guiding him toward your chest.
“Would this help?”
“So fuckin’ much— mnph!” You push his face into your chest the moment he latches onto your nipple. He laps and sucks with abandon, drooling all over your breast as you lift and fall over his length.
You push his hair away from his eyes, running your fingers through it softly a few times. A rosy blush dusts over his cheeks, watching you watch him; he’s a bit embarrassed by how turned on he is just from this alone, but that’s clearly not stopping him.
“You’re so pretty like this, Stevie.”
Against your fluttering walls, he pulsates over your sweet words. He paws at your chest, toying with your neglected nipple, still swirling his tongue around the other.
“Can’t wait ‘til we’re alone so I can hear all those pretty moans you make,” You murmur to him, feeling him twitch inside you again. He’s whimpering again, stifled by his oral fixation. “I wanna take care of you, all of the time… would y’let me?”
He nods feverishly, teeth grazing along your nipple, earning a pitchy gasp from you. Lips glistening as he pulls back, a thread of spit still keeps him leashed to your skin.
“You’ll let me do the same, ye- yeah?” Steve asks, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet a groan; you lean back, arching yourself into him and finding a delicious angle for you both while you still ride him. “Jesus… you’re unreal.”
“Mhm… just gotta…” You trail off, biting down on your fist as a squeal threatens to form. “Gotta heal up for me first, okay?”
Steve shoves your hand away, holding your face again; he whispers his promises of healing, ones he plans on keeping. As he babbles on, drunk off the shared bliss while you meld together, he begins to get emotional. “I promise, yeah, I really do, I mean it, m’gonna get better, gonna be okay,” He whispers, kissing up your neck, avoiding any heavy bruising from the vines left behind. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“Sorry? For what, Steve? Nothing’s wrong—“
“I fucked up, saying I didn’t wanna be here anymore. It’s so… fuck, it’s so hard sometimes to find reasons to stay.”
Your thrusts begin slowing to a stop, “Don’t ever apologize for telling me how hurt you are. I want you safe, and happy, but if you need to get it out, you get it out—“
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t—“ Steve attempts to guide you back into your steady pace, needing the physical connection to steady his train of thought. “I really wasn’t thinking—“
“I love you, and I mean that.” You’re as careful as can be, but wrap your arms around him, leading him to rest against your shoulder as you start grinding on him again. “This has to be hell… to relive over and over…” He can’t help it, bucks up into you, taking your breath away.
“Y’got every right to want the pain to end,” He’s going to leave aching bruises behind with the grip he’s got on your hips, fingers digging into your curves. “B- but it can’t end like that.”
What an emotional rollercoaster to ride while fucking.
“It won’t, I swear,” Voice wavering, he lifts his head. His eyes, filled with endless emotion, meet yours; pain, adoration, fear, passion— it’s all on display in his bloodshot, spent, tear-lined gaze. Resting his forehead on yours, he whispers, “Never, ever.”
“Good, ‘cause I- I— o— oh— kay—“ Steve finds your clit with ease, toying with it slowly. “If I c- can’t disappear, you can’t either— christ, Steve, don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.” Your thighs tense up, squeezing around his body. His hips jerk up, slamming himself into you, so he plants his feet on the bed, intentionally fucking up into you. “Shit, you’re close, huh?”
You barely nod as your jaw slacks, body trembling as pleasure hits you all at once. Steve kisses you, just in time to muffle your cries of bliss. Your high racks through you in convulsing waves, coaxing him to the edge of his own climax.
He practically swallows your moans and mumbles against your lips, “M’gonna— I’m— honey, please—“
“Let go, Stevie,” You manage to tell him through pathetic whimpering. “I got you, a- always.”
Returning the favor, you smash your lips against his, muting his symphony of ecstasy, much to your disappointment. He forces gravelly groans down your throat while he sloppily runs his tongue over yours, sucking softly on it. With a borderline violent grip, he pins you closer to him, as close as physically possible, spilling over into you. Your aftershocks are enough to milk his cock for everything he’s got; he better sleep well tonight after this.
You’re so lost in the moment, drunk on passion, it takes a moment to realize he’s babbling something between kisses and winded breaths.
“Don’t let me go.”
Shaking your head, your nose brushes against his, feeling the dam of your emotions finally crumble. Your tears mix with his, holding him with great care.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”
Sleep breaks itself apart for you both; if one of you has a nightmare, the other stays awake to provide comfort. Steve’s taken more painkillers than his stomach lining can handle, and still continues to toss and turn from the deeply embedded ache in his bones. You have a harder time falling back asleep than he does— after all, it’s not his first rodeo.
Maybe, at most, you gain an hour or two of continuous rest, but daylight breaks far sooner than either of you would prefer it to.
It’s a little bizarre, hearing birds chirp outside among the never-ending sirens that have droned on through the night; the early morning skies paint the world outside his window in soothing hues of orange and pink.
You don’t dare to look longer, fearing the billowing smoke will break the little bit of illusion left that things are alright. If you avoid peering through certain windows in his house, you can’t see the bleak reality; you stay put, shielding yourself from the truth, just a little longer.
“Hey, Steve?” You’re draped over him from behind, cautious of where you rest your body onto his. You’re quickly learning you like any position where you’re wrapped up in one another, but being the big spoon for him might be your favorite yet.
“Hm?” His voice is gravelly, and you wonder if it’s always like this in the morning, or if it’s just free of charge with the suffering he’s endured all night.
It’s a naive question to ask, but you still want to know how he feels; after all, he is the seasoned veteran out of the two of you. “Do you think the world’s really ending?”
He exhales roughly through his lips pressed together, falling into a pause. “… I don’t know, honestly. It’s, uh, pretty scary, huh?”
Burying your face into his neck, you shrug. “Yeah… but it’s not as scary as it’d be going it alone.”
Squeezing your hands, holding them close to his chest while carefully pulling you closer against him, he sighs. His lips meet the backs of your hands, warmth lingering as he keeps them close.
“I take back what I said last night.” He whispers into your skin, “M’really fuckin’ glad we made it home alive.”
“Even if home’s hell right now?”
“Yeah,” Rolling over, Steve’s hand embraces your jaw, resting softly on your neck. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, stunning hazel stare holding your own; it’s still bloodshot, but there’s now faint traces of rest, at least. “‘Cause it’s still home with you.”
percy loops his finger around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them gently as to not hurt you in any way.
you weren’t planning to take them off, you quite like seeing him complain. but you also like his green puppy eyes a little too much. you roll your eyes and slide them down your legs, positioning yourself to straddle his abdomen.
you shake your head slightly to get your hair out of your face. percy, from underneath you, watches attentively. his hands ride up to hold your waist from beneath your his shirt. he wants that off too but won’t persist or you may never crawl back on top of him.
and the thought alone brings him to tears.
you lean down with a smile, and peck his nose gently before beginning to rock your hips with a slow rhythm along him. when you pull back he looks dazed, yet utterly pleased with your actions.
his grasp on your waist tightens to help you move against him. “ya look like a goddess.”
“mhmmm, flattering.”
percy’s mind goes blank— fuzzy at both the sight of you and the feeling of you riding his abdomen, it makes his tummy fluttery in a way that’s nearly embarrassing to admit.
you lean down again, pecking his forehead, nose, each cheek, both eyelids, and his lips once as you buck your hips violently into him, making him sigh into your mouth.
that makes your tummy fluttery!
you hear percy murmur something incoherent, ‘something something sweet girl’ and that’s about all you heard between his breaths.
you enjoy seeing him like this, helpless and completely at your mercy all because you’re pantie-less and dripping over his skin.
with the mere thought, you close your eyes and quicken your pace, eager to elicit further responses from him such as prior. percy’s hands slide down to your hips, near grabbing your ass in the process, nails digging into your skin sure to leave marks for later.
you bite your lip and stifle your sighs, though a slight moan leaving when you feel him rocking beneath you to help your creeping climax find you.
“gonna come on me?”
you nod your head only in response. though indeed you do.
-xoxo Laurel @siriuslysmoking - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
