#firstfic

pairing: steve harrington x fem reader

summary: a wedding disaster has caused you to spiral, but your amazing soon-to-be husband, steve, is there to save the day, or more importantly, you.

tags: one-shot, fluff, steve comforts you, corny!steve, like literally a cornfield. imperfect wedding day, steve saves the day, happy ending

wc: 2.0k

a/n: heavily inspired by that one episode of The Office, iykyk. i just feel like Jim and Steve are like THE boyfriends. first fic on here... #nervous

“Hey. I know you said you wanted to be left alone, but the wedding is supposed to start soon.”

You hear Robin’s voice calling out behind the door. Her voice is clearly filled with nerves, and it makes your heart pang with guilt. 

Everything was going great. Today you were getting married. You were going to be Steve Harrington's wife; he was going to be your husband. The weather was perfect, both your families were well-behaved, and you had managed to keep your tears at bay during the whole makeup process. Everything was perfect. That was until the most stupid mistake was made. 

You were ready: make-up done, hair styled, dress on, when you forgot your vows on the table of the small room you were getting ready in. Halfway out the door, you realized and rushed back into the room, not waiting for Nancy or Robin to help you with your dress. A couple of steps into the room, and the end of your dress got snagged on a piece of the broken door. An old, vintage wedding venue meant the doors came with some wear and tear. The momentum of your rushed movements tore the delicate fabric. 

The moment you heard the sound, you felt a pit in your stomach. Your heart started racing and you felt sick instantly. This feeling only intensified when you caught a glimpse of the damage. It was bad, really bad. The hem of your dress had ripped into an ugly, noticeable shape. 

Robin and Nancy rushed over to you immediately and tried their hardest to reassure you. Their persistent soothing only sounded like background noise to you, though. You started to spiral and needed space to calm yourself down. 

That's how you ended up in the small dressing room, sitting on a chair, practicing deep breathing exercises as you try not to cry.  

When Sixteen Candles came out, you remember feeling bad for Molly Ringwald's sister. Getting your period the day of your wedding? It sounded horrific. All the white you would have to wear, the cramps. Of course, the movie exaggerated her symptoms, but still, you sympathized. Gosh, that would suck. 

The moment you heard the rip and saw the state the door had left your dress in, you wished you had gotten your period. It wasn’t even like you expected everything to be perfect. It seemed like weddings always had to have one thing go wrong. But why did it have to be your dress? 

An uncle getting too drunk? You could work with that. The wedding band playing the wrong song? You and Steve would look back and laugh. Hell, you would've taken the caterers dropping the cake on the floor over your dress getting torn. Anything would have been better than your dress being ruined.

This was not supposed to happen. The dress was supposed to be the one thing you could control. You had spent months saving to get it custom-made. Something that incorporates your mom's old wedding dress. You had dreams of keeping it as a kind of family heirloom, passing it down to your future daughter someday. 

“Should I get Steve?” Nancy’s soft and calm voice coaxes you out of your current state. Before you could will yourself to give a proper response, Robin is already cutting in. 

“You know what, I’m getting Steve.” Robin calls out, clearly panicked. You go to protest, but before you can even find your voice, you hear retreating footsteps. Instead, you just let out a sigh. Part of you felt guilty. Maybe you were being dramatic, but there was a genuine sick feeling building in your stomach that was just too pervasive to ignore. 

Honestly, you have no idea how much time has passed, your mind fully consumed by anxiousness. No amount of those breathing exercises you were doing helped you calm down. You still felt like you were spiraling. 

Suddenly, the sound of soft knocking fills the room, and you hear a familiar voice that immediately helps to slightly calm your heartbeat. 

“Hey babe, you in there?” Steve sounds nothing but doting and a little tentative. You hum in response, not trusting your voice just yet. “Can you let me in?” He says concerningly, but softness still coats his question. 

You walk over to the door and just rest your head against it. “Steve, it’s bad luck to see me in my dress.” You're sure you sound so dramatic, especially with the slight pout forming on your face. 

“Since when did we believe in that superstition crap?” Steve chuckles, and it eases some of the tension in your chest. 

You gnaw over it for a second, but you concede. You wordlessly unlock the door, and he’s immediately making his way into the room. Back facing you, he delicately shuts the doors. The door closes with a soft click, and Steve locks it, giving the two of you complete privacy. 

Steve turns around, and when he comes face to face with you, he stills. His eyes rake up and down your body, completely taking you in. You see his eyes start to water, and he brings a hand to his face, really taking in the image of you. 

You can’t say you don't understand how he's feeling. Standing in front of you is your soon-to-be husband, looking absolutely handsome in his wedding tux. Steve’s hair is styled so perfectly, and overall, he is just glowing. You can’t help the tears that spill over. You just feel so lucky to have him in your life.

One glance at your tears, and Steve snaps out of the daze he’s in and instantly moves towards you. His hands reach out to caress your arms up and down. “Hey baby, you okay?” His eyebrows furrow in worry, and his mouth pulls into a frown. 

You shake your head no, but you can't bring yourself to explain further. Once you’ve shed one tear, it seems to open floodgates. All the stress since the accident starts pouring out of you. And even though seeing you might be bad luck, you feel so relieved to have Steve here with you. In this moment, you really need his comfort. 

Steve’s eyes dart all over your face. He’s trying to understand what is going on in your head. What he needs to do to help you. 

“Are you having any doubts?” His voice is small, and your stomach drops. 

“No.” Your throat is a little dry from the crying, but you continue, “not at all”. 

Relief washes over Steve’s face. He breathes a sigh of relief, but his face goes back to being worried. “Okay, so what's wrong?” 

“My dress, it ripped, and now it's all ruined.” Your voice is a bit wobbly.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, looking shocked. He was so busy admiring you when he walked in that he didn't even pay attention to the end of your dress. He looks down and lets out a little hum. He crouches down to investigate where your dress had been torn. 

“I know you wanted to keep it. We could bring it to the seamstress after the wedding,” Steve reassures. You nod lightly, but tears still silently spill down your cheeks. Once Steve has come back up to his full height, he’s cradling your face in his hands and lightly dabbing your tears away. 

He learned the hard way that when you are crying with makeup on, he needs to dab, not wipe, or else you’ll get streaks. So now he uses his thumb to dab away tears and makes sure you won’t have to fix your makeup later. 

“I know we can fix it later, but I already know your aunt is going to be judging me.” You frown at him, and Steve just gives you a knowing glance. His aunt was definitely a known gossiper, so he could understand your concern. 

Steve really tries to think about this. What can he do to make you feel better? After a few more seconds of him dabbing your tears away, you see his eyes light up. And you already knew right away he had thought of something. Every time Steve had an idea, his whole face would illuminate as if he actually had a lightbulb over his head. 

He looks around the room a bit frantically until he spots something on the table. He leaves your side and makes his way over to pick up a pair of scissors.

“Um, what are you doing?”

Before you can even fully press him on what he's thinking, he turns and snips the end of his tie off. Just like that. He even cut it at a weird angle, so now the tie looks slanted. 

“Steve! Why would you do that?” you say incredulously, raising a hand to cover your mouth. 

“Now my aunt has to judge both of us.” Steve shrugs and makes his way over to you. He once again cradles your face, while sporting a proud little grin. You stare into his eyes that are so earnest and full of love, and you just want to cry all over again. 

You take the time to take a mental picture of this moment. Here he is, Steve. Your Steve. Looking at you as if you were his whole world. Somehow, he found a way to turn this disaster into a core memory. One you could tell your children. All six of them, if —and that was a very big if—Steve got his way. 

“I can’t wait to be your husband.” Steve moves his hands over to adjust your veil. Once satisfied, he takes your hand into his and kisses your knuckles, placing your same hand over his heart afterwards. 

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” you repeat his words, and you swear you can start to feel his heart racing under your palm. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” 

“Now that definitely has to be some sort of bad luck,” you say, your voice already beginning to sound lighter. 

“Not even a little peck?” Steve pouts a little, and honestly, you think he looks so cute doing it even at his grown age. 

“Don’t you want our first kiss of the day to be as husband and wife?” You raise your eyebrow at him. An amused smile brightens your face at the faux-look of hurt Steve is sporting. 

“Always the reasonable one, huh?” You let out a laugh, which makes Steve grin from ear to ear. 

A knock on the door bursts you two out of the little bubble that Steve and you created. “Hey, lovebirds, is everything alright?” Robin’s voice cuts through the moment. In the background, you can hear Nancy telling her to leave you guys alone. 

Steve looks to you, silently asking if you feel better, if you are ready. You nod, gazing at him with fond eyes. He presses one final kiss to your knuckles before dropping your hand. “Yeah Rob, we’re good now,” Steve calls out while opening the door. 

At the sight of Steve or, more importantly, his tie, Robin instantly slaps a hand over her mouth. Nancy looks equally shocked. 

“Uh, your tie?” Robin questions, but Steve just shrugs her off and makes his way over to the ceremony space. 

After some makeup touch-ups with the help of Nancy, you’re finally ready to walk down the aisle. Your bridesmaids are lined up, the flower girls look adorable, and Jonathan has already started snapping pictures. 

Everything is playing out perfectly: the band plays the right song, your uncle is not drunk yet, and Steve’s aunt is only mildly judging you two. Your dress wasn't perfect, but it was okay because the man you were marrying was perfect in every way that mattered. 

Steve cried when you walked down the aisle, you cried when reading your vows, and Steve finally got to kiss you. He bent you down in a stupidly cliché dip, which made you laugh, your little accident now feeling like a distant memory. All you could think of in that very moment was your husband and how you couldn’t wait to spend your lifetime with him. 

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, thumbing through some manga he’d left on the coffee table last week, entirely unaware of the crisis unfolding six feet away. The hem of your shorts had ridden up just a fraction higher when you’d shifted position just enough to expose the soft dip where your thigh met your hip. Aki’s throat clicked when he swallowed. He’d seen you in less before, technically. Pool days. Summer festivals. But this was different. This was his apartment. His couch. His fault for inviting you over under the flimsy claim of “hanging out.”

You turned a page, oblivious. The overhead light caught the curve of your calf when you stretched your legs out, and Aki’s brain short-circuited. He almost dropped the juice. He hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until now. How the sight of you in something as innocent as sleep shorts could unravel years of carefully maintained composure. He’d imagined this before, obviously. Too many times. In the shower. Late at night. Early in the morning when the haze of sleep made it too easy to let his hand drift lower.

“You okay over there?” you asked without looking up.

Aki's grip on the juice carton slipped slightly, the condensation slick against his palms. "M’ fine," he croaked, then cleared his throat when the word came out strangled. His ears were flushed crimson. He should move. Say something normal. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot like some malfunctioning appliance.

You finally glanced up, head tilting when you took in his rigid posture. You uncrossed your legs, the fabric of your shorts stretching taut for one perilous second. Aki's gaze snapped to a water stain near the light fixture he'd never noticed before.

"Is the juice giving you trouble?" you asked, amusement lacing your voice. You leaned forward, and Aki nearly imploded when the motion made the shorts ride higher. The back of his neck burned. He'd catalogued every accidental brush of shoulders, every time you'd leaned too close to read over his shoulder, but this? This was different.

The carton dented under his fingers. "No." His pulse hammered loud enough he was half-convinced you could hear it. The silence stretched, thick with everything he wasn't saying.

The silence between you two stretched like taffy, sticky and too sweet. Aki could feel the sweat pricking at his temples despite the apartment’s AC humming softly in the background. He should say something, anything. But his tongue felt frozen, his thoughts tangled in the memory of how your lips had looked last week when you’d laughed at something Power said—how soft they’d seemed, how easy it would’ve been to lean in—

You interrupted his thoughts.

“You’re staring,” you said, but there was no irritation in your voice. Aki’s stomach flipped.

He forced his gaze away, setting the juice down with exaggerated care on the counter. The condensation left a wet ring on the marble. “Wasn’t,” he muttered, then winced at how immature it sounded. Thirty seconds in your presence and he was already forgetting his words. Pathetic.

You hummed, noncommittal, but when he risked a glance back, you were smiling, small and private, like you knew something he didn’t. The sight punched the air from his lungs. You’d looked at him like that before, in fleeting moments he’d hoarded like a miser. But never this long. Never this deliberate.

The manga slipped off your lap entirely as you stretched, arms arching over your head in a way that made the thin fabric of your tank top strain dangerously across your chest. Aki’s eyes tracked the movement before he could stop himself, his mouth going dry. He’d seen you do this a thousand times. Why was today any different? Why did the sight of your bare knees pressing into the couch cushions make his fingers twitch with the need to touch?

"Long week?," you asked, voice rhythmic in, half-teasing, half genuine concern. The shorts rode up another fraction. Aki's breath hitched.

He nodded stiffly, gripping the edge of the counter until his knuckles ached. The distance between you felt charged, electric. Three steps and you were close enough that he could smell your shampoo that was something lavender, faintly sweet. It was maddening. "Yeah," he managed. "Contracts. Paperwork."

You tilted your head, studying him in a way that made his skin prickle. "You're a terrible liar." Your fingers brushed his wrist, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up his arm. "You've been weird since I got here."

Aki’s pulse stuttered at your touch, your fingers warm against his wrist. He should pull away. He would pull away in a second. Any second now. But his body betrayed him, leaning imperceptibly into the contact like a plant tilting toward sunlight. "Not lying," he muttered, but the words lacked conviction. The fridge hummed loudly in the silence, a witness to his unraveling.

You didn’t remove your hand. Instead, your thumb traced a slow circle over his racing pulse point, and Aki’s knees nearly buckled. "Really?" you murmured, stepping closer. The space between you evaporated, your bare thigh brushing against his jeans. "Because you keep looking at me like—" Your breath hitched, and suddenly, you were the one avoiding his gaze. "Like you wanna fuck me."

The air left his lungs in a rush. Every fantasy he’d ever buried surged to the surface at once, your breathless moans in his ear, your nails raking down his back, the way you’d arch against him if he ever got the courage to press you into the couch. His free hand twitched at his side, aching to fist in the fabric of your shirt. "Maybe I do," he admitted hoarsely, shocked at his own honesty.

Your eyes snapped up, wide and dark. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then you surged forward, crushing your mouth to his with a desperation that mirrored his own. Aki groaned, hands flying to your hips—finally, god, finally, hauling you flush against him. The taste of you was intoxicating, the slide of your tongue against his sending sparks down his spine. He walked you backward blindly until the couch hit the backs of your knees, and you tumbled onto the cushions with a breathless laugh.

Aki barely registered the soft thump of the manga hitting the floor as he followed you down, his knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of your thighs. The orange juice sat forgotten on the counter. Anyways, your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. God, is this heaven?.

"Been thinking about this," he gasped between kisses, your hips arching up to meet his. The friction drew a ragged sound from his throat. "Years, [y/n] Years.”

Suddenly he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head as his other slid down the plane of your stomach, fingertips skimming under the hem of your shorts. Your breath hitched when he brushed the damp fabric between your legs, his own arousal spiking at how wet you were already. "Please, can I?” he asked, voice almost quiet.

You writhed under his touch, heat flooding your cheeks as his fingers traced lazy circles through the fabric. "I- ah- yes-“ you answered, knees squeezing around his hips. “fuck, Aki-“

His fingers finally hooked into the waistband of your shorts, gently pulling them down your thighs with tentativeness that surprised you. “Here?” he asked, palming you through your underwear, his thumb pressing hard against the soaked fabric. “This feel good?”

You nodded frantically, hips jerking into his touch. The sight of your arousal darkening the cotton sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin. He’s fantasized about this, how you’d look spread out beneath him, how you’d sound when he finally place his hands onto you, but the reality was infinitely better. Your breath came in shallow pants, your thighs trembling as he dragged the damp fabric aside, exposing you to the cool air of the apartment.

Aki’s throat went tight. “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a finger through your slickness, marveling at how easily you opened for him. “You’re-” He didn’t finish the thought, too busy swallowing your moan as he pushed two fingers inside. Your back arched off the couch, your nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt. He curled his fingers, finding that spot that made your legs clamp around his wrist. “Like that?” he murmured against your mouth, his own pulse hammering as you clenched around him.

You whimpered, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. “M- more,” you managed, your voice breaking as he added a third finger. “Aki, please-“

Aki’s breath stuttered at the desperate whine in your voice, the way your hips rolled against his hand like you were trying to fuse with his fingers. He knew he should slow down, should savor the way your body trembled beneath him, but the years of pent-up hunger made him reckless.

You choked on a moan, thighs shaking as he dragged his free hand down your stomach, his palm scorching against your skin. “Y-you,” you gasped, your nails raking down his back when he bit at your collarbone. “Need-ah- need you inside me-”

The words punched through him. Aki didn’t remember unfastening his jeans, but suddenly your fingers were there, fumbling with his belt buckle, your touch frantic and uncoordinated. He caught your wrist, pinning it to the couch beside your head. “Wait,” he said. He needed to be sure needed to hear you say it again. “Look at me, please.”

You whined, looked at him, your lashes fluttering as you met his gaze. The raw want in your eyes shattered whatever restraint he had left. “Now, Aki,” you demanded, your free hand tugging at his hair. “I’ve waited for so long- don’t make me wait anymore-”

Aki's breath came in ragged bursts as he fumbled with his belt, fingers trembling against the buckle. The metallic clink sounded obscenely loud in the quiet apartment, punctuated by your impatient whine as you arched beneath him. He'd dreamed of this. Ached for it. Then, he finally freed himself.

"You're sure?" he rasped, even as his hips jerked forward instinctively, the head of his cock dragging through your slickness. The sensation was maddening.

You answered by hooking a leg around his waist, pulling him closer with a strength that surprised him. "Yes," you hissed, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Unless you're gonna-ah- chicken out now-“

Aki moaned, catching your hip in one hand as he lined himself up, his other forearm braced beside your head. The first push stole his breath—the tight, molten heat of you clamping around him like a vice. He had to still, forehead pressed to yours, just to keep from coming apart on the spot. "Fuck," he choked out, your name a prayer on his lips. "You feel-"

Your hips rolled up to meet his, swallowing him deeper with a gasp that dissolved into a moan. Aki’s vision whited out for a second, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as he bottomed out. “Jesus Christ,” he gritted out, his voice shredded. He’d imagined this. Too many times to count, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the way your body yielded to his.

You arched beneath him, your nails scraping down his back as he began to move—slow at first, then faster when your heels dug into his ass, urging him on. “Oh my god,” you whined, your breath hitching as he angled his hips jusstt right. The sound you made when he hit that spot, high and broken, nearly made him cum early. Aki cursed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he thrusted into you with a rhythm that had the couch creaking in protest.

The air between you was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the wet slap of skin on skin obscenely loud. Aki could feel the tension coiling low in his gut, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the way your body clenched around him, the way your breath came in ragged little pants against his ear. “Look at me,” he begged, his voice rough.

You looked into his eyes, your pupils blown wide with pleasure. The sight of you like this, lips swollen, hair mussed, sent a jolt of extra pleasure through him. He caught your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans as his thrusts grew erratic. “You close?” he panted against your lips, his thumb finding your clit.

Your nod was frantic, your thighs trembling against his hips as he worked you with relentless precision. "Y-yes,” you gasped, arching as he snapped his hips forward, hitting that spot that made you see stars. "Always- ah- Aki, please-"

The broken moan shattered his last shred of control. Aki's rhythm faltered, his fingers tightening around your wrists as he drove into you with a roughness that had you clawing at the cushions. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning—your back bowed off the couch as pleasure ripped through you, your cry muffled against his shoulder. Aki groaned at the way your pussy clenched around him, his own release barreling down on him.

The aftershocks rolled through you in waves, your body still twitching with oversensitivity as Aki buried his face in your neck, his hips stuttering against yours. His groan vibrated against your skin, hot and ragged, as he came with a force that left his fingers shaking where they gripped your hips. For a moment, the only sound was your mingled panting and the distant hum of the refrigerator, the same mundane backdrop to something so earth-shattering it made your chest ache.

Aki’s weight slumped against you, warm and solid, his breath tickling the damp skin below your ear. You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your ribs, out of sync with yours but just as frantic. Neither of you moved. The reality of what just happened settled over the two of you like a thick blanket—heavy, undeniable.

Slowly, Aki lifted his head, his pupils still blown wide, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. His gaze flickered over your face like he was memorizing every detail—your swollen lips, the flush creeping down your chest, the way your lashes fluttered when he shifted inside you. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I…” He trailed off, voice roughened from use, and you watched, mesmerized, as his ears turned pink all over again.

you laughed, breathless and giddy, your fingers tracing the shell of his ear. “How eloquent,” you teased, and the corner of his mouth twitched, that familiar cheesy smile you’d spent years trying to coax out of him.

Aki huffed, half exasperation, half amusement, and buried his face in your neck again, his nose brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear that made you shiver. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it, just a rough tenderness that curled warm in your chest. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You carded your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you’d noticed he liked during rare, unguarded moments. He tensed for a second, then melted into your touch with a quiet sigh, his body going lax against yours. The intimacy of it, the way he trusted you enough to let his guard down sent a pang through your ribs.

The silence stretched, comfortable this time, until Aki’s stomach growled loudly against your hip. You snorted, and he groaned, his ears turning an even deeper shade of pink. “I was gonna make dinner,” he grumbled, lifting his head to glare at the neglected groceries on the counter.

You grinned, stretching beneath him with deliberate laziness, relishing the way his breath hitched when your thighs brushed against his. “We can order takeout,” you murmured.

“I love you, [y/n].” He confessed.

your breath hitched

(Waterboy x ex-villain Reader!)

My first ever fic. It's only the first part tho so that's why it's kinda short dw!

You robbed a local store and thought you would get away this time, but a hero comes your way. (Since you're a villain, I settled on the power of shapeshifting! Only into animals tho since I'm newer to this!)

Includes:(A year later AU, shapeshifting reader, ?female? reader, advanced power Waterboy, awkward x awkward)

<adding onto the ?female? reader, I have fem anatomy and so it's easier for me to write reader as fem, but know that reader goes by any/all pronouns. I'll stick to one for each scene to not be too confusing.> <Waterboy doesn't have water bending powers, but he can now shoot water from hands and feet instead of just...throwing it up, lol>

TW:(Fighting, blood, nausea, dizziness, panic)

K.Bakugo x OC fanfic coming soon…?

————⋆.˚☆˚.⋆———— “So, Let me get this straight; you want me to basically play student so I can babysit a bunch of hero course kids that keep getting attacked by villains?” I ask the woman in front of me, annoyance evident on my face as I sit up and look at her fully

“Yes, Yelena. Pretty much.”

“I dont get a say in this, do I?” I huff out, and kick the ground like a pouting child. 

“What do you think kid?” Keigo says teasingly in that soft, older brother way before he ruffles my hair. 

I let out a groan and shove his hand away, putting my face in my hands and rubbing my eyes in pure annoyance. 

This was gonna be hell.

————⋆.˚☆˚.⋆————

hi, omg first time actually posting smth is kinda crazy. Im starting to work on this fic and already so excited. School is almost over for me and then ill start writing more. I might keep posting on tumblr but if not ill be sticking to my roots on wattpad. Its not on there yet, for now this is where im starting lol. My account there is Mads_lovergirl and hopefully ill get at least the basics and prologue up soon!! Little hint on her character may possibly be in the image above 👀 Reblogs and likes help a lot and i cant wait for yall to read!!

(Mark Scout x Friend!Reader)

Word count: 902

Summary: Mark shows up on your porch late at night, not saying much at first. You don’t push. You just sit with him—and somehow, that’s exactly what he needs.

Cw: Lit nothing this is all fluff but this is my first fic like ever so sorry if it sucks lmaooo Enjoy! ✩ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ✩

For the first time in months, there’s finally no snow on the ground, and flowers are blossoming everywhere. It’s these warm summer nights that make you the most nostalgic for your old childhood. You can just imagine it; your mom cooking blueberry pie in the kitchen, your younger brother running around in the front yard with his toys, and your dad sitting in the chair on the front porch, watching him. 

You decide to sit down in that same chair and watch the sky turn from a light blue into a dusky purple and pink. Taking a sip of the chamomile tea you made, you relax into the chair and a feeling of pride washes over you–the fact that you were able to hold up the fort even after dad died and your brother went off to college only a few years after you graduated. Now it’s just you and your mom left.

As you watch the clouds roll by, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You sigh, but pick up. “Hello?”

“Hey, (Name). Just calling to let you know I’ve approved your day off tomorrow. Sarah will cover your shift,” Charlie says, his voice crackling over bad Wi-Fi.

Relief floods through you. You’ll finally have a day to care for your mom, whose health seems to be getting worse by the day.

“Oh, thank goodness. Thanks for letting me know.”

You and Charlie exchange a few more words before hanging up. You feel calmer than you have all day.

Working as a barista was never your dream job, but it’s steady and low-pressure. Lately, though, the constant need to take time off for your mom has made it harder to keep up—and the stress has been piling on.

The sky is almost completely dark now, stars just starting to come out, so you decide to go back inside to the kitchen. As you put your dishes away, you hear a car coming into the driveway next door. 

Mark Scout. 

You glance out the window to see Mark slowly getting out of his car. His hands are buried in his coat pockets, and his shoulders seem tight, like he’s trying to protect himself from something. He doesn’t head toward his door, though. Instead, he stands still at the edge of your lawn, just staring ahead.

Then, he walks up your porch steps.

You freeze, watching as he lowers himself onto the chair across from the one you were just sitting in. He doesn’t knock. Doesn’t say anything.

Just sits there.

You hesitate for a moment before quietly opening the front door. The night air brushes against your skin. “Mark?”

He doesn’t look at you right away. When he does, his eyes are red-rimmed, glassy. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, voice low. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart aches at the way he says it—not desperate or dramatic, but lost. A feeling you know all too well. 

“Devon’s out of town for the weekend. I thought of calling her, but I know she needs a break from me. I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” As he says this, you hear his voice break at the last sentence, and you wonder if he’s about to cry. You and Mark have been friends ever since he first moved in 2 years ago. You would consider him to be one of your closest friends, but he’s never been this vulnerable in front of you.  

You step outside and sit back in your chair across from him. You take a small breath before saying, “You’re not alone. You have me”

For a while, neither of you say anything. The crickets chirp in the bushes. A breeze picks up, rustling the trees above. Mark presses his palms together, and his eyes seem to look everywhere but at you. But none of this feels awkward. It almost feels familiar, like you guys have been doing this since you first met. 

The silence between the two of you is oddly comforting. Mark has always been someone you looked up to, knowing how much he’s been through, especially with him being severed and all. You don’t fully agree with his logic of working for Lumon, but his strength to at least keep going inspires you.

“I hate this time of year,” he says eventually. “It’s supposed to be warm and beautiful, but all it does is remind me of everything I’ve lost.”

You don’t have anything perfect to respond with. But you nod. “Yeah. Me too.” 

His head turns toward you slightly. “How’s your mom?”

You swallow, surprised he even remembered. “Not great. I got tomorrow off to take her to a doctor’s appointment.”

Mark lets out a breath—half-sigh, half-laugh. “So we’re both falling apart a little, huh?”

You smile softly, blinking back tears. “A little.”

And then he says it. So quietly, you almost miss it: “Thank you… for being someone I could turn to.”

You shift slightly, resting your elbow on the armrest and leaning toward him just a little. “Anytime, Mark. Really.”

He looks at you. Not past you. Not through you. Just at you.

“You wanna stay a little while?” you ask.

He nods.

Chapters: 24/65 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Parvati Patil/Ron Weasley, Padma Patil/Blaise Zabini, Astoria Greengrass/Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass/Adrian Pucey, Gregory Goyle/Pansy Parkinson, Teddy Lupin/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Harry Potter, Blaise Zabini, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Original Characters, Astoria Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass Additional Tags: POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, POV Multiple, POV Harry Potter, Adult Hermione Granger, Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Harry Potter, Healer Hermione Granger, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Theo is a Little Shit, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Kingsley Shacklebolt Bashing, Ron Weasley Bashing, Secret Children, Unplanned Pregnancy, Obliviate | Memory Charm (Harry Potter), Memory Loss, Head Auror Harry Potter, Good Gellert Grindelwald, Nurmengard Castle (Harry Potter), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Second Wizarding War with Voldemort (Harry Potter), No Beta We Die Like Sirius, Smut, Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin Hermione Granger, Sexually Experienced Draco Malfoy, Inspired by The Count of Monte Cristo, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Pining Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy In Love, Assassin Draco Malfoy, Wizarding Mafia, Death Eaters, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Character Death, Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, Protective Narcissa Black Malfoy, Minor Character Death, Torture, dramione-freeform, Slow Burn Summary:

The Wizarding world is left reeling in the brutal aftermath of the Second Wizarding War where corruption still reigns and evil plans are brewing. Framed for crimes he didn’t commit and presumedly cast into Azkaban without recourse, Draco Malfoy loses everything. His name, his future, and the girl he dared to love.

Years later, a changed man returns to the Wizarding world under a new identity, determined to unravel the conspiracy that destroyed him. But vengeance grows complicated when he crosses paths with Hermione Granger, now entangled in secrets of her own. As buried truths resurface, Draco must decide whether love is a weakness or the only thing worth saving.

A Count of Monte Cristo retelling set in the HP Universe with dark magic, bitter betrayal, and a forbidden love that refuses to die.

Summary: You're a childhood friend of Miguel, you've been in love with him for a while but you've always been too afraid to speak your mind.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem reader

Word Count: 716 (so short I'm sorry!!)

A/N: This is my first fic ever so please be understanding with me. I appreciate any criticism you have for me and I am currently writing pt. 2 as we speak, hope you enjoy!

Tags: Unrequited love, angsty, some fluff if you squint. Miguel speaking Spanish briefly.