#YEAH SURE HES AN ASSHOLE AND HORRIBLE GUY BUT

[stevebabey]

nine facts, one lie

summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.

Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]

[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny

Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington. 

It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington. 

From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.

Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.

Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained. 

Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity. 

Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask. 

You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.

It was impossible to pinpoint what about him grated you so much; maybe, it was how he seemed to have girls in and out of his bed like he was playing a game, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Or maybe, it was that even you, invisible and not even on his radar let alone on his list, could see the appeal. 

Even better than easy on the eyes, Steve Harrington is one of those guys that makes you understand the word gorgeous.

It doesn’t help that he’s rich as well, with a huge house with a pool and even a swanky car to pick you up in. A complete daydream. Swept away into sheets softer than yours at home, you’d get to spend a night in the arms of the most popular guy in school and if you’re really lucky, he’ll still pretend to know your name the next day. 

What had really stuck with you was gossip you’d happened to overhear, head stuck in your locker as you fished around for your books and papers. Tommy H and Steve were 3 lockers over, at Tommy’s locker, and sharing the details of Steve’s latest conquest. 

So was she any good? Tommy had been asking. I always assumed nerdy chicks weren’t as good- they practically cream their pants considering no one’s ever kissed em’ before.

Steve had laughed along too. Yeah, man. She was all over me. Had to keep picturing someone hotter though, you know those geeks aren’t the prettie— Your stomach had curdled and you had slammed your locker door louder than needed, just to shut him up. You were sure they both saw you leave. 

It drove you insane. And even though Steve likely knew nothing of your existence — didn’t matter you had once been chem partners, nor the fact you shared English class— he was probably as close to an evil nemesis you’d ever get. 

Hence the utter betrayal of Robin’s friendship with him.

Originally, when she’d told you over the phone, gleeful and gossipy, that King Steve had just been hired at Scoops Ahoy, the two of you had snickered. It hadn’t been enough to watch him drift from his other asshole friends, something in you burned deliciously hearing he’d fallen from yet another pillar. 

It had only gotten better. Robin recounted countless stories where he had flunked out with girls — you’d nearly lost it hearing about her whiteboard, tallying up his ‘hits & misses’ when trying to score a date. It finally seemed Steve Harrington was somehow more of a loser than you. 

On the 4th of July, 1985, Starcourt Mall burnt down — and the strangest thing about it all was that Robin suddenly didn’t seem to mind Steve so much. 

They were friends. You’d been a little miffed at her quick change of heart as she doused your gossipy mood in an instant, insisting that Steve wasn’t so bad once you got to know him. 

Rather reluctantly, your teasing remarks about Steve were brought to a halt as Robin retaliated each time, urging you to give him another chance. And while you agreed to be civil, especially considering you had to see him every time you visited Robin at work. But what could you do? Old habits die hard.

Fact #2: Steve Harrington is trying to be a better person. 

Okay, you didn’t know that one, but Steve certainly did.  

It means even though Robin had dropped several warnings and a few premature apologies, Steve was prepared to be absolutely lovely when meeting her other best friend (the other being himself, of course). Robin still seemed tense about the two of your meeting — so far you’d specifically come to visit her at Family Video when you knew Steve wasn’t there. 

But a few shifts had been swapped around and on her late night Thursday shift where you always came by to keep her company, Robin was readying herself for the collision of her two friends. 

Despite all her convincing, she could tell you weren’t sold on the new Steve she claimed to love and you hadn’t come by when he was there, meaning all your experiences to do with Steve were rooted back in his days of assholery. 

It didn’t matter to Steve; he loved Robin and he had lots of practice trying to gain the ‘wow, you’re not a douchebag anymore’ gold star. He had this in the bag. 

The janky chime of the door buzzer announces the arrival of someone in the store and being the one at the counter while Robin tends to the shelves, Steve’s head pops up, ready to greet. 

“Hello! Welcome to Family Video!” 

It sounds far too rehearsed, recognizing the customer service voice you put on at your own job. You nearly smile at the cheery greeting, taken aback by Steve’s handsome grin and his floppy hair, messed from the force of his movement. Then you clock yourself and have to fight off an urge to scowl. 

Eyes already searching over the aisles for Robin, you’re just wondering if she’ll come save you from this conversation when Steve seems to realise who you must be. 

“Oh, you must be y/n.” His easy smile, hands leaning forward onto the counter that separates you, takes you aback.

In your peripheral, you can see Robin spot you and head in the direction — but she doesn’t come quick enough to stop Steve from bungling the whole conversation with his next sentence. 

“Robin’s told me a lot about you. I’m Steve,” His tone is friendly and at your silence, he continues. “Steve Harrington.” 

Oh my God. He doesn’t even remember you.

Over Steve’s shoulder, you can spy Robin burying her head in her hands and muttering something to herself. Any annoyance you had pushed down springs to the surface. You school your expression as neutral as possible, though you’re sure your brow crinkles in irritation. 

“I know.” 

Okay, that was meaner than you intended, especially as you recall Robin’s plea to be civil at the very least. You clear your throat, unsure if you can completely hide your distaste for him.

“We were chem partners, freshmen year.” You remind him, attempting a smile. It might be a grimace. “And I was in your English class your senior year.”

Steve seems to realise his mistake, his cheeks turning rosy and his eyes widening almost comically — fuck, way to go, Harrington. All of his pep talks, amping himself up to be so friendly to you and then he goes and ruins it by not remembering you.

It’s embarrassing. Hawkins is a small town and practically everyone knows everyone, with the exception of popular kids who didn’t think they needed to. He winces, frustrated that his past has come back to haunt him yet again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, more sincere than you’re expecting. Well, you’re not expecting an apology at all — the Steve you remembered would’ve laughed it off, claiming that he couldn’t forget a pretty face and trying to brush over the fact he forgot you at all.

“Seriously,” he reaffirms at the hint of surprise on your features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget your face. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I passed that chem class.”

Robin seems to sense your internal battle, baffled by his apology but still irritated by the fact his memory didn’t deem you memorable enough. She also wants to jump on the spot and say ‘told you!’ because the surprise you’d shown means you hadn’t believed her.

A part of her feels bad, knowing the battering Steve’s taken to his head too many times has undoubtedly knocked a few memories loose; but it’s not that they could explain that to you. 

“I’m just shelving — want to come sit?” She offers, taking the conversation away from you and Steve. “We watched Highlander today and I could sit and explain the whole plot to you?” 

It’s the usual activities you and Robin did when you came to bug her on her shift. You loved listening to Robin talk as she possessed a unique ability to turn a 10-minute retelling into an hour-long debate. Each subplot in the film needed to be discussed, with bad analogies that came out of left field and made you laugh til your sides hurt. It wasn’t a bad Thursday night all around. 

Just as you’re about to respond, Steve cuts in and speaks instead. 

“Robs, you’ve only got two hours left. It’s a Thursday, you could take off if you wanted? I don’t mind.”

Robs. Somehow the nickname for your best friend coming from Steve is more jarring than the polite offer he’s extended. Steve’s eyes shift back over to you, offering another weak smile and you wonder if this is a continuation of his apology. 

“Really?” Robin’s excitement is evident. Bunking off early means you two will sneak a movie and have time to grab some greasy food for an actual hangout. “I mean- are you sure?” 

Steve nods sincerely then cracks a grin, shooting a sarcastic smile at Robin. “What think I can’t hold down the fort for a couple hours?” 

Robin is already peeling off her Family Video vest, digging under the counter to pull out her school bag. “I don’t think it, Steve. I know it.” 

He laughs, meandering his way back to where Robin has left the returns cart and, furiously, you have to admit he’s being awfully nice. Robin nearly trips coming around the counter, her hand grasping your arm tightly to keep herself upright and she beams at you. 

“C’mon!” She says, pulling you out the door, the buzzer chiming again as you both leave the store. Once outside, she pauses and you can feel her stare burning into your temple. She doesn’t say it but you can feel the beginning of an i told you so building in her throat. 

“Don’t say it.” 

“Say what?” She plays clueless but her grin gives her away. She links an arm through yours. 

“Don’t say anything.” You say with a scowl, the two of you beginning to stroll down the stairs out the front. The crispness of the night makes you tug her a little closer. “I still don’t like him.” 

Fact #3: Steve Harrington still likes to flirt. 

In the beginning, the compliments are because Steve really wants you to like him. 

He sees more of you with the change of shifts and perhaps, he gleefully thinks, you aren’t completely avoiding him anymore. You’ll come to see Robin in store even if he’s working as well and inadvertently, conversations spring up between the two of you. 

The first time he tries to slip in a compliment casually, he’s not entirely sure what reaction he gets. On this day you’re waiting for Robin to finish out back, packing up some of the schoolwork she’d done in the backroom, and to Steve’s delight, you’ve opted to wait up by the counter with him. 

You’ve already exchanged an awkward couple hello’s and now silence falls between you. Steve clears his throat and tries to earn his not a douchebag star. 

“Did you get a haircut?” 

You blink. Without thought, you bring up your hand and run it over the silky strands — cut fresh from yesterday. Surprise sprouts in your chest at the fact he noticed.

“Yeah,” you nod, tucking it behind your ears. “I did.” 

“It looks good.” He compliments, pairing it with a genuine smile. “It like,” he gestures with a hand, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Frames your face better. You look nice.” 

For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and the simple act of a compliment from an attractive guy makes your lips twitch into a smile. Robin bundles out of the back room before you remember to say something snarky, like What and my hair looked bad before? 

Instead, it hangs in the air and when you leave behind Robin, you really consider smiling over your shoulder at him. 

But it ruminates; the compliment loops in your mind until your insecurity unstitches it and it warps into something else entirely. His motivation is the question on your mind.

In what world does Steve Harrington flirt with you? 

It has to be a joke. He must be making fun of you because that’s exactly what Steve used to do and if he’s not, that means he has changed and you’re suddenly worthy of his attention.

You recall the locker-room talk, his jeering tone and everything about his compliment turns sour. 

Somehow, Steve’s worried he’s managed to make it worse.

His compliments dropped here and there — commenting on film choice, saying he likes your sweaters, all it seems to earn him is scowls. Your scrunched nose and heated glare from your distaste either means he’s worse at flirting than he remembers or it’s a painful reminder that still you see him as King Steve.

He’s not — he knows he is not. King Steve wouldn’t have bothered looking at the film you’d picked out, his comment would’ve been on your body not on the clothes you choose, and he certainly wouldn’t have noticed something as trivial as a haircut.

And because Steve is nothing if not a whinger, he tells all this to Dustin when the kid comes in to visit.

“I mean, I know I was bad but,” Steve cut himself off with a scoff, following Dustin through the aisles. Dustin didn’t even look as though he was listening, eyes trained on the shelves intently. “I apologised for not remembering her, like, an actual genuine apology— and that was years ago! I don’t get why she doesn’t like me, man.”

Dustin, who had indeed been listening to the rant of his older friend, promptly stopped and plucked a film off the shelf with a quiet aha!

“Are you even listening to me, Henderson?”

“Yes, Steve.” Dustin spun, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Steve intensely enough to unnerve him. “From what I’ve heard, you were pretty damn bad so I’m not surprised some people hold a grudge!”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you didn’t remember her. Maybe you did something rude in high school and completely forgot about it?”

Steve waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head in disagreement. Without noticing, you had slipped in the store up front, usual conversation struck up with Robin. However, you’d been quickly distracted as you searched the store for Robin’s other half and were baffled to find him following around a child.

“Looking for Steve?” Robin jibed when she noticed your gaze wandering across the store, your attention going with it. 

You ignored the jab, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “He wishes. Is he talking to a kid?”

“Who Dustin? Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Robin warned with a roll of her own eyes, shuffling about some stock room records in her hands. “He’s like Steve’s best friend. He was, uh, in the mall fire with us last year.”

The mall fire. Robin doesn’t talk about it at all, a hollow expression taking over her features that freaks you out far too much to push it. Pushing past your surprise, you decide to focus on the other part of her sentence.

“They’re friends?”

As if to prove your point, the two of them head to the front of the store in the middle of a bicker — Steve lags behind a bit, hands waving dramatically as Dustin calls over his shoulder, tone righteous and just a tad smug.

You catch the end of Dustin’s sentence— “Not every girl has to swoon over you, Steve, you know that right? So what if she doesn’t—” cut off when Steve shoves his shoulder, having spotted you.

Dustin looks as though he experiences a ripple of emotions; annoyance, as he whips around, ready to cuss Steve out for the shove, which quickly turns to confusion at the wide-eyed look Steve is staring down at him with. By the time he’s facing you something has clicked as he looks at you with renewed interest.

“Dustin.” He introduces, stepping forward with one hand held out for you to shake. “Dustin Henderson.”

Unwittingly, you peer over his shoulder and connect eyes with Steve — who gives a shrug in response, an awkward smile on his face. Taking Dustin’s smaller hand in your own, you smile and introduce yourself, unable to keep the hint of confusion out of your words.

“I’m Steve’s best friend.” The curly-headed boy explains, gesturing over his shoulder and Steve’s smile gets a little more awkward. He feels a smidge nervous considering there’s no telling what will fall out of Henderson’s mouth next. Steve’s a little relieved when it’s a typical plea for a ride, spinning back round to him.

“Andddd as my best friend, he’ll be totally happy to drive me to the Byers’ right now. Robin can handle the store for 10 minutes without you, can’t ya Robin?”

He slides the tape he’s grabbed onto the counter as he says it, a silent ask to check it out. Likely under Steve’s account which Dustin says it’s for the employee discount — which makes Steve scoff, considering he pays for it anyways.

All eyes move to Robin who freezes at the sudden attention, papers paused mid-shuffle in her twitchy hands. She narrows her eyes at Dustin and you find yourself watching Steve as he has a silent exchange with the girl — another halfhearted shrug that means he’s happy to take him if she doesn’t mind.

Robin swipes the tape and types the details into the computer hastily, waving them both off. “Yeah, yeah. y/n can always get behind the counter, worst-case scenario.”

Dustin fist-pumps, taking the tape back from Robin as she hands it over. He heads to the door and calls out to you as he goes, “And you’d look better than Steve in the vest too!”

It makes you laugh when Steve scowls, sidling up to you to lean over the counter and snatch up his car keys. He pauses, eyes roaming your face and looking as though he wants to say something to you.

“Steve!” Dustin’s voice pierces the glass and you look to see him waiting on the top step, hands raised, expression unimpressed. 

Steve sighs, muttering the word dickhead under his breath and then he’s out the door.

Fact #3: You may have misjudged Steve Harrington.

It’s been just over a week since seeing Dustin in the store with Steve and though you’d never admit it aloud, it has shifted the way you see Steve.

A minuscule shift, you huff to yourself, tiny and not enough to completely dissolve your built in dislike for the Harrington boy. But you find the thought worming into your brain frequently, tripping over it in surprise when you realise you’re thinking of him again. 

It’s just… it didn’t make sense.

Just like the flirting, it didn’t compute in your brain unless you rationalized it back to some asshole motive.

But Dustin had introduced himself as Steve’s best-friend, which was sort of weird enough on its own but you figured it had to be some insane trauma bonding from the mall fire. 

Even if they had been the same age, Dustin didn’t seem like the company you’d expect Steve to keep— but neither was Robin, you thought after a moment of contemplation.

Robin’s knowing grin outside Family Video a couple of weeks ago that screamed i told you so floats up in your memory; you might have to concede she was maybe, potentially, just a little bit right. 

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you wait in the kitchen for Steve’s car to pull into your driveway. A couple months ago you would have outright refused to accept a ride from King Steve and you still weren’t sure if you thanked him for his generosity tonight, whether it would come out snarky or genuine. 

But he did offer, unasked.

You and Robin wanted to see a rerun screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that was showing a few towns over. Robin couldn’t drive and neither could you, which meant when she’d seen the poster, it had only been a fleeting moment of excitement before you realised you didn’t have any means of travel.

She must have been moping about it at work that day because it was sometime in the evening after she got off work that your phone rang and she nearly shrieked down the line that Steve would take you both. 

So, here you were; waiting for Steve to pick you up. 

God, even the sentence sounded odd in your head. A flash of amber headlights on the street grabs your attention and before you can delve into the flip of your stomach, you duck out of the house and slip into Steve’s car. 

You take the front seat. Mainly because it would be too weird to get in the back, as though he was your chauffeur — though you suppose for tonight, he is. Steve smiles when you get in and you find it easy to mimic it. Gravel crunches as his tires pull away from the curb, gathering speed as he heads for Robin’s house. 

Eyes out the window, you don’t see how he steals glances at you every couple of moments. The air feels tinged with awkwardness and Steve swallows, wondering if he’s allowed to break it. You’ve been a little warmer to him — I mean, hell, you just offered him a smile.

As he pulls the car up in front of Robin’s house, engine idling, he pushes out a breath and dredges up his courage.

Yes, in the beginning, the compliments were because he wanted you to not see him and scowl. Tonight, it’s because you look beautiful and he wants you to know it.

“You look—” Oh god, and now you’re looking at him, eyes a little wide before they narrow in suspicion. “—uh, pretty.” 

“What?” 

“I mean, you always look pretty!” He amends. “But, y’know, you look lovely tonight. Pretty.” Stop talking.

“P-Pretty lovely.” It falls off his tongue in haste, delivered so terribly he’s surprised he doesn’t cringe immediately after. God, it was like whatever flirting skills he had flew out the window with you. 

“No, Harrington, I mean— why do you keep saying these things?” 

Steve feels utterly lost, shown on his face as he blinks, once, twice, and doesn’t say anything. Your insecurity bubbles up, mixed with anger at the thought he might indeed be messing with you. 

“I don’t know if this is funny to you, to- to like, joke that you like my clothes or- or to pretend to think that I’m pretty but it’s not. And I—” 

“Woah, wait — who said I was joking?” Incredulity taints each word, his brows pulled high in surprise. Steve’s stomach twists, feeling his heart recoil at the complete seriousness in your words — you think he’s been making fun of you. 

“Well, why else would you call me pretty?” You ask pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Because you are?” It’s faint, Steve’s voice suddenly a lot softer. 

You’re not sure you can contain the ripple of emotions on your face, his words sticking you in the throat so you have to swallow thickly. It’s like a switch is flipped, each compliment of the last couple of weeks shifting into a new meaning in your mind.

It’s overwhelming and you find yourself searching Steve’s face desperately, drinking in his sincere expression, brows drawn together as he offers a weak smile. Fuck, you think and along with it, dozens of apologies fester and churn — god, you’d been so rude and—

“Um, backseat please!” A sharp knock at your window scares you, nearly jumping out of your skin and breaking your focus on Steve. When you turn, Robin’s standing on the sidewalk, bent at the waist to peer at you through the glass. You stare at her dumbly for a moment til she wiggles her eyebrows with a grin and it makes you crack a smile, finally reeling yourself in enough to move. 

Unclipping your belt, you’re rather thankful to be shoved to the back of the car. Hidden in the dark, you shift to take the seat behind Steve. Your eyes spy a sliver of his neck, exposed skin about the collar of his jacket and it fixates you for a moment. 

Because you are? Steve’s words follow you, plaguing you in the shadows of the backseat — you purposefully ignore how it makes your heart sing ever-so-slightly.

Fact #4: Bradley O’Connor is not to be trusted.

“Guess who came into my work today?”

It’s said all gleeful, your hands gripping the counter as you nearly launch yourself over it in your excitement. On the other side stands Robin, doodling in her notebook — or she had been, til your arrival had been announced by the door chime, her ‘Welcome to Family Video!’ cut off by your sudden commotion.

“Um,” Robin begins indignantly, brows raised high. “Half of Hawkins? You work at Bradley’s Best Buy y/n, like the whole town shops there.”

Her sarcasm bounces off you, undeterred in your good mood; it was like the sun was shining just for you today. You didn’t even mind Steve obviously listening in on you two, his hands frozen above the keyboard as he eavesdropped from his seat at the computer.

“Yeah, speaking of Bradley’s...” you grinned at Robin, hoping your hint was enough. It was, her expression shifting into something more enthusiastic.

“Bradley Bradley?”

You nod at her question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to contain your giddy grin. But it’s hard when your long-term high school crush Bradley O’Connor came through your till, flirted like there was no tomorrow, and insisted you jot your number on his receipt.

He didn’t even seem to care that you worked at a supermarket. You knew well that he and all his friends lived in the cushy tax bracket which meant the first job they ever worked would be after college. Kids like you and Robin, stuck working hours in dead-end jobs to help pay rent, were often easy pickings for teasing.

It just made you lean into your naive feelings more, swooning at the fact he didn’t care. You had been too elated in your feelings to notice the piles of his friends waiting outside the store; if you had, it might’ve made you more cautionary.

“Bradley O’Connor?” Steve butts in, swiveling in his chair to question you. The way Steve says his name, tinged in disbelief, makes you narrow your eyes.

“Is that so hard to believe?” You say defensively and chose to not acknowledge Robin’s deep sigh. Eyes widening, Steve splutters for a moment as he shakes his head.

“What? No, not like that! I just mean—him? Really?”

You can’t quite pick what’s hiding in his voice, eyes instead following Robin as she whirls around and delivers a glower that makes Steve reconsider his tone, swallowing.

“I mean—” He starts again, clearing his throat, cheeks a titch pink now. “I didn’t realise he was... your type.”

You stare at Steve, your expression skeptical as you try to pull apart whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. When you can’t figure it out in a moment, you ignore the comment and turn back to Robin and ignore it.

“Asked for my number.” You lean closer to Robin, wiggling your brows as you lead her along the excitement you’d felt earlier today. “Insisted on it actually.”

Robin’s brows manage to raise even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline and you’d be a bit offended if her grin didn’t match your own.

“Oh. My. God.” She says, her pen punching down on the pages of her notebook to punctuate each word. “Oh my god.”

You don’t bother trying to hold back your grin, nodding along, some form of a squeal escaping you — it vaguely occurs to you should rein it in with Steve listening in, but you can’t find it in yourself to curb your feelings for his sake.

“Finally!” Robin manages to break her script of oh my god’s. “You’ve only liked him for—what? Two years?”

You flush automatically at the admission, your grin becoming a grimace as you shoot a glare at your best friend. She means well, but you’re not exactly lining up to let Steve Harrington in on all your secrets.

Your eyes flit over to where he sits, still watching the conversation. As if he can read your unease, he mimes turning a lock over his lips and tosses the key behind him blindly in an exaggerated motion. You’re in a good enough mood that it makes you laugh lightly, breaking back into a smile and comforted that at the very least, Steve won’t go ratting out your affections.

“Hey, as happy as I am for you, aren’t you supposed to be helping your Mom today?”

Like a bubble bursting, Robin reminds you that, alas, the world exists outside the perfect moment of exchanging digits over the cash register at work. Your eyes widen, a little horrified as you spin around and squint at the clock on the wall. Shit.

“Shit.” You verbalize the thought and you’re out the door before you remember to call out your goodbyes. 

Steve watches you go, your purple wind-breaker flapping behind you wildly as you all but sprint around the corner and out of sight. It’s a bit too comical and he can’t help but chuckle. The sound draws Robin’s attention and all too suddenly, Steve feels as though he’s been caught doing something wrong as she whirls around to face him.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Steve wonders if he’ll have to remind her that despite the jokes they both make, he can’t actually read her mind.

She breaks the silence. “What was that?”

“What was what?” It’s genuine confusion, Steve’s head tilting to the right an inch.

“I didn’t realise he was your type.” Robin mocks, her voice high pitch and hands gesturing somehow sarcastically. “That! What was that?”

Steve frowns, defensiveness creeping up in his tone. “That was nothing!”

Okay, so, that sounded way less casual than he hoped. Steve clears his throat, spinning on his seat to face the computer again. It was nothing. Robin was being a vulture, picking at remains, picking at nothing — absolutely nothing.

“Nothing at all.” He mutters, beginning to type again and Robin snorts behind him, voice still doused in sarcasm.

“Mm, for my own sake, I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re clearly interested in her.”

Steve hits a wrong key in his surprise, an annoyed beep! coming from the computer. It sums up how he’s feeling. He turns his head back to Robin, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “What? No, no way.”

“Yes, way.”

“Robin, no. Even if I did—not that I do but even if I— look, I’m not stupid enough to get a crush on someone who hates me.”

This puts out the fiery retorts for just a moment, Robin dimming as she recalls the bitterness you harbor for Steve. Well, harbored — she knows you back to front and she’s willing to bet money that if you stopped hating him for just a second, you’d probably like the guy.

“She doesn’t know you.” She lands on eventually, features softening as she recalls the bitterness on Steve’s face whenever some idiot from high school dragged up his past — usually, in an attempt to humiliate him.

“Look, I’m not interested in her.” Steve reiterates, though a little weak, waving his hands wildly as if it will help drive the point home. “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. “

The door rattles as it’s opened by a new customer. Robin and Steve both cease their conversation immediately, turning to greet automatically — and who should it be Bradley O’Connor, himself. He doesn’t spare a glance at the front counter, sauntering straight into the action movie aisle.

“In fact,” Steve begins, an idea formulating in his mind. He spins back to Robin with a grin. “I’ll happily help her get her next date.”

“Steve, don’t—“

Steve ignores her protest, sidling out from behind the counter and tracking Bradley down to where the rom-com section starts.

“Welcome to Family Video!” It’s a bit cheery and it makes the boy jump in surprise, surprised by the new voice. Steve continues. “Anything I can help you with today?”

Bradley chuckles stiffly, a little affronted at the enthusiasm Steve’s to help a customer. He clocks the double take he does, the glance down at Steve’s name badge giving away that Bradley’s well aware of who he is. Exhaling, Steve hopes he won’t bring it up.

It looks as though Bradley weighs something up in his head, taking another once over at Steve before he speaks. “Yeah, actually. You know what movies chicks dig?” 

Steve can tell in the way Bradley says the word chicks that he’s an asshole. Not thinking of girls as people, more like scores: notches in his belt. It makes him tick, jaw clenching.

But he was like that once. Nancy Wheeler had found a genuine spot in him and coaxed it out. You — you could do the same.

So, Steve says, “Yeah, man. Anyone in particular? Usually depends on the girl, honestly.” 

Bradley sniffs, one hand nudging under his nose as he skirts his gaze around the store. He lands on Robin, who thankfully, doesn’t look like she’s trying to eavesdrop at that exact moment.

“Do ya know y/l/n?” He jerks his chin in the direction of Robin. “Buckley’s friend?”

Steve nods, glad at the easy segue; now, all he had to do was talk you up. And Steve Harrington was nothing if not a flatterer. He halts a moment later with a frown, realising what a noncommittal date it was. You deserved better than that, Steve thought.

“y/n? You can’t just rent out a film for a girl like that. She’s a total catch, dude— you gotta do the whole nine yards, yanno? Cinema, popcorn, be a gentleman and all.”

He pairs his suggestion with a usual charming smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Bradley seems to pick up on the extra interest and his brows quirk up.

“You got like, a thing for her or something?”

His pink cheeks nearly give him away. Steve, to his credit, manages to not blunder his next response. It’s almost like Robin’s line of fire earlier prepped him for this moment. 

“Nah,” he replies, coolly. “She’s just a friend.”

The next words are a little less casual, Steve straightening up as a surprising amount of protectiveness curls in his gut. “And as her friend, I’m just looking out for her.”

Bradley swallows, breaking eye-contact as if Steve could puzzle out his ill intentions if he looked long enough.

“So, be nice and take her out all proper.” Steve lets it sit in the air for a moment, then smiles, a polite way that’s well practiced in his line of work. “Can I get anything else for you?”

It might be the quickest customer Robin’s ever checked out, with Bradley managing to get the film rented and be out the door in under 2 minutes.

Thankfully, Robin is chuckling when he wanders back behind the counter. He had been harboring a thread of anxiety, worried he had really overstepped by thinking he knew best — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. On top of that, Steve really doesn’t want this to bite him in the ass, especially considering it was to help you. 

“Don’t—” Robin starts, a smile curling her lips. “—let this go to your head, but that wasn’t nearly half bad.” 

Steve tries not to feel smug, settling instead on pleasantly content. He was in your good books after this, for sure.

When you call the store from home, wire twisted in your fingers and talking loud enough in your excitement that Steve could hear it from beside Robin, she makes sure to mention the good word he put in for you.

Fact #5: If you call Steve Harrington from a pay-phone on a Friday night, he’ll pick up.

The bleak cold of the night air isn’t anything compared to the shame that’s building in your chest. You’re trying your best to ignore it, to not give in to your anxious doubts — what did Bradley say on the phone?

It was supposed to be a movie night at his place — that was what he’d suggested when he toyed with your feelings at work, a handsome smirk on his face. You’d tried not to sound disgruntled at the hurried change in plans, instead trying to lean into your excitement that tonight went from casual to a definite date.

Bradley O’Connor didn’t just invite anyone to the movies with him. And he’d said 7 on the phone, you huffed to yourself.

7 o’clock. The showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that was playing at Hawk cinema. Though, he did sound a bit distracted on the phone, his voice sounding distant.

You glance at the clock above the ticket booth. 7.13pm.

Heaving a sigh, you tuck your coat closer around yourself and wonder how long you should wait before it goes from sad to truly pathetic.

Five more minutes, you think, Give him five more minutes.

Because you hopelessly want his flirts, his coy smile, and charming winks to be real; you want to be swept up in a teenage daydream and have it all work out for you for once.

You swallow, picking at your fingers as you dredge up your hopes, convincing yourself he’s coming — because if he doesn’t...it means Steve and his confused tone were fucking right. That Bradley wasn’t the type to go for your type.

You shouldn’t have waited the five extra minutes.

Technically, you think bitterly, you were right. Bradley does show up.

You’re stepping out, wondering if you should brave the walk home in the dark — but a familiar group of raucous boys in Letterman jackets heading for the cinema freeze you in your tracks.

“Holy shit, she actually came.”

It’s not said kind, not in awed disbelief as you’d hoped. It’s cruel — jeering explodes in the group of boys, unkind laughs and snickers resounding off the bricks as they smack each other, all in on the joke. The realisation sinks into your stomach, staining it black.

Bradley looks smugly satisfied — a pompous conceited piece of shit that you should’ve known better than to believe.

You don’t even want to look at him, a hot sting of tears burning behind your eyes. You don’t want to give him a chance to taunt you. Your feet take you forward, barging through the group and smacking your shoulder against Bradley’s shoulder, hard. You hope it hurts.

“Tell Harrington thanks for the suggestion to take you to the movies!” He calls after you like he knows how it rubs salt into the wound. It does; it stings maybe more than the initial humiliation. “Guess he’s not an idiot all of the time!”

The boys laugh, a series of oohs that finally break your floodgate. Tears streak, hot and fast, and you brush them off before they reach your chin, sniffling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The humiliation is coating you, sticky and clinging like a fog and you squeeze your eyes closed as you inhale quickly. You round the corner fast, feet not stopping til you’re at least four blocks from the cinema, further downtown.

You feel dumb. Scratch that, you feel like a fucking idiot.

A stray tear escapes without permission and the next thought is that you want to go home. Blurry eyes scanning the street, you clock the phone booth and head for it, fueled by the urgency of your thoughts: get home, then fall apart.

The glass is cold as you push the door open, creaking and weathered. You close the door and turn, staring at the phone. Who do you call?

Your mom is the first thought. She’d driven you in — though, you’d told her you’d get a lift home with Bradley since he had a car. You’re not up for the coddling you’ll get when she sees the state of you in the slightest. Besides, she’d mentioned heading to a friends for the evening.

Robin is the next thought. And you would, except she can’t drive so all she’d do is ply you with a combination of questions and furious insults directed at Bradley.

Your next thought...No.

You sigh, leaning your head against the glass, not caring about how grimy it might be, and smack your head against it a couple of times. No, no way were you about to call Steve Harrington for a lift.

Not when he fucking set you up. Not when he’d just taken the shred of trust you’d granted him and torn it up immediately. Especially not after crying because you believed a date like that with a guy like Bradley O’Connor was genuine.

You were not calling Steve.

The Harrington household number is easy to find in the paper phone book.

It’s under Steve’s father’s name, some prick with big money who’d likely report you to the police for harassment if he picked up the phone. You stare at it and then at the phone, a frown set on your brow as you weigh it up.

Steve didn’t work Friday night — you know, because it used to be a night to go visit Robin, back when you avoided Steve.

A stray thought floats up, bringing back the words of Robin on the phone as she had celebrated the news. It’s a bitter memory now, made entirely worse as you recall what she had said. Steve talked you up, her voice crackled down the wire, when O’Connor came in. Put in a good word for you.

A new emotion surges in your chest and you’re relieved to shrug off some humiliation for anger. God, you feel even more stupid for thinking Steve would’ve actually talked you up.

As you punch in the number, the keypad taking a bit of a beating, you huff and think at the very least, he can owe you a ride for ruining your evening.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”

“Harrington.” You spit it out with venom. On the other side of the phone, Steve recoils a bit, surprised at the tone.

“y/n? I thought you were—”

“I’m on Cavendish Boulevard, right by Tony’s. Come pick me up.” It’s fierce and clipped. You don’t really want to unleash your anger on the phone, lest he leaves you stranded and you have to ring around your mother’s friends just to find her. You just want to go home.

Steve makes a noise of confusion over the phone, a bit slow on the uptake. “But I thought tonight was—”

“Harrington.” you say again, a little softer, your emotions leaking into your voice involuntarily. Fuck, you sound pathetic but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care. You plead, “Please.”

“I’m coming,” He says, voice indicating he’s caught on to why you might be calling. “Yeah, I’m coming, just sit tight.”

Fact #6: When Steve Harrington says he ‘knows a spot’, he doesn’t always mean Skull Rock. 

You’re angry.

That much Steve can tell. Steve’s reminded too much of the last ride he gave you when you pop the door, sliding almost uncomfortably into the passenger seat and turning your clenched jaw towards the window.

Unrest torments Steve’s head, unsure if he’s gained enough trust to ask what went wrong this evening. On the other hand, you had called him. At the very least, you trusted him to come and get you.

The tires groan as he drives out of Tony’s parking lot, the hood of the car dipping to the gutter and rolling out onto the quiet roads.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Steve drives slow so his eyes can flick over to you, watching the way you smooth your hands down your thighs, a self-soothing motion. It makes his chest twinge, a tad more worry than he’s probably warranted to considering you are barely friends. If that.

“Depends.” you finally turn to face him, a pinch in your eyebrows. “What did you say to Bradley?”

Steve detects the cynicism of your question in a heartbeat. Even though he knows he was all charm, Robin even affirmed it, he still rehashes the conversation, scrutinizing it for what he had said wrong.

You take his silence as admittance. Scoffing lightly, you focus back out the window, eyes boring into the streets. You’re in the middle of a mutter, something like I was so right about you when Steve manages to find his voice.

“I—” Shyness has crept up inside, Steve suddenly worried you’ll find his comments odd and not endearing. Worse, you’ll think he’s being in-genuine again. You’re just quiet, waiting. “I told him that he should take you to the cinema, instead of just renting a film. That you deserved a better— a proper date.”

He shoots a look in your direction, trying to see how you take in the words. Your shoulders have bunched up stiffly, your body turning further away but he can still see the furrow in your brow, angry emotions emitting out in every direction from you — you don’t believe him.

“I swear,” He continues, more desperate to prove himself. “I said something about— that you were a catch and- and you can ask Robin, I swear to—”

“Steve, stop.”

Horror churns through his gut when Steve realises you’re crying, soft tears dripping off your cheeks. As if you can sense he’s about to talk again, ready to rattle off his insistence, you speak before him.

“If I believe you,” you inhale shakily, pushing your palms into your eyes hard. You don’t want to cry in front of Steve. “If you’re telling the truth, then that means...”

Your teeth chew on your lip, hiding its quiver as you relive the humiliation of earlier all over again. “It means, I was actually stupid enough to believe him.”

Painfully, Steve can feel the embarrassment rolling off you in waves as you bury your face away. He swears under his breath. He’d detected asshole from Bradley two words in but this? This was not even in the ballpark of what he’d considered happening tonight. How fucking childish to ask someone out as a joke.

You seem to be slipping into a ramble, uncaring that you’re pouring your feelings out to Steve — Steve who you hate, or at least you did. Steve who you were ready to verbally pummel a minute ago. Steve who is looking at you so gingerly that you might consider he actually cares about you.

“He- all his friends were there.” You admit, words wobbling and tone revealing your utter mortification. “It was just a big fucking joke.” 

For a minute, the car is silent; you stare at the road and watch it get swallowed beneath the car.

“I’m— I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve starts again, feeling like he’s managed to take one step forward and fifteen backward with you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I had no idea he would do that, I swear, I wouldn’t have—“

He cuts himself off, apparently out of words to say, or taking your silence as a cue to shut up. His apology sits in the silence and you know now, he means it. Bradley’s smugness compared to Steve’s sincerity leaves no contest; you’d been too in your own head to realise you’d muddled them up.

You’re faintly aware that Steve has been driving absently, guzzling up gas so you can have a moment suspended away from reality. But he seems to grip the wheel tighter, with more purpose, and instead of looping the block again, Steve picks a route.

You wipe under your eyes again, sniffling through your clogged throat. “Where are we going?”

Steve adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, throwing a glance at you.

“Where I go when I’m upset.”

A snarky retort rises in your mind on instinct, the hurt part that wants to lash out, make someone hurt like you’re hurting. You think about saying something like what does rich, popular Steve Harrington get upset about? when he says, “Helped me a lot after the, uh, the mall fire.”

You swallow the words on your tongue and guilt stains your throat.

It’s a short drive; Steve drives so comfortably that you question how many times he’s traced this route. Too plagued by horrid memories, forced into his car and driving until he’s tired enough to sleep without nightmares.

You can’t say you’re expecting the stretch of road that crawls out to Skull Rock. For a moment you regard him, wondering if he’s daft enough to try to get lucky right now. But the car veers off track, driving down a less traveled path.

He doesn’t stop til you’re surrounded by timber trunks — there’s not much room to open your door when Steve puts the car into park.

Normally, you make a witty comment — “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right? I can’t see how that would make me feel any better.” — but you bite your tongue. You feel too downbeat to be witty now.

Steve rounds the car and pops the trunk, leaning over it with one hand still gripping the top. He rummages for a moment, moving junk around til he pulls out a couple of items: a baseball bat, some bag that clinks noisily, and a few other items, stuffed quickly into the bag. He tucks the baseball bat under his arm.

“C’mon,” he murmurs and waves you to follow him, after shutting the trunk and locking the car. Again, you’re eerily aware that this route is well-familiar to Steve. You stumble to keep up, eyes on your feet so you don’t get a face full of dirt.

Eventually, the trees give way to a clearing littered with various junk, glittering broken glass all around making Steve tell you to watch where you step.

He makes his way towards a rotten tree trump in the centre of the clearing, poorly cut and barely a flat surface on it. Still, Steve digs around in the bag and fishes out an empty beer bottle. You think you can guess where he’s going with this.

Carefully, he manages to balance it on a slanted surface and as expected, he draws the bat out from under his arm and offers it to you.

The wood is warm from being pressed against his side and you curl your fingers around it, sapping it into your hands. He digs around in the bag for another moment, revealing a pair of safety glasses — damn, he’s really prepared.

Steve unfolds them and steps closer, offering them out to you — but you don’t remove your hands from the bat, instead jutting out your chin to indicate for him to put them on for you.

It makes him pause. Steve regards you for a moment, eyes unsure before he steps even closer.

It steals your breath, the intensity of his gaze as he pushes the glasses up your nose, his fingers tracing along the rims and down the arms of the glasses, tucking any stray hair behind your ears. It’s oddly intimate, watching him through the plastic, his expression focused, breath fanning over your face. He looks handsome — the shadows cutting his jawline nicely and you can smell his cologne when he’s this close.

When he steps back, you have to remind yourself to breathe — the scent of him still swirls in your chest.

Even though you know what he’s brought you here for — the bottle, the bat, the open junkyard already doused in broken litter — you still don’t make a move.

Steve gestures to the bottle. “Hit it. Hard as you can.”

It’s a soft instruction; you know if you wanted, you could turn around and he’d drive you all the way home, no questions asked. But then you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrows, wallowing in a pint of ice-cream and sniffling over the phone to Robin.

You turn to face the bottle, lifting the bat, and readying your grip.

Holy shit, she actually came.

The bat connects fast with the bottle, a loud crash pistoling off and filling the clearing — the brown glass dissolves into the night, pieces are thrown in every direction and you’re suddenly very grateful for the safety glasses.

You heave in a breath, surprised by how that felt. It’s thrilling. You whip around to look at Steve and choke on a laugh at what you see — he’s put on a ridiculous pair of sunglasses.

They’re not at all the usual stylish ones he’s worn to parties before. It’s likely didn’t want that pair damaged but still needed to protect his eyes. Instead, these pair look like women’s sunglasses, with big wide round frames. It’s a bizarre sight, Steve Harrington is women’s sunglasses, at night-time no less.

“Nice glasses.” The tease falls off your lips instinctively, a laugh contained in the words. 

Back to poking fun at him — a definite sign you’re feeling better. He sighs, playing it up, popping his hip, and planting his hands on his sides.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. “Be thankful I gave you the cool ones. Normally, it’s just me up here anyways.”

It’s somewhat of a lie. He’d bought two pairs of the safety glasses, one for Robin as well, but she hadn’t liked the loud noises of broken glass when he brought her with him.

But Steve thought the stupid oversized glasses his mom had tried to dump — he was going to offer them to Robin but it had slipped his mind — would be a better choice. You wouldn’t be thinking about fucking O’Connor if he’s in women’s sunglasses.

It’s surprisingly effective; a giggle titters out of you again and you cover your mouth as if it’ll help hide the sound. You’re a bit bewildered at how easy it feels to laugh so soon.

Steve pushes the glasses up onto the top of his head, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he narrows his eyes at you. His smile gives him away. He bends and roots through the bag, finding another bottle for you to smash. The sunnies slip back down to cover his eyes as he sets up the next one. 

It wobbles precariously on the stump but you don’t wait for it to settle, baseball bat swinging and shattering it in a second.

“Fuck!” You scream and the curse is swallowed up in the splintering sound of glass. Steve whoops, looking almost like a suburban mom, cheering from the sidelines. The scream helped — hell, swinging with all your might and channeling your rage into demolishing a bottle was definitely helping. You don’t feel upset, you feel enraged.

The stump isn’t empty for long, Steve dutifully scoops up another bottle and places it out for you. He pauses, sunglasses back in his hair, and points at the bottle as he fixes you with a determined look.

“This one’s O’Connor.”

You meet his eyes, his brows knitted together and an expression that says he wants you to destroy it because he’s angry with you — angry for you. He steps back.

When you hit it, an earsplitting crack thunders out. The bottle fractures,  fragments careening off in every direction. A wild grin sweeps across your face, knowing that whatever comes at school next week— whether Bradley went back to ignoring your existence or used tonight as fuel for taunting — you could just picture how you felt as you shattered that bottle.

“That felt good.” You breathe out, turning back to Steve. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, sinking in to stop from grinning like a lunatic. A delirious laugh wrestles itself out of your chest and you let your head drop back, eyes turning up at the inky sky, laughs petering out.

Steve tries to ignore how the sound lights up his chest like a Christmas tree, some part of him burning with glee with the knowledge you’re feeling better because of something he did.

He watches your gaze rove across the sky, searching for something he doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he should dig out the next bottle or whether this was it — that now, he’d take you home now and he’d be back to just a brief hint of a smile from you if that.

Head dropping forward, you offer back the baseball bat and Steve’s heart sinks.

Reining in his dejection so it doesn’t show, Steve takes it from you and pulls a polite smile; at the very least, he’ll get some credit with Robin for cheering up her best friend.

As he moves to tuck it under his arm, he freezes at your own motions. You’re bending down, rummaging through the bag, and scoring a bottle — this time, a big champagne bottle, left on the bench from the last time his parents had been home. Four? No, five days ago.

You plant it on the stump, hands hovering around it as it quivers for a moment, only dropping them when the bottle finally settles. You step back, look at him and Steve finally understands what you’re doing.

Surprise sprouts in his chest, his lips parting. You’re giving him a turn?

“Well?”

He’s been gawking a bit, he realises and Steve remembers to close his mouth. He shifts the bat out from under his arm and then pulls the sunglasses off his head. He offers them to you, with a nod.

“Swap. I’ll miss the bottle completely with these on.”

“But that’ll make me laugh.” You point out, tone cheeky as you pass them over regardless.

Steve slides them on, a dramatic eye-roll as he steps up to swing. He’s usually only here when his anger is feeling uncontrollable, like hot lava boiling over and burning him from the inside out. He’s calmer tonight, with no emotions running rampant — well, maybe not any bad ones at least.

He scrounges his brain to think of what’s annoyed him this week; Keith, as always. The champagne bottle on the stump, the only bitter evidence his parents had been home in the last week. The agonizing wobble in your voice as you’d cried in the passenger seat of his car.

There’s a familiar burn in his muscles when he swings, another bottle sacrificed to anger and destined to a life scattered in the dirt. You whoop loudly, just as he had, and Steve can understand why you’d laughed at the sight of him in those sunglasses. They’re huge and you look nearly bug-like, shiny round domes of black staring back at him.

“Nice glasses.” He grins cheekily, a copy of your own words. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know you’re rolling them at him.

The bat and safety glasses get passed between you two, equal turns until the bottles run out. Steve’s only sorry he didn’t bring more, drinking in the giddy and wild grin that overcomes your face when another bottle meets its fate.

When you pack it in and stumble back to his car, Steve revels in the closeness you seemed to have gained. No longer three steps behind, your shoulders brush his on the walk and when you stumble over a root, your hand shoots out and grips his arm, steadying yourself. You hold it for a moment longer than you should.

The skin of your hand still tingles as you slide into the passenger seat. The air of the car is more comfortable now, cozy even, as Steve cranks the heat and the trees pass you in a blur as you drive out. Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart is warbling on the radio, the volume turned low and you can’t help but stare at him.

You were so wrong about him.

You were so astronomically wrong about him; it’s the only thing you can think of as you drive home, amber streetlights illuminating the streets of Hawkins. The clock on the dash reads 9.57pm — meaning you’ve been with Steve for nearly two hours. The fact nearly draws an awed sort of laugh, but you press it down til it’s only a smile, hidden as you turn back to the window.

He drops you off by 10.14pm, insisting on buying you a milkshake to complete the night.

Honest, I get one after every time I smash shit. It’s hard work you just did! He’d said as he ordered. One chocolate shake for you, one vanilla, for him. You gotta, like, replace electrolytes and all. The fact you don’t think he’s said it to make you laugh, makes you laugh even harder.

The milkshakes sustain the silence on the final drive home and you quickly understand immediately the importance of the shake. After all the frustration, the sugar is near soothing as the cold sweet dances on your tongue. 

The engine idles as Steve brings the car to a halt by the curb outside your house. You eye it, astonished by your reluctance to end the evening and you wonder if Steve can tell.

You don’t know if you want him to notice it or not; reading into your hesitancy feels like a whole new can of worms. The porch light is on, waiting for you.

Home. What you’ve been yearning for since 7.15pm this evening — finally, the roller-coaster of emotions has wrung you out and tiredness seeps into your bones. But you can’t leave without a goodbye. Not without telling Steve what tonight meant to you. 

“Thank you.”

You don’t mean to murmur it, but it’s nearly a whisper as you take your eyes off the house to turn to Steve in the driver’s seat.

Steve somehow manages to soften more at the quiet words, an easy smile pulling on his lips. He nods. It means of course like you don’t even have to thank him for it. The car purrs beneath you, filling the silence with a quiet rumble.

You want to say it again, louder because it’s not just a thank-you — it’s thank you, I’m sorry, I was wrong about you, can we start over? I hated you for the longest time but do you ever think you could like me?

The last thought punches a breath out of you and it sets you in motion. You couldn’t be having those thoughts; not with the tension in the air, his closeness so enticing now you’ve tasted it once. You couldn’t be having those thoughts at all.

You’re on the sidewalk, about to close the door before you remember to squeak out a ‘goodnight!’. The walk to your door is short enough that you shouldn’t feel the cold of the night —  besides, you’re too warm inside, emotions churning wildly to notice anyways.

It doesn’t help when you reach the porch and peek over your shoulder, the maroon BMW still waiting by the curb, amber headlights shining, for you to make it inside okay.

Fact #7: You’re way too wasted right now.

You’d started with vodka and that had been, what? An hour ago.

An hour ago when O’Connor had made his entrance with his buddies, stupid cheers erupted from the crowd of high schoolers that were stupid enough to worship the likes of him.

Or maybe, you’re the stupid one for hoping you wouldn’t see him tonight.

But if the open invite to Melody Carter’s house for a late-night Saturday party meant the likes of you and Robin could come, of fucking course O’Connor would be there.

You had been only planning on one more drink, the one you’d been pouring when O’Connor showed face, but his smirk across the room had you finishing it instantly. It burned as you swallowed it down, your hands already moving to pour more liquor into your cup.

Two more shots down of — what was it? The label tells you it’s tequila — and you’re thoroughly drunk. Which, honestly, might not be a great move considering the number of people at this party. There are a lot of people here.

What had started as a party for only the senior year had quickly snowballed, kids older and younger showing up. Hell, you were pretty sure you’d seen Aaron Bright pass through the front door, a boy two years out of high school.

Did that mean Steve was coming?

Oh-kay, that had to be the tequila speaking.

But once the thought is in your head, it spins out, unstoppable, careening and building up your hopes before you remember to crush them. You weren’t hanging out to see Steve; quite the opposite in fact.

The bottle-smashing adventure you’d shared with him had been just over a week ago and maybe your thoughts had strayed to him a couple of times. A couple of times might be putting it lightly.

You just— you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Without the shield of ‘Steve Harrington is a douchebag’ to give a reason for your scowls, you had to admit he was utterly charming.

You couldn’t tell if it was the shift in your own perception or if Steve really was this nice, each sentence flirty or teasing — either way, it meant you were as good as reduced to blundering through any interaction with him.

So, naturally, you’d resorted to avoiding Family Video instead, which, hey, might not have been your best idea.

Robin had tracked you down after you didn’t show up to two of her evening shifts to hang. Gossip flowed as you divulged her in your Friday night, the prank O’Connor had pulled, and the subsequent tears that had followed. With a guilty smile, you let Robin get wrapped up in her anger and forgive your absences — too distracted to even ask how you’d gotten home.

Technically, you hadn’t lied. You had just... omitted certain facts.

Besides, you were feeling confused enough about Steve all on your own. You had no doubt that adding Robin, the mutual best friend between you two, and her opinion would make it all the messier.

Or maybe she’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Something in your head whispers, the tequila burning a little fouler in your stomach. That you can’t have him. That she knows him and he would never want you.

For good measure, you chase down one more shot.

And that’s how Steve finds you — wasted out in the back garden of a party.

Robin had invited him, halfheartedly during one of their shifts. Honestly, a high school party had very little appeal to him — most parties had no appeal after the events that had transpired in the last couple of years.

But Robin had been a bit adamant as she realised he didn’t have a date lined up like he usually did. He’d winced as she connected the dots, counting on her fingers that it had been nearly two months since he’d used his weekend for social plans. That is, excluding hanging with Robin.

The fact he stopped going on dates round bout the same time you stopped completely ignoring him was completely unrelated. But Steve was glad Robin didn’t notice the coincidence, so she couldn’t grill him about it.

In fact, she was surprisingly mute over his sudden agreement when Robin purposefully mentioned you’d be there. Her twinkling eyes said she knew more than she’d let on.

And at first, it seemed like a colossal mistake to come.

Steve didn’t like alcohol like he used to. The last few years had birthed something in him that hated not being in control of his body, especially when dark corners seem to hold something more sinister, or the lights flickered.

Or maybe it was the fact he hasn’t really been to a party since Halloween ‘84. Steve shoves the memory of that night down, away.

He lasts two minutes in the crowded main room before he’s shouldering out, hoping the garden will provide some relief. It brings lungfuls of fresh air, the natural blanket of the night and you.

You’re fairly certain you came out here to fight the spinning in your head, desperate for fresh air but now, sprawled out on the cool grass, you’re completely distracted by staring up at the sky. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for, gazing into the stars.

A head pops into your vision, Steve’s hair flopping over as he peers down at you. “y/n?”

“Steve!”

Whatever he was expecting, it was not the unbridled glee in your voice. You squirm happily, like a slug in the rain, and if your slurring hadn’t given you away, it’s evidence of how drunk you are. It doesn’t matter that something in his head says she’s drunk, he still finds himself smiling.

“That’s me.” He scans the garden for Robin, assuming the two of you would be together. Concern laces his next words. “Why ya out here on the grass, sweetheart?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s not sure what it is he’s said, but he’s never seen a reaction like this out of you before; your hands cover your face, giggles slipping loosely out as if you’re hiding a secret.

Sweetheart. You hide the flame in your face behind your hands. There’s nothing to be done for your giggles, loud and drunken, not stopping no matter how much you will yourself. The pet-name brands itself onto your heart, the heat of it racing under your skin.

Steve tries again. “Where’s Robin? I thought you two came together.”

“We did.” You remove your hands to reveal your wide-eyed expression as if just remembering the fact yourself. Man, that must have been ages ago. “She was talking to... to...”

“Vickie?” Steve supplies, with an amused smile.

“Yes!” You snap your fingers at him, expression showing a little bit of disbelief mixed with awe. It shows in your words. “How did you know that, Steve?”

Steve. Not Harrington. You’ve called him by his name twice and Steve’s a little embarrassed by how much he likes it. Likes the sound of his name in your mouth, on your lips.

He shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to get rid of the thought, mind stuck on your lips too long. Stay focused, Steve chides himself. Extending out a hand, he offers it to you with the intent to have both of you track down Robin.

Though, if you’d last seen her with Vickie, there’s a chance Robin would bite his head off for interrupting the two of them. Vickie, apparently, had a hard time believing the fact Steve and Robin’s relationship was entirely platonic in nature. Tracking her down at a party might not help.

He’s pulled out of the tangent of thoughts when you slap your hand into his — and tug.

Steve topples, immediately grateful for his lack of alcohol because, with any less coordination, you’d be squished beneath him. A hand plants on either side of your head, catching himself just above you. You grin, alcohol on your breath and Steve isn’t completely sure whether he’s imagining the pink on your cheeks.

“Uh,” Steve says, before scrambling off you hastily. He wasn’t sure if he could be so close to you without his face growing warm; or worse, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Though spying your amused expression, as if you’d known the closeness would make him blush, maybe Steve didn’t need to be worried.

“S’just,” you say, words a bit mumbled. “s’lay down on the grass. Y’know, look at the stars.”

You point up at the sky in case Steve didn’t understand. The grass is still cool under your back and your head isn’t spinning so much but you don’t really feel like moving. Something in you knows that your limbs will feel like cinder-blocks and movement will send your head back into a tizzy.

Without thinking, your push your lips into a pout and aim it at him. Steve flops down without argument.

“You didn’t tell me why you ended out here,” says Steve, wanting to keep you talking. He’s not entirely confident you won’t just fall asleep if the two of you lapse into silence.

You swing your neck, head lolling to the side to look at Steve. Eyes narrowed, it’s like you’re trying to see if he’s genuinely asking. Whatever you find in your search must satisfy you, because you speak, rolling your head back to peer upwards.

“O’Connor’s here.” You say, bitterness in your tone. “Then my head started spinnin’.”

Steve watches as you tilt your head back towards him, pulling a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “S’now I’m here.”

You’re not sure what convinces you to do what you do next.

Perhaps, it’s because Steve’s expression is tilting too close to pity and you don’t want it; or that you feel lonely enough that you’ll take touch whenever you can, brave enough with the alcohol in your blood to ask.

Or maybe, you just want an excuse to touch him.

“Gimme your hand.” With a gesture of your own, you hold your hand up like you might be asking for a high-five. It wavers, fingers quivering if he looked close enough. After a moment of confusion, Steve humours you.

You feel the callouses first, rough skin scratching against yours as Steve gingerly holds his hand out, letting your press your own against it. It’s warm, warmer than your own and you wish you could twist your fingers until they slotted in with his.

Don’t says a voice in your head, drowned out in the drunkenness. Don’t do this to yourself. Maybe, it’s the voice of reason. It seems you’re very good at building yourself up just to get torn back down.

Hand pressed to hand, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that; you want to touch him, so you ask, and he gives it to you. The alcohol makes it black and white. 

You hated him. You did, but now it’s all garbled and wonky and different — and you don’t hate him at all. Not anymore. Every complication you had worked up, all the knots tied in your brain seem to dissolve; hand to hand, it’s easy to admit what you’d been denying to yourself.

“I used to hate you, y’know.”

Steve’s not sure if this will ever get easier to hear. That people he’s grown close to carry reminders, unshakeable memories, of an old ego that still haunts him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He knows you know he’s sorry, that he’s different now. So, he weakly says. “Used to?”

“Yeah.” A smile finds your lips, tugging them up slightly. Steve thinks he could marvel forever at how your lashes kiss in the corner when you smile. It’s aching. “Used to.”

“S’kinda hard to hate you,” you sigh, eyes turning skyward. “I should. You didn’t even remember me a couple months s’ago,”

Steve focuses on your hand against his to deter the twinge in his heart. Your hand is smaller than his and when he curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours. A breath bursts past your lips, loud enough he hears it.

“M’sorry.” he whispers, though he’s said it time and time again.

He doesn’t care; he’ll say it a thousand it times if you’ll keep looking at him like that. Features soft, so different to the glare he’s all but memorised — instead, your eyebrows drawn together like the sight of both your hands, palm to palm, might be the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Steve feels you push back against his fingers, a gentle pressure like you’re trying to hug him back.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Even while drunk, you can’t look at him while you confess. If you look at him, then it’s real and logic will prevail and you’ll rein everything back in.

Looking at both of your hands, feeling the yearning spool in between your ribs — none of it matters. You like him so much that it feels woven into everything else; weaved into the noises of the party, the black of the night, the grass tickling the back of your legs.

You like him so much it makes you sick.

On second thought, that might be the alcohol.

Steve’s response, whatever it might be, vanishes when you rip your hand away and sit up suddenly — emptying to contents of your stomach into a lovely rosebush to your right. Disgusted with the sudden visual aid to what you had for dinner, you groan. The movement has sent your head spinning again, rotating out of the same orbit as Earth.

Steve’s palm soothes down your spine, rubbing warmth as he murmurs comfortingly.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, more to himself. “You’ll be feeling it in the mornin’.”

You groan again, eyes sliding shut and tumbling you into darkness.

Fact #8: You’re never drinking, ever again.

You’ll be feeling it in the morning. The last memory of last night curls up like smoke in your head and all you can think is Steve was fucking right.

The sheets feel scratchy as you release an agonised noise into your pillow, coiling in tighter. There’s a pounding in your head, bleeding out of your ears and eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so terrible in your life.

Eyes screwed shut tight, you move slowly and draw your head up. Sneaking a look, relief fizzes in your chest as the recognition of your sheets — you made it home, you’re in bed. Never mind that you can’t quite remember how you got here. A shuffle of your legs tells you, uncomfortably, you’re still in last night’s jeans.

What time is it? There’s sun coming through the gap in the curtains. Daytime. Some sleep-covered murmur escapes you, though even you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean.

Plopping your head back down, you search your memories. It’s an effort to push past your headache to put together the puzzle of last night. Visions of arriving at the party, of drink number one, and dancing with Robin are clear but sometime after O’Connor shows up they begin to get hazy.

You remember the cool grass. The moon. Steve. God, that’s right, he was there — what you might have said to him is anyone’s guess. Another grainy and fogged memory of puking in the bushes. The rest of the night is locked behind a tequila fueled paywall in your brain

Burrowing back into your sheets, the hangover takes priority and you only hope to sleep it off.

 —

The next time you wake, the pounding in your head has shifted to the door.

You can’t have been asleep for more than an hour according to your alarm clock, blinking midday numbers back at you as you drag your head up. Thankfully, a large portion of your hangover has been cured with sleep — otherwise, the unending knocks on your door might be the end of you.

You struggle to speak, aware of your sandpaper throat but whatever gurgle you produce is good enough for whoever is on the other side of the door. Robin, judging by the intensity of their knocks.

Lo and behold, Robin bowls into the room once she hears signs of life.

“What did you say to Steve?”

Oh.

That has you sitting up, wincing at the pain it brings and you nurse your head in your hands. “What?” you rasp out. “Nothing!”

That might be a lie. You wince again, searching through you scrambled memories for what she could be referring to and come up short. Robin can read your genuine confusion.

“Why?” The word comes out a bit shot. You clear your throat. “Did he say something to you?”

“Nothing specific,” Robin grimaces a bit. She’s never been the best at hiding her emotions. “He just— he asked if you’d talked to me. Said he was checking if you were still alive. Which, yanno, thank god you are! He said you barfed in Melody’s mom’s rose bush, which quite frankly is hilarious and—“

“Robin.” you moan, trying to cut off her ramble. “Why are you here?”

Robin seems to remember the original reason she was nearly breaking down your door, body jumping like she’s been zapped. “Right!”

She suddenly seems to reconsider herself, ducking her head and beginning a well practiced pace across your carpet. “I know you said you don’t like him, which I get, I know- he was the worst! But I dunno, you seemed to, like, I don’t know? Warm up to him? I guess, he just seemed real bummed on the phone when I said you hadn’t called me.”

A series of emotions jolt through your nerves, none as strong as the elation at hearing Steve had called to ask about you. You push it down with another groan and fling yourself backward, bouncing on the springs of your mattress.

Hands hiding your face, you mumble the next words as if you don’t quite want Robin to hear them.

“I don’t not like him.”

“And I can’t tell what that is supposed mean.” Her pacing hasn’t ceased. Her arms gesticulate wildly as she speaks. “You don’t not like him sorta, to me, just sounds like you like him!”

“Robin,” you whine, well aware of the way she can read you like words on a page. “What do you wanna hear? That you were right?”

Robin halts her pacing, leaning her knees onto the edge of your mattress. You peek at her through your fingers. She’s looking a little more wide-eyed. “Yes. Absolutely. If my two favourite people in the world could suddenly get along, maybe even be friends, I think I’d like to know.”

“We’re not—”

“But that is not why I’m here.” She’s gone serious, brows raised as her voice turns softer. You nearly think she’s taunting you, a hint of a smile hidden in her expression.

“I’m here to discuss the distinct possibility that you have managed to skip the part where we become a cool trio of friends and have traveled into more than friends territory.”

Damn her. She’s too good, unspooling your secret right after you’ve only just managed to admit it aloud (not that you could remember that thought). Dragging your hands down your face, you groan again — there’s no point in hiding it from Robin, especially when she seems to have you all figured out.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘wow Robin, you’re incredibly smart and totally right’.” She jibes, looking far too smug.

Perplexingly, she doesn’t appear to care that you confirmed Steve had you feeling gooey inside and weak at the knees. You dredge yourself to a sitting position, blankets pooling at your waist, and regard her with as much sarcasm as you can.

“Wow, Robin,” you drawl tiredly, still a bit catty from your lack of sleep. “You’re so totally right.”

“Don’t forget the incredibly smart part.”

You wallop her thigh with your sleeve, halfhearted and not at all mean. She grins. For a moment, you’re monumentally relieved to be sharing this with her — you’re best friends, talking about a boy you like, back to feeling thick as thieves with her.

“You gotta talk to him though, you know that right?”

A sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

—

By the time you’ve rinsed the last of your hangover down the shower drain, washed down with the suds of your strawberry shampoo, the sun is nearing the horizon. 

Droplets cling to the ends of your hair, leaving a trail behind you on the carpet as you don fresh clothes. You try your best not to analyse each piece, shoving down any self-doubts and recalling Steve’s generous compliments littered through the past couple of months.

Tonight. It had to be tonight, you decided. Any longer and you’d lose the nerve, crawl back to avoidance because you’re not really sure you want to hear what you said to him in the garden.

You can only imagine it’s some confusing amalgamation of your complicated feelings — mixed with the amount of alcohol you had drunk? It was a stab in the dark trying to guess what you had said.

The plan you have is half-baked at best. The walk to Loch Nora isn’t far — but if your plan goes south, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow and clear your tears on the walk home. Thankfully, It’s still too early for dinner. You can smell the beginnings of it bubbling on the stove as you creep down the stairs.

As soundlessly as you can, you slip out the front door. Warm air greets you. The sunbeams trickle across the sky, dipping lower behind the horizon and painting soft blemishes of pink and orange across the sky.

The other perk of the walk is that you’ll have ample time to decide what you’ll say to Steve; you can deliberate each word, orchestrated so that it can be played down if need be. Minimal cringe and hurt feelings.

You’re running a few options over in your head when the rumble of a car cruising down your road draws your eyes. With a startle, you realise it’s a familiar maroon colour  — a car you’d been in just over a week ago.

You watch as Steve parks, evidently so entrapped in his own thoughts to notice you on the doorstep. He’s messing with his hair anxiously, eyes on the ground and when you look closer, his mouth is moving, an indication he’s talking out loud to himself.

He makes it halfway up the driveway before you stumble out to meet him.

“Steve?” You call out and his head shoots up, a little alarmed to see you. His steps falter, the pair of you met in the middle of your drive.

“Y/n. Hi.” For someone who had come to your house, he seems a bit affronted to be seeing you. Acutely, you realise that he’s nervous. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the road. “Were you— is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“No!” You squeak. “No, I was just... coming to see you, actually.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks. He ducks his head for a moment, clearing his throat but you still spot the pink on his cheeks. “How’s your head? You’d had, uh, a lot to drink last night.”

There’s only a mild rush of embarrassment to your system, a sheepish grin playing at your lips. “Right. Last night- I’m sorry you had to, er, see that. Or rather, thank you for taking care of me.”

Steve smiles back. One hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous motion. You don’t mean to zero in on his large bicep, tan skin on display with his short sleeves but it’s impossible not to — Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.

You smile timidly, willing your cheeks to cool.

“Yeah, about that.” He starts, eyes shifting about nervously. He can’t pick a spot to focus, too nervous to look you in the eyes.

Steve’s been throwing around your words ever since you uttered them to him in the garden. And now I can’t stop thinking about you. Tone so sweet, so sincere, your brows drawn together like it hurt you to admit how much Steve had been on your mind.

His stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at your reveal, nerves flaming and relief coursing at the realisation that it was mutual. You’d been on Steve’s mind since even before you’d given him your softest smiles after bottle smashing, sugary grins over your milkshake, a genuineness you’d never shared with him before — and after? God, it had driven him mad.

But then you’d scampered out of the car like a spooked animal. Stopped coming by Family Video and cursedly, seemed to slip back into an old pattern of ignoring him.

Then, the garden.

God, if you hadn’t been drunk, and maybe if Steve wasn’t so surprised by the sweetness you showed him, he might’ve kissed you.

Holding your palm against his, you might as well have been grabbing his hopes and hoisting them out of the depths — that perhaps, your avoidance stemmed from something different this time round. 

Steve takes in your shy expression, bottom lip trapped in your teeth, and prays it’s all for the same reason he’s nervous and not instead, because you’re trying to awkwardly figure out how to tell him it was all the alcohol talking. 

“What you said…” He’s trying to be nice to his feelings, on the defence in case he’s so terribly wrong about this. About you. “Did— did you mean that?” 

The face you pull doesn’t instill him with confidence, his stomach plummeting at your hesitance. Fuck. He’d overshot, as usual, clinging too tightly to the threads of affection you’d shown him. 

“I…” You’re unsure where to begin. God, what did you say?

Steve thinks he can garner what reaction that is; it’s the exact opposite of what his heart had managed to convince him. You went back to avoiding him on purpose. He cuts you off hoping to save himself some awkward rejection, shaking his head and taking a step back. 

“Don’t worry. It was— you were drunk,” Embarrassment starts flooding in, a hot uncomfortable flush up his neck that makes Steve want to sink into the ground. “I shouldn’t have— it was weird of me to ask.” 

He’s rambling too fast to get a word in. You take a step forward as he takes another step back, worried that he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. Never mind that all plans for orchestrating the perfect thing to say are out the window — you have to say something. 

“I don’t know what I said!” You blurt, desperate to halt his retreat. It works; Steve stops, taken aback by your words. Oh God, what now? You debate where to start. 

“Seriously, I— Robin came over and was talking about how you’d called and— I-I remember some of last night but it’s a bit—”

“You don’t...” Steve interrupts, giving a confused shake of his head. The wind ruffles his hair, strands dancing over his forehead. “Remember any of it?”

Why does it feel like you’ve disappointed him? Despite your initial wish to not relive whatever you’d said in the garden, you’re suddenly dying to remember. Even now, you can feel yourself combing the hazy memories, hoping there’s a stone you’ve yet to turn. It’s fruitless.

“I remember embarrassing myself by puking in the bushes.” You grimace as you say it, heat rising in your face. You can feel your nerves fraying, heart pounding but none of it in a good way. “Look, Steve, does it matter what I said? I-“

“It does.” He says, voice suddenly lower. It rasps, more serious than before. “It matters if you meant it. Do you?”

He takes another step forward, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. The same comforting musky scent as when he pushed the safety glasses up your nose and tucked your hair behind your ears in the woods together, touch gentle and eyes kind.

“You said,” He breathes, his honey eyes hopeful. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me.”

Oh.

It seems to be a habit of yours; rewinding through your actions towards Steve in the past, heavy with regret. He’d still been sweet, checking on you out in the garden even though you’d left him in the dark for a week. After managing to make you forget the worst date ever.

Then you’d upchucked your feelings, so drunk you couldn’t remember it, and then your dinner too. You were a mess; Steve Harrington made you a lovely absolute mess. Fuck, you’d likely ruined whatever chance at something with him.

But then again, here he was.

Still showing up, enough hope to dredge together the courage to drive over and ask you what it meant. 

“I meant it.” You say, softly. You feel captured in his gaze, pulled into his orbit with no choice about it. He’s like the sun, gravity pulling you closer the longer you stand this close to him. Your heart feels like it’s made of jelly, each thump echoing out into your limbs. “I— fuck, you made it so hard to hate you. I used—”

“—Used to hate me.” Steve recites the words before you can say them, amusement in his voice. Some of his nervousness has leaked out, shoulders less tight. You can nearly see a glint of his Harrington charm in the curl of his lips. “Yeah, you said that last night too.”

It’s said to poke fun, teasing you for last night’s loose tongue. You groan, head tilting back. “God, anything else I said last night that I should know about?”

Steve steps closer. It makes your breath hitch, your head straightening up and bringing your faces closer still. You’re not sure where this is going, not sure what he’s thinking, if he can hear the thunder of your heart — he hasn’t even said anything that implies the feelings are mutual.

You vaguely wonder how he knew that your words held more weight than they appeared. He’d been paying more attention than you’d expected; knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you meant more than what was on the surface.

This time, you know him well enough to know that his teasing is not mocking. That the Steve in front of you is not at all like the one you’d remembered from the school hallways, the one who’d thrown around shitty comments, had notches in his belt, and didn’t care who got hurt as a result.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

The world doesn’t stop spinning, but for a moment, it certainly feels that way. Blood rushes in your ears, blooms under your cheeks, and the words sink in. The wind sounds like the sweetest music, the colour spread across the sky is a shade that could only be called love and a boy is telling you he likes you too.

It faintly occurs that the silly teenage daydream you pictured with Bradley — you’re instead getting with a boy you swore you hated not two months ago.

It makes you like him even more.

He’s earned it, your trust, your affection — your kiss.

Wordlessly, you surge forward at the same time Steve does. You clash, gifting each other an awkward headbutt instead of some swooning kiss. Pain splinters momentarily across your forehead, gone after a moment.

You can’t help it, a laugh bursting from your lips. You’re so nervous. It doesn’t deter you, peering up at him with adoring eyes. Somehow, you still manage a tease. “Were you trying to kiss me, Harrington?”

His hands cup your face, fingers tucked under your jaw, and thumbs stroking your cheeks. His own smile barely contained, elation shining in his eyes.

“I will if you stop calling me that.”

He kisses you before you even get a chance to agree.

There’s bliss hidden in his lips, you think happily. Steve kisses soft, plush lips that mold to yours like its second nature, two pieces of the universe aligning.

You can feel the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his thumbs upon your face and you sigh, content, into the kiss because no one has ever kissed you like this.

He kisses you and suddenly, there is no war-torn battle in your mind. Your hands have twisted into the fabric on his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s unbearable. You want him, completely, embarrassingly, and undeniably. You’ll take anything he’ll give you — you want him to give you everything.

When the kiss breaks, it’s only for a moment; Steve presses another, short and gentle, then another, and another, like he can’t handle not stealing another taste of your lips.

“Steve,” you rasp, chuckling a bit. Your eyes are still closed, like you’re worried it’ll all be some dream if you dare to open them. His nose nudges yours, crushing closer to you, unwilling to relent the closeness he’s finally been granted.

“Let me take you out.” He whispers and it’s enough to open your eyes, lashes crinkling as you beam up at him. Steve drops a kiss on your cheek, thumbs stroking with a tender care that makes you shiver. “Please.”

As if you could say no. You give a minuscule nod but your delight is given away in your smile, eyes bright as you admire each detail of his face fondly. “Yeah, alright.”

It makes him laugh, amusement dancing across his features, and God, he looks so handsome you have to kiss him again.

You do, hands escaping the confines of his shirt and twisting around his neck. Steve hums happily, something you’ll come to learn he does whenever you kiss him first. It makes you gleeful, a shot of pure euphoria tipping down your spine. You shiver, wonderfully.

“Just promise me,” you say when you pull back, breathing a titch ragged. You grin. “Not a movie date.”

Steve grins, one hand leaving your face to curl around your waist. It’s warm, heat radiating into your skin.

“Still no faith in me, sweetheart?” He chides, fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, giving away his joy. The pet name makes your knees weak, a flash of a forgotten memory in the garden breaking through.

“Something tells me you’ll convince me.”

Fact #9: The first fact is a lie.

His next kiss feels like a promise; that he’ll do the work to convince you, just like he’d done the last few months. That he’d be more than happy to. You drink in affection from a boy who’s so sweet on you with a happy sigh.

He tastes like sunlight.

Fact #10: You might just be falling in love with Steve Harrington.

taggin sum mutuals below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @writtenbybelle @hoesbloated @familyvideostevie @lurkymurker @sattlersquarry @steddiesandwich @circesstars @upsidedownwithsteve @raggedyoldwitch @sunshinehollandd @ohschmidts @appocalipse​

#this... was so scrummy to write #i can't believe i pumped out that many scenes #i think i started this wanting to prove that i could indeed write a fic past 5k #LO AND BEHOLD 16K LATER #good god i hope u love it #anyways i'm LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!! #steeb...come gimme kiss #i deserve to be called sweetheart by my babygirl bf <3 #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #sending a sacrifice (my sleep while i wrote this) to the fic gods....

[fuzybby]

May I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin with shy gn s/o?

The boys with a shy gn!Reader is here!

You know me, there's a few notes mentioning sex in each companion, but it is mostly fluff! So in that case, MDNI

Astarion:

Probably teases you about how shy you are constantly.

Seems like the kind of guy to tease you in public, pinching you when he comes up behind you to hear you gasp. Enjoying the way your face heats up, envious of the fact your skin can still get hot.

Would also probably be very sweet about you not speaking up, I can see him as the kind of guy to stand up for you, regardless if you're shy or not. Type of man to be like “they asked for no pickles>:(“

If you get anxious when you're loud or have horrible social anxiety, he'd lay back on the teasing in front of people. Teasing in private though? Still on the table. Would love to whisper in your ear and watch you stammer about, trying to find the right words to say.

If you're still at camp, he'd try to get you to make loud noises during sex in his tent. Wants everyone to know he can make you make those noises.

If you make yourself a home with him after the Elder Brain, he'd still love to make you squirm and scream.

Gale:

I LOVE HIM

sorry, that slipped out.

Would probably be so nice about you being shy, speaking up for you when you need it. Hand on your arm or lower back to comfort you when you're speaking.

If you stammer a lot, he would be the most intense listener. Sitting and waiting and enjoying the way you get flustered. Giving you an almost teasing smile that's more genuine than teasing, but he just loves you so so much.

He probably loves to shower you in gifts. Especially if you speak up for yourself in any situation. You managed to tell someone off for being an asshole to you? He is giving you the prettiest piece of jewellery. If you don't wear jewellery, he'll buy you clothes.

Tara also probably loves that you're shy, she can talk your ear off and you can just sit and listen to her rambles. Gale loves watching you two get so close.

Not as teasing during sex as Astarion. But he does love if you make noise. He praises you the entire time, telling you how wonderful you are.

If you're not open to making noise, even during sex, he is totally fine with that. He jokes that he moans enough for the both of you (which may or may not be true).

Wyll:

The most gentlemanly boyfriend in the entire world. Yeah I said it.

Probably wouldn't tease you at all. He'd love that you're so shy and quiet. I can see him as someone who enjoys comfortable silence with each other, so make sure to grab a book or a hobby you can do with him because those will be some of your dates.

All the time, will do those little dances with each other. He knows you're shy so he'll stick to doing it in private. But, you know from his kiss animation, he will twirl you around and watch you giggle from his ministrations.

If he has his horns, I can see him trying to purposely bonk you on the head with them to watch you giggle. This man will do anything to make you laugh. He loves watching you be happy.

Also a gentleman in bed. Does anything and everything to make you feel good first. Again, would love it if you made noise during bed.

But I don't think he's purposely trying to get you to make noise. If you just don't want to, he'll still make sure you enjoy yourself.

I can see him being a little insecure if you're not as loud, wanting to make sure you felt good the entire time. Just make sure you reassure him because he's a sensitive one.

Halsin:

Halsin, Halsin, Halsin, where do I even start.

He would be soooo teasing if you were shy, not as much as Astarion though. He can see him as a mix of both the vampire and the wizard, wanting to tease you but giving you comfort with a hand on your shoulder.

I can see him absentmindedly braiding your hair (if your hair is long enough), that's another one of his ways that he comforts you. Your hair will always be littered with braids. Small or big.

Like Wyll, he enjoys the comfortable silence between the two of you. He likes to sit outside in nature and listen to the sounds of the day. The animals making noise, the creaking of branches, the wind that whistles, he loves it all. And he'd love to enjoy it all with you.

He is always so big, he can't help but stick up for you when you need it. It's like, in his gigantic nature.

He is just so big, it's hard for him to be gentle during sex. I have a feeling you'll probably end up making some noise with him no matter what. Halsin lives to please you. You will be screaming (or at least, moaning much louder than you would normally) by the end of the night with him.

He's a big ol' teddy bear. Give this man hugs at every moment of the day. If you get overwhelmed with people, hug this man. Your worries will slip away instantly.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate wyll #baldurs gate halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x reader smut #astarion x reader #astarion x reader smut #gale x reader #gale x reader smut #wyll x reader #wyll x reader smut

[mehidktbh]

A Little Injury

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get shot at during a mission but after seeing Soap getting injured too you decide to keep yours a secret. Until your lieutenant catches on.

Warning: Guns, violence, serious-ish injury, reader shoots someone, blood, you're in a ton of pain, swearing, crying?, reader gets shot, yelling/shouting, Ghost is a bit of a jerk but not really because he basically patches you up in the end <3

A/N: I'm so sorry if I messed anything up plot-wise mainly because I'm not too familiar with MW2 and how the military work. I only know some parts...

(I'm sorry that you don't have a cool nickname to go by, I was struggling on a name anyway)

"Motherfucker!" You yell, quickly grabbing your gun again before you pulled the trigger, (attempting) shooting the guy in front of you. Ten bullets drop at your feet as you continue to unload at the man in front of you. Stopping suddenly as your arms tremble, you reload and shoot the guy again, just to be sure. The adrenaline wears off quickly as you drop your gun in agony, groaning and gripping your leg in pain as you tried to breathe in and out slowly.

Looking up your eyes scanned the now-dead man in front of you, his body slouched over on the wall with his gun in his lap. His hand was unresponsive and lifeless, you could barely see through your squinting how you just barely missed his heart. Your mind was racing the second he shot you and you had no time to perfect it.

A loud screech came through the walkie-talkie you had strapped to your chest armour, your ears ringed and your vision blurred as you mentally cursed yourself. "Y/N come in!" You recognised John's booming and aggressive voice, "Y/N Do you copy-" "Yes, yes I copy." A relieved sigh could be heard from the other side, "Status?" You looked around you, your eyes inspected and examined the room ignoring the voice in the back of your head to state your injury.

"I'm alright, do you need me?" Gunshots could be heard from outside the building, and streets were littered with violence and war. "Soap is down, injured badly we need everyone grouped up now!" Before you could reply John left, a static screeching out from the walkie-talkie just as you let your finger go of the button. But you pulled through, giving yourself a pep talk before grabbing your gun. Aiming it before leaving, your leg getting worse with every step.

♡ ♡ ♡

Limping around the corner you were met with your task force, John, Gaz, Soap and Ghost, their heads all turning to look at you. Soap was in the backseat of one of the military cars, bandages wrapped around his arm as he smirked at you. "Took your bloody time." Ghost mumbled roughly behind his mask, watching as you laugh before opening one of the doors. "Yeah yeah"

Getting in the backseat you were squished against the window, Soap leaning on the other side while Ghost sat in the middle. John and Gaz swearing about what you guessed to be themselves or arguing over another safehouse to stay for the night. Looking out the window you tried your hardest to focus on the horrible environment rather than your arching leg, the sounds of echoing shouting only died down once you got further away.

"Fuckin' battlefield out there" Soap spat, your head turning towards him, "How'd you get injured anyway? Tripped over?" Your teasing tone only made Soap feel better, his ruff chuckling made you smile as he pointed over to Ghost sitting in between you both. "Asshole doesn't know when to move." Ghost eyed him, giving him that jokingly shit-eating look before he continued, "Always in my damn' way." Your eyes drifted between the two of them, the thick tension could be felt between the three of you.

The agony of your leg coming back to ruin the moment, you huffed in frustration as you tried to catch a quick (Sneaky) glance down at your leg. Your heavy cargo pants felt wet when your fingers glided along the fabric. Looking at your fingers more you could spot your blood sliding down them before quickly wiping it away. Unknlowly catching the attention of Ghost.

♡ ♡ ♡

"Fuck I need to take a piss," Gaz said before disappearing into the bathroom. After what seemed like hours of torture from riding in the car ignoring your leg you guys came to a stop at a dingy motel. A more suspicious owner who glared at all of you when you tried to reason with him to get a room. Only the room was not clean and had a weird vibe, looking around you spotted a small TV sitting on a stand with 2 bunkbeds facing the opposite side.

Soap seemed to already claim the bottom bed with his blood and clothes as he tried to quickly discard them to unravel his bandages. You instead took the opportunity of claiming yourself on the top bunk - even though you did want the bottom - you took your time to slowly get up the ladder, hissing under your breath when you put too much weight on your other foot.

You stare at the ceiling, the beige colour was all you could think about as you drowned out everything around you. Your mind raced with thoughts, "Am I going to die?" "It hurts so much" "No one wants to patch you up" "No one cares" The thoughts were the only thing polluting you, they screamed and shouted at you as you tugged yourself to sleep. Telling yourself it'll heal in the morning and no one will know a thing.

The noises of the TV blurred in the background, the sounds of laughing and talking could be heard from below you but you paid no attention. Slowly and painfully drifting to sleep.

♡ ♡ ♡

You sniffled, shutting the door quietly behind you as if the guys would hear you through the loud TV playing an advertisement that no one was paying attention to. Turning on the light a quiet humming filled the bathroom, the uncomfortable, plain beige wallpaper followed into the bathroom as the white tiles fell hard against your boots.

Gripping onto the cold and slippery sink you had no intention of using the bathroom only the thought of weeping silently to yourself. You could have taken some of Soap's bandages or alcohol-free wipes but your mind was only focused on getting to the bathroom you didn't have time to think.

A loud knock shook you out of your struggling state, you nervously looked towards the door before preparing yourself to act normal. "Yes?" You questioned, your happy and normal voice didn't get past Ghost as he replied. "Open up." His British accent was demanding and serious as he waited for you to open up, "Go back to bed, Ghost-" "Open this fuckin' door. Y/N." He interrupted you this time more demanding than before as he knocked more forcefully.

You opened the door after what seemed like forever to him, you were met with his usual mask and muscular body. His eyes scanned you from top to bottom, raking over your puffy eyes and left leg that was lifted off the ground. He pushed his way into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot as he signalled you to sit on the sink. You watched as he dropped the first-aid kit next to you, scavenging through it before he pulled out some cotton swobs and some alcohol-free wipes.

His eyes were met with yours as he stared deeply at you, he didn't say anything but he didn't need to. His pupils told a thousand words, like how wanted to ask you if it was okay to touch your leg, his hand hovering over your injury waiting for you to answer. And when you did he slowly pushed your cargo pants higher up your leg, giving him full access to your bare leg and bloody injury.

"Why didn't ya' tell me." He cursed at you, his fingers gently patting the cotton swab on your leg, soaking up and cleaning all the dripping and dried blood away from your leg. But you only shrugged your shoulders in response, "I can take care of myself" Your low, soft voice replied sounding determined but failed to get through Ghost as he stood between your legs.

"Clearly not." His husky voice only made you feel guilty, the long painful sensation felt sweet against his touch. "You not only failed me but the rest of the team" His stern and disappointed voice affected you, not only did you blame yourself before but now it only felt worse. "I'm-" You hissed feeling the throbbing and piercing sting of what could only be described as hell but instead it was Ghost trying his best to slowly and softly wipe the alcohol-free wipe across your injury.

"I'm sorry..." You huffed out, your gentle and drowsy voice pleaded and sounded genuine to Ghost. He hummed in reply, his clothed fingers dancing and massaging your leg, sometimes you swore he could squeeze or go higher up your thigh. His low and husky breath could be heard through the low humming of the bright bathroom light, leaning against the mirror you felt relaxed now that there was no pain.

"Don't try that shit again, you hear me?" Ghost wrapped your leg up and let go of your leg now he only stood between your man-spread legs. Arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you, "I'd hate to see you hurt again." His dreadfully quiet tone was possessive and penetrating, you swore he grinned once you smiled in return.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #fanfiction #my little meow meow #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Best friend!Stevo helps shy reader cum after hearing about all of her less than mediocre hook ups. Maybe when they’re done stevo says something like “goddamn, you should’ve told me you felt that damn good months ago. Left me completely in the dark, man 😔”

I love this sm omg. Proofread

𝒢ℴℴ𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒹𝓈

Warnings- p in v, afab reader, mention of bad hookups, making out, oral (f)

You and Steven, or Stevo, were good friends. He found you interesting, and although you might not seem like it to some, he thought you were pretty damn cool.

You hung out on your bed, listening to the person on the tv. You didn’t expect the knock on your door. You slowly got up, in no hurry. They could wait, whoever it was.

You opened the door slightly and the first thing you saw was the blue hair. You opened it more.

“Stevo?” You asked softly, confused at the sudden sight. You had a blanket wrapped around you, it was pretty early.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind.” He let himself in. You weren’t shocked at this point, you shut the door and looked at him.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“I just wanted to see you. Haven’t seen you in a while.” He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Oh.”

“How are you?” He asked. You yawned.

“Tired.” You laughed.

“Why didn’t you show up yesterday? To the party.” He asked blatantly.

“You know parties aren’t my thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Well, your already here. You want coffee.. or something?”

“Sure.”

You both sat down on your bed now, as he looked at a note on your desk. He furrowed an eyebrow and picked it up.

“Had a great time last n-“ he read out loud.

“No, no!” You groaned when you heard it, trying to take it from him, but he lifted it in the air and continued to read it.

“And I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at-“

“Stevo!” You whined, as he laughed loudly, you climbed on top of the man but he continued to read it. Your cheeks heated up.

“From Josh.” He said in a swoony voice, you rolled off of him and folded your arms.

After a little while, he asked with a laugh, “So, was he any good?

"No. I can't go. He was just awful," you said with a shudder.

“Why was he horrible?” He asked, interested now.

“It’s not important-“

“No, I feel like I need to know now.” He laughed, raising his eyebrows.

“So many reasons.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t wanna..”

“C‘mon, give me the details.”

You sighed “These few months, all I’ve had is these not very good hookups. Maybe my standards are high or maybe these men just can’t fucking fuck.”

“Mm. Probably both.” He joked.

As you struck him in the arm, he quickly muttered a soft apology.

“Anyways, this guy was an asshole. First, he didn’t take off his shoes in my damn place, and he didn’t until we started to have sex. Then when he did, he was sloppy, I think he was a virgin.”

He made a face at your words.

“It gets worse. None of them have made me orgasm, I had to fake it. I haven’t had one for months.”

“I could help with that.” He shrugged. You looked at him, thinking he was joking. But no, his face made it seem like he was indeed serious.

“"Stop," you said with a small laugh as you looked back at the TV.

“What? You don’t think I could?”

“You’re joking. It’s funny, Stevo.”

“I’m not.” He said, his tone serious this time. You both stared at each other for a moment, before leaning in. He made it so he was on top of you, cupping your face and kissing you.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, making you moan out in the process. Once you both moved away, a string of saliva followed. He quickly began to unbutton his pants, and you took off your shirt and bra.

He then looked at your pants, taking them off quickly, throwing them along with the rest of your guys clothes. He was quick, and he stared at your almost naked body.

You looked away and crossed your arms, feeling shy under his gaze.

You feel his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t.” He said. He then moved his way back in between your legs. He pulled your panties down, he looked up at you, and he put his mouth on your pussy.

His hands gripped your thighs as he licked like it was his last meal. Your noises motivated him, he focused on your clit, licking a stripe up the bundle of nerves.

You moaned out his name, his ego grew at every one you let out.

You had a firm grip on his hair.

“Stevo- Im-“

He didn’t stop, in fact, his tongue worked faster, it felt heavenly on your pussy.

You came on his face, your first orgasm in months. He came up from in between your legs, licking it from his lips.

You thought for a while about how your best friend had just eaten you out. He had just helped you get your first orgasm in what felt like forever.

Your thoughts were interrupted when he pulled his boxers down, you were shocked by his size.

He asked what was wrong when he saw the expression on your face, a proud smirk on his lips.

“Are you sure that's gonna…”

"We'll find out," he shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your eyes fixed on him with an intense desire, a desire that he reveled in.

He stroked his cock a few times in front of you, as you laid in front of him. He moved his cock to your entrance, looking closely at your reaction when he slid into your pussy.

Your face scrunched up and he stayed still inside you for a little.

“Okay. Move. Please.” you nodded.

“Yes ma’am,” he said jokingly, starting to move deeper inside, his hands were on your sides as he started to thrust slowly at first.

But you needed more. “Stevo- faster-” you said

He listened, his thrusts turned quicker, a lot quicker than you expected the man to be. He was thrusting at a brutal pace, slamming his hips into yours.

“Fuck. You feel amazing.” he moaned out, throwing his head back for a moment, fully enjoying this moment.

Both of your guy's noises were the only thing that could be heard, bouncing off the walls.

He focused on the way you squeezed him, fuck, you felt amazing. He wanted to be buried in your pussy forever.

He loved the way your eyes were screwed shut and the noises that came from your mouth. It was something straight out of his biggest wet dream.

“Stevo!” you cried out, he was hitting your g spot, and you loved every second he thrust his hips into yours.

He knew you were about to come, he could tell by the way you were squeezing him so hard it was harder to move in and out.

He just listened to the way you cried out his name, and the way you came on his cock, it truly did feel like a dream, he was sure he’s never had pussy this good.

He came after you, starting to slow down his movements as they got slightly sloppy.

He pulled out of you, the both of you breathing heavily. He just looked at you and flopped down next to you.

“You should have told me you felt that good months ago. I feel left in the dark.” he turned his head to you, and you turned to him with a giggle.

“Well, now you know.”

#stevo levy x reader #stevo levy smut #stevo levy #steven levy x reader #steven levy #slc punk x reader #slc punk #matthew lillard #matthew lillard x reader #matthew lillard smut

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: "Robin"

Superboy has existed for about six months at best (five months, two weeks, and six days, but who's creepily spying on their fellow heroes and vigilantes? not Tim, for sure) and was created in a lab full of extremely niche genetic experiments whose creators very rarely bothered making look human, which is probably why he has some weird ideas about certain social norms.

Tim assumes that's why the guy just decided to drop a very annoyed Catwoman on him out of nowhere, anyway.

"The fuck?" he says, though through his vocoder it comes out more like the incoherent screeching of the damned. That being, well, the whole purpose of the vocoder and all. Superboy grins down at him from the nighttime sky all bright and sunny and weirdly adorable, for being a lab-grown weapon and a guy who is technically capable of disassembling Tim down to his individual atoms with, like, a touch and about two seconds' worth of thought.

Not that Tim has been creepily spying on anyone or said anyone's Cadmus files, again.

Also Superboy might not even know he can do that yet, so it's really not a smart thing to mention right now.

"Hey, man!" Superboy greets cheerfully. "She was breaking into that big museum a couple blocks over, figured you'd care about that. As opposed to, like, breaking into some rich asshole with insurance's penthouse. Figured you would not have cared about that."

"The museum also has insurance, for the record," Selina informs him sourly as she makes an art of getting off her unceremoniously roof-dumped ass while looking like being on this roof was her idea to begin with. Because, like: Selina. "And has not properly sourced the artifacts in their new Bast exhibit."

I know, that's why I was on my way to the museum to keep an eye out for you, is what Tim does not say, since Robin is supposed to be a splintered aspect of a mysterious all-knowing city spirit given human form and not just, like, a really dedicated teenager surviving on semi-legal energy drinks and conspiracy-board detective work and the occasional occult ritual to summon the Batman.

What he does do is jerkily cock his head and say, "Preyyyyy?", and let his vocoder horribly mangle the word into a sound usually best described as "unholy avian screeching". Superboy beams, which is not a normal reaction to hearing Robin's voice. Selina just rolls her eyes, but Selina of course knows about the whole "really dedicated teenager surviving on semi-legal energy drinks and conspiracy-board detective work and the occasional occult ritual to summon the Batman" thing.

Like she's never summoned the Batman for anything, geez. Or "Bruce", as an eight year-old Dick Grayson had once upon a time decided to randomly dub him. Tim still can't call the eternal and unsleeping eldritch protector of their city that without feeling like he's going to spontaneously combust, but it is in fact a thing that the Batman will answer to.

Might as well call Pennyworth "Alfie", though.

Jason was even worse at names than Dick, Tim is pretty sure.

"Yeah!" Superboy says, sounding still more cheerful and floating down the rest of the way to the roof to land lightly in front of Tim. Selina eyes him in a way that would end very badly for anyone who was not functionally invulnerable. "I mean, she seems cool and all but I dunno, figured the Bat wasn't big on Cats in his territory. And also the criming. Definitely also the criming."

"How . . . find Robin?" Tim asks. Superboy doesn't have enhanced senses, as far as he knows, so . . .

"Oh, I've been stalking you," Superboy explains. Tim blinks behind his unblinking mask and feels several ways about that statement. "That's what you Bats all do when you're interested in somebody, right? So I figured you'd like it if I did it back."

. . . Tim feels several ways about that statement.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #rinfic #chromatographic #wip: a fake cryptid and a real romantic

[shankschewtoy]

If you were in the hospital

a/n - I’m in the hospital so this is absolutely perfect 💪 kinda self indulgent sorry

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, sick reader, modern au, I bully kidd even when I’m sick (don’t worry I’m not too sick to bully him)

- this asshole wouldn’t fit through the damn doorway 💀 and he would be the person the other patients were complaining about

- “Um. Nurse? There’s this red haired guy who threatened to kill me earlier?” -random innocent person

- jokes aside, he would stay with you and get you whatever you need. Aggressively.

- “Hey Kidd, I need some water.”

- “NURSE I NEED SOME FUCKING WATER.”

- “Kidd! Ask nicely-!”

- “I NEED SOME FUCKING WATER PLEASE.”

- poor you 😭

- he would try and sleep with you on the bed but his fat ass can’t fit 💀 bro is too big for that

- he would also invite killer if that’s ok with you, killer is a better caretaker than him obviously

- he would be helping the nurses politely and making sure you were comfortable

- Kidd would literally threaten the doctor to come and check on you or else he’d kill his family 😭😭😭😭 pls save this doctor

- when the room gets super quiet, he’d ask the literal most random ass questions so it doesn’t get awkward but it gets more awkward after he asks them

- “Does your ass itch? Mine does.”

- “WTF KIDD?!”

- 💀💀💀💀

- He snores really loud so you’re probably not going to sleep very well, but knowing he’s there with you is comforting at least

- bro wakes up the other patients in other rooms 💀

- if Kidd is there, killer’s there too- they’re inseparable and also Kidd would die if killer and you weren’t there trying to keep this dumbass alive

- killer would be telling Kidd to shut up every five seconds as he should

- all in all, a 0/10 hospital experience, but a 10/10 emotional support experience 👍

- let’s just say this time, he’s not your doctor

- trust me, he’d be there before you even arrive in the ambulance 💀 he has everything you need

- changes of clothes, your favorite blankets, water bottles, stuffed animals, movies, literally everything

- he’d be the one who’s talking with the nurses and telling them what to do 😭 the poor doctor became his subordinate

- it got kind of annoying, but he asks a TON of questions almost every minute or so

- “Are you feeling nauseated?”

- “Dizzy?”

- “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

- “What’s your name, and where are you right now?”

- yeah he’s just worried, go along with it

- he’s the type of guy to literally never leave and just stare at you the entire time, it’s creepy

- “Law, you staring at me is not helping.”

- “I- wha-?! Fine. I’m just worried y/n.”

- “Okok! Sorry- you can stare at me- don’t sulk and turn emo in the corner!”

- “I’m not EMO!”

- “Yeah you kinda are.”

- Law is the definition of emo 💀 he can’t lie about it, and he can’t hide it, it’s just natural

- even if you don’t want to, he’s going to help you walk around the hospital room, just to keep the blood flow going

- he knows that even though you’re not supposed to move around a lot, walking a little bit is good

- law will not sleep at all- he will continue to stare at you as you sleep, it’s creepy 😭

- literally law: 👁️ _ 👁️

- it’s amazing how you were able to sleep with him staring through your soul, I commend you for that

- my man is THE WORST when it comes to you getting sick

- he looks everything up on google and gets the worst results

- “S/o has a horrible stomachache.”

- “Cancer.” -google

- “S/o feels dizzy.”

- “Cancer.” -google

- oml poor ace 😭

- he rushed you to the ER, and almost crashed into 80 cars on the way 💀

- “MOVE OUTTA THE WAY-! Y/N IS SICK MOVE IT!”

- trust me, they moved out of the way

- the doctors hate him because he thinks you have some crazy disease when in reality you just have a really bad flu

- “I’m telling you! It’s appendicitis!”

- “Sir- it’s the flu- please calm down.”

- “I’M CALM.”

- no he’s not 😭

- very confused by the machines

- “IS THAT LIFE SUPPORT?! I KNEW IT! YOU’RE DYING! AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

- “Ace. It’s an IV. It’s so I don’t get dehydrated.”

- “LIFE SUPPORT BECAUSE YOU’RE DEHYDRATED?! ASVJSBDJENDINFKFNFJF!”

- called sabo and started freaking out to him 💀

- “SABO. Y/N IS DYING WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?!”

- “Ace I’m sure y/n is not dying. Calm down.”

- “WHY IS EVERYONE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN?! I’M SO CALM RIGHT NOW?”

- you sure abt that ace?

- I can confirm that he is never calm when it comes to your health and safety

- he wouldn’t know what to do, but he’d follow you and stay with you for the entire time, so don’t worry about that

- he’s like law, and would stare at you literally every second that you’re there

- “Zoro you don’t have to stare.”

- “I dunno- what if you start having a stroke?!”

- “I’M NOT OLD IDIOT!”

- my guy doesn’t know that you’re not an old, senile elderly person 💀

- he would fall asleep on you while holding your hand, since he’s been so worried, it kind of exhausts him

- it’s adorable though

- he snores, but it’s cute that he fell asleep holding your hand just tight enough to let you know he’s there with you 💜

- if you ever needed help getting some water, a heat pack for your stomach, or literally anything? He’s got you covered

- but if he has to leave your room for it he might not come back. Ever.

- as you were watching tv about some crash a couple miles away, you saw a green haired guy in the background that looked oddly familiar

- he seemed to be buying a water from a vending machine

- when he turned around you almost broke the tv remote in half

- “ZORO?!”

- nah this idiot 💀 y/n I suggest you put some kind of leash on him

a/n - zoro needs to eat the gps gps no mi 😭

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece hcs #anime hcs #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d water law #law one piece #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #one piece law #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #pirate hunter zoro #zoro headcanons #op zoro #kidd x reader #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid #kid one piece #kid x reader #kid x you #one piece ace #ace x reader #portgas d ace #ace x y/n

[kjdkive]

it's always been you.

pairing: jungkook x reader (afab)

genre: slowburn, brother’s best friend

warnings: cursing, jungkook being so boyfie

summary: when you get stuck on a date with a total asshole and you need someone to pick you up who else are you gonna call in a new city where you only know your brother and his best friend.

a/n: if you actually like it, tell me if you want a part two cause im honestly thinking about writing one. and if you are gonna read it, you can tell me and i’ll put you in the tag list <3 and also you can always send me an ask if you have any idea for me to write. and also i got this from a “someone write this” tiktok but decided to put more of my stuff in it. if i find the user i’ll let you know

i hate men, i really do. i’ve been single for a while, for the same reason. don't get me wrong, men are really hot and sometimes smart, it's just my bad experiences with men that aren't helping. i moved to a new city for an internship and talking to my friends back home they convinced me to “put myself out there” that maybe “i’d find the one” as if i had time.

now that i think about it, i was so stupid for listening to them because now i’m here, stuck on a date with a total asshole i found on tinder. it was good at first, not gonna lie. i swiped right, we matched, he made sure to compliment me: call me pretty, beautiful, majestic even and we even had actual conversations. so i said “why not? what’s the worst thing that could happen?” 

the date was going well... until it wasn’t. we were talking about what we wanted to do with our futures which is a total important question on a first date. 

“i don’t know, i feel like if i get married i wouldn’t let my wife work, she has to take care of my kids, be grateful that i put food on her table and take care of me.” jisung, my date, said while trying to grab some pasta from his plate. 

i was shocked, i thought he wasn’t gonna be like that. “what do you mean? your wife is not your mother to take care of you and kids are a two-person job.” i told him. 

“oh god, don’t tell me that i just made angry your feminist heart.” he laughed “it’s true, though, what i’m saying. are you finished? let’s go back to my place.” 

“i’m not finished actually, and back to your place?” i asked him. 

“yeah, well, i paid for your food so the least you can do is go back to my place.” 

oh, dear god. what have i gotten myself into? but i really was not in the mood to get in a fight with a man that won't understand why what he's saying is totally wrong.

“uhm, i’d like to ask for dessert.”  i told him. 

 “but you'll have to finish it fast, i wanna go already.” he rolled his eyes. 

i ordered a chocolate cake just to make time while i excused myself to the bathroom and called my brother for help. “why are men always like this?” i ask myself while dialing my brother’s number. it's either they’re mysoginists or they’re cheaters. last time i got a cheater now i got a mysoginist. wow me. 

one ring, two rings, three, four, five… nothing. damn it. i call again, begging the universe for him to pick up the phone and come get me because i was scared to leave alone, i mean i am new in this city, i don't know the bad neighbourhoods and i am not too familiar with the public transportation here. also, this horrible guy was gonna be my ride back home but my brother doesn’t pick up and now i’m doomed.  

“fuck you, taehyung, wherever you are.” 

the only other person i knew in town was my brother’s best friend, who’s probably with him so i should call him because yeah that seems reasonable, right? but what if i bother him? what if he’s not with my brother and i called him for nothing? 

"hello?" i hear a voice from the phone. apparently, i'm so stupid i dialed accidentally.

"hi, jungkook, how are you? it's y/n."

"hey, are you okay? is everything alright?" he asked, sounding more aware, more awake.

"uhm, yeah, just... i went on a date with this guy but he turned out to be an asshole and he was supposed to be my ride back home so i was gonna ask you if taehyung was there with you so he can come pick me up."

"text me the adress and don't move from wherever you are."

"jungkook, don't—" and the sound of him hanging up made me not finish my sentence.

i text him the adress and put my phone back in my purse again, wash my hands and go back to the table where i see jisung on his phone and a piece of chocolate cake in front of him. i sit down and start eating it, really slowly, trying to make time until jungkook come get me.

"can't you be faster? i told you i wanna leave." jisung asked me.

"well, you know already i am a slow eater."

as i am biting the cake i hear a voice behind me.

"let's go now."

i turned around and it's him, jungkook. his outift was not helping, or his voice, or his tattoos, or his piercings, or his hair for how handsome he looked right now. it had been a while since i had seen him, he had less tattoos and longer hair.

"y/n, what the fuck?" jisung asks angrily as we both stand up.

but as i am standing up and getting near jungkook, jisung tried to grab me from the arm. "do not fucking touch her, you hear me?" jungkook told him, while grabbing me from both arms gently and getting me to stand behind him. and jisung sat down, defeated, not giving it enough importance to make this a problem.

jungkook took my hand and also took me out of the place, making us both walk to his bike in the parking lot.

"jungkook, thank you and i'm so sorry for that, i just didn't know who else to call, i know no one here."

"you don't have to apologize and neither thank me, it's alright." he said, giving me a sweet smile as he put a helmet on my head.

"thank you."

"what did i just say?"

i laugh. "you're right. okay but..." i see him already sat on his bike "can you not go so fast, it's my first time getting on one of these and i'm kinda scared, not gonna lie." i ask him while sitting behind him, putting my hands around his waist.

"just enjoy the ride, doll, nothing to worry about."

he doesn't give me time to respond because he's already putting his foot on the gas (if that's what you say about bikes, because i have no clue how these ones work) and i'm already cursing him out.

i feel the air hitting the little part of my face the helmet is not hiding, and i let myself rest on jungkook, hugging him tight, resting my head on his back and feeling safe. well, now this wasn't so bad. we stopped at a red light and i felt his hands caressing my legs. it felt good, really good. i couldn't lie how much i was enjoying this, how much i didn't want this moment to be over.

"would it be so crazy if i ask you to go faster?" i ask him.

the light turns green and i feel the speed already. i let out a squeal as i hug jungkook even tighter. i felt so alive.

and then it was over.

he parked and we both got off the bike.

i try to take off my helmet and as soon as i do i feel a pair of hands over mine "you don't take it off like that, silly." jungkook giggles.

"my hair must be a mess." i said, as i try combing it with my hands.

"you're more than alright, y/n, don't worry." he tells me, while he also runs his hand through my hair giving me butterflies.

butterflies... what?

"well, thank you."

"you're more than welcome. but this is where i go back."

"don't you wanna come upstairs? have a drink or something with me. i haven't seen you in a year." that came out faster than expected and i don't know from where this courage is coming from. i'm not usally like this with jungkook, at the end he's not really my friend, he's my brother's.

he looks at his bike and then at me "uh, yeah, i'd love to."

"you got yourself a sweet appartment." jungkook tells me as soon as he enters and starts taking off his shoes.

"thanks, i got really lucky. you want some wine?"

"ew? you don't have beer?"

i grab him one and pour myself a glass of wine.

"god, i don't know why i went out with that guy, actually he seemed fine at first, you know?"

"and i could see from miles away that he was a dick, his posture, his vibe. i don't know how you didn't notice."

"well, i'm sorry, mr. vibes." i rolled my eyes, playing with him.

we get to talking, an actual really enjoyable conversation of what we were both doing here, how i was doing with my intership and him with his promotion on his corporate job at a really young age. we were both doing amazing, and we were having a really good time. and there was this feeling again, of not wanting it to be over. not once in our lives have we been alone, my brother was always there or just someone. we never got to do something alone even when we were younger and jungkook went to my house for dinner and my mom asked us to set the table so this was a new one. he also looked so handsome tonight, making those weird butterflies worse.

"i'm sorry, that was a really long story. but i've been wanting to thank you again for picking me up and saving me from that prick. i really needed that." i tell him while i get myself more comfortable on the couch. "i hope you weren't doing anything important and i interrupted you with my annoying problems."

"i was hanging out with some friends back at my place, actually." he says, while putting his head back on the couch, letting me see his neck and that little tattoo behind his ear.

"what? jungkook, oh my god, i'm so sorry i wouldn't have called you if i—"

jungkook laughs, standing up from the couch.

"are you going back to your place? god, i'm so sorry." i stand up with him.

"shut up." he laughs again.

"what? no, i mean it."

"shut up, y/n."

"what? why?"

"i did have some friends hanging out back at my place and yeah, i was busy." he starts, while walking slowly towards me "but that didn't matter as soon as you called me and told me you needed me. because whatever you need i'll run through heaven and hell to give it to you, walk the whole planet barefoot if you needed me to."

our faces are just milimiters apart from crashing into each other's.

"it's just because i'm your best friend's little sister." i tell him, almost whispering.

"no, it's you over your brother anytime." he grabs my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks. "it's you, y/n, it has always been you."

i prepare myself for the kiss, a kiss that's going to change whatever dynamic we had for years. but there's no kiss, just a soft touch of his upper lip against mine.

"but we'll talk about it later, when you haven't come from a shit date."

he grabs his jacket and lets himself out of my appartment.

i want to say something back, tell him that leaving me like this it's unfair, but nothing comes out of my mouth, just my hand moving to my mouth trying to remember the lingering touch of him against me.

i was left there speechless.

#bts #bts fic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts jungkook #bts imagines #bts idol au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook i love you seven days a week #bangtan

[ilylovelyz]

kenma fatherly headcannons

i thought it would be interesting to think about what kenma would be like as a father 🤔

look, im not even gonna be nice with it, i definitely dont see kenma being excited at the idea of having a kid 😭

definitely was like "are you being fr 😟?" when you told him

he obviously wasnt an asshole about it, but he couldn't help his feeling and indifference about the whole thing

the two of you had a long talk about it

the whole time he was more or less "are you sure about this"

hes not a horrible person/partner, he wasnt about to force you to do an abortion

he just wanted to make sure this was actually what you wanted to do and if you were actually serious about it

after you were stern about keeping the baby, he was fine with it

he was more worried about how he would be like as a father because he's very much scared of little kids and struggles to bond with just anyone

also a little peeved at the thought of his alone/free time being taken away

doesnt like the idea of his alone time with you having a literal permanent third wheeler but wont admit that to anyone but kuroo 🌚

during ur pregnancy, he was actually really okay with it

he would check up on you various times of the day, asking how you feel

yeah, he wasnt really excited for it, but that doesn't mean he wont try for it

would pause his games and go to wherever part of the house you were in, eyeing your baby bump with those wary cat eyes of his, all "..how are you feeling..?"

tbh i see you getting pregnant before marrying him because the two of you were kinda lazy with being careful 😅

he kinda facepalms because now hes like "why didnt i think of the possibility of pregnancy🤦🏽‍♀️"

while it doesn't speed up the whole process, he'll now begin taking the thought of marriage seriously

he'll bring up the idea of eloping, or a small wedding because he doesn't like the idea of a big and elaborate wedding ceremony/party

he didnt really care about gender, but he did care about baby names because he didnt want the baby to have a stupid name

now i see him being very curious tho

so he'll ask you a bunch of questions about how it feels to be pregnant, eyes wide when you tell him all the gruesome parts 😭

will also spend some time looking up more information about pregnancy and childbirth

now i do think he'd be aware about how he should change himself for the better

he grew up kinda isolated, and he 100% didnt want that for his kid, especially considering the fact that his child will most likely be an only child too

aw sleeping in kenma's arms while he plays video games cuz hormones made you sad

he'll like announce ur pregnancy to his followers/fans, it was so random he was like "yeah guys im having a kid 😪 kinda scary ngl" during one of his livestreams

really appreciates and is totally surprised when he's gifted money and baby supplies by his fans

maybe posts short little clips of you sleeping in an odd position or doing random things because he thinks its funny how you now do things differently because your bump prevents you from doing things in a certain way

i think it would interest him in the way your baby bump grows

he would be a little mortified at the way he would poke your bump's skin and watch his indent stay there long after he pulled his finger away

would be kinda "??? 🤔🤨" when he first feels the baby's kick/movements

he would "begrudgingly" walk to the store for you late at night if you were craving something

acts all annoyed but lets bffr kenma we know ur a softie 🤣

okay for the birth tho he's so mortified

definitely doesnt want to watch but obviously will be there for you because he knows better

the whole time he feels secondhand discomfort for you and feels your cries in his deep in his core cuz ur in pain and he doesn't like that 😕

this might sound weird, but i see him bringing his portable gaming system to the hospital so you can play with him and get ur mind off things

not saying his feeling towards the baby will change after the birth, but he'll definitely be like "oh wow 😳" when the baby is first born

have u ever seen that clip of steve irwin first looking at bindi when shes born and hes all amazed and awestruck by her?

its like that but its less noticeable and its more like "this is my child?"

a little scared to hold the baby at first because he's afraid to drop her

but once he does he'll look down at it and be like "ur not so bad afterall 😪"

DEFINITELY doesn't get any sleep during the first few months because he'll for some reason take late night feedings/crying upon himself

hes all "ur such a pain bro 😒" while rocking the baby back and forth to soothe it, all cuddly and gentle with it

tbh i cant decide whether it be a girl or boy so its up to reader to decide

omg hes mortified after the first belch spit hes gone afterwards

literally condemns the baby to hell

hates changing diapers but does it for the sake of the baby's comfort and health

when he's alone with the baby, he'd be like "ur kinda ugly 🤔" while playing around with it

tbh i see him getting random bouts of urges to play with the baby and speaking to it in a baby voice secretly

gets really embarrassed if hes caught and acts like it never happened

when ur not there to watch the baby while he's gaming he'll actually be okay with the baby sitting in his lap while he games

if he wins he'll be all "lets goooo 😝" all up in the babies face 😭 lifting it up into the air and just being such a gamer dad

also starts teaching the baby how to play games real early on, making them hold a controller or something and teaching them game logistics

the baby is like 5 months old and doesn't know about taxes but knows about dnd 🤣🤦🏽‍♀️

i see him like announcing the birth of his kid to his followers/fans a couple weeks after the birth

only shows what the baby looks like when its like 6 months old and crawling all in the background, he'll turn around and be like "wanna see my baby?", lift up the baby and put it's face all up close into the camera 😭

does 0.5 and only 0.5 photos on the thing 😅

does a couple more streams afterwards when he "games" with the baby and blame loosing on the poor thing 😅

aw i can see him and the baby having matching outfits when he goes out with it

he's not the best dad, but he'll try his hardest

on a sweet note, if kenma feels lonely when ur away, he'll allow the baby to sleep in the bed he shares with you as a "substitution" and cuddle with it

yk that tiktok audio that goes "leave me alone baby 😒" and then goes "ur my baby i love you ☹️☹️🥰😘" yeah that hes that

#haikyuu yandere #haikyuu headcanons #haikyū!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu pregnant #haikyuu breeding #haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyu smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu texts #haikyuu fluff #kenma smut #kenma x you #kenma x reader smut #kozume kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #hq kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma kuzome #⨳ family dream

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | First Kiss

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF's Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: angst!, mutual pining comes to a head, or more accurately to lips, aka kissing Word Count: 1.8k (ok it's a little more than a drabble) Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend's little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That's it. How did this happen?

A/N: Hi, I'm back. This is the first vignette that's not from an ask but just from my own head. I just really wanted to write their first kiss, so I did! I hope you enjoy. 🥰

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It's You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

A few weeks after Halloween, Hongjoong invites everyone to a friend’s deejaying gig on the other side of town. Your roommate opts out, saying she’d rather spend one of her rare nights off at her boyfriend’s, so you, San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong check it out together.

After the gig ends, your ears still ringing, feet aching from all the dancing you did, the four of you make your way home. Wooyoung and Hongjoong both seem hyped from the show, talking excitedly as you wait for the train. You watch them with a fond smile, leaning against the wall and taking turns lifting your feet to take some of the pressure off. 

San joins you. “You okay, Noona?” 

“Yeah. Just wore the wrong boots tonight,” you say. “Didn’t realize we’d be dancing so much.” 

“Oh, yeah. I guess I could’ve warned you,” San grins. “Sorry. We’re not the type to sit through a set.” 

“Clearly,” you reply, smiling back. Honestly, you’d been pleasantly surprised at how well San and his friends dance. They were so free with their movements and their energy had been infectious. You couldn’t have stood still if you’d tried. 

Of course, now you’re paying for it, wincing as your throbbing feet scream at you. You shuffle again, and then, ever-so-gracefully, you lose your balance, tipping over, letting out a loud expletive that draws everyone’s attention. 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung cackle as San grabs your arm, pulling you back upright. 

“No worries, Noona, I’ve got you.” 

He murmurs the words reassuringly, arm sliding from yours to loop around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side, but only for a second, before he scolds the other two for laughing so much. You giggle along as Wooyoung and San pretend to fight, but your heart’s not in it, because it’s still yearning painfully for San to hold you again. Every time he touches you - hugs you goodbye, cuddles with you on the couch, even the briefest moments of contact like just now - it leaves this black hole inside your chest, an endless gnawing need for more and more and more. 

At some point, you won’t be able to withstand it anymore. You’re not sure what will happen then.

The train car is crowded when your group enters. Unfortunately for your tired feet, there's nowhere to sit, and blessed little space to stand, so everyone splits up, trying to find room for themselves. Except for San, who guides you towards the opposite doors with a gentle touch on your back, and then stands beside you, reaching overhead to hold on while your hands curl around a pole. 

Some creepy guy already too close on your right leans over, trying to get an eyeful of your chest, and San smoothly slides around, blocking you from the asshole’s view. You smile gratefully, and he gives you an intimidating look but undercuts his mean mugging with an eyebrow wiggle, and you giggle, which then makes him grin, a chain reaction of happiness that leaves you buzzing. 

The gentle sway of the car as it hurdles down the tracks shakes you. You bump into San with a horribly steady rhythm, feeling sheepish for not having a strong enough core to keep yourself upright and balanced for more than a second at a time. He just laughs, finally throwing an arm around your back to help.

His hold is light, leaving a big sliver of air between you, a respectful distance that frankly makes you wish he’d be disrespectful. But he maintains it, supporting you in the most polite way, and somehow it still makes your heart jump fast as the wheels spinning beneath your feet.  You turn your head, focusing on the window on the door, watching your reflection as the dark tunnels roll by. 

At the next stop, more people pack themselves into the car. The small bubble of space around you pops as the wave of humanity rolls you into San, and you bring your hands up, bracing yourself against his chest, eyes widening at the solid warmth beneath your fingertips. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry.” You apologize profusely, trying to step away, but the train jerks again, jostling you, and San tightens his grip, pulling you back into his arms. 

“It’s ok,” he mutters, in a quiet voice. “I told you. I’ve got you.” 

When your gazes meet, it’s like the air has been sucked from the car. Something shimmers in his dark eyes as they roam your face, and you utter his name unthinkingly, a tiny “San” just slipping from your open mouth, but it feels like a rogue confession of something you’ve been denying for so long. You’re not sure if he heard it but he definitely saw it because he’s been staring at your lips for a few seconds now.

You lean in at the same time he tilts his chin forward, and your mouths meet in the middle. A light kiss, feather soft, like testing the waters. The next one lingers, his lips firmer against yours. His hand splays on your back. You twist your fingers into the front of his t-shirt. 

A third press weakens your knees, as his mouth slots against yours. Lips move together, part, allowing him to breathe in your little gasp. 

The train emerges from the tunnel, and suddenly the lights in the car blast on as it comes to a slow stop at the next station. Immediately, you spring back, and so does San. 

His expression is searing, and you glance away, looking to see if any of your friends are nearby, but the only one you can glimpse is Hongjoong. He’s got his back to you, a few feet and a dozen people away. 

When the train starts up again, a few riders lighter, San loosens his grip, hand gliding up to a spot between your shoulders, far from the small where it had just been resting. By the time you reach your stop, his arm is more hovering than touching.

You and San find Hongjoong a few feet ahead of you when you depart. Wooyoung’s still on the train, since his place is closer to the next stop. Hongjoong slows his quick stride enough for you to catch up. 

“You guys up for some ramen?” he asks, like he always does on late nights like this. You and San look at each other, and you don’t know if it’s the dim streetlights or what, but you can’t read his expression.

“Nah, I’m good,” San answers.

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” you start to say at the same time, cutting off to let San finish and then repeating yourself with a nervous laugh.

“‘Kay.” Hongjoong bears the rejection with his usual nonchalance. “I’ll see you later.” He crosses the street, heading for the convenience store on the next block. 

And it’s just the two of you now, walking in silence. Two more blocks and you’ll be home. One more block. Just up the stairs now. Key in door, door closed, shoes off. 

You stare at each other. He blinks first.  

“Should we - “

“Did you want to - “

“Hey guys.” 

Your roommate comes padding out of the kitchen, cup of tea in hand. 

“Hey!” you nearly shout. “I thought you were staying over at Jongho's?” 

If she’s surprised by the volume of your voice, Haneul doesn’t show it. She shrugs. “Yunho was being annoying, so I left.” 

Yunho is Jongho’s roommate. He’s rarely at their apartment on the weekends. Just your luck that this would be the one night a year he strikes out and goes to his own bed instead of someone else’s.

Or maybe it’s for the best. Because it’s not too late to stop now before you do something else. Something potentially foolish. Let it just be a kiss. A one-time loss of rationality. Of caution. 

Even if you can’t stop thinking about that night at the bar. Sitting there with San’s arms wrapped around you just felt so right. 

Even if it’s been ages since you felt this way about someone. 

Even if you’re pretty sure you’re falling for San. 

“Are you going to bed or are you gonna stay up for a bit?” Haneul asks, taking a seat on the couch. 

“Um…” you fight the impulse to glance at San. “I don’t know. I’m not really tired or anything….” Truth be told, you’re a little wired now. “Why?” 

“I was thinking of starting that new drama Jongho told us about. Wanna join me?” She pats the space next to her.

San mumbles something about taking a shower. You watch him leave the room, and it feels like whatever happened on the train is already fading away. Did it really happen, or was it just a dream? Are your fantasies bleeding over into your waking hours now? 

San joins you and Haneul near the end of the first episode, taking a spot on the floor in front of the couch so he can stretch out. He looks so soft, with his dark hair freshly fluffed from a towel, dressed in his favorite hoodie and sweats, and it’s a struggle to keep your focus on the television and not wonder what would’ve happened had Haneul not been home.

Part of you wishes San would catch you looking. But you’re not sure you could handle it if you met his gaze right now and didn’t find what you were hoping to find. 

It’s actually a little odd how quiet he is, staring so intently at the show that you are completely ignoring. Is he doing the same thing you are, replaying the moment in his mind? Trying to freeze it in your memory?

Your stomach drops as you consider another possibility. What if he thinks the kiss was a mistake? 

By the time the third episode is over, you’re exhausted, from your night out but also from the mental gymnastics you’ve been performing, silently twisting yourself into knots thinking about San and the train and what could happen versus what should. So you excuse yourself for the safety of your bedroom, where you can dream in peace.

Nero’s already curled up on his favorite spot on your bed, right next to where you lay your head. He cracks an eye open as you flop down beside him, and you reach out to give him an apologetic scritch, when you catch a scrap of paper poking out from beneath him. A note, with San's handwriting. He must’ve slipped it on your pillow after his shower. The first sentence sends relief flooding through you.

I don’t regret it. 

But it’s what’s written next that has you rereading the note over and over. It’s a simple sentence, just a pleading command, but to you, it’s a revelation. 

Please tell me you want more too.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

#ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #san x reader #choi san x reader #choi san fanfic #fic: it's you #bff's lil bro au

[zenkindoflove]

"I want what Elain wants and she wants Azriel"

Is a claim I often see e/riels use to claim why they are "pro Elain" and implying that if you ship Elain with her mate because "she clearly doesn't want him" then you are anti Elain.

So yeah this whole post is why that's bullshit.

First let's get some things straight that we all can agree are facts.

1. Elain had a crush on Azriel. It's clear by their looks and touches and her showing body language that she wanted to kiss him in the bonus chapter. It's unclear whether that crush survived post her tears over his rejection and giving the necklace back as they had no canonical interactions post solstice.

2. Elain does not want to address the bond right now and avoids Lucien. Her feelings about Lucien specifically and what she thinks about the bond are unclear.

Now that we got that out of the way, the assertion that you are the most pro Elain because you ship her with Azriel is quite a stretch. I'm sure you like Elain, as do I, but you do not hold some moral high ground because of who you ship her with.

First, let's discuss the idea that you have to support who Elain wants. People can want all kinds of people who are not right for them for a lot of reasons. It's a common experience for many to want the wrong guy. To have a crush and think they're the best and it'll all work out only to have your heart smashed by the cruel reality that they were wrong for you or didn't want you the way you did. It's also common to hate your friends' boyfriends and husbands because they're assholes despite how much they "want" them.

People's feelings change. Feelings are fickle.

In SJM's canonical world, mating bonds are not.

It makes sense that Elain, after going through her horrible rejection by the man she actually wanted and loved, Graysen, would not be ready to face what having a mate means. I'm sure it felt like infidelity to her, especially if she does desire and feel a pull towards Lucien like every other female with a mating bond has in this series. Her avoidance of Lucien can mean a lot of things, including that she wants him even if she mentally isn't ready or feels she shouldn't.

It also makes sense that she would seek out and find herself in a rebound crush with someone who is in her proximity and is low risk. Azriel doesn't come with the pressure of being her fated soulmate. He's just a dude. A dude who is pretty and paid some attention to her.

So yeah, I get why she wants him. Doesn't mean I think he is right for her.

Why isn't he right for her? To make a long post short, Azriel often undermines Elain. He diminishes her need for help when she's clearly depressed (ACOWAR), and he speaks for her and directly contradicts her wants (ACOSF, scrying). He is entitled to her without merit (the third sister line, bonus). He ignores her wishes to avoid violence and wants to kill people who are important to her (wanting Graysen killed, saying he'd kill Lucien in a blood duel - we know canonically if a mate dies it is like losing half of your soul). He thinks very little of her past his lustful fantasies (bonus chapter) and even to the point of projecting his own self-hatred when he looks at her skin (bonus chapter). Elain is symbolic for him of the thing he covets most (a mate), and his crush on her is a manifestation of his psychological need to pursue unavailable females because of his self worth (friends who will never romantically love him or a female with a mating bond). Basically they are a recipe for a toxic relationship full of avoiding real personal healing.

So yeah sorry, even if Elain wants to kiss him I'm not shipping her with someone like that just because she "wants" it. I would rather see her have a story where she discovers who she is and what being Fae means to her, which means directly addressing not only her powers (hello let her scry) but also addressing her mating bond head on by getting to know the male that she will always have a pull to, no matter if she rejects the bond or not. Elain is a fictional character with a narrative arc. Her wants now will not always stay static.

For me, as someone pro Elain, I want her to give herself a chance at a forever kind of love, one with a soul to soul connection and an eternal devotion. I want her to experience that unconditional love she so desperately craves. I don't want to read her choosing just some regular dude who will probably drop her the second his mating bond snaps anyways. She deserves a mate. Even if she doesn't know or understand that yet.

And quite frankly, I think once Elain does learn not only who Lucien is but the way he thinks about her and how devoted he is to her and only her, she will want him soon enough. I don't ship for characters' frivolous crushes in the now. I ship for their potential with the right person. The person who will see them starving and depressed and worry about their well being rather than what their powers can provide them. Who will hear their vision and cross an ocean because they believe in it. Who will fight across a battlefield just to make sure they're okay. Who will even push down their own needs and wants to give them space because that's what they want right now.

You know what that means though. If you're pro-Elain for wanting what Elain wants, then Lucien is the most pro-Elain person there is. And why wouldn't he be? He is her mate after all, and he will do anything for her.

So yeah, that's who I want for Elain, and I think that makes me pretty pro-Elain too.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #anti e/riel #anti azriel #pro elucien #elain x lucien

[wintersera]

hii what do u think of giselle and yunjin fucking you???🥲🥲🥲 i feel like they'd just be big bullies to you and degrade you all the time

cw: dubcon, degredation, drugging, somnophilia, blackmail, i made them assholes in this im sorry 🫠🫠

okay my bad i haven’t answered this (holy shit i’m so sorry) but anyways. when it comes to me theres no normal vanilla thoughts about this, because let me tell you… i want these two women in a way that will cause the second coming of jesus christ—

also i felt like making this a drabble even though i said i wouldn’t do requests or asks my bad guys… brain rot!

bully!aeri and bully!yunjin being very well known for bullying people left right and centre. them having a few lackeys that would run their errands. unfortunately you were one of their little targets to fuck around with quite literally you weren’t a lackey or anything, they just liked to poke fun at you time to time. do that thing that bullies often do and just shove you into a locker, pour water or some drink over your head during lunch breaks, call you a few names here and there, take really humiliating pictures of you and say that they’re not gonna post it anywhere, maybe they have posted it. but anyways, you know, the usual shit.

they thought it would be so funny to invite you over for funsies and not explain why they want you over. so really, who were you to deny their request? quite obviously they could just blackmail you to come running over.

aeri is kind of an enabler to yunjins behaviour- like she knows what she’s doing is horrible and thats why she doesn’t do it normally, but this time is kinda different. aeri is all like “it’ll be fun c’monnnn. you find y/n kinda cute anyways. i know you think she looks so cute when she’s crying… plus, i think she’s cute too. just wanna fuck around with her you know”

and so the day comes. you’re standing in the middle of their room,,, shit you’re so awkard, but that’s to be expected. in what situation would your bullies invite you to one of their houses?

they’d tell you to relax “don’t worry, we just wanted to hang out” for all you know they’re making snacks in the kitchen giggling to eachother while you awkwardly make yourself comfy, sinking yourself on the couch. eventually they brought over the drinks they made specifically for you and handing it over, watching as you sip the drink hesitantly.

“hmm this is kinda good… anyways what am i doing he-“

BITCH?? it only takes you few seconds and you’ve blacked the fuck out. you’re extremely vulnerable infront of both of your bullies, you’re kinda fucked.

oh noooo what ever shall they do to you

you’d wake up to yunjin between your legs with a playful smirk on her face, lapping at your clit, making sure that you definitely feel her tongue flat against it.

oh and aeri? she’s standing behind yunjin taking a video, snickering as you wake up from a good 30 min knock out nap “what the f-fuck?” were the only words that came out of your mouth before yunjin shoved two of her fingers knuckles deep into your cunt.

in panic, you looked up to aeri who was fixated on keeping you in frame while you were being fucked rough. her eyes were glued onto the screen, keeping in a laugh that was in her throat. she noticed you staring at the camera. she laughed “god you look so pathetic. did you really think that we would want to hang out normally? especially with you? hmmm… what would your mom think if she found out that her precious daughter was a slut”

yunjin just chuckled. she kept sucking on your clit while she was so so deep inside of you. i mean hell you were out of it??? your head banging from the spiked drink, and your bully was going down on you? shit was so confusing, but it was all welcomed. aeri and yunjin obviously didnt know that you were getting off to this, so they just carried on with the thought of messing you up beyond your capabilities.

yeah, yunjin wasn’t as mean as aeri was, but the way you writhed your hips on her face whenever she circled her tongue around your clit, made her act harsher. yunjin’s nails dug into your thighs making you hiss at the feeling. you felt more needier, more desperate for her tongue.

at this point they both got that you were whoring yourself out for them “aeri, do you think this little slut deserves to cum?” which gets you panicking a bit

“i don’t think so” aeri responds back with a playful tone “i think i should have a go with our toy before she gets to cum, don’t you think? yeah no they definitely found out….

before you could figure out what they were gonna do, aeri had already switched places with yunjin, disregarding her phone. at a agonisingly slow pace, aeri toyed with your clit “you really do enjoy this, fucking whore- oh i can’t wait to use this against you” yunjin picking up her own phone and snapping a few pics before ripping open your shirt “everyone thinks you’re the sweetest little thing, so cute, so vulnerable, so easy to fool. it’s so funny, no one else but us knows that you’re just a pathetic slut that was waiting for this to happen to you” a few more pics of you shirtless with aeri in between your thighs were taken.

aeri signalled for yunjin to come closer, telling her that it was completely fine to mark you up and leave bruises for all she cares!! no one would really give a fuck anyway- now if it wasn’t aeri’s or yunjin’s marks they’d probably gaf because well… they’d most likely corner you and ask if you were whoring around 😭

besides the point, yunjins trailed across your neck and collarbone, leaving as many hickeys as she can while aeri began fucking you with her fingers relentlessly.

time passes and you’re calling out their names simultaneously, “yun— fu…fuck aeri, can’t- can’t take it anymore” yeah they really dont care, not slowing down at all LIKE AT ALL— aeri fucking you so deep, so rough and so fast that it makes you feel so overstimulated, and with yunjin fondling your breasts and biting at your neck, it makes sense that it made you fall unconscious for a split second. gripping onto the sheets tightly once you come back to reality, screaming their names as they witness you cum all over aeris fingers.

oh and also, for extra measures, they take another pic of you. this time your legs spread wide for the camera— yeah no they’re asshole my bad

so yeah— moral of the story… um i think that bully!aeri and bully!yunjin nghfnfhnfnnhfnfnffnfbfb FUCJ I NEED THEM IN AN UNHOLY WAY 😤😤😤

#kaye: imagines!! #aespa smut #le sserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin smut #aespa giselle smut #aespa x reader smut #le sserafim x reader smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop girl group smut #huh yunjin smut #giselle smut

[fbfh]

Hey! Then in hoo it is mentioned that Leo has dealt with a lot of bullies and horrible people since Esperanza died, I could ask for something like him and his s/o going to do something normal like shopping and end up running into one of these people And they keep making fun of Leo so his s/o defends him and comforts him or something like that(sorry if it seems confusing, English is not my first language haha)

first of all your english is great babes!! not confusing at all <33

ah yes. the bitchy girls. the asshole mean girls who have a fucking superpower for sniffing out adhd and autism and other neurodivergent traits like fucking blood hounds. the devils in lululemon leggings and nike sneakers who worship the ground hailey bieber walks on and keep their marc jacobs tote bags full of knives to stab anyone and everyone in the back with the moment the see an opportunity to.

those girls.

Leo's been able to avoid them for a while. Drew was the worst at camp, but she was a watered down version of them - Leo realized at some point that Drew adopting those traits was her own way of dealing with shit, and the more time she spent at camp since Piper became head of cabin, the more chilled out she's gotten.

There were barely any mean girls at MIT, none he had trouble avoiding at least. But now he's here, back in the real world, shopping for groceries for your little apartment you have together. And in the real world, fresh out of nursing school, is Emily. The exact same Emily from the school he went to before camp half blood. At 15, Leo went through a lot of shit. School was hell, his foster family was so bad he ran away enough to be sent to the wilderness school, and he was at one of the lowest points of his entire life.

You don't know who she is, but from the look on Leo's face, the sudden, sharp drop in his energy, the way he starts picking at his hands and gets all jittery. He hopes he can get away with it, hopes she won't even recognize him.

"Oh my god... Leo Valdez?"

you grimace at her voice, the way she mispronounces his last name, and your hackles rise. She looks at you in shock, seeming to hold back a laugh.

"Wait, is he your boyfriend?"

She says it like it's some joke, like this whole thing is hilarious.

"He used to be so awkward!" she giggles, "Wow, you look exactly the same."

Leo can read you like a book, and he knows you are SO pissed off for him.

"Yeah," You say with an equally sarcastic smile, "I had no idea you guys were the same age, you look so much older. I never would have known you guys were in the same class."

She blanches a little, and you double down.

"Leo actually just graduated top of his class at MIT. He has, like, a dozen job offers already." You smile at him proudly. "So how about you, are you... doing anything?"

"Mhm." She nods, the humor suddenly gone. "Nursing school. I just started."

"Oh," you nod, glancing over at Leo and sharing a subtle look with him, "well, we better get going, we have some open houses to get to."

As you walk away, still close enough for her to hear, you mutter to Leo, stifling a smile.

"Wow. The mean girl to nursing school pipeline is real." You chuckle, "And like, she does know it's not 2016 anymore, right? Cause her eyebrows don't seem to..."

He's so surprised that after an interaction with her, after all these years, he actually feels... okay. Outside the shithole of high school, with you by his side, she doesn't seem nearly as intimidating as she had. He's not sure how you got him to realize that so quickly, but he realizes that there's nothing that feels that intimidating when you're by his side. And you're right, her eyebrows are just as awful as her personality.

#drabbles #leo valdez #leo valdez drabbles #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus drabbles #no shade to anyone who does/still likes 2016 makeup and eyebrows /gen #and no shade to anyone in nursing school /gen #just using some small town mean girl archtypes yk #anyway yeah #once you break down that facade #leo is SO unthreatened #and he is forever grateful to you

[afewproblems]

Season Two Halloween AU Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

As always, thank you thank you to the lovely Jess @strangersteddierthings for letting me inundate you with spoilers and general Stranger Things/Steddie screaming!

[CW: Period Typical Homophobia from the antagonist, violence, gore, bodily injury, Billy Hargrove is his own warning.]

***

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. 

Eddie takes a step closer to Steve, but Dustin is faster. 

He pulls on the jacket sleeve, taking Steve to the window and Eddie can't even find the words to say to make him stop.

He wants to tell Dustin to give them a second, he wants to press pause on this whole horrible night and ask Steve to explain.

Because in what world did this make sense? 

There is no possible way Steve is gay, and even if is, the guy is fresh off of being dumped by his girlfriend just days before. 

On top of that, they're all running on fumes from a day searching for Dart, fortifying an old school bus, laying the Demodog trap in the junkyard, and finally coming back to the Byers to make their plan. 

Eddie's stomach growls at the sudden thought and he realizes just how hungry he actually is after all the adrenalin and running around they've done.

If Eddie is this tired and hungry, he can't imagine Steve is faring much better, he's not thinking straight. 

He can't be. 

Because if he was, if he had meant it, and Eddie just--

"Oh shit," Steve says lowly from the edge of the intact window. He presses against the wall, keeping himself out of sight as much as he can, "what the fuck is Hargrove doing here?" 

"That's what I'm saying," Dustin hisses, his eyes wide, he sticks close to Steve's side, away from the window and turns to Max, "what the hell is your brother doing here".

Max shoots Dustin a look and for a second Eddie thinks she's going to tell Dustin off before her face suddenly pales.

"He can't know I'm here, he'll kill me".

Lucas shifts closer to Max, knocking his shoulder into hers before turning his attention back to Steve, "he almost ran us over once, we were on our bikes". 

Their bikes…Jesus.

It hits Eddie suddenly that they're just kids, all of thirteen years old, with an unpredictable asshole standing just outside their door.

Steve sighs suddenly and squares his shoulders, his big hazel eyes move from Max, to Lucas, to Dustin, and Mike, before finally landing on Eddie. His brow pinches in the middle as his expression shifts into the same determined one from the day before.

But this time there is no nail bat in his hands. 

Shit.

"Steve, dont," Eddie says, darting across the room towards him, but Steve is too quick for him.

He reaches for the door and unlatches the bolt, "stay out of sight, all of you, I'll be right back".

It's a promise Eddie isn't sure Steve can make.

The kids immediately move towards the edge of the window before Eddie whispers out a sharp, "Go to the boarded one shitheads, he's going to see you". 

Eddie shakes his head at the four identical eye rolls, but the kids do as he says and make their way to the far window he and Steve just closed up. 

There are enough gaps between the wood slats that they can see Steve make his way to the path as Billy steps around his car. 

"Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?"

The cherry of his cigarette glows in the dark as Billy takes a long drag before flicking it into the street. 

"Yeah it's me, don't cream your pants," Steve's voice is steady, the smooth lilt of his 'King' voice takes over and it's so different from what Eddie has come to realize is Steve's normal speaking voice that it throws him for a bit of a loop. 

Just how much has Steve been pretending all this time.

Moonlight casts shadows over half of Billy's face but it doesn't hide the way his lip pulls over his teeth or the dark glint in his eye as he pulls off his jacket and tosses it through the open window of his Camaro.

"I'm looking for my step sister, little birdy told me she was here," Billy says, a sneer pulling at his mouth as his eyes scan the house before landing on Steve again, "which would already be weird enough, and now I find you here". 

"I'm doing a favour for Mrs. Wheeler and Byers, babysitting, I don't think I've seen your step sister, what's she look like?"

Eddie can't see Steve's face from this angle but the words come out smoothly, no stumbles with the lie.

But Billy stares just a little too long for it to have properly landed.

"You do favours for people like that huh," Billy laughs, ignoring the question entirely as he takes another step closer. He and Steve are similar heights but Billy has a good twenty to thirty pounds of muscle on Steve and Eddie begins to sweat at the manic look on Billy's face.

"You're something else Harrington, I don't think I'd be able to stick around if my girl fucked someone else--"

"Your sister's Not Here," Steve bites out through gritted teeth. He steps into Billy's space, his shoulders high with tension and anger, "leave". 

Billy laughs, a low dangerous sound, "you know, this whole night's been giving me a weird fucking feeling Harrington".

Billy tips his head back and leaves it there for just a moment and Eddie watches as Steve relaxes for just a second too long, tilting his head in confusion.

"And I think you're lying to me".

Billy punctuates the words by slamming his hands into Steve's shoulders, knocking him clean off his feet.

Steve hits the concrete hard, managing to roll enough for his shoulder to connect with the ground first rather than his head. He manages to sit up slightly, looking at Billy now with a mixture of surprise and fear in his wide eyes as he shifts to look back at the house.

Billy smirks and leans over Steve, "I'm just going to see for myself, told you to plant your feet pretty boy".

He stands up to his full height again and kicks Steve in the ribs. Hard. 

Eddie curses quietly as Steve curls in on himself and makes a horrible retching sound, but there isn't time to worry about Steve as Billy comes lumbering up the front path towards the Byers front door.

Which is unlocked.

Eddie hadn't even thought to latch it.

"Hide. Now!" Eddie hisses at Max, she opens her mouth to argue but Lucas gives her a push to the shoulder and looks at her with pleading eyes.

"Just go okay?" Lucas whispers, pushing her again towards the kitchen.

She shoots Lucas a fierce glare over her shoulder and disappears around the corner. 

Eddie steps back towards the kids, putting himself between them and the door, just in time for it to crash open. 

Billy looks around the room, frowning slightly at the boarded up window and all of the drawings covering nearly every inch of the place like vines, before his gaze lands on Eddie and the kids behind him.

"Well, well, well, this is quite the party here huh boys," Billy sneers, kicking the door closed behind him.

"A private one," Eddie manages to keep his tone even as he takes a step closer, drawing Billy's eye away from the kids, "what do you want Hargrove".

Billy scoffs and tries to step around Eddie, yelling at the top of his voice as he moves, "Maxine! You got three seconds to get you skinny ass out here before I bring you out myself". 

Eddie mirrors his path, blocking his movement.

"Who the fuck are you talking to man, I guess thats what happens when you take too many balls to face huh?" Eddie says with a mocking laugh in his voice, he lets the corner of his lip rise in a cold sneer.

Billy glares, "that's rich coming from a queer like you," he lifts his hand to shove Eddie's shoulder roughly, but Eddie's dealt with assholes like Billy time and time again and he’s expecting the push. 

He stays standing, keeping himself between Billy and the kids.

Billy shakes his head, "I don't know why you're involved in this, are you revenge for Byers or something? I ain't here for you or your little boyfriend out there, freak". 

"Just leave us alone!" Dustin shouts, drawing Billy's eye for the first time. 

"Yeah fuck off!" Mike screams as Lucas stands up, glaring venomously at Billy. He has his wrist rocket raised, armed with a piece of jagged wood from the broken window. 

"Sinclair," Billy's eyes narrow as they land on Lucas, "if I find out Maxine is here because of you--"

"You'll what?" Eddie growls, he hears a door open softly behind them but keeps his eyes on Billy, not taking any chances.

Billy seems to hesitate, his eyes dropping down to Eddie's fisted hands before rising again to meet his gaze, "Max already knows what happens when people don't listen, but I guess I'll have to show you the hard way Munson". 

Billy moves like a viper, his fist rears back and swings forward so quickly that Eddie barely has time to react, catching the punch in the jaw as he tries to move out of the way. 

"Sonovabitch," Eddie hisses, cradling his face. His vision swims as Billy reaches for his shirt collar, but the second blow never comes.

Billy's hand falls as Steve appears, barreling into Billy, shoulder first like a linebacker, sending them both crashing into the floor. Billy's head smacks into the linoleum, forcing a low groan out of him.

Steve recovers quicker, rolling off the other teen before rising to his knees. He’s breathing hard and holding his ribs with one hand while the other braces on the coffee table as he stands up.

"Holy shit," Dustin laughs out breathlessly as Steve limps closer, moving into Eddie's space.

"You guys okay?" Steve asks softly, he lifts his hand up towards Eddie's aching jaw but stops just shy of touching him. He blinks once and moves away again before turning to the kids.

They all freeze at the sound of a wild laugh behind them.

Billy runs a shaking hand through his mullet, slowly sitting up, scoffing when his fingers come away red. 

"Finally!" Billy crows, "the King Steve I've been hearing about shows his face, where was he when I gave you that black eye yesterday huh?" 

Billy wipes the blood from the side of his head on his jeans and laughs again, a horrible cackle that seems to echo around the small space of the living room. He paws at something on the floor as he manages to roll over onto his knees, breathing hard.

"Let me give you some advice Harrington,” Billy says through gritted teeth, bracing one hand on the coffee table while the other remains strangely hidden behind his back.

Steve says nothing, moving himself to stand in front of Eddie and the kids. Billy stumbles slightly and shakes his head as he manages to get his feet back under himself. 

"If you're gonna hit someone, make sure they don't get back up".

By the time Eddie sees what Billy has clenched in his hand it's too late. 

Billy swings his hand out and catches Steve in the temple with an ashtray, the ceramic shatters on impact sending pieces of pottery in all directions and embedding several into Billy’s hand. 

Eddie's heart nearly stops at the wet crunch it makes as Steve's head whips back at the impact. He crumples limply to the floor, his head bouncing once against the linoleum before Steve lays still on the living room floor.

Eddie feels like he's underwater. Like time has slowed down and he's sinking.

He doesn't realize he's moving until he's in front of Billy, until he's gripping the edges of Billy's shirt in his hands, until he's shaking him like a ragdoll.

Eddie's never felt such overwhelming rage and fear, its coursing through him, burning him up from the inside out.

Steve isn't moving.

There's only coherent thought playing on a loop in his head. 

He's dead, he's dead, he's dead.

"Billy!" A small voice cuts through Eddie's yelling, when had he started yelling, from the kitchen door.

Billy's face tips towards it, his dazed eyes widen slightly and his lip curls back in a feral smile.

"I fucking knew it," Billy slurs out as Eddie throws him to the floor. 

He laughs again and again, his head bleeding freely now, red lines drip down his face.

Max takes a shaky step into the living room; she ignores Lucas yelling at her to run and continues forward, Will's second dose of sedative clutched in her left hand. 

Max pushes past Eddie, drops to her knees and plunges the needle into Billy's neck with a roar. Eddie watches as Billy flinches at the impact and lifts his hands to frantically rip the needle out.

"What the fuck?!" He whispers, trying to sit up but his shaking arms only drop him back to the floor, "what did you do?"

"Made it so you can't hurt my friends," Max says lowly, she trembles as Eddie helps her stand and directs her towards the boys who immediately fold her into a hug between the three of them. 

Eddie keeps his eyes on Billy until his breathing smooths out and his unfocused eyes finally close before he’s on his feet. He crosses the room in two strides and drops to his knees in front of Steve, letting his uncle's voice run through everything he ever taught him about first aid.

Don't move them, keep them talking, keep them warm.

Eddie's hands shake as he reaches out for Steve's neck and feels for a pulse, trying not to look at the blood coating Steve's face or the shards of ceramic in his hair.

"Is he…" Dustin says beside Eddie, startling him. The whole house has gone eerily silent as the kids finally make their way towards them, they don't crowd him the way Dustin has though.

Eddie swallows and moves his fingers slightly until he finds it, a thin reedy pulse. 

He's alive. 

Eddie feels his eyes sting and a wet hysterical laugh falls from his mouth. Steve is nowhere near okay, but he's alive.

He's alive.

Part Seven!

Tag List:

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @henderdads @stevesbipanic @spooky-brakers

#season two halloween au #stranger things #stranger things season 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #the party #steve and nancy breakup #eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here #i will never get tired of halloween party aus #you can pry them from my cold dead fingers #dustin meets eddie early #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #afewproblems writes #throw in some pining as a treat #is it mutual #who could say #billy hargrove is his own warning #cw extreme violence #cw homophobic language from the antagonist #cw blood and injury #improper use of an ashtray

[geminimoonbeamx]

Friday I’m In Love

A/N: So jokes on me because I didn't expect to love Eddie Munson this much. @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ told me he was going to be the it girl of this season and I said absolutely not. 

Warnings: Smut, lots of it. Drug use. Judgemental teenage girls

Parings: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Eddie invites you to his show, and holy shit. You show up. 

“Remind me why the hell were here again?” 

You’d never been to The Hideout, a shitty hole in the wall off the highway outside of  town. You’ve driven by it like, a thousand times and never once had the urge to go inside. Now, as you stand next to your friend, Shelly’s, mom’s Subaru in the half empty parking lot your nerves are going haywire, over eager to walk through the doors. 

“Because, we were invited”  you answer simply. Duh. Sweeping more glittery lip gloss on and fluffing your hair before adding “plus it’s not like we had anything else to do” 

“We could literally be doing anything else then this- isn't Clair throwing a party tonight?” 

“Yeah, but all her parties are always like, major depressing. Ever since Heather you know”-you  make a gurgling choking sound and cross your eyes “Its like, why do we have to do a toast to the dead girl, every party. I get once- but it feels redundant” 

You get it. Claire and Heather were best friends. You’re also not in the mood to go hold her hand while she cries about it. Again. 

Also, Heather had put gum in your third grade. So- 

“For one- you're a horrible person” Shelly accuses, shaking her overly curly head “For two, we could’ve gone to the movies or something” 

“You think the theaters boring, plus like. Won't it be fun to try something new? Come on” you grab her hand and pull her along behind you. Sparing one last glace at the familiar van, parked idle towards the front of the lot. 

“So like, this has nothing to do with you and weirdo Munson, right?” 

“Right- and its funny the way that you only think he’s weird after he sells you weed. Asshole” 

Well- its not like you we’re expecting anything fancy from the Hideout. No expectations, no disappointment, right? The bar is the textbook definition of a dive.The lingering smell of stale beer hits you straight in the face as you walk in. Seedy lighting that makes everything look shadowy and almost green-

“Oh look! They have pool tables!” you point out because that could be fun. Maybe?

“Oh great” She replies, voice fasle sugar sweet before dropping “I want to leave” 

“Shh” you elbow her, hard. “We just got here. Play nice” 

And she does, for the most part. Sit down at one of the sticky tables with you. Avoids the looks of the bar's patrons- older. Wasted. White trash, for sure. You wouldn't talk to them, not ever but like. Whatever. You can just ignore them. That’s easy enough. 

Especially when they get on stage. The Dark Wizards, Eddie at the lead. Even though he's not singing, even though he’s off to the side with that bright cherry red guitar of his. He’s the star. 

“We’re the Dark Wizards, and we’re about to rock your mortal world” 

You don't know when this…thing you had for Eddie developed. Somewhere between smoke laced conversations and late nights glued to your phone, him fighting the shitty static of his own line to talk until one of you called uncle, the thing had taken a life of its own. 

He’s odd. Yeah. But no other guy has ever been this nice to you. Eddies odd, but he’s not cruel. He’s not like the asshole jocks or elitist math nerds. He’s not even like the rest of his leather clad D&D playing posse. 

You wish you could get everyone else to see that. Get your friends to see that. 

The singer is trash, the drummer can't keep a beat to save his life, but the guitar riffs are melodic. Smooth and sharp, and your heart catches the tune and beats in time. Blood flow slowing and stopping until your all but hypnotized. 

You clap and cheer and cant manage to tear your eyes away until the final note plays, their set is over-

“Oh my god, you're so into him” the statement is disgusted, mostly. Fascinated. Your friend looks at you like she's watching a car crash- violent and bloody, but she can't take her eyes off of it. 

You just shrug because like. Yeah. Obviously.

“Oh fuck no” she groans, face palming hard. 

Eddie hurries out from behind the stage, which is really just their supply room. Grinning from ear to ear, beaming arms spread out wide. “Look who came!” 

“You invited me, I told you I’d come” You try to contain it, but you're giddy. Even more so when he throws a gangly arm around your shoulder. “It’s no biggie” 

“No biggie? You came all the way out here to see little ol me. Huge biggie, my friend. Huge” He holds his heart with his other hand dramatically- 

Always so dramatic. Always so enamoring. 

“You deserve a drink. A real one, what is this?” He dips his pinky into your friend's drink and her nose scrunches up something fierce and offended “Sprite? Nah, that's a peasant drink. Bartender kind sir- pour us something strong. And…fruity” 

The bartender, who looks like an Ex-con, actually makes a mean Mojito. 

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

“It’s totes okay, I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?” 

You're in the parking lot, again. Except for you're not leaving in the car that you came in. 

Shelly’s tucked into the Subaru, staring out at you with all knowing eyes. 

He’s just going to drop me off at home. 

Uh Huh. 

Seriously. 

“Yeah whatever you better call me later- I want all the dirty details. Use protection- bye” she waves before her tires screech, hauling ass away from the Hideout. You flip her the bird all the way. 

“Okay let's blow this popsicle stand” you plop into the passenger side of the beat up old van, bouncing along as you go. Glad for the low cut blouse you’d donned because Eddie's eyes follow your chest, comically, animatedly. Up and down. 

“Whatever you say, mi’lady. Your house?”

“I mean- I don't have a curfew or anything on the weekend- we could go somewhere else. If you want to?”

Eddie looks pensive, lips pursed, before a light bulb goes off in his head. 

“Want to go to the end of the earth with me?” He questions as he reverses, and well. How can you say no to that offer? 

-----

The cliffs of Sattlers Quarry are jagged and high. Eddie parks too close to the edge- takes you out. Holds your hand tight as you screech, not being able to look over for more than a second. 

“Its okay,” Eddie chuckles, herding you into the open back of the van. “I come here all the time, were all good Y/L/N.”  

The seats are ripped out, posters of dragons and bare tittied ladies plastered on the metal walls. Black Sabbath plays lowly from the crappy speakers and he lays an armful of threadbare blanket down for cushioning, for the two of you to curl up on. 

You cling to him just to do it. Keep close as he rolls the cleanest joint you’ve ever seen. Spark and smoke and laugh- all attached to hip. He talks about Tolkien as fluidly as he does Karl Marx, he likes pineapple on pizza and was born the day before Valentines. Cats are superior to dogs, and he like lives off of peanut butter crunch cereal. 

His dad split when he was in eight grade and living with his Uncles not so bad, really. It’s kind of like rooming with a chill homie, but definitely nothing like having a real parent. 

“I'm boring you aren't I? Just tell me to stop, and I’ll zip my lips. Locked. Key is thrown, right off that cliff” He makes the motions, zip. Key, tossed and you lean your face into his jean clad shoulder. 

“Mmm, no. I like listening to you talk” its not a lie, not the usual shit you blow up guys ass. Everything out of Eddie’s mouth is unexpected, he tells stories with words. Vivid pictures, film on a loop. With your lungs burning and THC running through your system it's even better. 

“I like you. In general” Eddie whispers, and you hide your face even more. He shrugs you away though, turning. Face to face, no way to run from his dark eyes “I like your eyes” he leans in, and you think finally he’s gong to kiss you. Instead he gets close enough. Blinks fluttery fast, his lashes against yours. Butterfly kisses

You shake your head, cheeks burning, chest tight. 

“And your hair? I really like that- even if it is better than mine which is rude. And don't even get me started on your perfume because that? That’s my favorite. And your-” 

You slap a hand over his mouth pushing until he gives way. Until your on top thick thighs caging his waist “Stop it, jeeze I lied. I hate your voice, shuddap!” 

He makes a few muffled attempts, squirming a bit before giving up.  Going lax, bringing his hands behind his head and looking at you with dark eyes that shine and sparkle. He's enjoying this, and the long languid lick he gives to your hand shouldn't feel as good as it does. 

You like Eddie, like the way he feels. You like the way he lets you be who you want to be, do what you want to do. Other guys would’ve thrown you off, too heavy. Too dominant. They didnt want to play, but Eddie. Eddie’s wanted to play with you since you hit that doobie behind the gym. 

You unbutton your blouse slowly, letting him watch you. He can have it. All of it. Everything. You unhook your bra and those dark eyes go wide. 

“This okay?” you ask, taking your hand off of his mouth, resting on his shoulder. 

He nods, quick, adam's apple bobbing “Are you even asking me that right now? Yes, fuck yes I am a-okay. The best, really-” 

The kiss you cut him off with is messy, too much tongue. Too much want. Why had you wanted this long? Maybe it should’ve have been more romantic- but then again maybe it is? It’s own version of romance, its own courting and dating and being cared for. 

Eddies hands are everywhere, eager and exploring and its almost funny until he thumb brushes over your nipple, just on the right side of rough, making you  gasp sharp into his mouth, and grind down onto his hard lap in tight circles. Eddie pulls away, just barley. Dragging his slick mouth acros your jaw, down your chest, your hands fist tight his hair as he runs the flat of his tongue along the nub. 

It feels too good, mind numbing. Base instinct, two teenagers and in a fogged up car. Breathing eachothers air, tasting each other spit. Fumbly and needy, too fast. 

Struggling out of your clothes, you wiggle out of your tight acid washed jeans as Eddie shed’s layer after layer- Hell Fire Club Tee, Leather Jacket, Denim vest. The floor of his van littered. You’re tugging on your pink panties when he blankets himself over you, pushing you back down. The blankets rough on your bare skin. 

Eddie’s a weirdo, not a virgin. And most importantly, he’s good with his hands. The long ring donned fingers work magic. The real life kind that gets your back arching and has sounds that would embarrass you to think about later clawing their way from your throat. Feels almost too good as he rests his forehead against yours, noses bumping as he pounds his fingers in and out of you. 

He likes it, watching you squirm, watching your hips shift every time he tries to pull his hand away. 

He keeps condoms in the glove box, mostly for show. Hope. The off chance that some girl gives him a chance and wants to hook up- once in a blue moon shit. He’s glad for them now, even if it means pulling away from a whining writhing you

When he slides back between your thighs it's a heady feeling. He’s almost vibrating, shaking out of his skin, nervous excitement making him clumsy. He  misses. Doesnt slide into you easily, the two of you shifting and giggling, gasping and nosing at one and other until. 

Oh. 

There. 

The inhale you take is shaky and sharp and Eddie groans and buries his head in your neck. Breathing in your sweet perfume as his hips begin to pump. 

“O-oh my god. Eddie-” You stutter, holding on to his shoulders. He’s not the thickest guy you’ve been with, but his dicks long. Longer then average forsure. Jabbing at that place inside you, pleasure pain bursting behind your eyelids and you cling to his shoulders. There's no real pace, not from the nineteen year old, but the friction of sweaty bodies feels good, the rocking rhythmic and almost peaceful as you stare up at the van’s ceiling. You like it, the way he moans, the way he tells you how it feels- he really doesn't ever shut up. 

Its quick, you’re young and Eddie’s never been with anyone who feels so tight. You can tell when he’s close, when he speeds up to nothing more then a dirty, desperate grind. When his whole body goes taught and his arms tighten around your waist, holding onto you as he rides it out. As he shakes and shudders, needing the grounding. You hold him in the cradle of your thighs. 

He pulls out with a hiss and slumps, heavy and boneless on to you and you stroke his back, trail your fingers across his shoulders soothingly. It felt good the minutes that go by in overexerted bliss. It wasnt like you weren't used to not getting yours. Guys just had a one track mind, right? No big deal, you’ll handle it when you get home- 

Eddie's head perks up from your chest. Almost like he could read your mind, Isnt that one of his D&D elf powers or whatever?

His animated, recovered enough to have regained that mischievous look. He waggles his tongue, vulgar and pushing corny

 “Your turn, mi’lady”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

[junosmindpalace]

satoru first met you as a young adult through a friend you were dating at the time. you were witty, kind, and attractive too; he could immediately tell after a single conversation why his friend would like you. which is why he was dumbfounded over how horribly he treated you.

he’d stare in nearly mute disbelief with his mouth open as this friend of his acted like a total asshole toward you, constantly trying to “put you in your place” in his words, words that made satoru subconsciously clench his jaw.

the only good that came from being with this guy was the fact that you got to see satoru quite often. you two hit off your first meeting right away, and quickly became good friends. and as the two of you got closer, the more satoru learned of the horrible ways his friend treated you, and the harder it got for him to mind his business.

he remembers your first kiss well. there was hesitation in every move you made before satoru eventually took the lead, kissing you over and over and over, pulling away for not even a second before crashing his lips back onto yours feverishly. and you knew as you held each others faces that that boyfriend of yours had to go.

you told him to be mature, that it was already bad enough you cheated on your boyfriend with his own friend. but he simply shrugged his shoulders and gave you a lazy smile (oh, and told you to quit calling that dickhead his friend).

you quipped at him when he snaked a smug (and protective) arm around your waist as your (now ex) boyfriend’s voice and actions grew more aggressive. and yeah, maybe he did have a right to be upset. but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty any longer. not when his reaction reminded you of so many of his other outbursts, not when you knew you were leaving a difficult relationship and had satoru’s support throughout the whole ordeal.

you had kissed, sure, but it took time before you officially started dating.

“i’m not going to stoop to his level. i want you to feel ready.”

and if anyone were to ask about how the two of you got together today, satoru would proudly tell the story with animated gestures and exaggerated details, all of which earned him a smack on the chest from you, his now and forever partner.

#Wrote this in 20 minutes #Jjk tumblr and it’s influence #Don’t know how to catergorize this… #slightly different from what i usually write??? just a bit??? #satoru gojo headcanons #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo oneshot #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru oneshot

[kitasgloves]

SUNA RINTARO is aware of how mean he can get. He knows that he has a potty mouth. He's creative with insults and revels in getting under people's skin. He isn't technically considered the kindest guy in the room but he wasn't heartless. His moral compass wasn't fucked up. His personality of a nosy and sarcastic middle blocker gained him a reputation.

He wasn't sure how you found him yet here you are, capturing both his attention and heart. You combated his backhanded insults with clever rebuttals that rendered him speechless. You matched his sarcasm like no other. You handled his nosiness like an expert. And holy shit Suna thinks, it's impossible to not going to gain feelings for you.

You taught Suna how to be patient. His relationship with you made him realize that he's capable of being a romantic, something he found ridiculous back then. He wouldn't have imagined holding hands while walking down the street, kissing in sidewalks, dates at the park, cuddling under the stars, and falling asleep with you in the same bed. You made Suna believe that he couldn't live a life without you.

But then again, Suna was mean. On the other side of those sweet romantic moments were bitter ones. Another thing with Suna was that he's prideful. He has the need to prove that he's right and to justify his actions. He's petty enough to hurl personal insults at you during an argument. His tone is venomous and passive aggressive, he never shouts at you. But there's an underlying tone of maliciousness that can't get over your head. Suna thinks it's normal for couples to have arguments and that he doesn't have to worry about upsetting you.

However, when he throws you a foul comment about an insecurity of yours, he sees the flash of hurt within your eyes and his heart stops. You always tried to be the bigger person during arguments, often trying to de-escalate the situation and take every jab from Suna because you know it wouldn't be mature to insult him back. But now, it begins to sting.

Suna falls silent, racking his brain for the right words to say. But he's too late, your eyes are already wet.

"What the hell, Rintaro?"

The ache in your voice delivered a dagger through his chest. Suna knew he fucked up the moment you turn away and walk out the door. For once, he regrets having a shitty personality. It's rare enough for someone to tolerate his behavior, and it was you. But he has hurt you all because of his stupid pride.

He begins to think of the horrors. You returning only to collect your things in his apartment and end your relationship with him. His blood went cold thinking about it. Suna thought about being replaced by somebody else, then his blood went hot. When his emotions blocked all logical thought, that's when he realizes that he has lost.

You and Suna didn't speak for days, he granted you some space. When you text him to finally talk, he has never jumped up from his bed faster in his entire life. He meets you by your favorite spot at the fountain at the park, where you both shared your first kiss.

When Suna saw you as he approaches, his chest grows tight. He thinks you're going to break up with him, it seemed inevitable considering the shit he has done. As he stops in front of you, you offer him a tiny smile.

"Hey"

"Hi"

There was silence. Suna was unsure if he should be the one speaking. He has never felt this scatterbrained in his life.

"Rin, I'm sorry I walked away that time"

What the fuck? Suna wasn't stupid to know you shouldn't be the one apologizing. One more thing about Suna is that he horrible with apologies. He rarely said sorry for the shit he did. God, he's such a dick. He's the one who insulted you yet you come back to say sorry. He thinks that you pushed back to he hurt in hopes to fix what happened between you and him. Suna felt like a total asshole.

"No, [Name]. You shouldn't be apologizing"

"...You're so mean sometimes, Rin"

"I'm always mean, even to you babe"

"Yeah, you hurt me real bad"

"I know, I...I'm sorry"

"I still love you Rin no matter how shitty you get"

"You're the only one I know that does that"

Suna suddenly feels small when you walk up to him with an embrace. He lets himself melt in your arms. He closes his eyes and soaks in your warmth. He can't believe he almost lost you, he couldn't bear to experience it again.

"I'm sorry for being a dick, [Name]"

"Don't tell me you're going to cry"

"I'm not! Are you trying to be mean to me right now?"

"Just a little payback that's all"

Suna laughs. Oh, he adores you so much. And he knows he's your big meanie.

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x you