#because im sure some of this will end up in act ii

[taintedcigs]

dancing with our hands tied part II — s.h

you can find part I here

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, making out, swearing, drinking, alcohol mention, JEALOUSY!!! eddie's a bit of an asshole i am sorry, but so is steve sometimes!! and so is reader? idk!

summary: in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex. (wc: 8k+)

a/n: this is part 2 of this fic here !! pls make sure to read it before this!! anddd, im sorry for how confusing the first part was, BUT HERE'S THE HIDEOUT INCIDENT!! and i didn't use POVs this time and i kinda gave up on dates ugrhh. also i have a little bonus content at the end even tho its so a lil silly!!! also did not proof-read this, pls ignore any mistakes or ill scream n d*e

Friday, February 7, 1986 || The Hideout.

Steve stole a glance in your direction, and immediately realized the mistake he had made. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why did you have to be so fucking perfect? Why did you have to have the most contagious laugh that immediately brought a warm smile to his lips? 

Steve leaned against the bar as he watched you further, reveling at the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you gave Robin a giggle, nose scrunching as you mimicked whatever story you were telling, drawing him in without even having a clue on the effect you had on him.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, his heart pounded inside of his ribcage when you looked at him like that, as if your eyes were smiling at him. He held your gaze, giving you a subtle nod. 

God, if Steve didn’t tell you how he felt about you soon, he was sure he was going to explode.  

He turned back to the bar, head filled with the idea of opening up to you, he had to do it soon or else—

“Harrington!” Eddie beamed, interrupting his thoughts as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders, “You mind helpin’ me out?” He grinned, causing Steve’s brows to furrow. 

“Can you put in a good word for me?” Eddie muttered, hand pointing toward the booth, “What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, his eyes following him.

“Y/N.” Steve hoped to God that Eddie didn’t notice the shock in his eyes, blinking quickly as he tried to control the jealousy building within him. 

“I swear I’ve had the biggest crush on her,” Eddie exclaimed. Steve couldn’t help the way his face fell; he wondered if Eddie could notice it, but by the way he grinned at you, Eddie probably had no fucking clue about his feelings for you. 

“Since when?” Steve sounded bitter, chewing at the inside of his mouth to stop himself, “Uh, since forever, dude,” Eddie said, chuckling.

“Put in a little good word for me, yea? I know you guys are close and shit,” Eddie gushed as he squeezed Steve’s shoulders again, and Steve was tense now, his entire body almost burning with rage and resentment. 

Maybe it was wrong for Steve to be petty about this; maybe it wasn’t fair to you that he spent the rest of the night ignoring you; maybe it wasn’t right for him to act this way, but Steve had been on this rodeo before. 

He was always the second choice, and he knew that he was never going to be someone’s priority. Because of that, his reaction was warranted; at least that’s what he believed. Ignoring you completely while he bitterly watched Eddie make moves on you was the only way he could cope with it. 

And it was driving him crazy, knowing that Eddie was getting under your skin with the advice he got from Steve and learning everything about you from him. 

At first, it was all just some passive aggressiveness, until it turned into something bigger, until you finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

Because there stood Steve, across from the gang’s booth, leaning over the wall as he whispered something into Tammy’s ear—Steve’s ex.

With her shiny blonde hair and her big eyes, she threw him a hearty giggle, sticking to his side, while Steve barely blinked, allowing her to drool all over him.

You had no right to be jealous, not when Steve had no clue about your feelings, not when Steve didn’t owe you a thing, but you couldn’t help the frown on your face as he ignored you all night and was fine with stupid Tammy Thompson being all over him.

Your throat burned with the number of shots you took, you could never handle your tequila, but the numbness was exactly what you needed. Your mind was getting dizzier with Steve being pushed back into your thoughts.

You could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each sip, gaze barely holding over Steve’s direction anymore when Eddie had been keeping you company the whole night.

To think Steve was supposed to be your close friend felt like a joke now. The more he was with the blondie, the more you felt your stomach churning, gaze drifting toward Eddie to keep yourself from looking in his direction.

You felt desperate.

Steve probably saw you as the girl who was wrapped around his finger, the girl who followed him around like a puppy. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring you, trying to keep you from clinging to him.

You fidgeted in your seat; not being able to get up and tear her off of him was killing you, and  your head was pounding because of the amount alcohol in your system.

It was getting harder to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at your insides. 

Eddie didn’t seem to notice anything, but Steve did.

With each shot you took, with each step you took closer to Eddie, Steve couldn’t help the sharp pain he felt in his chest, the same rage of jealousy gnawing at him as well. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, too, so he buried it deeper and deeper until he could make sure those feelings for you were impossible to reach.

You were going to be dating Eddie, and Steve needed to get over you as fast as he could.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind the attention coming from his ex.

By the time Steve arrived back at the booth, Nancy and Jonathan were already gone, you were in the bathroom—possibly puking your guts out, and Robin was getting ready to leave.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, concern washing over his face. “She drank a bit too much,” Robin mumbled, knowing how much Steve cared about you.

“You should maybe check on her, yea?” She gave Steve an all-knowing look, causing him to shrug.

“I can’t—” Robin interrupted him with a death glare.

“I would, but I have to go or my mom will actually kill me this time,” She groaned, saying her goodbyes before leaving in a hurry. 

“Dude, I gotta bail too,” Eddie puffed his cheeks as he put on his leather jacket. “What?” Steve asked, baffled.

“She’s wasted!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up quickly, causing Eddie to shrug, “She’s probably puking her guts out right now, she needs you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t believe that Eddie would even think about leaving you alone in a condition like this. 

“Gross, dude,” Eddie said, making a face as he cringed, causing Steve to roll his eyes. 

“Real fuckin’ mature, Munson.”

“You drop her home, man, I’m too fuckin’ hammered for all of this.” He gave Steve’s shoulder another tight squeeze; this time Steve was sure his blood was boiling, his eyes darkening with each word Eddie spoke.

This asshole had the audacity to use him to try to date you, and he couldn’t even fucking treat you, right? Steve shook off his thoughts before he could do something he knew he would regret.

Eddie was his best friend, and he could never let his feelings for you get in the way of you actually being happy.

“Are you going to get a cab?” Steve asked, “Yeah,” Eddie muttered mindlessly.

“Then give me your jacket.” Steve’s tone was now cold, almost demanding, and his demeanor changing within seconds was throwing Eddie off, 

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie chuckled mockingly, he didn’t notice the serious gaze Steve holds.

“Dude, your house is five minutes away, you’ll be fine, just give me your jacket,” He demanded again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie spat.

“Because you asshole, it’s the middle of February and Y/N is wearing a fucking dress, it’s the least you could do for leaving her like that.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?” Steve didn’t know how to control the rage coursing through his veins.

“Do you see me wearing a fucking jacket?” Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve like this, with those veins in his forehead visible as he could feel his fists clench. Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Steve’s bizarre behavior.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie mumbled before taking off the jacket with a few huffs escaping from his lips.

“There, you happy, man?” Eddie hissed, almost tossing the jacket toward Steve, “Fucking ecstatic,” Steve replied with an angry smirk.

Steve sighed before he made his way to the bathroom. Not knowing what was waiting for him inside, he knocked on the door hesitantly and asked, “Y–you okay?” The shakiness in his voice was exposing him.

A faint ‘Yeah’ was all he heard before you unlocked the door.

And there you laid on the dirty bathroom tiles, your hair disheveled, make-up smudged, and you could barely get your head up from the toilet seat.

Steve’s heart sank, guilt settling in his insides again like an old friend. He knew he couldn’t always take care of you, and he knew that you’d be with Eddie soon, but he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt when all of this could’ve been avoided if he was just there for you. 

And his mind was still reeling about the fact that Eddie dared to leave you like this.

Would the fucker even be able to treat you right?

“Want me to help you?” He asked, hands itching to reach out and hold you, but you dismissed him like it was nothing, like he didn’t mean anything to you anymore, and it had only been an hour since Steve had learned that Eddie was into you. 

“No,” Even when you were this messed up, you held onto your grudge, shutting out any feelings of understanding or empathy toward Steve, even though he was only trying to help you out.

“I can help, to, you know—hold your hair and stuff,” He stuttered, he had never been this nervous around you.

You flushed the toilet as you attempted to get up, “I’m not—I didn’t throw up,” Your words were slurred.

“If you… if you feel like throwing up, I can—”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too loudly, throwing him a cold stare. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/N.” His tone sounded disappointed, but you could care less when he had acted like a jerk most of the night.

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped while flushing the toilet, trying to stand still, your head growing dizzier each time you moved.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Here.” He ignored your protests as he helped you up, warm hands were tight around your waist. If you weren’t this embarrassingly drunk and a huge mess, you would’ve started getting your hopes up.

But not after today, not after he ignored you to be with Tammy Thompson all fucking night.

“I got it!” You spat, trying to free yourself from his hold. “Let me help, please.” This was the most genuine he had been tonight, his voice almost pleading as he threw you that pitiful look, and you hated it.

You hated being the one Steve pitied and not the one he pined after, but you swallowed your pride when you realized you couldn’t even walk properly.

You barely questioned everyone’s absence when your mind was filled with Steve. 

And once he dragged you out of the bar, you couldn’t help the petty words that escaped your lips; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

“You can get back to your girlfriend now,” You muttered bitterly, your voice clear. There was venom in your tone, and your grudge was poison with the way it seeped into your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve sighed, and you lightly pushed him off of you as you stood still on your own.

“Does the name Tammy Thompson ring a bell?” You narrowed your eyes. You wish you could tape your mouth right now and stop yourself from spilling so much of your feelings to Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything, Y/N?” His tone remained cold now; your heart was in his hands, and he was squeezing it each time he distanced himself from you. 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Each time you dismissed him, you unknowingly tore open the old wound in his heart, keeping it fresh. 

“If—if you wanted to take care of me so badly, then why did you ignore me all fuckin’ night?” Your face heated with anger, and your tone was tinged with frustration. 

“Should go back to fuckin’ blondie over there,” You muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him, unable to conceal the bitterness you were holding onto. 

“Oh my god,” The realization dawned on Steve at a crawl.

You were jealous of him.

“You are jealous,” Steve couldn’t help the annoying smile on his lips, much to your dismay. You were jealous of him, and as selfish as it was, it was amusing to him. 

“What?” You snapped, eyes narrowing, “I’m not jealous—” The look Steve threw at you was enough to break you. “Jerk,” You mumbled under your breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it dooooeees,” He said, dragging his words out to annoy you further, as he took a step closer to you, almost closing the distance that he had been keen on protecting the entire night. 

He was frustrating, so fucking frustrating, spinning your head faster than all the booze in your system. You couldn’t help the way your eyes grew mellow when he looked at you like that, you wanted to take all of him in. 

This entire day was beginning to grow tiring, from Eddie’s sudden interest in you to Steve’s emotional whiplash, and now, since you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn second, he was aware of your unnecessary jealousy. 

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” You slurred again, hands wrapping around yourself almost as an attempt to conceal yourself from him, he could see right through you, and it was making you feel things you were not ready for. 

“W—where is Eddie?” Those were the worst three words that could come out of your mouth. Just when Steve was basking in the glory and the hope that you were jealous of him, you decided to bring up Eddie, and with just his name rolling off your lips, you were re-opening his wounds.

Why not him?

Why was it never Steve?

Steve gulped; physically, he wasn’t sure what step to take would be better, to put a distance between you and him or to put a distance between him and Eddie. 

And even though he knew he would regret doing this like there’s no tomorrow, even though Eddie doesn’t fucking deserve this decency, or you, Steve decided that he can’t do this to his friend. 

“At least he’ll take me home!” You exclaimed so confidently that Steve couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Steve quipped, grinning. He was mocking you again, unaware of your growing frustrations.

“What the hell is your problem?” You narrowed your eyes. “Unlike you, he didn’t ignore me all night to be with his ex, and he gave me his jacket.” Steve chuckled at that, again, frustrating you more and more, each time he opened his mouth. 

With an irritated frown, you shot a sharp glance at him and asked, “Is everything a fucking joke to you?” 

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” You crossed your arms against your chest, “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” You snapped, not even knowing know why you uttered those words, you knew better than anyone that Steve wasn’t selfish; he never once put himself in front of his friends, but you were aiming to hurt him, and he was ready to bite back now. 

“You are so fucking ridiculous, I—I can’t do this with you,” You murmured dejectedly, not being able to help it when your voice cracked; he was so embedded in your brain that you couldn’t form coherent words with the space he took up in your mind.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” He whispered, shaking his head. If only you knew.

“Did you actually stop to think about how shitty it makes me feel when you give me these stupid emotional whiplashes?” You asked, and if you dared to get closer to him, you might’ve lost the purpose of the argument, your gaze drooping down to his lips every few seconds.

Steve stared at you blankly; you were unable to make anything out of his expressions, he looked at you as if you never existed to him, on a fucking whim.

Your lips tremble, a telltale sign that you would break soon.

His no response spoke volumes to you, “Of course you didn't.” You gave him a dry chuckle, filled with bitterness, and turned on your heel to walk away from him.

The slight breeze of February air hit you harder than Steve’s words.

He sighed a heavy breath when he heard you gasp at the coldness, hand reaching out to your arm before he spun you to meet his gaze again,

“Watch it, Y/N.” The words slipped past his lips forcefully, his chest puffing down with each breath he took. He was so fucking close that one move from you would change everything.

The tension was palpable; unspoken words and emotions hung in the space between the two of you.

And there it was.

There were his emotions again, filling his gaze quicker than you realized. If you weren’t this shitfaced, you could possibly do something about the ever so slightly distance between you, your foreheads almost touching. But your mind was spinning with endless possibilities. “Or what?” You teased; maybe it wasn’t the right time to do so, but you wanted to push him, make him break, the same way he did to you.

How far was he willing to take it?

His grip on your arm tightened; it wasn’t harsh, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. And you couldn’t determine a single thing he was thinking again, eyes locked with each other without a single word being spoken.

You could sense his mind wandering off to find you a proper answer, trying to pick his words carefully, but you didn’t want that.

You wanted to know what he was thinking—what was going through his mind when he looked at you like you meant something to him, like he was ready to risk it all.

It was momentarily, but you could see it all—the sudden flint of confidence that didn’t waver enough to be convincing.

It wasn’t long until he returned to the cold demeanor he had been reserving just for you. “No, you’re not fucking worth it,” He muttered, taking a step back before he bit the inside of his cheek—hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded his senses, but he could care less; if he hadn’t done it, he would’ve poured his heart out.

He would’ve risked it all just to see those sparks in your eyes, but with five words, he had managed to kill it, slitting all the possibilities with the sharpest knife he could find.

“W–what?” Your voice cracked, and you fucking hated it. You hated being this weak in front of him, with tears ready to spill every time you had an argument, even over the smallest things.

“Just–Fuck! Look at you,” He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to burn this bridge with you, but he knew he had to for his own sake and for you to be happy with Eddie.

“You—you’re all over the place, always relying on others to take care of you, just one fucking night I didn’t baby you…” He shook his head. “And you act like I’m fuckin’ insane for doing that!” His voice was calm and collected, and that was what was throwing you off. How could he relay your insecurities in front of you, crush your heart to pieces, and pretend as if what he was saying was okay?

You couldn’t help it when tears flooded your vision. You tried not to let them get to you, but the alcohol in your system was far too dizzying and hormonal to stop your emotions from flowing. You didn’t know why he decided to utter those words, but it hurt.

Each of the gazes you shared and each word that transpired, deepened the wound in your insides that you didn’t even know existed, your feelings were at the surface, and you were vulnerable at his expense.

But Steve didn’t care. 

“I—I can’t believe you’d say that,” You whispered, blinking the tears away when you took a step back, the hurt subsiding when it transformed into rage. “Fuck you,” You spat, your words weren’t slurred this time, but your vision was blurry again, barely taking another look at him when you started to walk away.

And he didn’t call out after you; he didn’t even flinch. 

You were all alone.

You let your emotions overtake you as you started sobbing, sniffling every once in a while as you tried to comfort yourself. 

Eddie could drop you home, you tried to reassure yourself, you knew there was a payphone close to The Hideout, if you could just walk a few more minutes, you could just call him—but holy fuck, did your feet hurt. You cursed yourself for not listening to Nancy when she told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

You were wobbly now, tears pouring down your cheeks, your smudged mascara distorting your view further, and it was dark out, so fucking dark that it started to scare you.

Your mind reeled more and more, and your chest felt trapped with each shallow breath you took. Eddie would’ve never uttered those words to you, your angry mind decided, Eddie wouldn’t flirt with girls—his exes—in front of you.

Eddie would never give you this sort of emotional whiplash.

And most importantly, Eddie would never leave you like this.

You felt so tired, just wanting to sleep, but you knew you couldn’t turn back now. Your feet were aching, but you’d rather they blistered than see Steve again.

You sat on the ground, relief washing over you when you got rid of your shoes, and the dirty, cold concrete ground felt so comforting that you nuzzled into the leather jacket, arms wrapped around yourself to provide more warmth as you sniffled into it.

You’re not sure if you can ever be with Steve anymore.

Sure, you could still be friends because you did have many big, stupid fights—granted, none of them were like this; this was different. 

This was the first big fight you had with him since you realized your feelings for him, and it hurt.

Steve was not who you thought he was.

He was never going to love you.

He only saw you as his friend, and right now, even that was questionable.

And there you were, pathetically pining after him while he was drooling all over other girls, chasing him down and making a mess of yourself just for him to leave you like this.

You sniffled again; Eddie would never, and he actually was interested in you.

God, how you wished he could find you now, take you home, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he tried to mend what Steve broke.

You knew it was selfish, but it was the only way.

Maybe if Eddie could make you forget him completely, he could remind you that you weren’t a mess and that you were perfect.

Your vision blurred again, hot tears were stinging your eyes, but the ground was so comfortable.

Steve was right, you were a mess, you were a huge fucking mess, and you were pathetic, but you didn’t care as you hugged yourself further, head falling into your lap as you let yourself fall more and more into the deep pit of despair.

And that’s the last thing you remembered.

You didn’t remember Steve running after you as he realized how much he fucked up; you don’t remember Steve seeing you curled up into a ball, almost falling asleep.

You don’t remember Steve lifting you up and carrying you before anything bad happened to you.

You don’t remember the apologies Steve muttered into your ear on the ride home, how he checked every few seconds to make sure you were okay, his hands never leaving yours as he wanted to punch himself for even putting you in a position like this.

You don’t remember Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he tucks you in, and you don’t remember him almost staying till the morning to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick. 

The last thing you remember was the fight. 

You woke up the next morning with a groan, and you were sure no painkiller was going to help the pounding in your head. 

You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked in the mirror, your hair was an absolute mess, the top that adorned your neck was covered with alcohol stains, your make-up was smudged, and you only had one earring.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sighed, taking off the dirty clothes as you put on a comfy shirt, your room was as messy as you were, bag on the floor while its contents spilled out, and… a leather jacket?

Slowly but surely, last night’s events came to you in a blur. The last thing you remembered was the fight you had with Steve. 

Both of you spewed some hurtful things at one another, and that’s the clearest you could remember it.

You examined the leather jacket sprawled over the floor, and your brows knitted together, Steve didn’t even have a jacket on last night; you remembered because Robin made fun of him for not bringing a jacket in February when Steve whined about being cold.

You read the tagline; E.M. 

Oh god.

Was it… Eddie? Did he drop you off when you were embarrassingly drunk?

Was Eddie the one who took care of you the whole night while Steve threw you away like a piece of paper?

You remembered the hurtful things he said to you; your mind was too jumbled up to even recall the nice things he said to you afterward.

You knew you have to talk to him, mend your friendship, but all you could think about now was Eddie, how he took care of you, and how he was there for you. 

That day you called him, and he told you in detail how wasted you were and how he had to carry you home. You made up with Steve afterward too, both of you muttering apologies to each other as you promised not to let stupid things get out of hand. 

And that day, Eddie took you on your first date with him. 

NOW

“Buckley, you mind ringing these up for me?” You beamed, throwing her an innocent smile, your eyes wandering off to Steve’s absence next to her.

You gave her the ‘Evil Dead II’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’ VHS tapes nonchalantly, waiting to ask her about Steve.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up, “What kind of a double-feature is this supposed to be, huh?”

“A very fun one,” You said with a slight smirk, handing her a couple of bills.

You scanned the store, he was nowhere to be seen, of fucking course. “Harrington running from me again?” You almost cursed yourself for saying that out loud, but you couldn’t help it, something snarky would’ve slipped out eventually.

You saw Robin almost freeze, her mouth hanging open as her brain short-circuited to find a quick answer.

“I—It’s fine,” You mumbled. “Just tell him I would really like to talk to him. Once his weird tantrum is over?” You commented; it was snarky again, but he deserved it.

Five days had passed since the party, and Steve had been avoiding you like the plague, not returning your phone calls, and sneaking out the back each time you visited Family Video, and it was driving you crazy.

Determined to talk to him, you spent the last few days re-evaluating everything. You wanted to ask him what the fuck he meant—was everything that led to you dating Eddie a lie?

And did Steve never think to tell you this, even once the two of you broke up? His audacity was pissing you off, more than ever now that he was avoiding you.

Then small things started coming back to you in a flash, like the drunken confession you made to him last week.

But you were still clueless about The Hideout. You racked your brain away, but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. Even the fight with Steve was so vaguely burned into the back of your brain, you simply didn’t want to remember it, or the hurtful words he uttered to you that night.

You had decided to forgive and forget, had no intention of going back to that head space, until recently, when Steve decided to blurt out that he was the one in Hideout, leaving without explaining anything further.

You tried to fish it out of Robin, but she acted clueless, and you tried everything you could do to reach out to Steve, but it was useless.

So that only left you with one thing.

Eddie.

Eddie had told you the day after The Hideout incident that it was he who took you home, detailing everything that happened that night.

You were basically breathless by the time you made it to Eddie’s trailer, knocking on the door, until it hit you.

What the fuck were you doing? Knocking on Eddie’s door when he had no fucking clue what was happening, when he had no idea you and Steve had kissed.

When he had no idea that you knew.

You shook your head in embarrassment as you turned around, about to leave, coincidentally and to your dumb luck, that’s when Eddie had decided to open the door.

He stood speechless when he saw you, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “Y/N?” He asked, tone barely audible.

“Hi.” You muttered, accepting Eddie’s invitation as he stood aside for you to enter, and you squeezed by him with a quick ‘thank you’

“Look, I know you’re wondering why the fuck your ex showed up at your door but—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He interrupted

“I do have an idea,” He smirked slightly, causing you to throw him a confused look, you were about to open your mouth, ask a million questions, but he didn’t let you.

“I know everything,” He muttered, and you couldn’t decide his facial expressions. “Steve told me about all of it.”

“And I already told him there was no bad blood between me and you and that it was fine that you guys kissed—”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What?!?” You exclaimed, not expecting Steve to babble about it to Eddie when he had been avoiding you.

“Look, honey, Steve was all blabbering and shit when he came to see me, tellin’ me all this shit about how much he liked you and how sorry he was,” Eddie said with a concerned look.

“And I told him it was all fine, Christ—when did we even date, like 2 years ago?” You didn’t answer him and he sighed. 

“I always knew the two of you had something for each other, I mean, why’d you think I got so jealous anytime you guys hung out together alone? He was definitely—“” He rambled for what felt like minutes, and you were quick to interrupt it, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to process what the fuck was going on.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, “That’s… uhm– good to know, but not what I came in here for,” You muttered, eyes wandering to the ground.

He threw you a quizzed look, brows knitted up together, “I–I wanted to ask you about something,” You gulped.

“Well, spill it out, sweetheart, you’re makin’ me all nervous and shit.” He gave you a dry chuckle.

“What–what exactly happened that day?” You knew he was going to ask what the fuck you were talking about, so you cut him off before he got a chance to speak.

“At The Hideout… Two years ago.” You could see Eddie almost panic visibly, he didn’t expect it, and did it really matter now, after everything?

“Shit… why won’t you ask Steve about all this?” He scratched his head, it was all awkward, you coming here, asking him something that was two years ago, Steve telling Eddie about the kiss while refusing to acknowledge you… 

It was embarrassing, really, and with each passing minute, a rage fueled inside of you. Sick of the hiding, and the lies. You just wanted the truth, and for Steve to not run at the first inconvenience.

“I would, if he didn’t avoid me like a fucking child,” You spat under your breath, causing Eddie to chuckle. He shook his head again.

“Right, so… I’m assuming since it was two years ago, you won’t be mad at me, right?” He asked, an innocent look spreading over his face, almost fearing as he saw how angry you were at Steve.

You almost rolled your eyes, these two idiots were making your blood boil. “Just want the truth, Munson, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“Right!” He chuckled nervously before telling you everything that happened that night.

You called Eddie right after you found his jacket, blabbering like an idiot as you thanked him a million times. While Eddie had no fuckin’ clue what had happened, he was still trying to get over his own hangover, but he wasn’t going to completely shut you down, not when he wanted you this badly, not when you were in the grasp of his hands.

As soon as you hung up, promising him a date, he called Steve, and he didn’t even have to beg him to play along; Steve was just... okay with it.

Steve knew the moment Eddie told him about his little crush that the two of you had no chance and that Steve would only be a little thought in the back of your mind, while Eddie would be the first choice, because why wouldn’t he?

Why would you choose him over Eddie?

And with all the sudden information flooding your mind, you weren’t sure how to react, how to vent all these emotions running through your veins, so you did it the only way you knew how; anger.

You checked the clock; 10.08

Steve’s shift should’ve ended long ago by now, you barely mumbled a goodbye to Eddie when you left, mind focused on one thing.

Steve.

You arrived at his door with your lips tightening and your jaw clenching, you weren’t going to give up now; you were going to talk to him. Now or never.

You knocked on the door so hard that you were sure your knuckles were bruising, and Steve was baffled when he opened the door, mouth almost agape as he looked at the sight in front of him.

“You know what you are? A fucking coward,” You mumbled, not giving him a second to process anything as you shook your head. 

“You are a selfish fucking coward! Do you think you can make decisions for other people? You think you can just take their choices away and pretend like everything is fucking fine!” Steve didn’t utter a word when you let it all out, your words meshing with each other, and you could feel your blood boiling each time you spoke, but it was… weirdly relieving.

All that pent up anger was finally coming out.

“And you told Eddie?!? You fucking talked to him but didn’t have the guts to even face me! Five days, five fucking days, I followed you around, you fucking jerk!” You spat, your eyes flashed with anger as your face came closer to him, he didn’t even flinch, eyeing you curiously, those deep honey glazed eyes were warming the more he looked at you.

And Oh God, was his gaze inviting, so warm, but you couldn’t soften up… not when you still had so much to say.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me? No—no… Fuck that! I don’t even give a fuck if it's embarrassing, I’ve been–I’ve been living a lie and you–it’s your fault…” You mumbled the last part, chest heaving, when your fiery gaze met his, he was itching to talk, and you could tell.

“That—that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He muttered, causing your eyes to narrow, “Look why don’t we just go inside and have an adult conversation? No need for these tantrums—” And that hit a nerve. 

“Don’t,” You muttered, closing your eyes, the rage bubbling up to the surface again, gnawing at your skin, waiting to welcome you.

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me to have an ‘adult conversation’ when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” You exclaimed angrily, face heating with anger, Steve nodded, understandingly. He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, he just wanted to talk to you. He had been debating what to do these last five days, and shutting you out during that was obviously stupid, but that’s how he handled everything, wallowing it all until he chewed his emotions, keeping them hidden.

“What was I supposed to do?” He asked, almost defeated, and it made you want to chuckle, he was sending you over the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t a question; it was stupid for Steve to even attempt to open his mouth.

“You could have talked to me!” You took a deep breath; your anger wasn’t going to help, and if you didn’t talk to Steve as soon as possible, your head might have exploded.

You sighed as Steve stood aside, leading you to the living room, and your anger subsided with each step you took. The familiarity of the house was engulfing you, and you wanted to scream. 

What if Steve had told you this would change nothing?

What if this was it for the two of you?

Your head was swirling, and it hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was taking a toll on you and Steve could sense it.

“What—what really happened… that day?” You asked, voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze.

Steve sighed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, hand itching to lay on your thigh, squeeze it to make you feel comfortable, just so you would look at him, but he resisted it, hand flexing as he placed it between the two of you.

“You–you remember our fight?” He mumbled, causing you to nod. “We both said some stupid shit to each other—”

“Well, you started it—” You gazed up at him, and this time he threw you a look, causing you to close your mouth as if to signal him to continue.

“And—and you left… and the second you did, I just felt this horrible fucking pit in my stomach, I could never—I could never leave you like that,” His voice was shaking, hands flexing again as he inched closer to you.

“I found you on the street, Y/N, almost passed out, and I lost my goddamn mind for leaving you alone—even for a second, I ca—I can’t fucking imagine what I would even do if anything happened to one–one fucking strand of your hair—just the thought makes me sick to my stomach—Jesus.” He muttered, face still toward you as you could trace it now, the worried lines etched onto his forehead, a frown taking upon his usual plump lips, voice cracking as you could sense it, the utter worry and desperation in his voice. 

You couldn’t open your mouth, words failing you as you opted out to hold his hand instead, a small gesture, but one that made Steve’s entire stiffness disappear. One touch from you warming him up immediately.

“I took you home as fast as I could—I tucked you in, made sure you didn’t get sick, and then I left.” 

“Why?” You asked, meekly.

“Why did you let me believe it was him? Why did you ignore me that night?”

“It–it doesn’t matter now,” He mumbled, and your brows furrowed again, fury still locked up inside of you.

“It fucking does!” You snarled, insides burning with anticipation and anger.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” You yelled, you didn’t want to scream at his face, but he left you with no choice. If you wanted to talk to him, you had to get some things out of him, no matter how much it angered you.

“Just tell me, Steve, full transparency, I want it all out.”

Steve’s silence caused a groan out of you, “If you don’t, I’m gonna leave… for good,” You whispered. 

You were bluffing; you weren’t going to go anywhere without getting some closure, but Steve didn’t know that, and he had never seen you this riled up, so he sighed when you got up.

“I didn’t want to lose you!” He got up after you, staring at your back for a full minute until you turned around to meet him, a quizzed look overtaking your features.

“What?”

“God! I wanted to—Shit. I wanted to tell you about how I felt, but then Eddie came and he told me all about how he had feelings for you, and, uh, I just panicked— so fucking hard. I knew you would have chosen him, and I had that rejection one too many fuckin’ times, and I—I knew I couldn’t handle it from you!” He exclaimed, breath ragged as his brown orbs looked at you with such sympathy that you wanted to drop everything and kiss him, tell him that he would always be your first choice.

“I knew you would choose him and—” 

“I didn’t want to be a second choice again, Y/N, I was so fucking scared—” You shook your head.

“Steve you—god, you have no fucking clue about anything,” You chuckled dryly, interrupting him.

“When you ignored me for Tammy that night, when you told me that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ that’s when I decided to contain my feelings for you, I knew you didn’t like me for anything more than friends—I always thought we had a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of relationship but that night, confirmed it for me,” You looked away, almost ashamed, face burning up.

“I felt so fucking desperate—like you wanted to push me away like I was an idiot girl who was clinging onto you, and now everything is just so confusing that I don’t even know what is going on.” Your hands ran through your hair.

“But you were and will always be my first choice,” You didn’t mean to smile, but it just appeared, anger washing away. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You muttered, and Steve’s entire demeanor changed, his body relaxing as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

“What?” He asked, baffled, a small smile overtaking his lips before you could say another word. 

“Yeah,” You murmured, taking a step closer to him, 

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?” He asked, basking in the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as your warm aura engulfed him.

“Hmmm… I’d say it’s more you than me,” You mumbled, scrunching your nose, as Steve huffed playfully, inching closer and closer to you. You didn’t know where this took the two of you, but your mind was so busy when he was standing this close to you.

One strand of his hair fell onto his forehead, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through them, kiss every inch of his face, run your lips along his soft ones, feel his calloused hands on your curves, grabbing desperately, meek grunts leaving his lips, both of you breathless.

And that’s exactly what you did—without a care, you closed the distance between the two of you with an annoyed huff, fingers running through his shiny hair. 

His hands were quick to land on your hips, grabbing them like he was afraid of you slipping away, once again. And it all felt so easy and familiar that you could feel your head spinning.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You didn’t want this moment to be over, wanting to cling to him forever. Everything he did made you feel foolish and insane, and you understood why being in love felt like losing your mind, again.

Steve groaned into your lips, kissing you harder, once, twice, his lips never fully letting go of you, and you didn’t know if it would ever be enough for you, utterly craving nothing but him.

Your mind was jelly at this point, everything was tangled together while the question of ‘What’s going to happen now?’ lingered in your mind. Did he still want you? Did he still want to be together? Why didn’t he just come to you after talking to Eddie? 

You tried to shake them off, tried to focus on the way Steve’s hands stuck to your body, like they belonged there, and the way his lips moved along yours, like it had always been this way.

You wanted to continue, wanted so badly to not let this moment go, but the bickering voices in your head were too much, and you pulled away slowly. Steve almost groaned when he felt the absence of your lips. He blinked once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” He unintentionally let out, gaze filled with lust as his pupils were blown wide, and a small giggle left your lips. “You are an idiot,” You whispered, your gaze settling on him. 

Was everything going to be okay?

How were you even going to manage to make this work? 

And with that, your expression soured, “Steve,” You said seriously, causing him to look up at you with concern all over his face. “I don’t want to get hurt again.” You murmured, forehead touching his.

“I won’t hurt you, ever.” His gaze was intense, and it made you feel giddy, worries washing away in seconds. You don’t know how he fucking did it, but it worked. 

And you trusted him like no one else. 

You couldn’t help it when your lips twitched into a smile. “You promise?” You gushed.

“With all my heart, honey.” He whispered, taking a deep breath. 

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, dreaming about this...”

“I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” He muttered, his hands tucking the strand of hair that was blocking him from placing messy kisses all over your face. 

“I couldn’t handle losing you, not again,” He murmured before leaning in to press more kisses all over your soft lips.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bonus scene: just for shits n giggles idk

“What movies did you get today?” He asked with a childish grin on his lips.

“If you weren’t avoiding me, you would’ve known, pretty boy.” You exclaimed dramatically, crossing your arms against your chest.

Pretty boy.

The only thing that stuck in Steve’s brain was that he was your pretty boy.

And this giddy feeling inside of him was never going to go away, he decided.

He huffed playfully before he grabbed your bag, causing you to gasp. “Let’s see…” He murmured as he tried to find the VHS tapes.

“Aha!” He exclaimed as he grabbed the two of them, turning the cover to see what movies you rented. 

“Oh my god,” He murmured. “A double-feature? For us?” He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile, so warm that you wanted to bathe in the glory of making him this happy.

“Mhmm… First, Evil Dead II for me, and once Stevie gets scared, we’ll put on Dirty Dancing.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” He groaned. “You are so fucking perfect, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

another a/n: so this is a bit messy bc i had too many ideas and this is the best i could do to fit them all in, i hope this doesn't feel that disconnected from the first!! work has been kicking my ass lately so my mind is all mushed lmao!! feel free to leave ur feedback and pls comment, like or reblog to support me ily <33

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #steve harrington #ex!eddie munson

[heavenlyhischier]

𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐚

word count: 3.1k

summary: The cowboy rule: You take the man’s cowboy hat and wear it, that means you gotta ride the cowboy. What happens if you don’t take Marks hat?

warnings: dumb mark (in a loving way), slight angst, drinking, swearing, make out scene at the end

note: i am incapable of writing a story without angst im sorry ahahaha. the cowboy rule is basically a secondary plot device but it’s fine. it’s also kinda sloppy because i’m sick and dying 🤣

College started off normal for you. You moved into the world's smallest dorm, a thought that passed through most freshmen's heads when they came face-to-face with their shared space. You met your roommate, dreading the possibility that she was going to be the most vile girl you had ever met, but she turned out to be one of the best people you knew. You become overwhelmed with your workload and wanted to die. Most importantly, you met a guy.

Mark Estapa was a boy you had met in your calculus II class after he had not so quietly asked you for the answers to the previous lectures homework. You had noticed him before that day, of course. It was impossible not to. He was, after all, the cutest boy you had seen on campus. Following that day, you had agreed to help him in class, and he convinced you to join his hockey team’s media crew. It wasn’t long after that you entered an intricate and complicated relationship with the hockey forward.

It started off as harmless flirting, teasing remarks, and longing stares. Then it turned into blatant flirting, sexual innuendos, and subtle, lingering touches. Before you knew it, the two of you found yourselves in an empty bathroom at some random party with his lips exploring parts of you that no one else had before. You’d expected to walk out of that bathroom and pretend it never happened, but then it happened again. And again. And again. Now, halfway through sophomore year, you were still entangled in the messy, sticky web that was your relationship with Mark.

“You coming,” Ethan’s voice rippled through your thoughts, his brow quirked in curiosity as he watched you bring yourself back to reality.

“To what,” You slightly pinched your brows together, dropping the hand that was previously picking at your lip.

“Party. The theme is like “this ain’t my first rodeo” or some shit like that, so we’re dressing up all country,” His voice was full of amusement, and a lot of excitement, “I hope there’s a mechanical bull.”

You sent Mark a sideways glance, who only gave a shrug in response. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, annoyed at his change of behavior over the last few days. He’d been acting distant, which typically wouldn’t bother you, but it came seemingly out of nowhere. You tried to not let it upset you, but it did. It upset you far more than you wanted to admit.

“I guess,” You mumbled, your eyes trained on your hands that were clasped in your lap.

Ethan glanced between you and Mark, letting out a quiet sigh at how stupid the both of you were. He’s known about you and Mark since the day it started, and he’s also known that it was more than the two of you let on. He could tell that Mark liked you by the way he was constantly looking at you when you were around, and the way he was always bringing you into the conversation when you weren’t. He also noticed the way you would linger on Mark with the media camera, and the way your face flushed when he would toss you a playful wink.

He’s not entirely sure what had his best friend pulling away from the girl he’s loved for the last year, but he was determined to not let him screw it up more than he already was. How? Ethan wasn’t sure, but he’s hopeful he’ll be able to come up with something by the time the party starts.

“Now ladies,” Dylan nodded his head towards you and the other girls, “Do not forget about the cowboy rule. What is the cowboy rule you might ask? If you take the cowboy hat and put it on your head, you ride the cowboy.”

“Yeehaw,” Luke let out, a cheeky smile forming on his face as everyone in the living room of soph house erupted into laughter at his dumb joke.

You had gone back to your shared apartment with your roommate a few hours later, barely speaking to Mark during that time period. You’d tried to talk to him after the group branched off into their own conversations, but he mumbled something incoherent and went up to his room. If it were a typical day, you’d have followed him up there, but it wasn’t, so you didn’t. Instead, you fell into conversation with Luke and Dylan as they discussed their cowboy outfit.

“He still being an ass,” Jillian asked as she peeked her head out of the shower, watching as you did your hair.

“That’s the thing,” You lowly chuckled, dropping the strand in between your fingers to look at her, “He isn’t even being an ass. He’s being distant. Which is worse, I think.”

She let out a quiet hum, head going back under the water as she spoke, “I think he’s being an ass regardless. I mean, he treats you like his girlfriend all the time, and now he’s just ghosting? That’s an ass.”

“Yeah, I guess,” You mumbled, eyes and shoulders dropping in defeat.

“No ma’am,” She slightly shouted, “No sadness! You heard Duker about the cowboy rule or whatever. Well, you’re gonna steal someone's hat tonight.”

When you and Jill arrived at the party, the house was already buzzing with life and music. People had their own version of rodeo attire on as some slammed back bottles and cups alike, and others did their best attempt to line dance at whatever song was playing over the speakers. You were holding tightly onto Jill’s hand as she weaved through the sea of people, making a line straight for the kitchen to get a drink.

When you finally managed to break through the wall of bodies, you found yourself in the kitchen with a few of the boys from the team. They were huddled in a corner talking amongst themselves when they noticed the two of you, and it wasn’t long before a pair of arms were wrapped around you. Though they didn't belong to who you wanted them to.

“Ethan, put me down,” You giggled as he twirled you around, his hat nearly falling off his head in the process, “You’re making me dizzy and I’m not even drunk yet.”

Once your feet are planted comfortably on the ground, you couldn’t help but search for Mark within the group of hockey players. His dark eyes were on you the second you walked through the doorway, so it wasn’t hard to find him. His jaw was set and eyes narrowed as he watched his best friend’s hand linger on your lower back.

His gaze flicked up to meet your own, and his features softened as soon as he saw the way your brows were furrowed and eyes wide in confusion. Truthfully, he wanted to walk over and gently yank you into his side and away from Ethan; silently claiming you as his, but he couldn’t. He was trying to push back the feelings that have been growing inside of him for a year, not make them worse.

You held Mark’s stare for a few seconds before he was glancing away and a frown was slowly carving its way onto your face. Jill was quick to shove a drink in your hand when she noticed the sad look making its appearance. She not so subtly tossed a wicked glare in Mark’s direction before tugging you away from the kitchen.

No matter how hard you tried to enjoy yourself, all you could think of was the one boy who wouldn’t talk to you. You were trying to figure out what you had done, where things went wrong. Jill had tried to keep you present in conversations and various activities, but you always found your mind floating off to Mark.

It wasn’t until you were outside on the deck with a group of people that you actually saw Mark again. He was off to the side talking with a few of his teammates, and a few random girls. You couldn’t help but let the jealousy burn in your chest as you watched them with baited breath. From where you were, he appeared to be laughing and enjoying himself while one of the girls gripped his bicep.

Jill’s gentle voice echoed in your head as she called out your name, but you were focused in on the sight in front of you.

Her face contorted as she watched you let your thoughts and jealousy consume you, but she knew her efforts were going to do nothing but harm until you tore your attention away from Mark. She’s known you long enough to know that when you’re even slightly tipsy, trying to make you do something you didn’t want to do was only going to make things worse, so she waited.

Time began to still as you watched the blonde’s hand slowly creep up his arm. You knew what she was going to do and, with Dylan’s words from earlier ringing in your ears, you wanted him to tell her to stop. To carefully push her away and tell her no. Her manicured fingers grasped the brim of the hat, hastily pulling off of his head and placing it on her own.

“Shit,” You heard Jill mutter as you tossed the rest of your cup's contents into your mouth.

The alcohol burned your throat, but it didn’t matter to you as you turned on your heels and scanned the pool of guys around you. If Mark was going to play that game, so were you, and you loved winning. Your eyes lasered in on the school's star quarterback, who you’d only talked to a handful of times before, and before you realized what you were doing, you were rushing towards him.

“Hey JJ,” You cut in through a break in the conversation he was having, voice sticky with honey.

“Hey,” He cheerfully greeted, eyes briefly darting down to your blatantly exposed cleavage, “What’s up? You enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, I am now that you’re here,” You playfully flirted, twirling the ends of your hair as you looked up at him.

He let out a loud laugh, but he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his side as the two of you fell into a flirty, surface level conversation. You secretly hoped that, despite the girl who was desperately seeking Mark’s attention, he was watching you. You hoped that he was watching you and was feeling the same thing you were feeling only moments prior.

“You know, I always thought you and Estapa had a thing,” JJ pointed out, eyes flitting to where Mark was watching the two of you.

The mention of him had your lips turning downwards as you asked, “Why?”

“Well, because the two of you are always together, and he’s looking at me like he wants to fuckin’ kill me,” JJ chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, “But if you’re not together…”

You could sense the shift in his tone, and it had you glancing up at him with a knowing look. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol in your system, the fact that you were upset with Mark, or a combination of both, but you found yourself reaching for the hat that sat on JJ McCarthy’s head. However, your hand was roughly yanked backwards and his body was shoved away from you before you got the chance.

Your vision blurred from the sudden movement, the thoughts in your head dizzying as they tried to find solid ground again. You heard jumbled yells around you, a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist as it was slightly jerked around from movement. Your vision cleared, and your stare finally settled on Mark’s back.

“Look dude,” JJ held his hands up in mock surrender, “She said you guys weren't dating. My bad.”

Ethan stood between the two boys, palm firmly against Mark’s heaving chest as worry was written all over his face. He could barely see you hidden behind Mark’s much taller figure, but Ethan could feel your anger radiating off of you, and he didn’t blame you. However, a very tiny part of him is glad that Mark’s anger wasn’t directed at him, and that he didn’t have to utilize the dumb plan he’d figured out moments before the party.

“We’re not,” You snapped, roughly pulling your wrist out of his grasp as you glared daggers into the back of his head.

Mark’s body tensed as your words floated into his ears, his already racing heart increasing tenfold when he picked up on the venom that was laced in them. He knew you had a right to be mad, and that, truly, he didn’t. He was the one that was pulling away from you, but he thought it was the right thing. He thought it was, until he saw you in the arms of JJ McCarthy.

“Ba-,” Mark tried, hand reaching out for you, but you cut him off.

“Stop it, Mark. Don’t call me that,” You spat, tears brimming your eyes as you stepped away from him, “God, I hate you so much.”

Not sparing a glance at the circle of athletes around you, you spun on your heels and ran into the house. You dodged bodies as you darted towards the upstairs part of the house in search of an empty room, blatantly unaware that Mark was following closely behind you. You considered yourself lucky when the first door you tried turned to be an empty bathroom, but the luck was short lived when you heard an achingly familiar voice calling your name.

“Go away, Mark,” You called out, trying to overpower his strength and shut the door, but of course, he won that battle and was slipping in through the small opening.

“You don’t mean that,” His words were rushed and broken as he looked down at you, and it was as if all your anger had dissipated with that one look.

A part of you hated just his easily you fell into his hands, but the look of pure heartbreak that was slapped against his soft features was enough for you. It was enough to leave your own heart aching even more than it already was. It was enough to make you unofficially his again, even if he didn’t ask you to be.

“Mean what,” You asked.

“That you hate me,” He whispered, “You don’t mean that, right? Tell me you don’t mean that. Please, baby.”

Mark’s eyes were full of desperation and longing as he begged you to take back what you had said. To tell him that you could never hate him. To tell him that you loved him instead.

“Mark,” You breathed out, shaking your head as tears spilled down your cheeks, “Of course I don’t hate you, but I do think you’re being unfair. You get to let some blonde bitch take your hat, but the second I try a-.”

“I didn’t let her,” He interrupted, grabbing your hands with his own, “She did take it, yeah, but I immediately took it back. The only person I want taking my hat is you. It’s always been you and it will forever be you.”

Your pupils were blown wide as you took in his words, letting them settle as your internal thoughts battled each other. Trying to decipher if he was telling the truth, or if he was just saying it because he knew it would get you to crawl back to him, even though he was the one that pulled away from you.

Marks heart raced as you stared at him in silence, and he could tell that you didn’t believe him by the way your brows were furrowing every few seconds. It was a habit he’d noticed when he first saw you in calculus last year. He would watch you doing the school work, and he could always tell when you were torn between an answer by the way you pulled your eyebrows together and scrunched your nose.

“I know I’ve been an ass,” He continued, “I’ve been pulling away from you without an explanation, and I’m sorry. I just- Fuck, baby, I’m scared. The way I feel about you scares me, and I didn’t know what to do so I just did what I do best and fuck it up.”

“How do you feel,” You finally got out, heart in your throat as nerves pricked at your skin, “About me.”

“There are not enough words in any language to describe how I feel about you,” He stepped towards you, his hands dropping yours to cup your cheeks and brush away the tears with his thumbs, “But, I do love you. I love the way that you always go out of your way to help people, even if you don’t know them. I love the way your face lights up when you see any animal anywhere. I love the way that you laugh at your own jokes, even when they’re not funny. I love you in a way that makes me feel like without you, life has no purpose because you are my purpose.”

The tears that rolled down your cheeks in waves were no longer tears of pain, but tears of the utmost happiness you have ever felt before. You’ve wanted to hear Mark say that he loved you back for so long, that finally hearing it almost felt unreal. If he weren’t standing right in front of you, with his hands on your face, you wouldn’t believe that it was real.

You said nothing, choosing to crash your lips against his own in reponse. His reaction was instaneous, his mouth working with your own as one of his hands slipped the base of your neck, tilting it so that he could slip his tongue into your mouth. He backed you against the bathroom counter, lifting you onto it with ease and without breaking contact.

You were grasping at him, pulling him into you as his lips molded with your own. It was sloppy and rushed, but it was perfect. With Mark, there were no slow, sensual make out sessions. They were always messy, hungry and desperately full of passion, but that was one of the things you liked about him. Every time you kissed, it was like it was the first time all over again.

Mark pulled away from you, lips swollen and bright red as his chest heaved. You didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know that you were sporting a similar look. You watched as he readjusted the brand new cowboy hat that had gotten bumped around during your kiss, and you quickly grabbed hold of it and placed it on your own head.

“You heard what Duker said earlier,” You teased, staring up at him through your thick lashes, “Take the hat, ride the cowboy right?”

#mark estapa #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa x reader #umich #me94

[sstardustt3]

toby rogers relationship hcs! (both sfw and nsfvv)

tags II toby rogers x reader II creepypasta II nsfw II mentions of him being a manwhore II toby being a whinny little bitch II slight angst at the beginning II toby being a wet cat of a boyfriend II just general hcs of mine II

-Okay so im just gonna say this right now that he is NOT a good boyfriend not intentionally of course but none the less, a bad boyfriend. 

-He’s the type to be overly obsessive and jealous of you, not even like the people that surround you and other men but just you as a person 

-i don’t think he’s abusive but i do think he would be an asshole for two reasons

One, he is canonically an asshole and he is an obnoxious little shit 

and two it is cannon that he is annoying to the point where he makes people full on cry

So in my opinion i think if you were to ever get into an argument with this man he’s either mocking you until you break down

-i do think he’ll feel bad about it tho after a while and apologize (eventually)

- but adding on to being overly obsessive i think he’ll also be very clingy and extremely scared of loosing you

- I think being with him would kinda be an endless cycle of good times, hating the world, and then fighting, apologies and then repeat

But moving on from that  lets talk about some happier hcs!!

I think he’d like very calm very small easy dates liike going to the aquarium or literal hanging out on the roof of a house and just eating or talking just something very simple and easy to do.

He would definitely be the type to just stare at people and not even realize that he’s doing it and he does that alot and now he does it even more with you! He just stares at you like some type of strange special thing he found

I don’t feel like he’s the type to be vocal about his love and he mostly just uses physical affection (kinda like a cat, he’ll give you affection if he wants it)

Which brings me to another point, he looks like a  wet cat and acts like one whenever he even TOUCHES water. Like he can’t stand it and he hates the way it feels on his skin, you found this out when on your second date he let you pick out where to go and out of everywhere you chose a beach..? Like okay picture this..

“...what the fuck is this?”

“It’s a beach, toby.”

“I know that much im not stupid, why are we here.”

“Because your whiter than a ghost and you can use some sun and two, the beach is fun!”

“...now what in the peanut butter fuck made you think that the beach is fun.”

“Stop whining like a little bitch and get in the water.”

“Im not getting in the goddamn water- wait- no-”

SPLASH.

-you threw him into the shallow part of the water and he started coughing and squirming and trying to claw his way onto shore like his life depended on it. 

-which brings me to another point, his hygiene is ASS. Like if you weren’t there you he would have continued to use axe bodyspray and act like that is good enough and nobody notices that he showers once every blue moon. 

-He did used to shower more often when he was with clockwork but after that he just fell out of habit

-but once he got with you he started to slowly fall back into actually taking care if himself and eating full meals and not just living off of  several week old pizza and monster energy

-but when you first met him it was unbearable, so unbearable that you literal had to get in the shower with him and take one with im just to make sure he actually cleans himself properly.

-you actually ended up helping him was his back and he ended up sobbing like a baby, so safe to say you knew then and their what his love language was..

-acts of service!! He is a huge fan of acts of service because  boy hadn’t had people really take care of him like that before at first he ends up rejecting almost all of the things you do but eventually he comes around to it and ends up letting himself enjoy being taken care of

NSFVV WARNING FOR THIS PART

- I don’t think that he’s as sex addicted as most people say he is

-like don’t get me wrong he still has a fair amount of hook ups but i personally don’t think it’s as big of deal to him

- i think when he does do it it’s to let out frustration when he’s pissed about something or he just wants to feel something

-he probably mellowed out overtime so now that he’s with you he’ll still do it when he’s really pissed about something or he’ll just do it because you asked

-he had some experience but he wasn’t very good at it but his willingness to learn made up for that

-he’s very awkward at first he has not clue on what to do, he’s used to it being a one and done type of thing.

-he was only in school until maybe 5th-7th grade (my personal hc not cannon) so he was only given a basic understanding of how the human body works in that way

-but when he gets into it oh my god he is a such a manwhore.

-he is pretty rough most of the time, not intentionally but you can not tell me that working for slender hasn’t given him strong ass arms and a sleeper bulid (but more on that at a later date) 

-he is unbelievably whinny, just praise him and he is your bitch. 

- as i said earlier, he likes acts of service, his way of returning that is aftercare (even if it’s like the bare minimum, it’s the thought that count’s really)

It appears i have ran out of shit to say so that’s the end of this post

(reposts and requests are deeply appreciated and if you want to make a request then submit it through my ask me anything!)

#headcanon #creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #toby rogers x reader #toby rogers creepypasta #toby rogers headcanons #slenderman #slenderverse #x reader #fanfics #creepypasta headcanon

[oscconfessions]

i have such mixed feelings on osc headcanons. some of them are like "oh! i think pen likes mint ice cream!" and thats fine. but i really hate it when people change pronouns of characters (IVE SEEN PEOPLE USE SHE/HER WHEN REFERING TO SILVER SPOON. LET THE MAN BE A MAN IF HE WANTS TO BE A MAN.) and changing sexualities/adding sexualities, but what makes me the most furious is... people making characters autistic. nothing against autism, i understand that, but do you really need to make paper, fan, silver spoon, pen, etc. autistic just because they have specific interests or act... idk, just the way they act?! its just. it doesnt make sense to me. hc's that dont affect story are fine, but ones that completely flip the story or ignore anything confirmed by the employees. EX: "i headcanon that mic and knife are in a relationship!" that completely ignores the fact that some of the pride month art shows that knife is gay. Cakebrunch (official II storyboarder) confirmed that soap and mic are in a relationship.

it pains me so much to see a lot of cute art and some really interesting headcanons (that i sometimes would love to learn more on) and then its just changing their pronouns, sexualities and making them autistic. make as many autistic characters you want, yeah! its great to support autism! but you dont have to make every character autistic, okay? (directed towards people that hc lots of characters as autistic)

im sure this is controversial but like... im sorry i just need to rant im tired

-🐝

(why do i have a feeling that like. half of the osc community that ends up seeing my asks/confessions are going to hate me?)

.

#confession

[narwhalandchill]

yknow as much as the (deserved) inazuma backlash has clearly changed hoyos writing for the better i do think there v much is one completely wrong lesson theyve taken from it and thats incorporating story quests into the AQ sequence (and specifically how theyve never attempted it again)

the concept itself was Never inherently bad. in fact it unironically has a ton of potential bc you could lessen the need for sudden character specific exposition in the AQ AND pull off way more high-stakes and timeline-specific plotlines in the SQs by ensuring players will experience it at the intended place and time.

the issue was that they introduced a bleak depressing inazuma in the middle of a fucking civil war and then went omg AQ on pause!!! lets go to a festival with ayaka and u will be her first friend ever OwO yoimiyas is at least vastly better written and actually involves the VH and sakoku decrees so its always been a favorite of mine but even then im sure theres things worth criticism in there its just been 2 years so i cant analyze it off the top of my head. but the greatest offender has always been the way ayakas comes with such a complete tonal dissonance it just takes you out of the atmosphere they spent the entire act I building up.

and it rly makes me sad bc i Know hoyo took the backlash about interrupted pacing and disjointed tone as "ok story quests bad as AQ requirements" when its like. no the one you wrote just sucked

AQ incorporated story quests need to have a damn good reason to be mandatory at that specific point and while its far from perfect i DO think yoimiyas fulfills that! but ayakas doesnt! at all! and like im realizing the issue is also in how genshins made it a standard that a character must receive a story quest Instantly on release. so i guess ayakas had to be in between acts I and II for plot reasons but like. that being the case then the story quest itself shouldve focused on a completely different theme as opposed to her very predictable tropey personal problems that werent even explored properly imo. like im sure plenty of depth and nuance in her characterization was lost in translation but i almost cry laughed the first time the restaurant vendor went "oh ayaka is lonely because she is so perfect that no one sees her as a friend but instead an aspiration" like what in the 3rd grader writing mary sue self insert fic tarnation 💀 you couldve worded that exact same concept in 12 different ways to make it actually sound poignant and you did That SHAHSKSJSKDLJH

(and a quick addition before i get accused of being a blind hater hater lmao. here goes: "the burdens of miss ayakas position as the public face of the kamisato make it difficult for her to shed the mask of practiced perfection. i think people struggle to see her as a person whod enjoy simple things in life like friendship just like everyone else when theyre so used to viewing her as an unreachable figurehead." there. now its way more clearly nuanced. this took me 3 minutes and is far from any fluid writing yet. the difference is staggering)

but like. as a result this ambiguous timeline limbo most story quests end up falling into is genuinely a shame bc i do think theres potential in attempting the ayaka n yoi thing again but with characters for whom it makes sense and actually enhances the AQ experience by necessitating it. and yeah yeah ik genshin wants to be casual friendly so they dont want to force ppl to do quests they dont like for AQ so its unrealistic to expect them to ever try it out again but man

as long as they pick the right place and time and characters for it they could massively alleviate the issue of some story quests contents ending up feeling like somewhat empty fluff bc they cant assume what point a player will be in the main plot could be so they lack actually impactful lore and or character beats.

obviously im not a writer at hoyo and idk how much backlash the ayaya/yoi situation got them but like. idk. taking the lesson "never do anything like inazuma again" isnt rly what id consider the full picture. inazuma does suck and has clunky moments throughout but like in 2.0 people were still hype! inazuma had good ideas and concepts and attempted sth that couldve been great the issue isnt inazuma bad on all levels its that they never delivered its potential and 2.1 was an incredible letdown.

#like idk i dont want to assume but. i Daresay of recent quests. neuvillettes SQ will NOT hit the same if its not in between acts 4 and 5 #it does SO MUCH to expand on his character and relationship to fontaine and humanity and as a result act 5 emotional climax hits so hard #bc youve literally Been there seeing him retrospect on the way he and the melusines have gone from distrusted outsiders #to beloved members of the community. like hes super well written in the AQ either way but witnessimg that growth does sooo much for him #& adds weight to his ultimate choice to forgive the original sin of fontaines people. but played post act 5 idk if will hit the same at all #its still gonna be good im sure but. it was so scrumptious in between acts 4 and 5 #anywau. idk i just think more charaxters could get expanded moments and interesting dynamic stories #if this option of an AQ tied story quest was utilized well #thats all its just my thoughts in here. bouncing in my skull. slappimg together like fish in a barrel #genshin #rambles

[zztheditchzz]

10/6

i had a dream, hard to remember the exact motivations, as dreams tend to be,

but im pretty ure i was trying to see djo

so i ended up in some high school esque scenario, milling around a classroom, around halls

there was a teacher that was taking our role but i knew i was not meant to sit in class. i remember i was trying to find "the pharmacy." i kept asking students, and regretted not asking the teacher when i had the chance.

finally i happened upon an largely empty room.

i saw two dudes. pretty big dudes. a white guy and a black guy. i asked them if they knew where the pharmacy was, because i was looking for djo.

immediately one punched me in the face, lightning fast where my brain stuttered images . im sure it was probably from my experience on myrtle.

i fought back. i tried to be savage but all of my moves and punches felt...naive...weak...a sad little untaut puppet trying to mock what it imagined fighting was like. probably because i have not been in a proper blow for blow fight before. feeling incredibly weak in physical fights in dreams is not new to me.

but i persisted, and kept trying to hurt them. i sort of succeeded. annoyingly, they did not offer much resistance at a certain point.

i dont really remember how the dream ended. all i remember is i never saw djo, not close. but the word "minion" was floated, one way or another, in regards to my relationship to her. i dont know where it came from or who said it, or if it was even said. "minion."

i woke up peeved.

.

i think out of everything, i am just sick of the complete contempt all the players of this game feel for me.

i think i am sick of having nothing to show for myself.

being feared is not a fun feeling, but feeling damned, feeling wicked, is a better feeling than feeling like alone, like a nobody, like a weakling. i know that much from experience.

so, how far will walter white go in the vain quest to satisfy the cptsd inside his ego.

how socialist can i be at heart when i have such anti person tendencies. when i resent the human race. when misanthropy is the root. i entered remission and the tumor was reduced by 80%+, but as soon as the chemotherapy stopped, as soon as i lost my relationship, it has been quick to boot up the old furnaces.

is it even cancer? is it just myself? am i doing a disservice to my true self by not following it?

its not that simple. i do have a lot of love. unconditional love.

but then again, is it just weakness? fear? do i just let people walk ,w alk, walk all over me?

for what?

myself?

or them?

for fear?

what is this? fear of hell? fear of death? fear of ... perception? fear of... fear of seeing another cry?

why?

is it really just love? is my fear and hatred just trying to poison me against the lvoe? to mock it and belittle it piece by piece until it finally culminates against me TRULY acting against my true self?

am i to kill or arent i?

do i want to be stalin for my family, the human family? or for my ego? or for both? does it... does it matter?

does it matter?

all i know is this: every passing day that i am a nobody, that i have nothing to show for myself in the most vain and corrupted americanized version of success, every day is agony. i know i have strategy. long, long games. i know i need to move slow. i know i am revocvering from tragedy. i know it is okay if 2 weeks out of my life at the age of 26 i can say i spent it watching breaking bad and little else. it is fine. but when things arent moving...i feel the quicksand. i feel like they truly wont go anywhere. that i am just lying to myself when i say it is a long, slow, careful, methodical game.

what game am i playing?????? who is my opponenet????

am i really to be a nobody until it suddenly culminates in something???

will operation snowstorm, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, viii, ix, x, etc, will it never change how i feel?

will operation new testament change a thing?

if i had a million spotify monthly listeners, even after a year of not posting...how would i feel?

how would i feel reading hundreds if not thousands of people say things that i have already heard...that i am the main character...that i am kind .... that i am a genius... that i saved their life... that i am a savior... that i am a PROPHET.... JUST LIKE DJO SAID.... just like all these people say... will it suddenly make some massive difference when instead of a dozen people i know personally, it is now a mass of strangers ?????????

i think the aanswers here are obvious...

so wht?

am i just miserable because i choose to be?

because i insist this or that bad thing happened to me as a formative monkey man?

if i trained for a decade, putting blood sweat and tears into building muscle, and then won an arm wrestle with satan fair and square, and liberated 1000000 souls, how would that make me feel?

how would it make me feel to bask in their praise?

imposter?

liar...

hack

weak

fake

die

die

die die die die die

die

die

die

die

die

die

die

die

die

die

die

kill yourself, i whisper under my breath for every small inconvenience

kill yourself, i murmur quietly to myself for a small mistake i made

kill yourself, i cackle

kill yourself, i shriek

kill yourself, i cry

sob sob sob

like a big fat autistic retard

with stupid body proportions

hack

stolen everything

everything is stolen

hack

kill yourself

miserable little wretch

"why me?" when things are bad

"why me?" when things are good

FACTS

kill yourself

but no, cant do it fast like a hero

got to be slow like a loser

or human i guess

[n7punk]

the ficnotes for slas is as long as a chapter right now and ive already cut a lot of stuff from it because it ended in the fic in later chapters so like. hoo boy

#i have Thoughts ok #ill have to edit it down to be safe lol #because im sure some of this will end up in act ii #i knew this was gonna be a monster and gave each chapter headers right away but its still. a lot jfc #slas #ficmeta #its 6.5k rn and chapters tend to be 7-9k #theyve been 8-9k later on but i think they started a little shorter #i try to aim for that range on it anyway #fic rambling

[girlucifer]

ok yeah of course this was coming

#OK time to talk about deltarune on my om! sideblog #so. i am going insane about it because HELLO we love to see the main gang's bonds deepen!! #kris <3 and susie!! and ralseiiiii and NOELLE?? yea she's my fave this chapter because i love the damsels in distress #she emphasized over and over how she is pretty scared most of the time. how her dad mentioned how her mom is hard on her #how she doesnt get to see her older sister any more !! [potentially bc she died?? is missing??] #and how her only friends seem to be interested in her status as one of the smart cookies #she obviously deals w lots of pressure & many eyes on her. its no wonder she fell for the class bully who seems to have everything #together & doesn't care what others think!! plus the whole idea of queen looking at noelle & being like ok going to protect this #little deer thing forever now #OMG and voice acting for queen was SO fun [i played w my brother so i couldnt finish until lyesterday!] #bc we would just give her those ai voices. so much fun <3 #and naturally. the ending gave me many questions BUT it also cleared some stuff up?? like kris rips out the soul & #engages in their own stuff. maybe they went out to get sum dinner or smth :) #i dnot think theyre evil. im sure deltarune has to be in essence an origin story for gaster or smth... theres just so much to point to him? #guys ii literally am very well versed in undertale lore [not really] like i would spend hours upon hours a few years ago on this #like. i was insane. now that obsession shifted to om! but yknow. WHATEVER! #doodles #idk what the even. what to even tag this #obey me! #deltarune spoilers #SPAMTON & MAMMON sorry i think i really like this hair #like on god. i almost wanna fuckign CHANGE IT BC he looks so good????? #obey me mc

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — {♡} —— { ♡ } —— {♡} — ««

comforting sleep deprived s/o | bnha

➳ incld  ;; bakugo and kirishima 

➳ warnings ;; none, just fluff, pro-hero!au 

➳ wc ;; 1.8k overall. 

➳ a/n ;; i haven’t slept properly in days. running on empty so this is how im coping. i love them. 

»» — {♡} —— { ♡ } —— {♡} — ««

i. bakugo katsuki 

- doesn’t like napping cause he insists on keeping his sleep schedule tight. not that you can really get mad at him over that - hero work is busy and he doesn’t like being tired cause it makes him more aggravated than usual. 

- so he avoids naps almost at all costs and rarely gets tired. his sleep schedule is really, really good. 

- not so much the same for you though. 

- bakugo accepted pretty early on that you were something of a night-owl. bad sleep anxiety and just generally having too much energy at night made it so that he rarely ever saw you go to bed. you were at least lagging a few hours behind him like. at all times. 

- he didn’t really mind at first, but at some point he realized just how little sleep you actually got. one time he woke up at 7am, surprised to see you also awake - only to find out you hadn’t slept the entire night. 

- he was pissed. after almost blowing up your kitchen, he sighed and basically told you that if you need helping sleeping to just “fucking ask him” or else. 

- needless to say, it didn’t get that much better. you two compromised by setting a time that you had to be in bed by, even if you weren’t asleep. whenever bakugo has time, he’s always trying to get you to rest but sometimes his schedule doesn’t really allow him to check up on you how he likes. 

- he’s coming home from a long mission. not super tired but just tedious work. he just wanted to relax. it was late, 3:37am on the clock when he finally walks in. 

- to his surprise - there’s a light on in the kitchen. when he walks in, very confused, he sees you sliding cookies off of a sheetpan into a little plastic tupperware. he stops. he stares. 

- why the hell were you baking at three in the fucking morning 

- “what the fuck are you doing awake?”

- you jump back with a hand over your chest, barely catching your breath. you blink a few times before sighing. 

- “baking. i didn’t think you’d be home so soon” 

- he hears it before he sees it. your voice is absolutely tattered - he can literally hear how exhausted you are. he pumps the breaks, walking towards you swiftly before staring down at you hard. 

- “when was the last time you slept,” 

- you press your lips into a tight smile, and he sees the dark purple under your eyes. he feel his heart hurt a little. his hands come up to your face as he brushes his thumb every so slightly against your lashes. 

- “it’s uh.. hard to sleep without you. more than usual, you know” 

- “Y/N” 

- “i don’t know. maybe two or three days ago properly? i mean i got some sleep in between but -,” 

- he stops you before you can start. he shuts the cookie container and leaves the tray in the sink before grabbing your hand a little forcefully and tugs you to the bathroom - lifting you up onto the counter. you know to stay put. 

- when he comes back it’s with a fresh change of clothes for the both of you. you blink at him owlishly as he strips himself off of his clothes - grateful he took time to shower at the agency. 

- he takes his shirt off and then takes yours off too, before pulling you right towards him. your arms instantly are around his neck, the warmth of his body pressed against your figure with his chin tucked over your shoulder. 

- and god - he’s so comforting you kind of want to cry. he smells like clean soap and deodorant and a little like smoke. feeling his skin against yours makes you feel instant relief. just hugging in the bathroom has you falling half asleep. you were just so tired. 

- when he pulls back, his whole face looks so damn worried it makes you want to cry. you put your own hands on his face and cheek, brushing your thumb on his cheek bone as he rests his forehead on yours. 

- “dumbasss. i can leave something with you if it’s that bad - fuck, you could’ve called me, you know?” 

- and you sigh and smile and kiss him a bit before pulling away again. man, you’re tired. you’re so, so tired. 

- “yeah.. i know,” 

- he helps you get undressed and freshened up, even rubs your facewash into your skin and rubs all your skincare in before hauling you off the bed. he turns the lights dim and just holds you, rubbing circles into your back as he holds you right to his chest. 

- “go to fucking sleep,” “love you katsuki” “..love you too” 

- he doesn’t sleep until you do, and wakes up the next morning to call in sick for you while you sleep against his chest. he should probably wake up but.. sleeping a bit longer won’t kill him. 

{♡} —— { ♡ } —— {♡}

ii. kirishima eijirou 

- kirishima likes to wake up pretty early so he can workout and do his cardio at the start of his day and his weightlifting later on. sleeping well is important to him cause his workout routine is super unforgiving if he’s not resting properly on rest days and the like. building muscles absolutely requires sleep! 

- that being said - he doesn’t mind not sleeping early if he has something to do. drinking especially normally keeps him up on weekends. overall, it was good but he doesn’t limit himself. 

- overall, it’s not something he paid a ton of attention too. life is all about balance so kiri goes with the flow. his rule of thumb is trying to get at least 8 hours a night tho. 

- but because kirishima is so go with the flow - it took him a long time to figure out that you were a night owl and something of an insomniac. he assumed that when he wished you goodnight everday, you fell asleep around the same time as him. 

- but one drunken even, he finds himself stumbling to your apartment. knocking on your and barely standing upright - he immediately is planning on apologizing for disturbing your sleep. 

- but then you.. open the door and you’re literally wide awake. you look tired but you’re clearly not sleepy. kirishima, once gain, blasted - pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind and grins toothily. he’s just excited to see you at that point and forgets about the whole ordeal until a few weeks later. 

- he ends up texting you about it a couple weeks later, assuming it’d be a once off thing that you’d explain to him. 

- ... is upset and shocked to learn that you rarely, if ever fall asleep before two am like on a good day. poor man is in shock for the rest of the day and proceeds to ask you about why you have a hard time to sleeping to try and see what he can do. 

- he wants to help but you just keep brushing it off and it honestly made him so upset he didn’t know what to do with himself. he couldn’t sleep a wink that night because the whole thing is bothering him so damn much. 

- what really sets him off is when he finally has a chance to see you after a few weeks. you were busy with uni and didn’t really have a ton of time to see him so the two of you couldn’t see each other properly for a few weeks. 

- he’s elated to see you. he’s missed his baby so much and he’s pulling all the stops out when he’s getting dressed. jeans cuffed, his best cologne, fresh shaved, brand new sneakers. he really wants to impress. 

- he’s wrapping you up into the tightest hug when he see’s you. your dressed comfortably but he still thinks you look so beautiful and he’s complimenting you, giving you kisses and overall just doting on you. he wraps your hand in his yours and just talks. 

- in fact, he’s so excited to see you, he doesn’t notice how..deflated you are. not at first anyways. 

- but as the date goes on, it becomes more and more obvious you don’t share his enthusiasm in the same way. 

- sure, he’s talkative but you haven’t said a word about how your week has been. all of his jokes have been met with mere huffs and forced chuckles and your eyes seem really distant. 

- it hits him all at once at the end of your date when you just seem so... out of it. he’s about to take you somewhere else but you stopped listening a while ago. kirishima stops dead in his tracks and holds your hand nervously, calling you a few times to get your attention. 

- “Y/N.. are you mad at me? is something wrong?” 

- your eyes go wide, flailing your hands to reassure him. you knew you were acting strange but to see kirishima this upset makes you feel awful. 

- “oh kiri - god no, it’s not you. sorry for being so.. distant - it’s not you,” 

- “well then.. what’s wrong?” 

- kirishima feels his heart get pierced when he sees you laugh. you look... so exhausted. your eyes are so heavy and the makeup on your skin is only barely concealing your dark circles. why did it take him so long to notice? 

- before he can even reply, he remembers that little tidbit about your sleep schedule. his heart so genuinely aches. 

- “Y/N.. when was the last time you got any proper sleep?” 

- you flinch, visibly at the question. with an awkward laugh you inform him that it had been at least a week since you’ve had the time to actually sleep. 

- “why didn’t you sleep today? on your day off?” 

- “i uhm.. wanted to see you. i know you had a date planned and i was excited to see you. sorry for.. ruining your plans” 

- he’s devastated by how cute you are. hugs you so damn tight. 

- “baby, you can see me whenever. im happy being with you even if all we’re doing is napping together” 

- when you mumble a soft “oh” in his chest, he can’t help but melt into a sigh. before you can protest, he’s dragging you back to his car and driving you home ignores your protests and buckles you, covering you with his jacket before kissing the crown of your head and telling you to sleep on the way back to his place. 

- he watches you like a hawk the whole time until he arrives at his place. he wakes you up and carries you on his back until he gets inside. all he does is kick his shoes off before pulling the full weight of you down on his body, kissing your whole face. 

- “sleep well baby. ill wake you up in a few” 

»» — {♡} —— { ♡ } —— {♡} — ««

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou imagines #kirishima imagines #bnha imagines #writing tag #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #this is SO self indulgent im embarassed #bye i rlly wrote this in an hour

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #li #secure #discipline #sup #things #Whereas #efforts #startups #Apple #Dev #Nirmel #Atlantic #turbulent #Thanks #people #situation #Siegel #Web #Incidentally #tax #event #age #draft

[ajkal2]

the essay: childhood trauma, responsibility, and tma. part 1: jon

in a tma fic i published like six months ago, i left an authors note that promised an essay on jon and tim’s trauma to anyone who asked. several people asked, and so here i am!

the fic is called a deeply annoying child. it’s about being a kid and seeing something horrible, and it’s about jon and tim’s rocky relationship. 

this post isn’t actually about the fic. it’s a breakdown of jon’s mental state through s1-3. im going to make another post about tim, and then a final one linking it all back to the fic. i’ll chuck links to those on here when they’re posted!

but first, let’s talk about my boy, JON ‘JARCHIVIST’ SIMS.  

(fair warning- this isn’t a fully backed up meta post, it’s my interpretation of canon. any thoughts/queries/additions welcome! my askbox is always open <3) 

part o: a note on guilt

hey, you know what’s fucked up? an eight-year-old kid with survivors guilt. 

as a child, jon watched someone he knew die, due to circumstances that, while they were not his fault, were set in motion by his actions. children (and often teens!) think in black-and-white. complex logic often just doesn’t occur to them.  jon, at 8, looks at what happened, and says that’s my fault. i did that. jon didn’t like his bully, and wanted him to go away, and then he did. that instinctive reaction is something i think he never grows out of. when you already hate yourself, it’s easy to pile more fuel onto that flame.  he doesn’t think about risk, not to him, because he deserves whatever happens. he let someone die. he doesn’t ever forgive himself for that.

part i: belief (precanon+s1)

now, i have a headcanon about why jon doesn’t believe statement givers, and imma lay it all out for you right here. 

when jon was 8, and freshly traumatised, i think he tried to tell someone what happened. beneath all the layers, jon is compassionate, and tries to help people. now, picture this. a kid, one with a history of troubled behaviour and an atypical home life, goes up to someone (a police officer, his carer, a teacher) and tells them a giant spider ate someone. what’s that person, someone who is a rational adult, someone who doesn’t believe in silly things, going to say back? are they going to believe that kid? 

no. no way. they’re going to tell that kid that they’re making up stories, that they had a nightmare, that they should stop making jokes about someone who actually disappeared, jon, you need to be more sensitive about these things. 

now, that kind of dissonance- ‘this did happen, it was real’ and ‘everyone i talk to is telling me it’s not real’- is hard on adults. to a kid? devastating. 

jon, because he’s jon, would have been desperately searching for a way to explain this, and i think the thing he grabs on to is evidence. if he had some evidence of what happened, if he could prove what happened, people would believe him.*

but he doesn’t have evidence. and he resents that, and he resents that so much that by the time he’s an adult he’s settled into a mindset towards the supernatural somewhat akin to ‘i didn’t get believed, but you think you should be believed? what’s so good about you? you think you’re better than me?** fuck you! i don’t believe you!’   this is also a way of keeping himself safe. if the monsters aren’t real, they can’t hurt him.

and then, through s1, that mindset is chipped at. the statement givers start being real people, who come into jon’s office and cry when he dismisses them, and that clearly makes him uncomfortable. martin gives his statement, and martin has evidence. jon knows martin, and knows that he’s a good person, so martin having evidence isn’t likely to be an attack at jon. 

jane prentiss attacks the institute, and then suddenly jon’s shield of denial and anger is ripped away, because the monsters are real, and they can hurt him. 

*would they? i don’t know. people can be very attached to believing that the world is good, and kids are misguided, and there are a hundred thousand ways to explain away a piece of evidence, as jon comes to know well. 

** this ties into jon’s self hatred, as people saying they are better than him kicks him right in the Issues. 

part ii: paranoia (s2)

after prentiss attacks, jon is left floundering. his old I Do Not See It mindset has been smashed to pieces, and underneath all the trauma he’s been brutally suppressing is bubbling up. jon has no real experience in judging threats, because for the last 20 years he’s been burying his head in the sand and yelling he can’t see any threats. so he overcompensates, and assumes everything is a threat. his experience re:not being believed tells him that everyone around him is stupid and wrong and the only person he can rely on is himself.  

so he investigates. he’s convinced that his life is in imminent danger, that everyone around him is plotting to kill him. he doesn’t hold back, because you don’t hold back in a life-or-death scenario.  he knows something is wrong. something is very wrong. he’s sure it’s a threat to him, a threat to his life. but he can’t put a finger on what it is.

this is when his friendship with tim breaks down. i’ll talk about tim in a minute. 

jon spirals, and obsesses, and wrings answers out of the ether until it all falls together. he understands what is wrong, that it’s sasha that wants him dead. or, well, not sasha. he’s been winding up tighter and tighter all series, and he lets loose by striking out, acting for once instead of reacting. it is remarkably easy to buy an axe in central london, after all.

and then, well, that doesn’t go well. 

 part iii: desperation (s3)

after what jon did backfired so badly, he goes to georgie, because he has no other option. and he thinks, what went wrong? and the answer he comes up with is i didn’t know enough.* that’s why it all went wrong, because he didn’t know what he was dealing with. and so the solution is to find out more.

he’s starting to realise that he’s changing.** he wants to find out more about that as well, to control it. 

so he goes and finds out more. or, tries to. he doesn’t have many leads.*** jon is not good at judging threat, and doesn’t know the danger he is putting himself in. he’s stubborn, and locked onto getting more knowledge like a dog and a bone.****

and then he does get more knowledge, but it’s the knowledge that the world is ending, and he’s the only one who can fix it.***** he can’t process his trauma. he doesn’t have time. the world is ending. 

in late s3, jon is desperate. he’s overworking himself. he feels alone: daisy’s at his throat, elias is dangling information over his head, tim... 

we’ll talk about tim later. 

basira doesn’t trust him, georgie isn’t happy with him, melanie’s never liked him. he gets kidnapped for a month, and no one notices. the only person jon has firmly in his corner is martin.****** and he doesn’t have time to talk to martin, because he’s getting kidnapped, and jetting across the world chasing shadows, and desperately, desperately trying not to fuck everything up again. 

and he doesn’t! they build a plan. it’s dangerous, sure, but jon doesn’t even know what that means anymore. his whole life is dangerous. jon going into the unknowing is cautiously, waveringly hopeful. maybe this time it won’t go wrong. this time they know what to do, they know what they’re dealing with. 

and, the tragedy is, it doesn’t go wrong. they save the world. they send elias to prison. it all goes to plan. and tim is dead, and daisy is buried, and jon is lost in dreams. 

*👁️ **👁️ ***👁️ ****👁️  ***** he’s not the only one, of course, there are a whole team of people working on stopping the Unknowing, but jon is the Archivist. he’s the heir to gertrude’s legacy. 

****** this is where they fall in love, after all. which is a good thing, of course, but it adds an extra weight to every interaction they have, guessing and double-guessing how the other feels, until jon actually can’t talk to martin, not how he wants to, because he’s not sure if they’re there yet. (martin is there. jon doesn’t have time to be.) 

see yall next time 

i would like to cover s4 and s5, but this post is 1.5k already, and i’ve covered up to when the fic takes place! next time i will be ranting incoherently about timothy stoker, punctuated by bursts on uncontrollable sobbing. when that’s up, i’ll chuck a link here, and on the author notes of the fic i’m doing this for. see you then!

#tma #tma meta #jonathan sims #jon sims meta #character analysis #a deeply annoying child #the essay tag #god this is a mess but w/e posting it anyway

[kittehkwrites]

My Big Baby

Taking care of a sick Yahya

Based on this ask-

Warnings: fluff, in denial Yahya

You had been taking care of your loving boyfriend, Yahya Abdul Mateen II, for the last few days and you finally understood why people said when a man gets sick they act like babies.

He would be on you like white on rice whenever you were helping him eat or trying to give him fluids to make sure he was staying hydrated since he did have food poisoning from the food truck you told him not to eat from while he was travelling but your boyfriend insisted that he was alright and that everything was alright. 

You’d be expecting this and would’ve gotten up before to push open the door, turn on the light and move the trash can closer to the toilet, before opened the window on the side of the shower for safe measure (because you had a feeling that he was going to do something you knew would make you queasy also and you weren’t about that life.)

He’d be sat on the bad, looking confused as to what you were doing and watching you but his hands stayed on his stomach until he felt the need to rush to the bathroom (at the last possible minute, trying to “tough it out” (insert eye roll)

You’d be patting yourself on the back since you had just lit a candle as well, hoping that would help him when he came up from air if he did puke up a storm...or in the case that he blew up the toilet.

You’d proceed to close the bathroom door once you heard him “freeing” the contents of his stomach into their respective areas of disposal.

While he did that, you made sure that the room was opened and made your way out of it to get him some water and then head out to the pharmacy to get him some medicine, since you figured they would have someone present to help get something that would help with the sudden sickness he had caught.

When you’d return to the house, he would still be in the bathroom, expect he had gotten rid of the incriminating evidence of his sickness, which he still thinks “wasn’t that serious” but you knew it was some sort of man thing that they wouldn’t admit to being sick or weakened.

You’d set up a hot shower for him and place the medicine you recently got on his nightstand before letting him know to take a shower and you would be making him some soup so he could take his medicine and so that it’d knock him out for a good few hours.

when you came back up, he’d be coming out of the steamed bathroom, looking slightly better, but still noticeable sick, with a towel around him and a few droplets on his shoulders which he probably forgot to wipe off at that moment.

You’d help him dry off some more before getting him into a night shirt and some night pants so that he could feel as comfortable as possible.

“Baby, im fine really” he’d try and convince you but you gave him the really? look and he shut right up, waiting to receive the spoonful of soup you had awaiting him once he had gotten situated.

“If you were really alright, then your behind wouldn't have been throwing up and allat in the bathroom sir. Now eat and get some rest.”

He wouldn’t fight back, and just continued to take the soup as you got more once he swallowed the flavoured goodness that had a mix of vegetables and seasoned chicken breast he was glad to have stay down in his system.

once he finished the bowl, you’d give him some medicine, watching him make his face up in disgust (to which you laughed at) before tucking him in and leaving the room so he’d have some quiet and not be bothered by the tv or the lights from the television, which you’d decided to which downstairs and away from the man laying in bed.

Before you could fully step out of the room, he’d be snoring like a bear in hibernation and you’d be lightly snickering with the empty bowl in your hand as you made way down the steps.

As the next few days came and went he was still sick but mainly in recovery.

 He however made it seem like he was dying and that only you could save him from his demise, 

You’d catch him a few times, along with your followers, during your insta lives and he would still deny the fact he was acting like a baby or a drama queen to you.

all you would do is laugh and show him the screen recordings where you could hear him yelling for you to come and cuddle him cause “it made him feel better” and cause you “gave the best cuddles”, his words.

He’d proceed to deny that and say the video was tampered with.

you could only shake your head at the big teddy bear of a man lying beside you and embrace him in a tight cuddle which would put both you to sleep due to the comfortable body heat and the relaxed energy within the bed.

Whenever you’d get on live, he’d moan into your neck and tell your followers you were neglecting him, to which you’d respond “I guess caring for your careless behind and laying up in this bed with you while you’re sick is neglecting now”.

Your followers would be laughing at the look you both gave eachother and he’d just stay silent for the next few minutes until the love was over before apologising.

“I’m sorry.” He’d say softly. You would lock your phone and turn to him, pecking his lips quickly, saying “I know” before you guys are wrapped up in the sheets again and sleeping with the tv on in the back.

When his sickness has passed, he’d be back to his busy schedule.

There would be various video calls and phone ins throughout the day.

One video call had both of you on as you discussed his recent win

“So we know that you both celebrated from the lovely pictures on your social media’s” Both of you smiling at the pictures being shared on the screen.

You both were glowing and radiating excitement from his achievements but also being able to do so together at such a time.

“Now Y/N, you also shared a day in the life of the Abdul-YLN house. How was it dealing with an actor with the cold?”

“Well...” you’d lead with a sly look on your face. You knew this would happen at some point but you knew your man would be defensive when you thought it was cute when he had to rely on you since he always cared for you.

“Is the saying that men act like babies when they’re sick true or false in your situation?”Yahya would be there, shacking his head with his hand over his face.

He’d let out an exasperated sigh, giving a playful, pointed, look to the screen before muttering, “I was alright.”

“No you weren’t.” The host and you would reply at the same time, both laughing at the simultaneous reply.

“Uh. But seriously, he was alright after the first day. He doesn’t like to admit needing my help but I don’t mind.”

“With that being said,”- you’d start off- “ he did get a little clingy but I found it sweet and comedic the way he’d exaggerated the need for another body next to him, even though he was running a high temp and rolled up in 2 or so blankets at once.” You’d be looking at him with a smirk across your face and he had a sliver of a smile on his at the way you would still fall to his acting and get in the bed with him and rub his scalp and put him right back to sleep afterwards.

“He’s still my baby tho.” You couldn’t help the big smile that graced your features. “My big baby” you’d say, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his cheek before wiping off the lip gloss that had been left behind.

The interview would end with him talking about taking some time off, especially with all that’s going on in the world, but mentioning he’d be doing minor work that he couldn’t wait to speak on in the future once they were completed.

You’d be sat with a lovestruck look on your face, smiling at him when he’d look back at you or whenever he spoke passionately about the future of his career.

Later on, you both would’ve taken another shower, taking extra time to care for eachother. Afterward you’d both be getting situated to go to bed when he’d just stop and look at you carry out your nightly routine of wrapping your hair and then placing your bonnet on and applying chapstick after having moisturised yourselves.

You’d pause and look up at him, giving him a ‘what?’ look.

“I love you.” He’d say to you, softly and sincerely.

The reduced volume on the tv and the low lights on the room made the moment more intimate and you couldn’t help but smile at him and climb to his side of the bed and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I love you too” you’d say once you pull away.

You both would stare into eachother eyes.

“My big baby” you’d say softly, fingers caressing the nape of his neck.

“Oh? You wanna go there?” He’d tackle you and the two of you would fall onto the mattress, rolling around to gain dominance but on the end you both were just a laughing mess.

Once you both caught your breath, you’d get under the sheets and he’d pull you close before kissing your forehead.

You’d let out a sigh before starting to drift off, the light from the tv bouncing off the walls since yahya turned off the lights and you had closed the curtains in the room.

“Your big baby huh?” He’d speak out gently, arms around you and encompassing you with his love and warmth.

“Yea.” You’d mutter out softly.

“My big baby” you’d lean up and kiss him before closing your eyes and listening to the beat of your mans heart to soothe you into a deep rest.

“Damn right I’m your baby.” He’d say to himself as he flicked through the channels.

“Make another man try it and see what happens” and with that, he’d turn off the tv and pull you closer (if that’s even possible).

You’d both fall into a deep sleep in each others embrace with smiles ghosting over your features throughout the night as you dreamed of each other.

Hey y’all!

Hope y’all are doing alright and I hope you like this imagine💜

Hope y’all are staying safe and taking rime for yourself and checking in on loved ones when you get the chance.

Thanks for the support and remember to like, reblog and/or comment.

Stay safe.

-K💜

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fluff #black reader #black!oc #yahya abdul mateen ii x reader #kittehkwrites #fluff #imagine

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

Im sorry it’s not that sexy I’m afraid 😂. I work at Panda Express, so unless you find fried rice with orange chicken sexy with a side of Karen customers sexy then this will be great! 😂

Anyhow, all jokes aside, I have had my fair shares of bad days as I know many people have so I’m certain some people will relate to this. These kind of days suck so much. (Especially if you’re as sensitive as I am). I’ve had one guy ask if I spoke English cause I couldn’t hear him very well, seen my co workers get yelled and sworn at a few times, one lady actually did make me cry once “Oh! Don’t cry! It’s ok!” (Maybe don’t resort to yelling in my face then???), etc etc there’s more but that would be long 😅

My request is really just how the papas and copia would comfort their s/o coming home from one of those shitty days and just feeling like utter crap; maybe a little teary eyed ~Dorky anon

(I do wish people would be more kind and patient. I just don’t see the point in getting angry when most of the time it’s not necessary. We’re all just trying to make it through the day. Just so everyone knows, the customer is not always right. Bad work days happen, but by the end of the night they don’t matter anymore)

you're right that is super not sexy but bitch i FEEL you. im a waitress and while i have no problem with yelling back at shit head customers who don't know how to act, it can still totally ruin your day. im sorry people are so mean to you come live in canada where you'll never see another panda express again (i wont lie orange chicken is sexy tho does it match Karen's spray tan???) anyways on with my job:

Papa II: Would personally seek out anyone who was mean to you. all you have to do is give them a rough description and he'll make a few phone calls. you're never sure how but the next day at work the same customer will come in and apologize and suddenly become the nicest person youve ever met. or you never see them again and your pretty sure no one else will either. Absolutely no one will ever harm II's partner without consequence, and he's not above kidnapping family members to get an apology out of them. this man will defend you to the ends of the Earth.

Papa III: Similarly to his older brother he would be angry at the mere thought of someone slighting you, but he probably wouldn't go as far in the name of revenge. He would let you rant and scream to him about how awful customers are, like, as a species, and make you dinner to make up for it. And remind you that he's been telling you to quit your job for months now because he'll take care of you, why make yourself so miserable, blah blah blah. But you insist on doing your own thing, and because he thinks your delusional he plays along, because thats what you do with crazy people. He loves you all the same. Would also offer to give cheer-up head.

Cardinal Copia: I really want to say he would get so upset you would have to comfort him and promise you're okay, but if I'm being honest, I think he would be a little hard about it. His entire career everyone has been shitty to him, not thought he was good enough, not think he would ever be able to give what they needed from him: he would talk about this until you cooled off and realized one white lady with a shitty haircut isnt the end of the world, and that much worse things can happen. Not exactly the type of comforting everyone wants, but if you let him talk long enough he might have something good to say, and you'll forget all about your own terrible day.

- Rosie (also one time this absolutely insane huge buff 6'7 guy yelled at our 15 year old host until she cried and my 5'5 ass got so heated I almost made him cry and it felt really good. if you want ill come yell at customers for you)

#im not doing papa i until someone protests because if you self ship w that man youre absolutely fucking insane #hes basically dust #but if you want me to write him i will #im just pretty sure everyone skips over him to get to the Good Stuff anyways #ghost #ghost hc #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band #papa iii #papa ii #cardinal copia #rosie

[thenerdywriter]

i came in from the outside, burnt out from the joyride (ii)

this was born out of a conversation with @akinosakiya, so all credits go to her >.<

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | coming soon

ao3

(A/N: so... i am extremely sorry for not updating,,, uni and life has been generally kicking my ass pretty horribly (im in my final semester lol) and while i am not generally very happy with this chapter, it is important because it sets up a lot of things in the future yeeet)

word count: 4955

Attorney Park wishes her good luck as she leaves for the courthouse the next day, and Sol can’t help but feel as though he was laughing at her for some reason, and frantically checks for food stuck in her teeth on the way to the courthouse. There isn’t any, so she’s left to wonder exactly what the hell he meant when he had sent her off with a very cryptic “see you soon, Kang Sol.”

“What did he even mean?” she mutters to herself, calling her sister, “Ah, Byeol, remember to go to your academy today, all right?”

“Okay, eonni,” her sister replies, “you’re at the courthouse, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, I have a case to win,” she replies, and Byeol wishes her good luck before the call goes silent, and she allows herself a rare moment of self-reflection, taking in the image of the Courthouse. It’s imposing, but she curiously feels at home here, in the middle of the city where the noise of the cars is so loud, she can’t hear the person next to her sometimes. There’s something magical about the courthouse, and she isn’t romanticising it, but the idea of fighting for justice, no matter how imperfect, it fills her with pride, even more so when she knows that what she is doing is for good.

Not to say that there aren’t any downsides to it, either. She gets threats almost on the daily, from disgruntled clients and from people who want her to take the case, even though she knows it would be an affront to her dignity. The Dean’s voice floats into her ear, reciting the Attorneys-at-act law that allows her to reject a case if she wants to. Right. It does not feel like an insult to her now like it had done then, the act, because she chose to take this case on, and yet, here she is, standing in front of the courthouse, wearing her nicest clothes (Yeseul had raised an eyebrow, but she was too tired to pay any attention to her) and dreading her turn to go inside.

“Eonni!” a voice calls out, and it’s Yeseul, dressed for a case, “how long do you have before you have to go in?” Sol doesn’t need to check her watch to tell the time that is left, ten minutes on the dot, and she’s waiting for her client to come through, still in police custody, something which she had failed to stop, “are you staring off into space again?”

She recovers quickly, “no, I was just waiting for the defendant to be brought here by the police.” She turns to Yeseul, who’s evidently not had much sleep, “why are you here in my case? Didn’t you wrap one up today?”

“Ah, I did,” Yeseul smiles, taking a hold of Sol’s arm, “but I’m here now, aren’t I? I thought you would need some support, you know, since you—”

She doesn’t complete the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Sol smiles at her, loops their arms together, and says, “do you want to have coffee?”

Yeseul grins, “I’d love to.”

—

No matter how many times she’s walked in here, and no matter how much the courthouse makes her feel at ease, there’s still a part of her that is anxious when she stands in front of it, hoping that she might be able to provide adequate justice to the person she was defending. It throws her off sometimes, the court of law. But she can always find her way back to it, and perhaps this is why she loves it, loves being able to defend people from being betrayed by the same system that they had put so much trust in, betrayed, just like she had been. It’s as though the law is apologising to her, albeit in its own, slightly twisted way.

The defendant, Je Sang-Hee, sits at her designated position, looking at her, and Sol draws herself up to her full height, careful to not catch anyone’s eye on the other side of the courthouse. Its oddly suffocating, the courthouse today, the air thick with a sort of anticipation that she doesn’t really want to address. Yeseul squeezes her arm, whispering, “you’ll do good, eonni,” and all of a sudden, she’s standing there, alone, with only her wits there for help. Shit. I wish I had had gotten drunk last night. At least this would have been hazier.

She approaches the bench, the defendant sitting silently, and tries to reassure her, “don’t worry, we’ll clear your name, all right?” she’s met with silence, as Sang-Hee only nods, her eyes welling with unshed tears. It’s heart-breaking, the way Sang-Hee has accepted her punishment, accepted that she would be going to prison anyway, so, nothing really matters. Sol doesn’t want that for her. She doesn’t want that for anyone, not even the worst of criminals. Sure, she may not be defending them in the court of law, but everyone should benefit from the assumption of innocence. She may not be the one speaking up for them, but she does wish that people have the opportunity to prove themselves innocent.

There aren’t many people in attendance in the courthouse today, which is a blessing, but she also has to deal with pesky reporters stationed outside, who seemed to have taken an interest in the woman accused of attempted murder, despite having really, no evidence against her. It was funny, how people jumped to conclusions, just because of the person’s backgrounds, or due to a particular defamatory article that may have been published about them online. Sang-Hee had had one published about her, filled with lies so vile that Sol couldn’t even read through it once.

“Sang-Hee ssi,” She says, approaching the defendant’s bench, “how are you feeling today?”

Je Sang-Hee looks at her, eyes still shining with tears, and lowers her gaze. She can’t even speak. Sol is angry, of course, but even more than the anger that simmers inside of her, is frustration, for not being able to protect her client, frustration at being unable to be the person there for the victim.

“Eonni,” Yeseul’s voice drags her out of her little reverie, “eonni, I think Joon-hwi oppa is here now.”

Sol squints at the younger girl, “who told you that?”

Yeseul holds up her phone, “Bok-gi is going to be here too, so he texted me. The two of them are going to come along, him and Jiho. Jiho should be here by now, but he hasn’t texted yet.”

Sol just—stares at Yeseul for a moment, trying to understand the volley of information that had just been thrown at her, in a manner not unlike that of Professor Yang, the man who, Sol recollects with regret, had heard about this whole mess from Sol B, but had not once offered to help. She didn’t need his help, though. It’s just that he could have offered to help her, and it would have been nice.

“Eonni,” Yeseul says, warning evident in her voice, “he’s here.”

What she doesn’t say, but Sol knows, is the sentence, don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you. She didn’t need it, per se, but it felt nice to know that at least one person had her back in this courthouse. Bok-gi was of course, on her side too, but she knew he wouldn’t sacrifice Joon-Hwi. Not now, anyway.

“You have your back to the Prosecutor’s bench,” Yeseul elbows her lightly, and she realises that yes, she has indeed been standing with her back towards the Prosecution’s bench all this while, and most importantly, there was someone behind her.

“Attorney Kang,” She knows that voice, has heard it in her head for years now, but Kang Sol finds herself unable to lift her gaze from the linoleum floor as she grasps the warm hand that was now being offered to her, “nice to meet you, finally.”

There’s a teasing lilt to the last word, a certain edge to the syllable that she knows all too well, having been subjected to it for hours on end, in classes, in the copy room, in the café, even in her mind. It’s from a voice she knows all too well, someone she had wronged.

Courage, Kang Sol.

“Hello, Prosecutor Han,” she looks up, extending one hand to the man in front of her, and—

She didn’t have any expectations of how she would meet Han Joon-Hwi after so many years, but in the deeper recesses of her mind, she had a thought; of his eyes widening at seeing her face for the first time in so many years, her falling in love with him all over again. She had thought of looking—no, not just looking, looking at him, for the first time in so many years, after that one fateful day when she ignored the words of her heat and went running far away from him, perhaps falling in love all over again.

Instead—she feels nothing. Perhaps a pang of guilt somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but when she looks into the eyes of Han Joon-Hwi, her best friend, the person she had fallen in love with, Kang Sol doesn’t see anyone but a weathered prosecutor, the boy who had called out her name on graduation day in Hankuk Law school long gone. Even though he looks not a day older, even though his eyes still crinkle in the same way when he smiles, and his hand still holds the same weight when he takes her hand for a handshake, but she can’t find the boy she was in love with anymore.

“Attorney Kang,” he grins, and his voice is the same, teasing when he looks at her, smiles at her, but he is her opponent, she has to defeat him today. This isn’t preparing for mock trials and judicial competitions, where they only played at being lawyers and prosecutors, this is real life. Je Sang-Hee’s life depends upon her, Kang Sol, winning this case. Against him, Han Joon-Hwi.

“Noona, nice to see you again,” Bok-gi pushes forward, giving her a warm hug, which does its job to dissipate all errant thoughts of a boy whose smile had haunted her in her dreams, “I’ll be watching today, my law firm asked me to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she assures him, “you can take all the notes you want.” He’s still looking at her, she realises when she lets go of Bok-gi, Han Joon-Hwi is still staring at me. Do I have something in my teeth? “Good luck today, Prosecutor Han.”

He grins at her then, dimpled smile making her heart skip a beat, and says, “I don’t need luck, Attorney Kang,” before sauntering off to his seat.

Kang Sol clenches her jaw. Asshole.

--

He wasn’t sure how it would be—their meeting for the first time, but Joon isn’t going to say he’s dissatisfied with it. sure, she’s grown up now—she isn’t Kang Sol A anymore, she goes by just Kang Sol, and he doesn’t have the pesky tag of second-round judicial passer hanging around his neck anymore.

She had stared him down, and to no surprise, he still found her beautiful. Sure, he had always thought that there was a sort of magnetic aura around Sol, something that commanded the attention of an entire room when she walked in. She looked the same as she had looked, five years ago, when he had tried to confess to her, and she had rejected him. Sol hadn’t told him that she was rejecting him, at least not explicitly; Han Joon-Hwi was a man who could take a hint, especially if it ran away from him while he was in the middle of his confession. Really, Kang Sol. You made me chase you all the way to this courtroom.

A hand slams down on his desk, and Seo Jiho’s irritated voice tells him, “If you’re going to stare, at least do it properly.”

He sputters, suddenly thankful that his co-prosecutor was running late, as he stood up to stare at his ex-roommate, who was porting a very uncharacteristic grin, “what do you mean by that? I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” Jiho says, and even Bok-gi sniggers at him, “you were just looking in the general direction of Sol noona, so much so that everyone in the room thinks that the two of you are either dating, or that you want to kill her. Personally, I prefer the latter.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grumbles under his breath, and Jiho presses on, “did you prepare well for this case? You do realise that your evidence is weak, do you?”

“Ah, of course, hyung knows it,” Bok-gi steps in to intervene, and Joon-Hwi thinks for a moment that yes, Bok-gi was always one of the better ones, and then he opens his mouth again, “he’s just ignoring all the things he said before entering the courthouse, and proving to all of us how much of a hypocrite he is.”

Joon glares at Bok-gi, who is giggling at him now, and turns to look at the judge’s bench a pout on his face. Sure, he had proclaimed in the car that he would “not be looking at her, nope”, and the fact that it had taken him exactly three minutes to break that promise was bit laughable, but his friends didn’t have to rub it into his face.

“I don’t understand,” Bok-gi asks, “why are you still hung up on her? You basically took this case just so you could meet her again, and even though the two of you haven’t talked in years, you still talk about her, you still ask about her when you get the chance, so what is going on?”

Joon-Hwi doesn’t answer. He knows what is going on, why he has been so intent on meeting Kang Sol, even after so long, but he doesn’t want to—no, he can’t tell Bok-gi that. He feels a pang of guilt whenever he even thinks of telling Bok-gi the actual reason behind him running after Sol, even though she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He wonders, sometimes.

His co-prosecutor arrives in the courtroom, almost gliding over the floor to take their seat, and he can see Kang Sol shrink back a little, obviously intimidated. He doesn’t hide his smile anymore, not that he needs to either. She didn’t have to get flustered over his co-prosecutor entering the damn courtroom. She’s never done that, at least from what Bok-gi and Yebeom have told him; even Jiho had pitched in with his own comments sometimes, knowing exactly how much it pissed him off, but he still did it. Every time he met Bok-gi or he met Yeseul, he would ask about her, waiting for them to respond with “oh, she’s doing okay, oppa” and “I met her a few weeks ago, she was fine, hyung” and they move on after that, but he can’t.

They don’t possibly expect him to move on from her, do they?

“All rise,” the bailiff announces, and he dutifully stands up, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sol gently helps the defendant to rise up alongside her, before being seated again. She still did that little thing when she looked around the entire courtroom for people watching her, he thinks to herself. She’s still the same Sol. No, she’s different now. We both are. We both are different, but there’s still things about her that remind me of the times we spent in Hankuk.

“Prosecutor Han,” the judge tells him, and he stands up quickly to his feet, “begin.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” He says, walking out to the defendant’s bench, “defendant Je Sang-Hee, you were indicted on charges of attempted murder, following an attack on your fiancé, Seo Changmin, on the fourteenth of November, two weeks prior to your indictment.”

“Yes, I was,” she begins, “but I didn’t do anything to—”

“I’ll be the one asking questions here,” he cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sol draw an almost-imperceptible breath, shaking her head at him. She isn’t flustered. He’s very sure she isn’t flustered, because the two of them have been on opposite sides of each other, time and time again, “could you confirm that Seo Changmin suffered injuries because of you?”

She stares at him, defiant, and replies, “he did not suffer injuries because of me, I found him and I called the police, I’ve told you this.”

“Yes, you have,” Joon walks to the front of the witness’ bench, “but your whereabouts were also unknown that night, until that fateful moment when you actually found your fiancé, and proceeded to assault him. Is that right?”

She looks at him, scowling. He’s hit a nerve, apparently. They had been harping on that aspect for far too long than what was necessary, Joon had noticed when he had been preparing. He couldn’t go that way when he questioned her, because he knows Sol has prepared for it.

So, he changes his track of questioning, “Ms Sang-Hee, would I be wrong in assuming that Mr Changmin had visited you five times over the three days prior to the accident?”

She stares at him, “he is my fiancé. Or he was, before the accident happened. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit me multiple times in a single day.”

He stops, “and yet, when the police asked you about the reason of his visits, you chose to remain silent, evading the question—”

“Objection,” Sol says calmly, standing up from her seat, “the prosecution cannot ask leading questions.”

“Sustained,” the judge replies smoothly, even before Joon-Hwi has a chance to respond, “Prosecutor Han, you cannot possibly expect me to accept this in the courthouse.”

He nods his head, slightly irritated, now that she has taken his advantage away, “moving on, Ms. Sang-Hee, when you found Seo Changmin unconscious, why did you not call for an ambulance? You waited ten minutes to call an ambulance, which most people would argue, looks strange, does it not?”

She doesn’t back down an inch. Good. He hadn’t thought she would either. They didn’t have enough evidence to show that she was guilty, her indictment based primarily on circumstantial evidence that even the most punishment-happy of all judges would find difficulty agreeing with. But they had had her indicted, and now they were here, trying to get her a sentence that would be as heavy as possible. Sol had been right. He didn’t have to worry about the defendant, not as a prosecutor. He just had to punish people to the full extent of the law.

“I tried to wake him up multiple times, but he didn’t respond,” Sang-Hee responds, staring at the judge, “I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary, since he had always had a drinking problem, but when he didn’t respond to me calling his name in the morning, that was when I grew worried.”

She looks at him once, then back to her lawyer, Sol, who looked as though she wanted to strangle him. good. This means I’m winning, and turns back to him, “it was like him to come back drunk, so drunk that he could barely remember where he was, and his friends would drop him off at my house, with apologies, but he would repeat his behaviour. I wasn’t too worried when he didn’t respond to my calls at night, but by morning, he would usually be awake and demanding breakfast. That was when I started to get anxious.”

“Anxious? Not worried?” he asks, curiosity spiked by her peculiar choice of words, “were you anxious that he was actually dead? Or were you anxious that your—”

“he’s my fiancé, of course I would be anxious if he was not responding to my calls,” Sang-Hee stares at him, “you must not have dated a lot if you think I wouldn’t have been worried about my fiancé.”

A wave of laughter runs through the court, and he can feel the tips of his ears turn red. Even the judge cracks a smile, and he can see both Bok-gi and Jiho sniggering. They’re never going to let me live this one down, “so, you called the police then, who found your fiancé almost dead from a drug overdose.”

“Yes,” she looks at her hands, fingers intertwined, “they told me he had taken it about four hours before I called them.”

Ah, there it is. He knew it would come to this, he had known there was no way to win this case after all, even if he really did want to win. There were things he couldn’t do after all, despite being what they called a ‘star prosecutor’. “No more questions.”

The smile on Sol’s face is enough to tell him that he’s lost this case. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel disappointed, even as his partner shoots dirty looks at him, a clear violation of courtroom conduct, but he can’t bring himself to care, fixated on the way she looks while cross-examinating the defendant, the way she turns to the judge and says “no more questions, your Honour.” It’s a far cry from the Sol he remembers at law school, the one who would have him act as prosecutor whenever she went up in a mock trial, even if he had been assigned the role of prosecutor, going up against her. She always asked him to help her practise, and like the fool that he was, he always helped her. Even now, as he stands there, watching her, it’s almost as though he is back at Hankuk; almost, but not quite.

“Court adjourned for the day, and will convene for the next trial on—” Joon can feel himself growing more and more antsy, as the judge announces the date for the next trial, and that Sang-Hee can be released from Judicial custody, especially since her health had been failing due to the stress of the trial and asthma, from which she had suffered since she was young.

He hurries out of the courthouse, only to be cornered by Jiho and Bok-gi at the entrance, Bok-gi with a large grin on his face and Jiho with his trademark expressionless look, although he knows both of them were going to tease him about this, possibly till he died and perhaps even then, they would find a way to sneak it into his eulogy.

Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Bok-gi asks, even as Joon desperately tries to catch a glimpse of Sol through the now-closing courtroom doors, “shouldn’t you be preparing for the next date?”

He looks at Bok-gi for a second, eyes widening, “what are you talking about?”

Bok-Gi’s smile gets wider, if that’s possible, “really? What were you thinking about, hyung? I was talking about the next court date.”

Joon-Hwi huffs, “I was thinking about the same thing, Min Bok-Gi; now, if you will—”

Jiho opens his mouth to say something, but Joon barrels past the two of them, running down the stone steps and to the driveway, where his car was parked, and, presumably, Sol’s too. She’s walking faster now, and he has to run to keep up with her. Her ponytail bobs as she takes quick steps, in a hurry to get away from the courthouse complex. He doesn’t blame her at all.

“Sunbae!” he calls out, loud enough to catch the attention of quite a few people, “Sunbae!”

That catches her attention all right, and she stops in her tracks, turning to him, an irritated expression on her face. It doesn’t stay for long, however, fading just as quickly as it came, “so, you’re still sticking with that name, Han Joon-Hwi?”

He grins, “of course. It wouldn’t be me and you, if I didn’t call you Sunbae, Sunbae.”

She stares at him, with an expression he can’t quite place. “I thought we didn’t have that sort of a relationship anymore, Prosecutor Han.”

And, there it is. He can’t deny it and say that it doesn’t hurt to be treated by Sol this way, but he’s nothing if not tenacious, so he pushes on, “you did good today, in there.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nods her head, before replying with a curt, “good job today, Prosecutor Han.” Of course, she would say that; he doesn’t want to admit it, but it sort of feels like she had slapped him full across the face. Who am I kidding, if she had done that, it would have perhaps hurt less. He feels like a fool, standing in the middle of the road, calling out her name, and a years-old nickname that she didn’t like, and one that he felt only held significance for him.

What they had not had was closure; or at least for him, it was that, the absence of a final answer to his unasked question, something between them still hanging in the air. She could ignore it, live on with her life, but he cannot. There should have been closure, he’s told himself time and time again, or was I just too unimportant for her to even give a damn. It isn’t true, he knows, Sol wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone else for that matter, but on some nights, it becomes impossible. He doesn’t blame her either; he blames his own self for the loss of his closest friend. If only he hadn’t been stubborn enough to ask her out on the day of graduation. He should have waited a little bit more.

But then, should he have waited?

“Sol!” he calls out again, jogging lightly to keep up with her steps, “Sol! Wait up for a minute—”

He’s interrupted, Sol turning abruptly to meet him halfway, which results in him having to backtrack, “what do you want now?”

He smiles brightly, “how about Pyongyang naengmyeon? I know a place nearby that’s good.”

She stares at him, like she can’t really figure out his deal. He holds up his hands, “look, all I’m asking for is a meal. No strings attached.”

Surprisingly, she nods once, turning on her heel, “lead the way, Prosecutor Han.”

--

I should not be doing this.

Her phone buzzes, and it’s Yeseul. You should not be doing this, the text reads, and Sol has to gather all her willpower to not scream in the middle of the street, I know, I fucking know, I shouldn’t be doing this with him right now, going for lunch when there’s—no, I just cannot do it.

She thinks it would be good, for her to have one lunch with him, to get him out of her system, Yeseul’s wisdom about not having lunch with someone who is technically her opponent in the court be damned. She just needs to have lunch with him once, and then she can stop feeling this way.

The restaurant is small, but bright light filters in through the large windows as they take a seat at one of the empty tables. There are a lot of them, she thinks, looking around, just after the lunchtime rush, or the restaurant wasn’t a very good one. Either way, she was supposed to be having a meal with Han Joon-Hwi right now, and as Sol takes a seat, she realises she had been vastly unprepared for this meeting.

He doesn’t look like the Joon she knew back in Hankuk, that is certain, but he doesn’t look like what her imagination had unhelpfully supplied her with either. He looks every inch the prosecutor, with dark circles underneath his eyes and that slouching posture she supposes every prosecutor has, as though he had been carrying the weight of the whole world. It’s sad, somehow.

“Are you going to order?”

“Hm?” She turns her gaze, and sure enough, he’s looking at her just like he had done all those years ago, when she had a stupid letter attached to her name like a real-life suffix that followed one around, and he used to lean over tables and grin all up in her face and mock her by saying Sunbae. It’s—uncomfortable. She didn’t think she would revert to her university self so easily, but with him, it feels like second nature, “You said Pyongyang naengmyeon, so we should get Pyongyang naengmyeon.”

“All right,” he teases, but it’s light, the kind of tone one would use with a co-worker, which strikes her as somehow offensive (am I not more important than a co-worker?) and she spots a glint of something else in his eyes, but shakes her head free of the thought, just as he says, “so, how is work?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t think you asked me to lunch after all these years just to talk to me about work, Han Joon-Hwi.”

He smiles, “right, I didn’t, two orders of beef bone soup, please.”

She stares at him, “it’s summer,” and turns back to the ahjumma, “two orders of Pyongyang naengmyeon, please.”

He just shakes his head, looking at her in that funny way, and asks, “so, do you remember, or do you not?”

What is he even asking me about? “No, I don’t,” she replies, pouring out water for the both of them, “what are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head at her again, “never mind. Let’s eat.”

She can’t help but feel as though she had just missed something important, at least by the look on his face. Or maybe that’s the naengmyeon talking.

#solhwi #solhwi fanfic #jtbc law school #han joon hwi #kang sol a