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stevie-petey · 1 day

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episode two: the mall rats

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.” “Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be. It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Summary: dreams you weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 13.2k

Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !

There are dandelions all around you.

Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.

You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.

The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.

Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.

“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”

It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.

Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.

Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”

“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.

“But why?”

“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”

You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”

“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.

“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”

Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.

“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.

–

Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.

“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”

“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”

Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.

Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.

You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.

As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.

“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”

He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”

You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”

“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”

“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”

“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”

Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.

As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.

Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.

As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.

It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”

His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.

The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.

It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.

Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”

Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.

“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.

Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”

Billy doesn’t say anything.

You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.

Neither one of you talk about this.

–

As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.

You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”

“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”

“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.

When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.

“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”

“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”

Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”

“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”

Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”

Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.

You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.

“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”

Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”

“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.

“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”

You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”

He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”

His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”

Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”

“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”

The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”

“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”

“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.

Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.

“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”

You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”

Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.

Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.

When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”

Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”

“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”

Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”

“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”

–

When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.

“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.

By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.

It’s the Henderson charm, really.

“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”

“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”

“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”

“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.

“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”

“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”

Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.

“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.

It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.

It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.

While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.

Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”

Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”

“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, five minutes too long.”

“Your breath reeks.”

“You have a pimple on your chin.”

You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”

“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”

Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”

“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.

Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.

Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”

Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”

“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”

Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”

You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”

“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”

“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.

You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”

He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.

Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.

In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”

You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”

“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.

Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”

“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.

“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.

“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.

As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”

“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”

“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.

Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”

“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.

“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”

You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”

“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”

Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.

“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”

“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”

“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.

It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”

“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”

“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.

You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”

“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”

“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”

“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.

“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.

Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”

“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”

You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”

“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”

“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”

Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.

Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.

You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.

Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”

“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.

“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.

Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”

“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.

Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.

Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”

You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”

“It means that we can never catch a break–”

“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”

Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”

“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.

With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”

“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”

“With what?”

Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”

Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”

–

It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.

Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.

After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”

“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”

“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.

Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”

“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.

As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”

Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”

“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.

Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.

Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.

Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.

So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”

“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”

“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”

You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.

Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”

“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.

“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”

Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.

You wish you could tell her the truth.

“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.

“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”

Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.

Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”

“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.

Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”

“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”

“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”

Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”

“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.

Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.

Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”

“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”

Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”

Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”

“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.

You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”

Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.

–

True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.

With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.

“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.

You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”

“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”

“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”

“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.

Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”

“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”

“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”

And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.

“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”

The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.

“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.

Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.

El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.

You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”

Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.

“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”

Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”

You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”

Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.

“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”

You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.

There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”

When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.

You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”

“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.

You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”

“Sure, likely story.”

“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”

“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”

“Okay–”

Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”

“I think she looks nice–”

Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”

“What is she, your little pet?”

El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”

“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.

You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.

“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.

You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.

El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”

“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.

Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”

Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”

You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”

“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”

“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”

El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”

Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.

Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.

As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”

You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.

Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.

Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”

Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”

“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”

Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”

“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”

He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.

–

Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.

You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.

“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”

There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.

“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.

Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”

Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.

“Maybe it’s a code?”

“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”

“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.

Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”

You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.

It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”

“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.

“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”

Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.

“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”

“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.

Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.”

You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”

Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”

“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.

Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.

“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”

“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.

Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”

Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”

“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.

Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”

“Evil Russians.”

“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”

Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.

“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”

“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.

Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”

Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”

You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.

She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”

“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.

“Or a weapon.”

As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.

Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”

“I need–do you have a quarter?”

“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.

“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.

Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”

“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.

“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.

As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”

Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”

“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”

Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”

The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”

“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.

Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.

Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”

He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.

“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.

He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.

“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.

Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.

Somehow, you always end up here.

–

Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.

It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.

The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.

When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.

Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.

You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.

“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.

You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”

Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”

Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.

“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.

When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”

She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.

True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.

Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”

You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.

Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.

“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.

“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.

“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”

You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.

Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.

Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”

The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”

You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”

He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”

A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.

When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.

Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.

Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.

You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.

Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.

July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.

As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.

You hope it’s enough.

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whytheylosttheirminds · 8 hours

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2)

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy.

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it.

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you?

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss.

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken.

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer.

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens.

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am.

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times.

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said.

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers.

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love.

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on.

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later.

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything.

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps.

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt.

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him.

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

to be continued

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

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holylulusworld · 15 hours

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Broken Promise (2)

Summary: Sam didn’t keep his promise.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: angst, redemption, face riding, light oral (fem rec), fluff, making up

Written for @spnkinkevents : Kinky Sam Week 2024 – Day 5: Face Riding/Fucking

SPN Kinky Sam Week Masterlist

Catch up here: Broken Promise

Three months. For three long and painful months, you are gone. Sam is missing you like hell, and it drives him crazy that you don’t answer his calls.

“Sammy, you need to stop doing this,” Dean huffs. “You reek, and your face—” He grins while poking his brother’s bearded cheek with his index finger, “a tragedy.”

“Leave me alone,” Sam snaps back. “If you didn’t get me drunk, she’d be still around. It’s all your fault. You had to brag about your girlfriend and call Y/N a mouse.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “It’s not my fault you talked about your sex life. I didn’t ask you questions about Y/N and her preference in the bedroom. Too much information, dude.”

“I lost her—” Sam wipes his face. “How can I move on if I just lost the love of my life.”

Dean opens his mouth and closes it. He never thought Sam would anyone call the love of his life but Jess, or maybe Amelia.

“What if we visit her at her friend’s place? I explain that it was my fault and that I got you drunk,” Dean offers his help without hesitation. “Come on, Sammy. It’s your birthday and I want to help you get your girl back.”

Sam shakes his head. “She won’t see me, Dean.”

“Did you already try?” quirking a brow Dean looks at his brother. Sam shakes his head again. “Coward.”

“What?”

“You’re a coward,” Dean grunts. “If you love that woman so much you will shower, dress in fresh clothes and get your shit together. Do whatever is needed to get her back. Go on your knees, beg and plead if you must!”

“Dean…”

“Don’t come up with more excuses,” the elder brother hisses. “You will do as I say. I’m still your elder brother. Now, move your ass or I’ll punch you for being a coward.”

“No,” you refuse to talk to Dean. “I don’t want to see you ever again, Winchester”

“Good,” Dean grins. “If you don’t want to see me,” he steps aside and pushes Sam toward you, “you can talk to this guy.”

“HEY! WAIT!” You grunt. “That’s not what I mean, Dean Winchester. Get back here.” You yell while Dean walks toward his car.

“You wanted me gone, sweetheart,” Dean snickers before he gets into his car. “You can’t change your mind all the time.”

“DEAN!”

“Uh-hi,” Sam shuffles on his feet. “Look I know you are still mad and hurt.” He sniffs and tries to find the right words. “I just wanted you to know that you are the best girlfriend in the world and the love of my life. I messed up because I wanted to brag for once too.”

“Sam,” you drop your gaze and shake your head.

“Do you…hate me now?”

You lift your head to get a good look at your boyfriend. He looks tired. A thick bear frames his face for the first time since you met Sam.

“You’ve got a beard now.”

He hums, unsure if you are mad at him for not shaving before coming here. “I should’ve shaved,” he ruefully says. “Dean didn’t give me more time.”

“Hmm…” you glance at his beard, hands twitching while Sam tries to find a way to win you over. “It looks soft.”

Sam blinks a few times. He wonders if he got you wrong. “I don’t know. I haven’t touched it.”

You suddenly grab his face to feel his beard. “Soft but scratchy,” you murmur. “Not bad…not at all.”

“Y/N, can we talk,” Sam tries to get your attention, but you are busy feeling his beard up. “Baby?”

“I know it’s your birthday today,” you drop your hands and grab his wrist, “but I want you to make things up to me before you’ll get your gift.”

“How?”

You smirk. Sam is one of the smartest people you ever met, but sometimes he’s just dull when it comes to understanding a hint.

“You know how,” you tug at his wrist and guide him inside your friend’s house. “My friend is out of town for the rest of the week…”

“Fuck, that’s it,” you grip the headboard tighter and throw your head back as Sam works your thrumming clit with his skilled tongue.

Sam finally caught up with the meaning of your words and decided to worship you the best way possible – offering his face as a throne to you.

“Shit…I’m gonna,” you gasp loudly feeling the pressure get too much. You soak Sam’s face and his beard, earning a deep growl from him. “Sorry…that was…”

You get off your throne, worriedly looking down at Sam.

“Fuck, you squired for me, kitten,” he grins dopily. “Wow! I never made a woman squirt before. That was…amazing, baby. Never apologize for being amazing and goddamn sexy.”

“If,” you grab his face to press a kiss on his lips, “you tell Dean about this, tell him it tasted like heaven.” You smirk against his lips.

“I won’t…I swear.”

“You better not or you won’t get your birthday gift, Samuel Winchester…”

Tags in reblog.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #Broken Promise (2)#kinkysamweek2024 #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #light smut

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verdart · 2 days

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I made the unfortunate decision to comment on a tiktok saying

"Blitz has every right to doubt Stolas' intentions and I will di on this hill defending Blitz"

Which made me actually realize in the context of Stolitz how much the fandom vilifies Blitz.

Upon rewatch I realized that he is actually kinda innocent lmao. So here comes the rant hop on in Verda rants at 4am again train.

The thing is first of all we need to work our media literacy muscles. So Stolas stans who think he is a uwu babygirl that dod nothing wrong repeat after me. "Blitz didn't watch "just look my way", "owl in a cage" or any other Stolas longing scene that we cried over"

Now that thats setteled I don't want to hear any "he is trying" bs because as of now (pre full moon s2e8) he hasn't actually done anything that Blitz is aware.

Lets start from the top my initial comment was about how Stolas treated him for so long before actually catching the feelings and how Blitz has a right to think he is not genuine.

Up top lest start with the condescending pet names and I won't be hearing Blitz cant be mad at that Stolas does it bc he thinks he likes it... jesus okay s2e1 when stolas starts the imp dirty talk what does blitz do a) encourage him b) get naked and dtf bc that was hot, c) shuts him up

Ding ding ding C. Stolas can still take this as bedtime play sure but we have a case for Blitz not liking it from day one. Other than that we all know he views Stolas' (perhaps in his mind endearing) pet names as condescention.

Secondly even if we ignore the power imbalance Stolas is the one to suggest the transactional fucking... s1e1 even tho in the forst time it was Blitz's doing, sorta. So don't at me saying well Blitz just uses him for the grimoire, like girly duh that was the premise. But Stolas also uses Blitz. Imo lending a book vs fucking in payment is a bot excessive but for Blitz's case beggars cant be chosers.

Now to the elephant in the room... Ozzie's. Does Blitz invite him (Stolas) purely out of selfish intentions that has nothing to do with him? Yes. Is he a dick? Yes. But Does Stolas hide his fucking face when he has a reality check? Yes. But then y'all be mad bc Blitz pulled his hand back.

That night Stolas was read once, Blitz was like at least 2 times... if we don't count the stuff for Stolas by proxy. He was having a hard night bro. And after Stolas invites him he is like no and Stolas respects that. Which if the show didn't add s2e2 in between it wouldve been a perfect stepping stool to get the Stolitz on healthy communication territory but that didn't happen.

I cannot for the life of me pin point when Stolas genuinely falls for Blitz. If its from day one damn it took him long enough to understand what he was doing was wrong.

Anyways we as fans can't be mad at Stolas because we know he is starting to understand the absolute power imbalance he created and the position he left Blitz in. He has realized that the thing is lets remember and repeat "Blitz is not watching the show with us". Blitz doesn't know of this sudden change of heart.

Now to adress a few meaningful interactions we have after ozzies. The fucking pixelated phone texts from s2 western energy.

Stolas apologizes but in that way that I look down upon. "Sorry if" like girl own it up anyways Blitz brushes it off and Stolas instead just goes hehe I didnt care either. Yall need relationship therapy my god. Important thing is Stolas was trying to reach out. But instead of going anything I said that made you upset etc he could've actually apologize properly for getting ashamed. Tho Blitz should also apologize for inviting him on a date for his own gain but thats another bag of worms I won't open tonight.

Other than that he has put off seeing him and doing the transactional fucking for a while. During those times. And as we know from all the phones Blitz breaks after talking to Stolas and hearing hus dirty talk he isn't too excited about. We don't exactly know if he comes or not on those nights. But he is also showm to be quite comfortable in s2e2 with the "my dick is good but its not that good" comment so maybe they do continue the arrangement... idk. Either way we know they haven't really talked.

All I am saying is that both parties of this ship are guilty af of hurting eachother and taking advantage of eachother. But as the power house of this power imbalance, Stolas needs to be held accountable. And he is doing that now!! Or will, in s2e8 and I can't wait to see how that goes. Overall, I can see totally why Blitz shuts down any signs that Stolas might actually be into him. He has a good bunch of reasons too. And as far as we've seen from the trailer we will get to hear him say it out loud as he should.

#verda rants #helluva boss #stolitz #stolitz discourse #blitzø #stolas

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tuliptired · 3 days

Text

He's Good People Ch.2

Chapter 2: We Could Steal Time, for Just One Day (We Can be Heroes)

Pairing(s): Gn!reader/Ray, Gn!reader/Egon, Gn!reader/Winston

Summary: (Egon centric) You get to spend most of the day with the quiet scientist, as per his out of character invitations.

Warnings: talk of having a baby, though reader biology is never specified

Thank you for all the support so far!

read it on Ao3!

There was a soft light hitting your eye, lulling you back awake. You were safe, in your own bed, in your own house, about to go to work.

Oh. These aren’t your sheets. This was not your house. You sat up. Ray was still asleep, curled up in extra blankets beside you. You looked around, Peter and Winston were motionless, the clock reading 7:22. Egon’s bed was empty.

Normally, you didn’t wake up in beds that weren’t yours. Normally, you didn’t wake up in beds that weren’t yours in houses that weren’t yours. Normally, you didn’t wake up in beds that weren’t yours in houses that weren’t yours that belonged to some men you had only just met. And you don’t wear their spare clothes, and sleep in close enough proximity that you can hear their snores catch in their throats. You ran a hand over your face. It all felt so shameless. Not respectable. What were you doing?

The door opened softly and Egon stepped in, holding a stained piece of fabric. He appeared to have showered and dressed in the earlier hours of the morning, and he pulled a drawer open for a new tie. You felt awkward in his space, as he went about his business. Thankfully, he broke the silence.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning…sorry, Ray told me I could sleep in here.” You unconsciously pulled the sheets over yourself, despite the fact your body was fully covered in baggy sleepwear built for the physique of a 50 year old firefighter.

“I don’t mind.” He pulled a tie out and examined it.

“You didn’t sleep?” You ask idly. His fingers made ease of the garment, smoothing it out.

“I’m fine.” He looked over at the sleeping forms of his friends, dead to the world. “They won’t be up for a while. It’s a Sunday.” He paused for a bit, pondering something, shutting the drawer.

“Would you like breakfast?” The question takes you by surprise, but the emptiness in your stomach is starting to ache.

“If it’s not too much trouble.” He freezes up, as if he didn’t expect your answer. He blinks, gears turning, the offer coming out beyond his own volition. Egon shakes his head slightly, as if wiping a thought away. He and Ray had habits of doing that, you noticed.

“None at all.” He starts out the room. When he reaches the kitchen space, he stands there for a moment, hands at his sides. Robotically, he pulls out eggs, butter, sugar, and a few other things from the fridge, managing to lay them all out methodically, in an organized chaos.

You feel a bit rude, just standing there. “Is there any way I could help?” You unconsciously roll up the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

Egon keeps working, mixing something intently. “No.” You blink. Hesitantly, you move to sit at the table somehow feeling a little ruder. As Egon notices you pulling a chair out slowly so as to not disturb him, he sighs, slowing his work.

“Not because I think you’d be inadequate. I just have a system.” He lit a pan on the stove, pouring a small amount of oil into it.

“A system for pancakes?”

“Mrs.Stantz taught me how to make them in graduate school.”

You got a little thrown at that. “Mrs…Stantz?”

A silence. His arms are suspended in the air, batter flowing into the hot pan. “Ray’s mother.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He held one.

“Your parents never taught you to cook?” You try to alleviate some of the palpable tension still in the air.

“My parents were fans of quark on their gruel,” is all he said. “But. The Stantz family was different. They…put sugar in their coffee. Had big ‘sundee’ dinners.”

He seemed to think hard before speaking again, measuring each word like they could betray him. “Mrs. Stantz told me that…cooking for others was a way of saying you wanted them to live.”

That’s why he offered. You could smile at that. In the short time you knew him, you’d gathered that he didn’t seem as skilled as his friends in the ways of sociability. You really didn’t know him as well as you’d liked- he hadn’t shown you much, but you could appreciate the gesture.

“Thank you, Dr. Spengler.” He stilled again, ever so slightly. You hadn’t noticed until then that the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Maybe you ought to call him that more often? If you planned on sticking around. You didn’t know what your plan was anymore

There was a comfortable silence as he continued to work, diligently managing pancakes in one pan, potatoes and eggs in another. After a while, he pulls a small container out from the back of the fridge.

“Do you feel strongly about mushrooms?”

“Do you want me to?”

“These are top shelf. The Hennessy of the mycology world.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Eventually, he was plating food for the two of you, potatoes and eggs (with Hennessy mushrooms) on one half, steaming pancakes on the other. Before you could smile and thank him, he stops you.

Swirling around a small pitcher one final time, he carefully crouches at the front of the table. A light, yellowish liquid pours out of it and slathers onto the pastry, making you unknowingly drool.

With delicate precision, he adds a heap to his own. When he decides it's enough, he takes a seat, gesturing for you to start. You take a bite and…

Good god, this was the best thing you’ve ever tasted. The pancakes were cooked thoroughly, the texture of it all feeling like clouds in love on your tongue. The mysterious syrup was the best part- it was homely, and almost like a candy that melted down your throat. You stared up at Egon in disbelief as you swallowed.

“Holy cow”

‘More or less. Buttermilk syrup”

It's safe to say you dug in, making quick work of the stack that was once on your plate. Wiping your mouth, you had to sing his praises. He had the slightest hint of an indulgent smile, watching you eat. One of pride, maybe?

“These are incredible, Dr. Spengler. What do I have to do to get Ray to give me the recipe?” You asked earnestly. To that, his smile quickly fell, and he hastily dismissed the idea.

“Don’t bother. His mother says I’m the only one who can replicate them.” He speaks as if you’re discussing nuclear codes. “Besides, I’ve got it memorized.”

“Are you willing to share?”

“I’d have to kill you.”

You made pleasant conversation for a while, even after both your plates had been cleared. Nursing a pot of coffee, he recalled something.

“Your bag ended up in the laundry chute. Here.” But he misjudges how secure the latch was- and as he holds on to the wrong part the contents spill onto the table. The worn, brown bag of candy from the day prior rips, and Crunch Bars, hard candies, and fruit chews tumble out in front of you. Embarrassment engulfs you as you apologize, just short of lunging over the table to clean up the mess, detesting how weird you must look carrying around a bag that had nothing but sweets.

He helps you rather the treats up wordlessly, before handing you one of the many blue wrapped chocolate bars.

“Would it be optimal to keep candies in my flight suit?” He voiced.

“Don’t patronize me,” your face burns still, your hands crumpling up the paper packaging.

“I’m serious. It would keep my blood sugars high.”

“Go for it, Dr. Spengler.” You grinned, sliding him a Crunch Bar. Something twinkled behind his eyes. Was this the first time you noticed that he and his arms looked strong, under all that clothing?

“Hey noise machines. You woke us up.” Peter stands in the doorway, Winston and Ray behind him sleepily.

“Sorry,” you pardoned yourself. Like a pack of bears, the men made their way to search for the delightful smell that was wafting towards them from down the hallway.

“Don’t be. I’ve never heard the professor talk so much so early,” Winston yawned.

“Hey! You left us with the dishes!” Ray whined, holding up the dirtied mixing bowls and oily skillet.

“There’s raisin bran in the pantry.” Egon conducted you out of the room. He had you follow him back to the bedroom, stopping at the door to think to himself. You were used to it at this point. He emerged, with a light blue sweater and an unworn pair of track pants.

“I’m assuming you’d like to shower now. Here’s a change of clothes-” His voice got a bit worried at the end as you thumbed through the garments, musing at a dark blue fabric sandwiched between what he had handed you.

He couldn’t meet your eyes, his pupils darting in different directions. He fumbled with his folded hands. “They’ve never been worn. It was either those or long johns.” He shuffles past you, in a hurry to leave you be.

Opening up the pile, you see a dark blue pair of boxers, making your face ignite with embarrassment. It's the thought that counts?

“Dr. Spengler!” You call over your shoulder.

He’s halfway down the hall. “...Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nods, and disappears into the corridors of the firehouse.

The showers are in one large bathroom, reminiscent of a locker room. A wall of sinks and mirrors, opposite a wall of spacious shower space, where curtains separate each showerhead. Well, you´re already there. There's a small bottle of coconut body wash staring you down as you do your business. Of course a little bit wouldn't be missed right? It's a lot more liquid than you expected- and that ´little bit´ went a long way. As you exit the shower careful not to slip on the slick tile, the coconut scent wafts into your nose pleasantly.

You stared at the pile of clothes neatly folded on a bench, like it's a dragon to be slain. In a way, it was. You pulled on the boxers- they fit better than you thought. Ignoring how the image in the mirror made you feel. As your skin still dried, you felt the blue sweater in your hands. The knitwear was delicate in your palms, the yarn a bit worn. It felt more personal than the spare loungewear left in the basement. It felt like a person.

It was fairly large, dwarfing your body. The fibers carried a similar coconut and sandalwood smell that the soap had, making your body feel protected. There were the sweatpants, too, but whatever. They weren't like this.

You left your pajamas in a neat pile as you dropped it down one of the laundry chutes, hoping your undergarments didn´t tumble out into the open. As you crept down the stairs, Janine was working at her desk while Winston gave Ray a hand repairing the Ecto-1. You sat with her for most of the morning, as she insisted on your presence as she handled clerical work and gossipped simultaneously. The 2 men listened to your conversations fondly.

“You smell nice,” Janine commented questioningly.

It was around 12 when a woman walked into the firehouse holding a baby, greeted by Ray and Winston while they worked on the underside of the car. Winston seemed a little less enthusiastic as he held the bright hot flashlight.

"Hi Dana. This is Peter´s keeper,” Janine filled you in. The woman, Dana, gave you a kind smile. "The little bald one is Oscar."

The baby sat patiently, if not curiously, in her arms, a hand in his mouth. Dana joked at him to say hi, and he blew a small raspberry in response.

“He's adorable," you cooed, letting instincts take over as he reached out for your finger, which you gave to him. "How old?”

"10 months, and already very handsy." Dana bounced him in her arms as he tried to replace the hand in his mouth with your own. "Is Peter around?

"Somewhere." Janine yelled for him, and he beckoned for her to give him a second. Egon emerged at that point, wondering what all the noise was. His features relaxed at the sight of the infant.

"Hi, Egon." Dana greeted him, as he stood peering at the mother and her child.

"May I hold him?"

She blinked, a little dumbfounded. "I thought you said babies carried pathogens detrimental to your lymphatic system?" Oscar seemed very interested in him.

"Normally." He held his arms out, expectantly. Dana slowly concedes, and he takes the baby awkwardly. Oscar didn't seem to mind the weird angle, held almost like a freshly caught fish on his back. He kicked his feet and stretched his arms out, and Egon looked as if he was scared to move.

You laughed, though partially concerned for his stability. Babies got heavy fast. "Have you ever held a baby, Dr. Spengler?" You repositioned him so that he sat comfortably against Egon´s shoulder. "May I…?" You asked Dana, to which she nodded warmly.

Taking Oscar, you held him with ease, as he reached up to grab your nose. Bouncing him in your arms, he hit you on either side of your temples, exploring your face. "What´re you looking for?"

Unbeknownst to you, Egon was gazing at you playing with Oscar. So was Ray, across the garage. As you walked in a circle with him in your arms, Dana also watched on, amused.

"You're a parent?"

The question catches you off guard. “Oh, no. Not yet at least.”

“Waiting for ‘the one’” Janine cuts in, eyes not leaving her computer.

“Among other things.” Oscar plays with the collar of the sweater, tugging on it. Peter hopped off the last of the stairs then, exclaiming at the spectacle.

“You’ve got some hairless monster on you,” he feigns fear. Oscar looked at him once, before going back to your collar.

Ray crosses to you both, cooing at the kid in your arms. Peter stopped him halfway there.

“Wash.”

Ray looked down at his motor-oil covered hands, and defeatedly sulked over to the garage sink. Peter turned to you, opening his mouth to say something, before snapping it closed. He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at you.

“Is that Eges’?”

You look down. “Is it?”

Egon went rigid, as usual, and swallowed silently. “Today’s forecast predicted a cold front.”

“We’re in the middle of the warmest spring in a decade. Mr. Softy’s outside.”

“Inaccurate journalism, then.”

While Ray’s eyes turned into slits from the sink, Peter’s widened. He put a hand on Dana’s shoulder and steered her towards the door. “I’m gonna have a quick walk with my girl here.”

“I was only stopping by for-”

“A quick walk.”

Oscar looked confused at seeing his mother go. He balled his fists in the front of your shirt. “The baby?”

“Keep it,” Peter called over his shoulder before the door shut.

As Winston packed up all the tools under the elevated vehicle and Ray vehemently turned the pipe off, the phone rang. Janine took it, listening with “uh-huh’s” occasionally, before scribbling down an address on a notepad.

“There’s a client at,” she ripped the paper out and held it out for Ray, “this address. Golf course- she says there’s a puppet ripping out the green.” His eyes grew to the size of saucers as he read it to himself.

“Man! Are you sure this isn’t out of our zoning?” He pleaded with the tiny woman.

“I don’t know, Mr. ‘We’re ready to believe you’.” Janine resumed her typing.

“The day barely started and we’re already driving 2 hours out the way,” he grumbled., “Isn’t it Peter and Egon’s turn?”

“It’s not. Last month we went down to that beach in Jersey.”

Ray’s incredulous glower deepened. “And you got ice cream afterwards!”

“And we’re very sorry yours melted.”

He muttered a few things, before surrendering and pulling on his flight suit, Winston behind him begrudgingly. They repacked the car, pulled out the garage, and they were off.

Peter and Dana still weren’t back, so you sat back in the chair at Janine’s side. Oscar reached out to grab her sleeve.

“I’m returning this later, he’ll stain it.” She rolled her chair an inch away, sharpening a pencil.

He babbled at her. “Don’t worry about Janine. She’s mean and old.” He tried leaning out of your reach to touch her face, entranced by something, before you spun the chair around. “She’ll steal your youth, Oscar.”

He looked a little bored, as he hit your temples for the second time. His brow furrowed as much as a baby could manage, as he examined your face again. “What?” You asked. He looked sad, making small whimpers at you. You turned the chair around again, showing him Egon. “He looks constipated, Dr. Spengler.”

Oscar suddenly got very excited, bouncing up and down and grabbing the air. You laugh, using your foot to bring a wheeled-stool over, waving Egon along to sit. He sat, legs comically too large for the tiny chair.

“Sure, let’s have a meeting at Janine's desk,” the woman commented dryly.

Egon looked a little bemused as the boy exclaimed for him, sitting in your lap. You scooted closer to him, so much so that your knees touched and formed a bridge, his skin getting warmer as you did. You place Oscar on the ledge you created, and he eagerly leans into Egon. He reaches for his face like he did you and Janine, but falls onto his butt in the process. Egon’s stiffness is endearing. It’s like there was a baby bear on his lap rather than a baby child. Jeez, he’s gonna burst a blood vessel at this rate.

Putting him out of his misery, you lightly grab each of his hands, steadying them on each side of the sitting baby marveling at the man in front of him. Egon’s skin is still warm, even more so now, as you coax him to pick Oscar up. The backs, at least, were a little rough and worn, but you expected no more from a scientist. He was still a man, at the end of the day. You glanced up at his panicking face, and you didn’t know any better, you’d say his chest was rising and falling more than normal. You held Egon’s large hands under your own as you aided him in raising him to eye level.

You leaned to the right, keen on teasing his bewildered face from behind Oscar’s rear end. “Was that hard, Dr. Spengler?” Oscar starts gleefully hitting his temples as he did yours.

“Do you want to have a baby.”

Janine’s typing stops. Egon’s glasses go flying off his face and land behind you, as the baby in your hands erupts in a fit of giggles before you could say anything. His hands recoiled from yours like you were a burning stove as you gently set him down, back on your own lap.

Egon looks like his brain is short circuiting and melting out his ears, which, for all you know, it was. Even with his glasses off, his face never failed to absorb you. He definitely had the face to make a few college girls lose their humility.

He remembered human interaction and cleared his throat. “What I meant was. Oscar has a larger than normal head and large eyes. He also has an upturned, small nose.” His tone regained the scientific timbre it normally had. “Many people of,” he fished for the words, “child-rearing-age find these features…’cute’.” Janine snorted a laugh, then got up to search for his discarded eyewear somewhere on the floor.

“He’s to die for, no doubt. I just…” he’s resided lying against your legs now, his wonder satisfied for one afternoon as he teethed on one of Egon’s fingers, “Unfortunately, it takes 2 to to make a baby. I’m not exactly properly equipped to complete that job on my own” You sighed. How was your life gonna go back to normal, once your apartment was safe again? You hate to admit, but that job was you at your peak. Janine pressed the eyeglasses into Egon’s palm.

The door opened then, and Peter entered with Dana in tow. She smirked at the sight of you and Egon, knee to knee with a baby in between you.

“How cute, we’ll call up JCPenney and they can take a family photo,” she took to teasing Egon as you handed her back her son.

He sat limply in her arms, about ready for a nap. “He’s delightful, Dana.”

“Makes you wanna have one?” Janine turns in her chair to face you.

At some point during the afternoon, Janine sighed heavily at the idea of running around and completing the list of errands she’d let fester over the week as you ate together upstairs. Egon was tinkering with something at the workspace near you when he spoke up.

“Do you want me to do it?” He put the contraption down on the desk.

“You would?” Janine let her head fall on the back of the couch, holding the list out to him.

“I might as well. I can’t focus today.” He folded the paper, placing it in the pocket of his coat. As he started down the steps, he slowed, and turned his head towards you.

“Y/N? Would you mind joining me? I don’t get to the store much.” You had no objections. After washing the last of the wares you both had dirtied, you dried your hands off on a teatowel before descending the stairs on Egon’s heels.

He held the door for you as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, and the humidity hit you like a brick. It had been a pretty warm spring, but the recent light rain seemed to cool the earth off, just a bit. It was getting gray and wet outside the longer you walked, clouds ghosting over the sun every now and again. You both walked together in comfortable silence, in an arbitrary direction (you’ve never been shopping in this area), as gentle drops on your head slowly turned into genuine precipitation.

Before you could suggest turning back, or grabbing umbrellas, the rain above you suddenly stops. As you look up, he’s holding his overcoat above your head. Head and shoulders undoubtedly getting soaked.

“There’s a bus stop down the block. We can catch it if we run.”

With that, you’re off. Running like little kids down a hill, you narrowly avoid deep puddles and streetlamps as you giggle uncontrollably. As your feet hit the sidewalk with every step, the petrichor in the air fills your lungs like it’s your soul. In a way, in your adrenaline rushed mind, you equate it with the man next to you.

When you finally reach the stop, the bus is lurking from the end of the street. Doubled over, you catch your breath, the air now feeling like fire leaving your esophagus. But you laugh through it all. And the man who shielded you from the rain lets out a weak, barely there chuckle. You straighten to thank him, when you notice how bad mother nature got him. Egon’s usually pomaded, high and tamed hair had fallen out of place, curls now coming loose on his head. He looked wonderful, other than most of his upper body being stained by the sudden downpour.

You can’t speak, staring at him, at the almost Grecian picture in front of you. His lips were parted slightly as he regained his energy, almost curled in a simper as the strong hands you felt earlier wiped some of the dampness from his forehead. His tie was a sky blue, unlike the sky that had dominion over you now. And god, he looked nice in blue.

As he noticed your staring, an eyebrow quirked up, only slightly. There was nothing for you to do but laugh, leaning into the tall man in front of you. He was stiff at first, and confused, but he succumbed to it soon enough, holding you as well as he couldn’t hold himself back from the ridiculousness of it all. You both probably looked like idiots, losing your minds on the side of the street. But for the first time since yesterday, you were sure of something. If this was what it felt like to be an idiot with him, you never wanted to be smart again.

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themoonking · 11 months

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when people bring up the racism, homophobia, transphobia, romanticization of domestic abuse / rape / pedophilia / incest, literal actual written porn of literal actual real life flesh and blood children, et cetera et cetera on archive of our own, one of the ao3 stannies’ main defenses is “you can just filter out the tags if you don’t want to see that!” when that defense has no fucking legs to stand on.

ao3 is not an archive, it is barely even a website: a rant <3 (very long)

ignoring the fact that it’s a problem that all of that is permitted on the site in the first place (i guess child porn and racism are fine, and the people who allow it on their platform are fine, as long as i, personally, do not see it), that defense literally means nothing. it’s assuming that every little thing on ao3 is tagged properly and it absolutely is not, and if you think it is you are dumber than rocks. i mean for fuck’s sake, just touching on archive warnings and not tags, “creator chose not to use archive warnings” is literally a valid option for fic authors to use when it should fucking not be.

if someone is a freak who thinks that pedo shit is hot, they might not tag it as “rape” (archive warnings OR tags). i’ve literally seen underage father/son rape porn with no trigger warning tags but “child abuse if you squint”. IF YOU SQUINT. if someone thinks that domestic abuse is actually cool and sexy when attractive people do it, they might not tag it as “abuse”. if someone is a freak who likes incest, but bends over backwards to justify it by only shipping adopted family members, then they tell themselves that they don’t view it as incest, and might not tag it as “incest”. if someone is a racist, a homophobe, a transphobe, et cetera and they wrote bigotry into their fic (or else wrote a deliberate troll fic to trigger people on purpose), do you really think they’re going to tag it as racism / homophobia / transphobia / et cetera? and some people get kicks out of writing purposefully triggering content and either leaving it untagged or mistagging it so that people will read it unsuspectingly.

even for just general content tags, it’s a mess. people just forget to tag things all the time. people deliberately won’t tag the endgame ship of their fic because “it’s a spoiler heehee”. people use the romantic or sexual “x / y” tag instead of the platonic or otherwise “x & y” tag, sometimes by mistake sometimes on purpose. it’s a joked about issue how people will tag characters or ships that appear in their fic for two sentences.

there’s no standardization of tags, which is a pretty obvious problem. what first comes to mind is the “dead dove: do not eat” tag which should just not be a tag at all because it just has no meaning. depending on the individual fic writer using it, it could mean anything from “literally the most sickening and depraved thing you’ve ever read in your life” to “horror w/ gore”. but it applies to other vague tags too - different fic writers will have different ideas of what the tag means.

in addition to that, what is and isn’t made a filterable tag, what tags are made synonymous, et cetera, is entirely up to the whims of the site staff. as an example, if you’re trying to look for fanfiction of a singular animated disney movie, the infinite crossovers with other disney movies will not actually be counted as crossovers (which they are) because they’re classified as the “disney theatrical animated universe” (which isn’t a fucking thing), so you can’t filter them out the “exclude crossovers” way. if you try to filter out the fandom tag “disney theatrical animated universe”, it’ll show up with zero fics because that tag is synonymous with every disney animated film (regardless of if the fic author actually used the tag “disney theatrical animated universe” or not), thus also filtering out the one you actually wanted to find.

and do not get me fucking started on the “all media types tags”, which also just shouldn’t be a thing because it makes it fucking impossible to find the specific fics you’re looking for. some people use it in place of tagging a specific canon / adaptation when their fic very clearly draws from one specific canon / adaptation, and you can’t filter it out because it’s synonymous with every fandom tag under its umbrella.

as an example of the issues of both the “all media types” tag and mistagging in general: as a fan of the witcher books, it used to be a fucking ordeal to find fanfiction specifically for the books (post netflix show release). some show fans would, for whatever reason, tag their fics with the book fandom tag in addition to (or even in place of!!) the show fandom tag when their fics were unquestionably show-specific, meaning i could not simply search only in the book fandom tag. i could not simply filter out the show tag, because some show fans would, for whatever reason, tag as fucking “all media types”, when their fics were unquestionably show-specific. and alas, i could not filter out “all media types” and the show tag, so that i see only those fics which have been deliberately and exclusively tagged as the book, not only because as mentioned some show fans would tag their show fics with only the book tag, but also because the fucking all media types tag filters out the book tag as well, leaving me with zero fucking fics REGARDLESS of if the author actually used the “all media types” tag. now, thankfully, i’ve thankfully seen this issue in this specific fandom lessen, but it still occurs in other fandoms and i guarantee that it didn’t lessen in the witcher fandom because of any fixing of the site on the part of ao3 staff.

another common defense of ao3 freaks is that it’s an “archive”, and therefore can’t get rid of anything anyone posts, and disregarding the fact that that is not how archives fucking work, they don’t just allow anything and also ao3 DOES get rid of fics... when they say that they don’t like proshippers, apparently, archives have... you know... archivists. they have someone or a team of someones making sure that everything in the archive is *properly fucking categorized*. they have someone or multiple someones making sure that everything they recieve (1) belongs there and (2) is properly labeled and organized. same for libraries. meaning that if ao3 really were an archive and not a sub par fanfiction website, they’d have something like that in place. something as simple as a report button for fics with a review team that will see if something’s been mis- or untagged. they’d have some kind of standardization of tags (especially the warning / trigger tags) and have proper tagging enforced in some way. and then they could also do something like stop being spineless racists, queerphobes, and pedos have the barest minimum of content guidelines saying that you can’t post fucking hate speech.

if something is mistagged or untagged, the most you can do is leave a comment politely asking that the author fix the issue, and then hope and pray that they do that. and if that person thinks [insert form of abuse] is hot, or if they’re just straight up a bigot that wrote bigotry into their fics to be bigoted, or they’re a troll that gets kick out of deliberately traumatizing people by tricking them into reading their mis/untagged fics, they might not! AND if you see a major tagging issue on an orphaned work, or a work that has an inactive author / hasn’t been updated in forever, good fucking luck getting even a negative response.

you can’t permanently block tags (i mean even tumblr.hell has that), meaning that if you would like to search for fic without coming across something troubling, triggering, or just something you don’t like, you have to either (1) do a work around by having a bookmarked link for every fandom you’re in or every character you like with all of your tags already blocked, (2) download browser extensions that do the work for ao3 because they can’t be bothered themselves, or (3) input every individual tag every time you search ao3 and don’t forget that all of those options only fucking work at all when everything is tagged properly, and we’ve already established its not. you also can’t actually block people (you can only prevent them from commenting) meaning that if there’s a specific person you’d like to stay away from your fics or a specific fic author that you don’t like and would like to stop seeing their fics clogging up the tag, you’re out of luck (though for the latter you could insert “-[username]” into the “search within results” box, but then uh oh we’re right back around to having to input that every time or have a bookmark)

their archive warning system is shit. first of all it’s functionally useless because, as mentioned, “creator chose not to use archive warnings” is an option. what’s the fucking point of special required archive warnings if you’re going to allow people to opt out anyway. second of all, aside from “chose not to use warnings” and “no warnings apply”, the only warnings are “major character death”, “graphic depictions of violence”, “rape/non-con”, and “underage”. disregarding the fact that they shouldn’t be allowing porn of underage characters in the first place (but i’m talking to a brick wall on that issue) and that “non-con” (and “dub-con”) as terminology needs to die, it’s just fucking rape lets not use weasel words... this is a paltry list of possible warnings. there’s no official warnings for depictions of: domestic abuse, animal abuse, depictions of racism / homophobia / transphobia / et cetera, suicide, self harm, et cetera et cetera. and we return to the issue of standardization of tags. in your required archive warnings at very least, there should be a standardization of what these mean, but ao3′s own faq is just like “ehh... you decide. we’ll leave it up to you”. what qualifies as graphic depictions of violence? two people may write the same level of violence, but qualify “graphic” differently, and make different decisions regarding their warnings. and we also return to the issue of: if a freak doesn’t see something that is clearly rape as rape, they might not tag it as such.

this website gets a disgustingly large amount of money every year that it doesn’t fucking do anything with. it’s been over a decade and they’re still in fucking beta. features that would actually be useful, like an actual block system, don’t exist. they technically have a report system for abuse and harassment and such, but apparently what they qualify as abuse and harassment is fickle. ao3 defenders seem to be very proud of the legal work they do for fandom / fanfic authors, but they set aside a very small amount of the money they get every year for legal advocacy, and they actually use even less of that, because it’s not the early 2000s “anne rice hates fanfiction” era anymore - you aren’t going to get fucking sued for writing fanfiction in the first place. based on their own self-reported yearly cost of upkeep, they literally already have enough money to run the site as they are now for the next twenty years.

once again: ao3 is not an archive. it is not a library. it is barely a even a website.

#specifically a website run by freaks #who care more about ppl's 'fannish experience' than they do ppl of color abuse survivors and the real children ppl write p!rn of #anyway here's the rant i promised in the coming days since that one post #also i know people will come at me and say that dddne DOES have a meaning its a signal that the reader knows what theyre getting into #so cant be upset if it upsets them #or something along those lines #but (1) we've already well established that the reader very likely doesn't know what they're getting into #because a lot of the shit on ao3 is untagged or mistagged #and a lot of stuff with the dddne tag specifically isnt properly tagged because authors use dddne as a catch all #and just put that down instead of actually properly tagging their work #and as mentioned the authors that use it that way use it for literally anything that might make something uncomfortable #from the sickest shit there is to a little bit of gore #and you can say that those authors (who use it without also tagging what exactly they're talking about) are using the tag incorrectly #but oopsie! that then circles back around to (2) if someone is using a tag incorrectly there's no way to deal with that #other than a comment and a prayer #i speak #anti ao3 #anti archive of our own #fandom nonsense #my monologues

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piratewinzer · 9 months

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They kissed in front of me and I’m just supposed to be normal about it? Forever???

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable idiots #ineffeble husbands #I’m supposed to now walk this earth like the entire construct of my being isn’t different because two fictional characters that mean #mean the actual world to me #aren’t out here showing undeniable love and devotion to each other #heartbreak aside all I can focus on is The Confession #and how three weeks later I catch myself going ‘shit that’s real’ it ain’t subtext or fanfic it’s RIGHT. THERE.#alright goodnight I didn’t get to talk about Good Omens all day so y’all wonderful beings get unhinged tag rants #tomorrow I’ll be better #(I’m lying)#neil gaiman

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shooks-stupid-stuff · 5 months

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part of me really misses running an ask blog

emphasis on both 'part' and 'ask'

#maybe on day i'll talk about mye Dark and Hidden Past on here #for the like 2 people who didn't just. follow me from that i mean chvcjhv #still. it was fun lol #im kinda doing something similar now but ehhh it's less ask-focused more character writing focused if you catch my drift #...anyways im getting distracted from essay again cjhvcjv ok sorry bye lol-

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iloveyoumorethansoup · 2 years

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Man it’s so annoying that I like my job bc the job itself is like fine or whatever but I really do love the people

#not to get on tumblr everyday to post about my job and type out this tag like every day but here we r again #like my friend and I went out for ice cream after work and I drive her home every night and it’s so fun #like I’ll keep in touch with her I’m not worried about falling out of contact with her #but like. she is the only person who I talk to outside of work #and like a lot of my coworkers who I really like r like. definitely in their 60s. I’m not gonna be like omg bestie what’s ur snap?#first of all I don’t use Snapchat second of all I am not that friendly third of all like. what would I even have to say #i am a terrible texter. i have nothing to say ever. I don’t know why but I am just so very boring to text I’ve got nothing to say #but yeah I’m sad that I’m gonna miss these people #my last day is the 19th :(#i am a little curious if they’ll do anything bc they usually host little goodbye parties for people who leave #and I am well liked. I’m gonna be so sad when I leave #I’ll be back every few weeks like hi you missed me a ton right? I’m here for the weekend. yes I do live across the country. don’t even worry #i have 2 favorite people there. ones my friend who I talk to a lot and the other is one of the waitresses but I won’t probably talk to her #which means like I’m gonna definitely miss her a ton and she’s already made a few comments like oh I’m gonna miss you so much when you leave #like man. catch me crying on my last day #god this is why I can’t deal with people being so nice to me bc then I’m gonna miss them!! like come on say one hurtful thing please #well actually no I think I’m sad enough as is but like. some people r just so nice. and it’s like bestie please I’m getting attached #soup talks

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dreamofbecoming · 7 months

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#i have a once a week seminar class that i’ve missed 2/3 sessions of so far #just purely based on shitty luck and 2 wednesdays in a row being migraine days #yesterday i was finally ready to show up and eat whatever crow was necessary #i was even waiting around for the prof’s office hours before class to start catching up #but he canceled class at the last minute #so i emailed him to ask if office hours were canceled too (they were)#and we set up a zoom meeting for this afternoon #he emailed me the link and the time last night at like 10pm #and i replied to the email confirming but i guess it didn’t send and i didn’t notice??#so he never got my confirmation #but i’ve been waiting in this zoom meeting for almost half an hour (it started 15 minutes ago) and he’s still not here #i emailed him twice checking in and nothing #i really need to touch base with him about the material i’ve missed #do i just keep waiting?#do i suck it up and hope i can figure out how to jump back in on my own??#i hate this i hate school i hate being a grown up #personal #update he emailed me back he thought it was canceled bc i never confirmed #just finished talking to him and he’s way more chill abt this class than me #so i’m not actually that behind and he isn’t worried so it’s fine everything’s fine #going to sleep for 2 days now

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nanaslutt · 3 months

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when they catch you masturbating

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso

cont: masturbation, voyeurism, jerking off, sex toys, perv!behavior, teasing, sexual tension, jealousy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, established relationships in all but Toji's (fuckbuddy Toji)

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

You held the purple vibrator against your clit while you stuck two fingers inside of yourself, moving them in and out shallowly from the awkward angle. Your arms weren't quite long enough to allow your fingers to go in past the first knuckle, making you incredibly frustrated as you knew your sweet spot was just a couple more millimeters inside. If Gojo was here this would be no problem, but unfortunately, Yaga had sent him away on a mission, leaving you to deal with your little problem alone.

"F-fuck." You grit in annoyance, canting your hips towards your hand as you try to force your fingers deeper inside you, to no avail. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the vibrator buzzing against your clit as you pulled your fingers out from inside yourself, as all they were doing was taking the focus away from your pleasure and onto the frustration of not having Gojo's freakishly large fingers at your aid.

Slipping your hand under Gojo's shirt you were wearing, you pinched at your nipple, trying to pleasure yourself more so you would be able to cum. You tried holding your breath, as you knew that sometimes worked in aiding you to finish faster, but nothing was working. Gojo had successfully ruined your body, you were officially unable to cum without his aid.

"Fuck... C'mon..." You groaned, squeezing your eyes together harder as you tried to focus on the pleasure, but the frustration and annoyance were now on the forefront of your brain, blocking your pleasure. Groaning in frustration, you flipped your body over so your face was pressed against the sheets and your ass was in the air, legs spread.

With one hand, you reached behind your ass and tried to finger yourself that way while you pressed the vibrator against your clit again, but once again, the angle was too awkward, and your fingers were just too short. You tried to imagine Gojo teasing his tip against your tight little hole as he often did, while he rolled your clit between his fingers.

"Fuck... Satoru please..." You whimpered, pushing your hips back against your hand, making your fingers breach the tight ring of your cunt. A jolt of electricity shocked down your body, your imagination was putting in work as you really started to get into the fantasy of Gojo teasing you. "F-fuuck put it in, give it to me, please..." Just when you started feeling like you were getting close to something, you heard a loud 'tsk' from the doorway.

Snapping out of your fantasy, you scrambled to turn around, pulling Gojo's shirt between your legs to cover yourself as the vibrator lay forgotten next to you, buzzing against the sheets. Your adrenaline calmed down when your eyes found the assailant's face, your fear instead being replaced with embarrassment and shock and Satoru stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a scowel on his face. Although he looked upset, you could very clearly see the massive boner he was sporting through his Jujutsu High slacks.

"What are you using some toy for when you have me? You're really so impatient you couldn't wait 2 days?" Satoru tsked, his pout becoming more prominent. "I tried to be quick too... can't believe I got replaced by some fuckin' toy." Your heart raced in your chest, you couldn't tell if he was really mad or just playing around. Satoru did make it clear that you would never need to masturbate alone again because you had him, so it made sense why he would be upset about the toy.

"Y-you.. what are you doing here?" You asked, your hands curling into fists in the shirt, balling up the fabric as you kept your pussy covered. Gojo huffed before uncrossing his arms and started walking toward you. "You sound so guilty right now. Asking me what I'm doing in my own girlfriend's house after she gets caught fucking some toy." Satoru spit, his face more serious than you've ever seen it before.

Walking quickly up to the side of the bed where you sat, he gripped your chin and looked at your face, his impressive eyes not missing the dried tear stains on your cheek, his ego instantly taking a hit. "Oh! and it was so good it made you cry tears of joy?? You might as well kill me now." Gojo said dramatically, bringing your face closer to his as he inspected you more. "How many times did you cum on that toy, huh? More than me? You like it better than me?" Gojo said, his displeasure being very evident in every single one of his actions.

You had tried to avert your eyes at first, but when you heard him say those words and picked up on the authentic jealousy in his voice, you brought your gaze back to him, looking at him in the eyes as you gripped his wrist, preventing him from manhandling your face around anymore. "N-no no I-" You swallowed hard, preparing yourself to rid any confusion as to why you were crying. "Satoru I... I couldn't cum. I- don't think I can... cum without you." You said, your confidence seeping away as he stared at you intensely, hanging onto your every word.

His eyebrows raised in surprise at your confession as he studied your face before he dropped his eyes to examine the rest of your body. Judging by your sweat-slicked body and your still-steady legs, he could tell you were telling the truth. After you had cum your voice and body were usually far more unstable, shaking and trembling from the force of your orgasms. His jealousy washed away in an instant as his hands cupped your face more gently than his hand had grabbed your chin.

You scrunched your eyebrows and averted his eyes, looking anywhere but his face as he gazed at you with a smirk. "So... you were crying because you were frustrated right?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. When you didn't respond, he continued, "Bet your little fingers couldn't hit that spot inside you that you love so much, huh? Made you cry cos you wanted it so bad?" Gojo teased, making your face heat up in embarrassment.

You almost preferred when he was jealous, at least he wouldn't be so teasing and cocky right now. Maybe you shouldn't have told him you couldn't cum without him, you knew damn well it was going all to his ego. As if that needed to get any bigger. "Fuck... that's so cute. You're such a crybaby." Gojo giggled, finally making your eyes lock onto his at the degrading name. You pouted at him, a look of embarrassment and disdain on your face.

"Aw, what's wrong? You mad at me?" He teased, caressing your face before he pulled away, putting his hands on his hips as he created some distance between the two of you. "I guess I should leave you alone then right? Give you some space?" He teased, starting to turn his body to the side. Quickly your arms shot out to grab him, the shirt riding up your body a bit and exposing a sliver of your bare pussy as you had to lean forward a bit to stop him.

You looked at him with pleading eyes, your eyes glossy as you felt the intense throbbing resume between your legs. He couldn't just leave you like this, you needed to cum, and you couldn't do it without him. Putting your pride aside, you begged him, "P-please don't go." Making him turn on his heels and take your face back in his hands, your eyes locked on one another's as you gripped the hem of his pants, absentmindedly dipping your fingers into the band and teasing the trimmed hair of his happy trail on his lower abdomen.

Gojo licked his lips as he leaned close to you, his knee resting on the bed as he ever so slowly crawled on top of you, his eyes never once leaving yours. "No? Why? Why don't you want me to leave you, pretty? Thought you were mad at me?" He asked, slotting a leg between yours, his knee pressing against where you needed him the most, making you gasp against his lips.

One of his hands reached between the two of you to aid you in taking off his pants as you squeezed your thighs around his leg that pressed between yours. "Need you, Toru." You whined, trying to press your lips together, but Gojo kept the distance, teasing you as he successfully undid his pants, your hands resting on the small of his waist, under his shirt, and teasing directly against his soft skin as he pulled his hard cock out from the confines of his slacks and boxers.

You attempted to look down at his cock but his hand stopped you as he grabbed your chin again and made your eyes stay on his. "What do you need? I won't know if you don't tell me." Gojo teased, beginning to rut his hips against you, his cock rubbing against your inner thigh that was pressed tightly around his leg between yours.

You released a shaky breath from between your lips before you spoke, your words full of need, "Your cock Toru, fuck me with your cock." You whispered agaisnt his lips, making the smile dissipate from his face, a more primal look of need replaced on his face as his cock dripped against your thigh. Pulling his leg away from your cunt, he used his hand to wrap one of your legs around his waist, silently signally you to follow suit with the other as your bodies were now flush with one another, his raw dick teasing your folds.

"Do I need to stretch you out or did you do that part for me?" Gojo asked impatiently, his fat tip prodding at your entrance as he spoke, his lips now just grazing yours, only a hair's distance from connecting with your own. "I did it, I'm ready for you, just please, fuck me." Gojo wasted no time in thrusting against you, a gasp leaving both of your lips as he forced his cock fully inside, his balls flush against your ass. He faced little resistance when he penetrated you, a tell of just how long you had been trying to make yourself cum.

Gojo stayed still, allowing you to adjust to his size as his lips met with yours in a sloppy and hasty kiss full of teeth, tongue, and raw need. "Better make up for cheating on me by squirting on my cock." Gojo whispered against your lips childishly, making you shake your head at his usual antics before you connected your lips again, pulling back to whisper a "Yes sir." Before he started up a brutal pace, his cock abusing your g-spot just like you had been trying to do all night.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Geto:

"M-mmmph- ahhh-" Your moans echoed throughout the house and mixed with the ones coming through the speakers as you sat on the couch with your favorite dildo and fucked yourself as some porno played on the TV. You laid sideways along the couch on your back, legs spread as you held one of your legs up for support, the other one doing the work between your legs.

You had picked a video of a man eating a girl out, the man's face obstructed as the camera was angled more towards the side. You purposefully had chosen a man who slightly resembled Geto in some way, as the man had a similar build and black hair, only it was shorter than Geto's. You tried to imagine the fingers pistoning in and out of the girl were Geto's, and you were the girl in the video, and you pulled the dildo in and out of your cunt, loud squelching noises bouncing off the walls.

You were too enthralled in your own little world that you hadn't noticed the sound of someone unlocking your front door with a spare key, as you focused on the screen in front of you. The second Geto stepped inside your house, a bag of soup and medicine in hand, he was met with the back of the couch and the TV front and center, playing the porno in 4k quality for his eyes to feast upon.

His eyebrows raised in surprise and he felt his pants tighten as he watched the man on the screen devour some girl's pussy. Silently walking over to the kitchen behind the sofa, he placed the bag down on the counter and snuck up behind you, placing his hands on the back of the couch as he looked down at you, watching you fuck yourself with a smirk on his face.

Your head was completely turned towards the screen, so it made sense that you hadn't noticed him. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head so you were facing the ceiling as you imagined Geto touching you instead of the stupid silicone. Suguru reached down and groped himself as he watched you get off, his cock already fully hard and throbbing in his pants.

He heard from Shoko you had called off work today because you were feeling sick, but as he stood over you now, he could see clear as day that you were completely fine. "A sick day huh?" Geto asked, making your eyes shoot open in surprise as his voice reached your ears. Your heart was racing out of your chest as you jumped back, your body almost falling off the couch. You had ripped the toy out of your cunt, leaving you to pulse around nothing as you gasped up at the giggling man before you.

"Suguru what the fuck!! W-when did you get in!?" You yelled, your body relaxing back against the couch when you finally realized it was him. You covered your chest with your hands, crossing your legs together in tandem as you tried to cover yourself, scrunching your body slightly up on the couch as his laughing sounded more distant as he made his way around the couch.

The porno still played loudly in the backround, making your face heat up in embarrassment at the revelation. The couch dipped behind your head before Geto picked up your head and scooted toward you, placing your head on his lap, looking down at you. "Shoko said you were sick." He said running his fingers through your sweaty hair as he explained, his hard cock still twitching for attention in his pants, right behind where your head rested.

"I brought you some medicine and soup." He explained, making you dodge his eyes as you felt guilty for making him come all this way. "But seeing you now it looks like you're fine, Shoko will be relieved." He giggled. You placed your hands over your face, blocking his cocky expression from view as you groaned. "You will not tell Shoko a word." You said, making a point to emphasize the last word. "I really wasn't feeling good this morning." You added, mumbling the words in embarrassment.

"Awww..." Geto cooed, petting your hair. He had started to rub himself over his pants again, using your hands that were covering your face for an in. "Touching yourself make you feel better?" He asked, applying extra pressure to his tip. You peeled your fingers apart, looking up at him through the cracks before nodding. "Haha, yeah, looks like you were feeling good before I interrupted you." He smiled before looking up at the TV at the perfect time, the girl on the screen had just squirted all over the man's face and he was continuing to fuck her through it, wanting to pull another orgasm out of her.

"This shit is hot baby. Good choice." Geto praised, acting so nonchalant about the whole situation. You were about to speak before you felt something slap against your head, making you freeze up. You knew exactly what that feeling was. Tilting your head back so your vision was upside down, you became face to face with Geto's erect cock as he was stroking it slowly, looking down at you once more.

"S-suguru are you-" You gasped, laying your head back down like normal as you squeezed your legs together again at his shameless show of arousal. You scrunched your face when Geto smacked his cock against your head again, his tip hitting your forehead. "Why don't you touch yourself again too?" He suggested, smirking at you. "Pick up your toy and fuck yourself with me."

Your whole body felt like it had been set on fire. It had been maybe ten minutes since Suguru got here and he was already suggesting you masturbate to porn together? You and your body seemed to be on the same track, the idea was hot and you could already feel yourself growing wet at the idea of getting off with him. "R-really?" You ask, swallowing hard before you uncross your legs and reach for the previously discarded dildo.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Geto asked, smirking as he jerked himself off, his breathing starting to pick up. Although you couldn't see him playing with himself, you could feel him, his movements were shaking your head and turning you on even more from how fast he seemed to already be jerking himself off. "C'mon don't leave me hangin'" He smiled, ruffling your hair.

You shook your head before spreading your legs adequately and realigning the toy with your pussy. Geto watched with a slacked jaw as you pushed the Dildo inside you, your cunt greedily swallowing up the toy. "Gooood girl." Geto cooed, his hand working faster on himself as he smiled, his jaw still open as he watched you, breathing heavily. "Fuck yourself how I fuck you, pretend it's my cock in your tight little pussy right now." He groaned, ignoring the porno completely as you resumed your previous pace, thrusting the toy in and out of you.

Although Geto could just fuck you right now, building up the tension like this made him unreasonably horny. He would fuck you of course, but later, after the both of you had cum from masturbating with the other. "Harder baby, I fuck you harder than that don't I?" He grit through his teeth, his eyes darting back and forth between your cunt and your fucked out face. "Y-yes Sugu, yes-" You reply, looking up at him as you listened to him, fucking yourself harder, making your moans louder and louder.

"Yeah that's it, you look so fucking pretty." Geto cooed, shaking his head as his hand slid from your head down to your tits to massage them and play with your neglected nipples. "I'm so fucking glad you called outta work today," Geto smirked, making you smile before he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nanami:

You spread your legs open as you lay comfortably on top of you and your husband Kento's comforter, your hand between your legs, your fingers working on your clit. You had your phone open and lying next to you, your eyes glued to the photo that took up the screen. It was Nanami.

Kento was at work and would be home soon, so you had plenty of time to secretly divulge in the picture he had just sent you from Jujutsu High. Nanami held his phone in the middle of his chest, his eyes looking down at the screen, as he held his shirt up, exposing his abs, dripping with sweat. The caption underneath the picture read, "Just finished training with the kids." Although his words seemed as if he had no idea what kind of effect the picture would have on you, he sent you that on purpose, knowing it would drive you crazy.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you rubbed small and quick circles over your clit, getting off to the handsome picture of your husband, wishing he were home already. It felt foreign to touch yourself like this, you hadn't needed to masturbate alone since you got with Nanami, and he rarely went on missions for longer than a few days, so you never had to resort to using your own fingers, but Nanami was full of suprises and loved to tease you like this seemingly out of the blue.

Cursing under your breath, you tried to keep quiet as you touched yourself, feeling like you shouldn't be doing this without him here. Your worries would all be for naught soon, as Nanami opened the front door and set his bags on the table, calling out for you. You couldn't hear him over your own panting, as he called out to you from the living room.

Nanami knew you were home as he just got done speaking to you moments prior. He has just told you he wouldn't be home till his usual time, but he was actually already on the train when he sent you that, wanting to surprise you. Little did he know, he was going to be the one in for a surprise. "Ngh-" Nanami could hear a whimper echo through the house coming from your bedroom, making Kento freeze in place as he removed his jacket, pausing briefly before placing it on the back of a kitchen chair.

Nanami opted to not call out for you and decided to make his way to the bedroom. As he inched closer and closer to your shared room, the noises got louder. First, it was the squelching, followed by your occasional moans and huffs as you tried to keep your voice down. Nanami was cautious as he approached the room when he saw the door cracked slightly open. "F-fuck, K-Kento." You moaned sweetly, making him freeze in his tracks a couple of feet away from the door, his cock hardening in his pants.

Nanami bit his lip and walked right up to the door, listening for a moment. He could hear the squelching of your wet pussy clear as day, your choked moans, and the sheets moving underneath you as you jolted in pleasure atop the sheets. Nanami grabbed his cock through his slacks, slowly rubbing himself as he listened to you masturbate.

He felt like a pervert, even though you were the one getting off. Kento so desperately wanted to watch you touch yourself through the little crack in the door, but the bed faced the doorway, and he didn't want to get caught peeving or scare you in any way, so he opted to let his other senses take in what you were doing just behind the door.

Kento rubbed his cock through his slacks for a moment longer, before he decided to announce his presence. Nanami wasn't one to burst in so rudely, so he decided to play coy as he cleared his breath before he called out to you, his shoulder touching the door, making it wobble a bit. "Honey?" He spoke, making your heartbeat pick up, your legs clamping around your hand as your husband's expected voice echoed in your ears. "K-Kento?" You asked, sitting up and pulling your panties back over your cunt.

"Sorry If I scared you." He said, keeping his voice steady as he stared at the floor. "I wanted to surprise you, I didn't mean to... interrupt you." HE continued, making your face heat up. Your heart beat loudly in your ears as you panted, struggling to catch your breath from the intense arousal you felt. "I heard you call for me. I was going to leave you alone, but I wanted to make sure you were okay." Nanami said, masking his voice with faux worry as his cock steadily filled out in his pants.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, you had a feeling Nanami knew you were touching yourself from his verbiage, which made you feel embarrassed, so you took a moment to let your heart calm down before you spoke. "I uh... I'm not okay." You replied, making Nanami raise his eyebrows from the other side of the door, not daring to move just yet. "Oh? Are you hurt?" He asked, teasingly, keeping the faux concern in his voice.

You spread your legs slowly once more, beginning to rub your clit in small circles again as you replied, "No... but I could use your help with something. After all, I'm in a situation you created." You said, pouting as you rubbed your clit faster, your breath picking up. "In a situation I created? I apologize." He responded, rubbing himself as he spoke, sensing the growing tension. "Care to tell me what I did?"

Your breath hitched as you tried to hold back your moans and keep your voice steady enough to speak. The tension you were feeling was insane. Nanami wasn't dense in the slightest, and he knew you like the back of his hand, he knew what you were doing, and he knew damn well what caused this little 'situation.' Wiggling your hips against your fingers, you spoke, "You sent me a picture of your body like it was nothing." You replied, making Nanami silently nod behind the door, his hand rubbing harder over his cock.

"Your abs dripping with sweat." You said, your voice sounding more desperate are your gasps and whines started coming out more frequently, mixing with your words, "I c-could see your cock through your pants too... 'nd your happy trail..." You said, tipping your head back as you squeezed your eyes shut, recalling the picture since your phone screen had turned black who knows how long ago from the lack of attention.

Nanami's own breath started picking up in his chest as your words went straight to his cock. "Did I rile you up, baby?" He asked, his arousal showing in his deep voice as he spoke. "Mhm..." You responded, feeling yourself grow close to your orgasm already with the help of Nanami's teasing and the tone of his sexy, deep voice.

"I'm sorry honey, just wanted to send my wife a nice picture. Didn't mean to get you all worked up." He lied through his teeth, undoing his belt with a loud clack from the buckle that your ears most certainly didn't miss. "You really didn't mean to?" You replied, sliding your fingers down to your entrance to tease yourself. Nanami let his belt fall heavily against the floor with a clang as he reached into his pants and started stroking his cock directly, not pulling it out just yet.

He nodded even though you couldn't see him, before giving a verbal response. "Come show me how sorry you are before I cum all over my fingers. Hurry." You cried, tapping your fingers against your entrance and creating soft 'plp' sounds as you spoke. Nanami wasted no time in opening the door and walking towards your direction, his eyes taking in your sprawled-out form in front of him.

He saw how your cunt glistened under the lights from how wet you were, some of your wetness starting to trickle down your thighs, and some sticking to the tips of a few of your fingers, making his mouth water.

His pants were unzipped and you could see the bottom of his shaft as his boner created a tent in his pants, a wet patch forming right under the zipper from all the pre-cum he was leaking. You sat up and placed your hands by your sides as Nanami crawled on top of you, connecting your lips together as he pushed you back on the bed, your bodies laying flush together.

"Did it feel good touching yourself to a picture of me?" Nanami gasped against your lips, making you moan in retaliation for his teasing while you nodded. Nanami pressed his partially clothed cock against your bare cunt, grinding against you. The neat hair of his happy trail tickled your skin as he humped his hips forward, creating the most delicious friction against your cunt. "I bet it did, could see how wet you are from the doorway." He spoke huskily between kisses, groaning each time he rolled his hips into yours.

"M-my fingers don't feel as good as yours though." You complained, whining against his lips, making him hum against you. "Why settle for less than, hm?" He asked, pulling his lips back a bit as he kept his eyes on you while he slid a hand between your bodies, his fingers making contact with your clit and rubbing agaisnt them. You gasped, your jaw falling open in a small O that Nanami mimicked as he spelled his name across it with his fingers. "Next time, wait for me." He replied before connecting your lips again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Toji:

Your face was buried in the sheets as you reached a hand underneath you and fingerfucked yourself hurriedly, loud squelches sounding from your cunt. "A-ahhh- hah-" You moaned as the pads of your fingers rubbed at your g-spot, making you see stars behind your eyes.

You usually met up with your fuckbuddy, Toji, on Fridays, but he had texted you earlier with a quick message that read, "Sorry angel face, can't come over tonight." To which you groaned into your pillows. You were ovulating this week which made it the perfect week to fuck Toji, as you felt like you were in heat, and have been feeling so for the past three days. You decided not to touch yourself and instead wait till Friday so Toji could fuck you so good, as he always did, and make you cum ten times as hard from you holding out for so long.

Unfortunately for you though, all your waiting had been for naught as Toji canceled on you last minute, giving you no time to even go out and find someone else to satisfy you. In the end, you ended up deciding to get off yourself like you'd done thousands of times previously before you had got entangled with Toji. It was proving to be quite difficult to get yourself though, as your fingers were nowhere even close to as thick and long as Toji's fingers or cock, meaning you had to work a little harder for your ogasm.

You had started off using your rose toy, but nothing seemed to be going right tonight as it died on you halfway through. To make matters worse, you couldn't even find your trust dildo that had done wonders in the past. Only after ten or so minutes of searching while trying to ignore the heat in your tummy and the throbbing of your pussy, you realized you were so ecstatic after you met Toji a year ago, that you had thrown it out, saying you would never need it again now that you had him, dumb girl.

You had to angle your body in an almost uncomfortable position as you fucked yourself, trying to poke your g-spot just right to make yourself cum. Admittedly it did feel good, but the building-up process was taking a while, and all you wanted to do was cum for fucks sake.

In the other room, your window slid open from the outside, and in came a large man dressed in all black, baggy black sweats, and a black compression t-shirt. Shutting the window behind him, he took in the state of your apartment and noticed how only one lamp in the living room was on. Toji ran a large hand through his hair, he had only texted you an hour ago canceling your plans, had you already gone to sleep in that amount of time?

Toji thought the job he got assigned to would take longer, which is why he had canceled his plans with you, but it had been called off when Shiu, the man who gave him his assignments, told him the man he was supposed to take out was just found dead inside some club surrounded by a ton of drugs. Although he was annoyed about the loss of money, he knew you would cheer him up, which led him right to you.

He was about to give up on his plan to surprise you after he thought you were asleep when he heard a loud gasp coming from your bedroom, making a mischievous smile spread across his features. Taking almost silent steps to your bedroom, Toji was relieved to see you were most definitely awake, and had left your bedroom wide open as you participated in your 'awake activities.'

He stood with his hands in his pants in the doorway as you got yourself off, your face twisted in pleasure as it seemed like you had hit the spot you had been trying to for however long now. Toji smirked in amusement as he watched his girl get off on her bed, moaning loudly and shamelessly into her bedroom. At least he knew you weren't lying when you screamed each time he fucked you, you really were just this loud. He ignored his own hardening cock as he watched you, licking his lips occasionally when a drop of your slick dripped down the back of your thighs.

Your fingers were collecting a ring of your cum at the base of them, making Toji's mouth water as he watched the show you were putting on. He noticed your arm slow down and grow shaky the longer it went on, accompanied by your annoyed groans and whines. "Fucking.... ugh- bastard.." You groaned, sliding your wet fingers out of your cunt before your arm cramped up. You had found and lost your sweet spot just as quickly, making your body fall limply in defeat against the sheets as you stared at your wall, facing away from Toji who unbeknownst to you, stood in your doorway as you seriously considered going to bed horny and unsatisfied.

Toji smirked at your defeat before he tipped his head against your doorframe, making a dull knocking sound before he spoke, "Who's a bastard?" He asked. You screamed, all of the strength returning to your body as you jolted around, half-naked, and ready to take whoever had snuck into your home. Your rapid breathing completely paused and your face softened for only half a second when you realized the intruder was Toji.

He smiles and catches the pillow you attempt to throw at him with ease, his muscles bulging under his shirt as he tosses it back on the bed next to you. "You fucking- how long have you been there?!" You yelled, feeling your face grow hot at the possibility of Toji watching you masturbate for an extended period of time without your knowledge. "Oh, I dunno..." He spoke, pretending to stroke his chin in thought before he answered, "A few minutes."

You licked your lips before you pursed them, nodding dramatically as you took in his words. "Oh okay!" You said cheerfully before you deadpanned, "Get out." Toji laughed before he pulled his hands out from his pockets, slowly walking toward you. "Toji, ouutttt, go back through whatever window you came in I mean-" Your words were cut off by Toji's large hand gripping the bottom half of your face, successfully covering your mouth.

You scrunched your eyebrows in annoyance as your hands gripped his wrist tightly, your eyes looking into his challengingly. "I just watched you struggle on your own pathetic fingers for five minutes, and judging by the sweat stains on the bed, I'm guessing you've been tryna' get 'urself off for a while now haven't you?" He asked, tilting his head at you knowingly.

You wanted to smack him, to spit in his face. He had canceled your plans, broken into your house, secretly watched you masturbate like a pervert, and now he was trying to tell you how it is? It's not like he was wrong in his guess, but that only made you that more angry. "Haven't you?" Toji repeated his question, raising his eyebrows at you, obviously looking for a response.

Toji had you trained well. Despite your annoyance, you averted your eyes and nodded, instantly losing the battle of dominance with him, to no one's surprise. "So why would I leave? Cos 'ur mad I caught you touchin' 'urself?" He asked, smirking as he looked at you incredulously. You swore you could feel smoke coming from the top of your head from how annoyed you were, but Toji got his way, and you knew that.

"Neither of us realllly want that? Do we? You just got a big fuckin' ego 'n don't wanna admit you need me." Toji spoke, seeing right through you. Gripping his wrist you pulled his hand off of your mouth, the man allowing you to move him as long as his hand got to stay on you some way, resulting in him resting his hand weakly on your neck. "Just fuck me already, we both know you're gonna do it anyways." You replied, pretending you were more annoyed than you were as you felt yourself throb harshly between your legs.

"Good girl, just stop thinkin' when 'ur with me, I know what's good for you." Toji responded, making you roll your eyes in annoyance when internally you felt like he just ignited a fire deep within you. Toji's hand squeezed around your neck as he leaned in and pinned you against the bed, his large knee slotting between your legs and pressing right against your little clit, giving you just the right amount of stimulation you needed.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Choso:

"O-ohhhh fuck-" You groaned, your rose toy pressed snuggly around your clit, the suction making your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head as you got off on top of your sheets, your playlist playing in the backround. You were imagining your boyfriend, Choso between your thighs instead of the toy, but unfortunately, his brother had pulled him away to do some shopping, meaning when you got all worked up out of nowhere, you had to take care of matters yourself.

It had been so long since you used this toy, or got off by yourself in general since you had been with Choso, but it still felt so fucking good. Not nearly as good as Choso made you feel, but the pleasure of your clit being sucked by the toy would have to do for now. You would make sure not to tire yourself out too much on your own, as you wanted to reenact some of the fantasies you were creating in your head with Choso later that night.

Rolling your hips against the toy, you did your best to keep your legs spread open as badly as they wanted to snap shut at the stimulation. Your stomach clenched and your body jolted forward each time you pressed it harder against you before pulling back, teasing yourself.

Even though the door to your bedroom was halfway open, you neglected to hear the sound of your front door opening and closing over your moans and the music playing next to your head on the dresser. Choso sighed as he placed the bags down on the ground by the table, exhausted after such a long day of shopping with Yuuji. He was just about to call out for you, when your moans were immediately picked up by his ears.

His head shot up, his ears practically twitching as he listened to your noises, which sounded suspiciously like the ones you made when he fucked you or touched you in any intimate way. Marching your way without a second thought, wondering why you were making those noises when he wasn't home, he stopped behind the wall when your bedroom came into his view.

Choso squinted as he got a full view of your naked body from the half-open door. He tried to make out what the red ball you were holding between your legs was. All he knew was that he didn't like it. Although his cock twitched as he watched your body react in the same way it did when he touched you, he was upset and confused at why you were doing it with something else, and what was causing you to do it.

Creeping closer, Choso stayed close to the walls to avoid being seen. Once he felt like he was close enough and could clearly see your face along with the thing you were holding between your legs, he stopped and observed you. His dick dripped pre-cum into his boxers as he tried to figure out what you were holding. You were pressing it against you in the same spot you pressed his head against while he ate you out, using this deduction he could tell it was touching your clit, which is why you were reacting so strongly.

"C-choso fuck-" He froze in place when you moaned his name. Your eyes were squeezed shut, there was absolutely no way he had been found out. So instead of exposing himself, he stayed still, watching. "Fuck- C-choso I'm cumming, I'm gonna cum" You whined, moaning his name repeatedly as you worked yourself closer and closer to your orgasm. Choso watched with bated breath as the thing buzzing between your legs made you cum the same way he made you cum.

You kept the red thing against your clit as you came, making his eyebrows furral with arousal. Your jaw dropped open in a silent scream before stuttered moans fell freely from between your lips, your thighs pressing together as your body jolted forward as you were wracked with tremors. Choso felt a wave of anger and jealousy swirl through him as he watched you. Of course, his arousal was very strong as well, but he couldn't wrap his head around why you were doing that.

When you peeled your eyes open and shut off the toy, your eyes locked onto Choso's face, whose eyebrows raised in surprise as he darted back, pressing his back against the wall and out of view once he had been caught. Your heart was still racing from your orgasm and had spiked for a moment upon seeing him before you realized it was actually just him. "C-choso? What are you doing home? And why are you hiding?" You asked, pulling a throw blanket over your body as you spoke, trying to regain some of your dignity.

You didn't mind much that Choso had been watching you, but you were curious why he hadn't said anything and ran away when he got caught. Choso's heart was racing, he felt guilty for some reason, but also embarrassed. He was experiencing too many strong emotions right now, it was overwhelming.

After a couple of seconds of no response, you shook your head and cracked a smile. "Choso come here. I'm not mad." You assured in case that's why he was being so shy. You guessed you got his feelings somewhat right as he slowly emerged from around the corner, his hands in front of his crotch in a poor attempt to cover his massive boner. You were about to speak again when Choso cut you off, speaking first.

"What was that?" he asked, his words coming out blunt. Your jaw dropped before it closed as you reached over and picked up the toy, holding it up as you looked at him for confirmation. When he nodded curtly, a deadpan look on his face, you replied, "It's a sex toy." Choso felt his heart race at your words. A 'sex toy?' so you were having sex with someone or something that wasn't him? "Why were you using that?" He asked, once again his tone coming out plain and hard to read.

"Well... It's easier to cum with this than if I use my fingers." You explain, leaving out the reason why was because Choso had ruined your body forever, and could only cum with him so you needed a little extra help when he was away. "No." He replied, shaking his head, "I mean why are you doing that at all? You have me." He said cutely, making you smile.

"Choso, you weren't home. I just got... y'know..." You said vaguely as you figured he knew what you meant. "I..." Choso started, looking at his feet before he looked back at you, a determined look on his face. "I don't want you doing that with anyone but me. I don't like it." He said honestly, making your heart skip a beat.

You felt instantly refreshed, ready to go another round if he was ready for you. His unexpected possesiveness especially coming from some toy made you feel hot all over. "I can't even touch myself?" You asked, a smile still on your face. Choso shook his head, his hands curling around one another harshly as he kept his hands blocking his crotch.

"You have me, you don't need to do that." He said, swallowing hard. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the confession, his eyebrows furrowing in disdain as he looked over to the toy you had set back down on the bed. "Okay Cho, I won't cum unless you make me." You responded, happily abiding by his request. Finishing with him felt ten times better than it did yourself, so it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. After all, he looked so determined and adorable too, it was hard to deny him anything.

"So Cho... aren't you mad?" You asked, leaning back against the sheets, teasing him as you pulled the blanket off of your body. He was about to respond, letting you know he wasn't mad at you, before he caught onto your words. You were teasing him. He stayed silent, but he nodded as his greedy eyes took in your naked body, the way your legs spread and your tits spilled to the side as you laid back, inviting him to join you.

"Let me make it up to you Cho, fuck me, fuck me, and make me cum on your cock. Make me forget all about that stupid sex toy." Choso's cock twitched hard at your words, more precum spilling inside his boxers. He bit his lip as he inhaled sharply, releasing a shaky breath. "Yeah... yeah, okay." He responded before he crawled on the bed, pinning you down on the sheets.

He gasped as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing his hard cock to press agaisnt your bare cunt, still dripping from your previous orgasm. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you brought your lips against the shell of his ear and pressed a kiss there before you spoke, making him gasp, "What are you waiting for, hm? Make me feel sorry for cumming without you."

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inkskinned · 5 months

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it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

#writeblr #warm up #on gender politics lol #inkskinned try not to have feelings for someone challenge #time of death: they put my earring in their ear. they were wearing an unbuttoned black buttondown and a necklace with my name on it #you can just send me the coffin i was ready to crawl in

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trashbaget · 1 year

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#feeling UNFUCKINGWELL #UGH!!!!! yall—#the shit is just getting to me today #the horrors are winning right now and i’m really unhappy about it #i finally catch a goddamn break and live in 2 weeks of hopeful contentment and then #then bullshit #like honestly what the actual fuck #this has easily been the longest two days of my entire life #i went from #did i miss a goddamn meme or something?? bc those words just suggested sooooo many wackass tags i did not write lafheldks #gave me a much needed giggle #but still the horrors. they’re whelming.#here let me give yall the fuckin Details right #so i’m at work on saturday and i’m having a good time despite the fact i’m dead tired and exhausted and have to go grocery shopping when all #i want is to be at home. i go home feeling good because i’ve had a job for 2 weeks now after being turned down left and right and front and #back and sideways for eight fucking months. i’d just talked with a work friend (that’s right! i’d already made friends! i was feeling good!)#about getting more uniform shirts bc obviously i’m riding on this being a longterm thing. i text my boss the next morning asking if i could #get some more. hours later i find email notifications alerting me that she has wiped my hours from the schedule. i think it is odd and give #it a little time for her to add me new shifts bc she’d left one in. hours more pass and no response so i text her about it. i’d JUST had a #conversation with her a few days before about needed so many hours and not just 2 shifts so i was already like wtf?? and then. she has the #audacity to wait until 9pm to respond and this is what she says:#I am really sorry that I have to do this over text and I’m just sorry in general for the inconvenience after this weekend the owner has #out and told me that we might just not be the right fit for a job I’m really sorry I hate do this. I wish you nothing but the best and I #will let you know when your tips are ready and when your next paycheck will be in. —like????? wtf??? is this a shitty high school breakup??#first of all. this was just insurmountably unprofessional and inconsiderate. she gave me NO reasons and didn’t even really Say hey you’re #being let go and left it up to me to follow the clues like i’m in the fucking scooby doo gang??? and girlypop who the fuck do you think ur #playing with ‘your next paycheck’ shit?? THIS IS MY FIRST FUCKING ONE!! and no one ever explained to me when i was supposed to get it!! and #i got nothing but further confusing answers whenever i asked. so um. fuck this fucking place. good god. it’s just really really gross #i told her i want to have a talk with them about their excuses for firing me bc this is bullshit. still haven’t fucking heard about that.#except for a ‘yeah sure we can do that.’ like bitch. tell me when. give me something. ANYTHING. i am fucking cracking—

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il-miele-che-scrive · 3 months

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Go for his brother part 2

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

username1 DOUBLE BETRAYAL 😭

↳username2 wdym bro wtf Arthur is just getting his karma, he CHEATED on Y/n with her best friend

↳username2 and Y/n only got with his brother after the breakup

username3 It's so crazy to me how not long ago Y/n was with Arthur at Charles' race and we could see them all lovey dovey and now she's with Charles 💀

username4 I hope they actually like each other and it's not just something Y/n schemed to get back at Arthur

↳username5 And even if it is, so what? Both Leclercs deserve this if she's doing it for the sake of revenge

username4 What did Charles ever do to you 😭 he's a literal pookie

username6 I am BEGGING to find out Arthur's reaction

username7 I wanna see this on Drive To Survive lmao

↳username8 The most interesting thing in the whole season lol

username9 Exactly! Men driving in circles? Nah, fuck that, give me family drama

yourusername The Art & The Artist

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charles_leclerc I took way more than these 2 pictures, should post them all

↳yourusername some would get me banned🤭

username1 MY OH MY

username2 What did she say 😐

username3 I'm jealous but haven't decided if I want him or her

username4 Arthur better not read this comment section (I hope he will)

francisca.cgomes Thanks for blessing my eyes 🫶

↳yourusername You're welcome bestie🫶

username4 it's so nice to see Y/n found a friend who won't steal her bf

username5 You can't be sure, it's Charles Leclerc we're talking about. You think he wouldn't go for his best friends' girlfriend who is now his own girlfriends' best friend after pulling what he's just pulled?

username4 ngl girl I got lost in whatever you're saying

yoursister In your iconic girl era ❤️

↳yourusername I slayed didn't I 💅

username6 Honestly guys I believe it's not just a revenge scheme

↳username5 What makes you think that?

username6 Given these pictures and the pictures from the gossip page they look pretty much happy to me, too happy for it to be fake

username5 Whatever you say, we'll see. They have to get tired of pretending one day

exbestfriend Glowing ✨🩷

↳yourusername 😐

↳francisca.cgomes 😐

↳yoursister 😐

↳charles_leclerc 😐

↳pierregasly 😐

↳georgerussell63 😐

↳carmenmmundt 😐

↳alex_albon 😐

↳lilymhe 😐

username7 Y/N AND HER COMMENT SECTION ARE ICONIC 😭

↳username8 I can't stop imagining them having a gc and she sent a screenshot of her ex best friend's comment like "you know what to do, guys" 🤣

username9 I just know Arthur is screaming crying throwing up because LOOK AT WHAT HE LOST

username10 Lol who's next? Toto Wolff?

arthur_leclerc My favorite love story is ours ❤️

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exbestfriend So happy we found each other ❤️❤️

username1 💀

username2 Alright they both have the audacity

username3 your love story is cheating on Y/n lmao

username4 Imagine they have a kid one day who'll ask mom dad how did you meet lol

↳username3 I'd be EMBARRASSED

username5 They deserve each other tbh

username6 Hey but... What if this pic and Y/n's pics were taken on the same day...

↳username7 wdym

username6 Arthur wanted to keep and eye on his ex and his brother from afar 😭

username7 it's terrible but possibly true lmao

exbestfriend I'm so sick of people judging us

↳username2 That's what you deserve, the both of you

↳username4 when actions have consequences:😮

yourusername Back at the paddock ❤️

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username1 At least she didn't downgrade right?

yoursister You guys look so good together

↳yourusername Thank you 🫶 ily

↳charles_leclerc Yes we do 😊

↳username2 Y/s/n never commented anything like this when Y/n used to post with Arthur😭

lilymhe It was nice catching up with you when the boys were playing

↳yourusername maybe next time you and Alex could come over so the boys can play some video games together

username3 Pls they're just two single mothers bonding over their toddlers being besties😭

username4 I NEED TO KNOW IF ARTHUR WAS THERE

↳username5 You crazy? Ofc he wouldn't have come, he's too scared of confrontation

username4 Okay but then what if one day Y/n and Charles get married? Will Arthur just skip his brother's wedding?

username5 I think some time will pass before Charles decides to settle down. And not with Y/n, that's for sure

username6 Why not? Y/n makes a much better couple with Charles than she did with Arthur

username5 Charles would never take her seriously lol she dated his brother, Charles is just having fun with her while letting her have her moment

arthur_leclerc Are you wearing the dress you wore on our first date?

↳username2 SHE'S WHAT?????

↳username3 wtf are u doing here

↳yourusername Maybe...

username4 Mother keeps slaying 😭👏

username7 I aspire to be like Y/n fr

alex_albon Lily said we should have a double date

↳yourusername Let's do it then @/lilymhe @/charles_leclerc when and where

arthur_leclerc I just wonder when will you get bored of this

↳yourusername Bored of what exactly? Going to races? You know I've always enjoyed looking at cars go vroooom

arthur_leclerc You know what I mean

arthur_leclerc Of pretending to like Charles just to prove me some delusional point

yourusername You really think I'd waste my energy on that? It's a funny coincidence indeed, but I do like him actually

arthur_leclerc Mhm sure I give you maybe 6 months more, can't keep pretending forever

charles_leclerc A family gathering & the morning after

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username1 OH GREAT HEAVENS

pierregasly Now that's something none of us expected

↳username2 bro speaking facts

username3 They said fuck you Arthur you'll get a proof we're not pretending😭

username4 Well at least the family already knew her

↳username5 Pascale liked Y/n so much she said girl you have my blessing no matter which one u marry

username3 Guys do you think Arthur was there? You know, it's a family gathering, so he had to be there, right?

alex_albon Charles settling down wasn't on my bingo card this year

↳lilymhe Neither was it on mine but I love it

francisca.cgomes Girl you realize there's no going back now? 😂

↳yourusername I hope so😜🫶

arthur_leclerc I still can't believe how disrespectful you both are

↳charles_leclerc Look who's speaking of being disrespectful

↳yourusername stfu arthur maman literally had to kick you out of the party

username3 The way it used to be "Thurthur" and now it's "stfu arthur" 😶

username2 at least the "maman" is the same right

username5 I feel like Pascale likes Y/n more than she likes Arthur

username7 wtf guys PASCALE HAD TO KICK ARTHUR OUT OF THE PARTY 😭😭

↳username8 That's crazy, imagine how's the wedding gonna look like

carlossainz55 Getting engaged after a few weeks? Is she pregnant?😂

↳username9 Not funny

username10 Chill that's just millennial humour from back when pregnancy outside marriage was a disgrace

↳charles_leclerc We've known each other long enough to make this decision 🫢

carlossainz55 Valid point

arthur_leclerc But for majority of this time she was my girlfriend

charles_leclerc On which you cheated

arthur_leclerc @/yourusername did you use me just to get to Charles? Was it your plan from the beginning?

↳yourusername Sure because I have nothing else to do lmao

↳yourusername We've talked about it yesterday arthur, don't start again

arthur_leclerc I just still can't believe Charles would do something like that to me

yourusername And half a year ago I believed you wouldn't have ever cheated on me

charles_leclerc I said it yesterday and I'll say it again, Arthur I will always love you as a brother, but you messed up big time, you can't be mad at us

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #Charles leclerc smau #arthur leclerc x reader #Arthur leclerc smau #Charles leclerc social media au #Arthur leclerc social media au

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appocalipse · 4 months

Text

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day.

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it.

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?"

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake.

You're late.

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve.

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words.

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely.

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."

You laugh.

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes. You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary.

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly.

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind.

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in.

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out.

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next.

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing.

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more.

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away.

What the hell was that?

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