#why is it so hard to find teachers dude what the fuck is this

[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #dimension 20 fhjy #dimension 20 fantasy high #d20 fantasy high #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #d20 spoilers #d20 fhjy #d20 #kristen applebees #figeroth faeth #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #somebody help these kids man #they're being failed by the system #words

[handful0fteeth]

hot for teacher

summary: you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, dirty talk, (slight) rough sex

words: 13.6k

EDIT (09/24/2023): i am not a “no beta we die like men” person, but this?? she was not up to my standards. so i fixed her! enjoy ya horny bastards

"You know I heard Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

This announcement from your best friend is enough to make you choke on the mouthful of sandwich you're chewing on and spew chunks of it all over the table.

You drop your food noisily back onto its plate and reach for your drink, struggling to breathe while there's still turkey and lettuce lodged in your esophagus. The diner's patrons ogle you as you attempt to collect yourself, some concerned, some plain annoyed.

"Christ, dude!" Kelsey laughs, leaning over the table and thumping you hard on your back. You wave her hand off and guide your straw into your mouth, desperately gulping down Coke with one hand pressed to your chest as if that’ll ensure the food doesn't take a wrong turn on the way down.

"You have to - fuck, dude - you have to give a girl some warning before you just say shit like that, Kels," you sputter. You wipe a hand across your damp eyes and take a couple of steadying breaths, and finally, the reality of what Kelsey just said hits you. You look up and blink away the tears to get a clear look at her.

"Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?" you ask quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention. Kelsey nods, a smug grin plastered across her face. "Apparently, it's like a dog trying to drink water," she giggles. "Katie Kaspbrak went out with him last week, and she's been telling everyone how God-awful he is at head."

"Katie Kaspbrak? The same girl who swore half of the staff at school was in love with her?" You lean back against the cool vinyl of the booth and cough lightly, suddenly less interested in this gossip now that you've learned the source. 

Katie Kaspbrak would lie about what she had for breakfast if she thought it would make her seem more interesting. Actually, now that you think about it, she has done that.

"That's what I thought too," Kelsey continues, "until Belinda Carter and Donna Greene overheard her, and they said the same thing. Belinda said she was so shocked that she just faked it until he thought she came and then made an excuse to leave."

You pause. Katie Kaspbrak is one thing, but two other girls? That can’t all be a coincidence.

But… it's Steve Harrington. Every girl - and some of the boys - you've ever spoken to have the hots for him, whether they want to admit it or not, and how could he be so sought after if he gives such a piss-poor performance at something so fundamental? You pick at an errant lettuce leaf that juts out from the edge of your disheveled sandwich, pretending to find it fascinating so you don't have to look at Kelsey's elated expression anymore.

"Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?" you ask. Kelsey leans back in her seat and pops a french fry in her mouth, glancing at the dusty clock that hangs in the diner's lobby.

"Just wanted to give you something to look forward to before your date, Y/N," she says with barely contained glee. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow." You shoot her a dirty look.

"Who says we're even gonna go that far tonight?" you counter, but you both know you're full of shit. You look down and pick at the skin around your fingernails to avoid Kelsey's knowing gaze because if you meet it, she'll see the uncertainty written all over your face. 

She loves messing with you like this; she's done it for almost every date you've ever gone on, regardless of who it's with. You pick up your sandwich and take a too-big bite to avoid having to talk anymore.

"Yeah, right. You've wanted to bang Steve since the moment you saw him, but you'll magically dry up the second you get the chance. Sounds legit."

 You stick out your tongue, letting Kelsey get a nice view of the smushed-up chunks of meat and bread hanging off it, but it doesn’t deter her snickering.

Her smug declaration is all you can think of for the rest of the day. It's so distracting that, while getting ready, you accidentally kiss the burning hot barrel of your curling iron to your temple and put your shoes on the wrong feet twice.

Who says that you have to go down that path tonight, anyway? Who says Steve is even the kind of dude to want to fuck on the first date?

Well...everyone who attended Hawkins High says, actually. Son of a bitch.

Perhaps you could just go down on him and insist he doesn't have to return the favor; it's not like most of the guys you've been with haven't leaped at the opportunity to skip the preamble and shove their dick in something anyway. The only problem with that is…you really wanna fuck Steve Harrington.

Really, really badly.

And you want it to be as good as it possibly can be. You've wanted this for years, and now that you've both graduated, who knows how long Steve plans to stick around in Hawkins so you can have your chance?

The time Steve promised he'd pick you up rolls around quicker than you'd anticipated. In the mirror, you smooth down your skirt one final time and fluff up your curls.

Kelsey doesn't know what she's talking about, you decide. Who were you to listen to gossip spread around by Katie Kaspbrak anyway? You practice smiling brightly in the mirror and notice a smear of lipstick across your front teeth. You lick at the stain and then rub it away with your index finger. It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine…right?

A car horn beeps twice before you can successfully reassure yourself.

He's here.

Oh, God.

You fly down the stairs two at a time, briefly worrying about how humiliating it would be to crack your head open before your date and snatch your purse off the kitchen table as you say goodbye to your mother. She reminds you of your curfew, and you give a vague acknowledgment as you pull the front door shut behind you.

In the faint evening light, Steve's maroon BMW is almost black, glimmering in the sour yellow streetlight like the shell of a beetle. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you croak a "Hi!" around it. Steve Harrington climbs out of his car gracefully, and his easy smile, accompanied by the bouquet of flowers he has clutched in his hand, is enough to make your knees wobble a bit.

"You look really pretty," he says, eyes flickering up and down your body. You're grateful for the dim outdoor lighting as your face flushes scarlet. "Thanks. Are those for me?" you ask, pointing at the bouquet. You wanna kick yourself as soon as you finish saying it. Of course, they're for you, you absolute buffoon. You’re on a date - who else would he be carrying flowers for?

Steve chuckles chuckles under his breath and extends them toward you. "You said these were your favorite, right? I saw 'em while I was getting stuff for tonight, so…Yeah." You gingerly take the flowers from him and bury your nose in the petals, inhaling their fresh scent as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, though his expression remains as casual as ever.

Is he…nervous?

He reaches in front of you as you walk up to the passenger side of the car and opens the door, bowing his head and gesturing for you to come inside exaggeratedly. You giggle and sink into the leather seats as he scurries around the car's hood. As he swings the door shut behind him and settles in behind the wheel, you silently draw a few steadying breaths.

The inside of his car smells distinctly of cologne and floral soap, so much so that you have to briefly wonder if he got his car detailed in anticipation of your date. His cologne is woody and sweet, not so strong that it stings behind your eyes, but you know the scent will stick to your clothes whether he lays a hand on you tonight or not. The thought makes your stomach flutter a little. As he revs the engine, you absently twirl the stem of a flower around your finger. 

"By the way," he says as he pulls out of your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "If you hear something clunking around back there while we drive, that's just Lucille."

You cock an eyebrow. "Lucille?"

You swear you see the ghost of a knowing smile creep across his lips, but an evening shadow cuts across his face before you're entirely sure. "Just a safety measure, that's all."

~~~

The date is more perfect than you could have ever imagined it to be. Steve takes you to a restaurant near the video store where he works, a little Italian place that's surprisingly upscale - at least, upscale for Hawkins. Your fingers don't get the opportunity to graze a door handle or the back of a chair the entire time, as he's always right behind you, reaching around your body to beat you to it.

His gaze never leaves your face when you talk, and he's so clearly hanging on every word you lose your train of thought a few times. It's jarring to have the guy you've been obsessed with for so long give you his undivided attention - in a good way, of course, but that doesn't stop the words from getting caught in your throat. 

He’s so pretty it's hard to maintain a coherent thought; all you want to do is stare at him and memorize the details of his face. The way his hair gently curves over his forehead, and he pushes a hand through the soft fringe to get it out of his eyes; the way his eyes sparkle in the warm, low light of the restaurant, transfixed on you like you're the single most intriguing thing he's ever laid them on.

You're not even halfway through offering to pay for half of the meal when he informs you he slipped his card to the host before you were even sat, and it's already taken care of. You insist he at least let you cover dessert - a small square of tiramisu you both nibble at - but he waves you off.

"You can pay for the next date," he says coolly, smiling behind a sip of his drink. You pull the cloth napkin from your lap and pretend to dab food from your mouth so you can hide your giddy smile and blushing cheeks. Next date, huh?

After dinner, he drives you to the outskirts of Hawkins, parking in a clearing in the forest that overlooks the blinking lights of the small city below. You have a perfect view of the moon as it gleams in the sky, full and white, and the stars glitter against the black velvet of the night without all the light pollution.

You sit on the hood of his car, legs crossed under you, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your skirt as it pools in your lap. You tug a too-big jacket tighter around your shoulders, a gift plucked from his trunk once he saw you shiver from the autumnal air against your skin. 

Steve is leaning back on his palms, head dropped between his shoulders as he stares at the sky. Goosebumps ripple across his skin, and every so often, his body twitches forward with a slight shiver, but he seems content enough in his short-sleeved shirt.

He catches you staring and chuckles when you avert your eyes and pretend to be fascinated by the paint on his car.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks.

"A cute guy," you respond, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat.

"That's so funny; I was just looking at a cute girl!" he exclaims, and you laugh. "Crazy how that works, huh?"

"Aren't you freezing?" you ask. Steve shrugs.

"I'm alright. It's refreshing. Keeps me awake," he murmurs.

A few minutes of silence pass comfortably. You listen to the sounds of the forest around you, only slightly concerned when you hear a twig snap in the distance or something rustle in the foliage beyond the car. But Steve's lack of interest in either puts you at ease. After a while, he points at a random spot in the sky and announces, "Found it!"

"Found what?"

"My friend Dustin - total nerd, by the way - was talking my ear off yesterday about constellations, like, how to find them and shit, and I found one!" He gestures for you to scoot closer without taking his eyes off his discovery, apparently not wanting to lose his spot. You do so, body hovering close enough to his that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and his cologne wafts pleasantly back up into your nose. You follow the direction his finger is pointing in, scanning the inky blackness of the sky.

"Do you see it?" he asks excitedly.

"Did your nerdy friend happen to tell you what this constellation was called?"

"Uh. Ursula…something…I think. He said it was "the littler one" of the two."

"Ursa minor?" you posit. Steve snaps his fingers and points at you affirmatively.

"There you go! Do you see it?"

You shake your head. The name is familiar, but you don't remember what it's supposed to look like. You mostly slept through your astronomy class in high school. 

Suddenly, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders and pulls you in, and warm fingers caress the sides of your jaw, tilting your face further upwards. Apparently, Steve has decided that the best way to help you see what he sees is by manually guiding you in the proper direction, so he's pressed your bodies together and is trying to angle your head in just the right spot.

Your stomach flips, and your heart jumps into your throat. This time, you're worried you'll choke on it. You're sure Steve can feel the blush in your cheeks burning beneath his fingertips, but he's either too engrossed in Ursa Minor to care or is choosing not to mention it.

"Right…there. See?" Steve says, voice notably lower than before and now right against the shell of your ear. A shiver walks its fingers down your spine.

“O-Oh, yeah,” you stammer. You do see it, a tail of shimmering dots curling into a small rectangle of stars, but you're more focused on Steve's mouth right out of the corner of your eye, his lips parted and quirked up into a smile. His hair brushes against your cheek as he turns his head toward you, and his index finger presses itself against the curve of your jaw to encourage you to look at him.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, dark and kind, as they flit over the details of your face, lingering the longest on your lips. He's warm and solid against you, and you tentatively place your fidgety hand on his knee.

He's so beautiful, you think to yourself. It isn't a word you've ever used for the other men you've dated, but it fits Steve well. A square jaw still soft at the edges with youth, wide brown eyes framed by lashes so thick and long that they fan across his cheekbones when he blinks, full pink lips barely parted and pursed like he has something to say. Beautiful.

Steve’s finger slides down the edge of your face until it reaches your chin, pinching it between bent thumb and forefinger. He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath wash over your lips.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe entirely.

He hesitates, and you feel a tug in your stomach as the thought of him pulling away from you occurs. Does your breath offend? You did eat a lot of garlic bread at the restaurant. Maybe you should've packed gum in your purse -

"Is this okay?" he murmurs. You blink, a little caught off guard by the question.

“Huh?” Very astute.

“This,” he says, and his thumb presses itself briefly in the center of your bottom lip as if to punctuate what he means. “I mean…can I kiss you?”

You swallow hard to avoid swooning at the question and clear your throat. "Yes. Yes, please kiss me."

He barely even has to move to capture your lips, so softly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll suddenly change your mind if he applies more pressure. Electricity thrums beneath your skin, zapping every nerve you have until your entire body is lit up with excitement. Your free hand trembles as you rest it against his chest. His heart thumps wildly beneath your palm, indicating that Steve Harrington is just as nervous as you are right now. This helps you to relax a bit, strangely.

Steve's arm slides down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. He smiles against your mouth as a contented sigh escapes you and pulls away just enough to mumble, "Still okay?"

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and bring your lips back together, kissing him with more fervor. He hums against your mouth, satisfied with his answer, and his smile grows almost imperceptibly.

When he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you gasp, and his hand slips up to the nape of your neck and buries itself in your hair. He doesn't pull, just holds you firmly in place, and though the act is relatively small, its possessive nature makes you unconsciously sink into his touch. Your mind races with thoughts of what it would feel like if Steve did pull, just a little - how your neck would bend forward, how your eyes would be forced skyward, and how you'd have no choice but to arch toward him as he kept you where he wanted you.

He keeps you still as he pulls away, chuckling at the little mewl that falls out of your mouth at the lack of contact. He soothes you with kisses peppered down the expanse of your neck, pausing only to nip and lick at random spots of flesh. You moan breathily into his hair as he sucks on a patch of skin just above the neckline of your shirt, and your hand creeps even further up his thigh.

"If you give me a hickey…my mom will kill me," you breathe, and Steve snickers against your neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The thought is enough to make your stomach sink with dread. You shake your head ardently. He grazes his teeth against your throat, his satisfied grin tangible against your buzzing skin.

"I didn’t think so."

He makes his way back up to your lips after sucking another hickey into your flesh, this time thankfully below where your clothing can cover, and doesn't waste a second slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You swear you'll turn to liquid any second now and slip straight through Steve's fingers. Steve tastes faintly of tiramisu still, and you eagerly chase after the taste, your tongues sliding against each other. The hand in your hair glides down your spine and pauses above your ass. His fingers twitch hesitantly against the hem of his jacket, hiking it up only to smooth it back down several times. He waits for you to move to give him some indication that you want to go further.

So, you oblige him.

You pull away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips. It's Steve's turn to whine at the empty space where your mouth used to be, and it's a sound that resonates right into the fingers still curled against his chest. It makes a feral heat stir in your belly, and you make a brief mental note to find what else elicits that noise from Steve Harrington's lips later.

You decide if there was any moment in your life to be bold - it's right now. You use the hand on his chest to nudge him up the hood of the car so his back is flush with the windshield, and before he can question what you're doing, you swing one leg over his lap and sit, straddling him.

He takes a surprised breath and smiles at you, the moonlight making his eyes shimmer like liquid bronze. You kiss him again, and he boldly reaches down and grabs two generous handfuls of your ass. With a groan, you roll your hips back into him, urging him to grab more, grab harder. 

Your hands grip either side of his slim waist and dip below the edge of his shirt. His skin is so warm compared to the chill of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to do anything to obtain more of his heat.

"Do you…wanna head inside the car?" he asks breathlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and down your jaw. "It's a lot more comfortable."

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," you say, and Steve laughs. He sits up straight and slots his hands under your knees, pulling you forward and down so you sit directly on his crotch. Despite the multiple layers of clothing between you both, you definitely feel something hard nudging at your inner thigh, and you let out a noise that's half surprise, half arousal.

"He's getting a bit restless if you catch my drift," Steve drawls, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger again. Your eyes flicker downward as if you’d be able to see with your legs and his jeans in the way. God, you want to see it, though, need to see it.

"'Course, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to,” he says quietly, earnestly. “It’s up to you, Y/N.”

Your answer is to grind down on his dick hard enough that he pushes air out through his gritted teeth and grips your ass tighter. "Like I said," you purr against the shell of his ear, "I'm plenty comfortable."

Though Steve helps you back onto solid ground gingerly, there's a tautness to his muscles, a stiffness in how he moves that belies how desperate he is to get you into the car. He tries to adjust the front of his jeans casually, and you pretend to be staring into the treeline when he glances in your direction. You cock your head a bit in confusion when you notice him pull something long and thin out from below the backseat. It appears wooden, and the flared nub at the bottom is familiar enough that you realize it's probably a baseball bat. However, the top of the bat is oddly lumpy and seems to be covered in something spiky; you can't tell for sure what that could be because it's wrapped tightly in a tattered blue towel.  

He pops the trunk and throws it inside, acknowledging your puzzled expression after slamming it shut with a calm smile. "Lucille," he says simply. You decide you'll ask about it later. If you remember.

What you do remember, as soon as your back is nestled against the interior car door and Steve slots himself between your thighs, fingertips pushing the fabric of your skirt further up around your hips, is the conversation you had with Kesley.

"You know Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

You try to push the thought from your head by carding your fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at how soft it is while he plants kisses along your inner thighs. His lips brush across the intersection of your hip and thigh so gently that it makes you squirm a bit. Steve, despite your efforts, takes notice.

"Ticklish?"

"Uh. No?"

It's a lie. A bad one.

Steve smirks up at you and pushes your skirt past your pelvis, over your panties. Before you can stop him, his mouth is latched down over the sensitive juncture of your thigh, and you squeal in protest. Your breathless laughter and pleas for him to stop go unheeded, and he pins your writhing hips to the leather of the backseat so he can continue sucking a bright red hickey into your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls off with a pop and strokes a finger over his handiwork. You bump his head with your knee, a halfhearted attempt to get him to stop prodding.

"Cute panties," he says lowly, and his finger follows the thick tendon that runs from your inner thigh to the edge of the cotton fabric. He drags the tip of it just underneath the seam of the gusset, pulling it far enough from your skin that it snaps back and makes you flinch. You remember agonizing over which pair to wear while you dressed - everything was too itchy, tight, plain, or extravagant for a first date. You only settled on the blush pink pair currently hugging your hips because they were the least offensive thing you could find.

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting from their place atop your chest, and reflexively try to shut your legs. You're suddenly painfully aware of Steve staring at you, your most intimate part. A thin scrap of cloth is the only thing that separates your pussy from Steve Harrington's eyes, and while it's not like no one has ever seen you in states very similar to this, this time is…different. 

The butterflies in your stomach are hammering against your ribcage and fluttering into your lungs, threatening to cut off your air supply entirely. You're sure you're going to suffocate before he can make any further moves, and you're gonna pass out right in the back of Steve Harrington's car before he's even really done anything -

“Y/N?”

Steve's warm hand squeezing your hip pulls you from your thoughts. You pull the pooled fabric of your skirt up against your stomach so you can look at his face. His expression is hued with concern.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" His thumb rubs in small, soft circles above the purpling hickey on your thigh.

"Yeah! I'm totally fine, I just…sorry, I kinda got lost in thought."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to, yanno, if you're feelin'...like, weird about any of this."

You shake your head and smile, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm absolutely fine, Steve. I promise you. Did you say something before? I didn't hear you."

"I, uh…" He curls the tip of his finger beneath the gusset of your panties again, this time tugging experimentally. "Just wanted to know if I could take these off."

Your face is scorchingly hot, and if it weren't for the shadows cascading over the both of you, you’re sure Steve would laugh his ass off at the shade of red your cheeks have achieved. Any verbal response you might muster is lodged impossibly tight in your throat, so you just nod, let your legs fall further apart, and lift your hips off the seat so he can work your panties down your legs.

He does so with something akin to reverence, inching the fabric further and further off your body until his warm breath unfurls over your bare skin in deep, measured breaths. He carelessly tosses your panties somewhere in the front of his car, eyes transfixed on the spot between your legs. You're torn between wanting to yank your shirt collar over your eyes so you don't have to look at the deferent expression on his face, the damn near worshipful look in his dark eyes, and wanting to sit up to get an even better look at him.

"Wow… you're…fuck." Steve Harrington is at a loss for words because of you. You keep the glow of pride you feel at that fact to yourself…for now. You pull your legs back toward your chest, hooking one hand under your knee ditch to hold it steady and give him a better look. 

"Are you, uh…can I, like, eat you out?" he asks, and though part of you inwardly leaps for joy at the request, another part wants to suggest he do literally anything else.

You're being stupid, you chide yourself. Who gives a shit what Katie Kaspbrak or her stupid friends say? They're probably full of it anyway. Why are you entertaining the idea of telling Steve fucking Harrington he can't eat you out?

"Yes, please," you hear yourself breathe out despite your internal reservations. Steve smiles and raises a hand to replace the one keeping your leg pulled back. You take note of the way he licks his lips before he brings his mouth down against your pussy.

It's…well…it's interesting.

His tongue bypasses your clit completely and instead presses against your urethra, of all places. It isn't flat or relaxed; instead, a stiff pinpoint of muscle grinding uncomfortably into a spot that is decidedly not meant for that kind of stimuli. You shift, uneasy, but he seems to interpret it as a pleasured movement, which only spurs him on. He digs the tip of his tongue harder into your flesh, and you're grateful he can't see how your face is screwed up in distress.

Oh, God…oh, God. It really is awful. It's almost excruciating, and Katie Kaspbrak was fucking right. What do you do? What will he say if you tell him it's not good? Will he get embarrassed or hurt or even angry? Has anyone ever tried to tell him that this was wrong before?

You're conflicted and debating on just letting him finish up and possibly lying for the rest of time that Steve Harrington is a champion at eating pussy, until his tongue flicks upward and the unrelenting nub of his tongue stabs into your clit. You yelp involuntarily and yank your leg out of his hand, tightening your thighs. You press your fingers against your slit, hoping to soothe the throbbing ache Steve's harsh ministrations have brought on.

"What, what happened?" he asks, frantic, sitting up as much as he can in the confined space of the backseat.

He looks so much like a kicked puppy it's physically painful, maybe more painful than the burning sensation in your clit, and you consider for a moment just brushing it off as a leg cramp and letting him continue as if it's the best head in the world.

But you can't. You won't. If Steve doesn't know what he's doing wrong, he can't fix it, right? You just hope he's genuinely ignorant of how unrefined his skills are and not just overconfident and uncaring. The apologetic expression he's wearing is encouraging that it's the former.

"I…that hurt," you hiss between your teeth. "That hurt a lot."

"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching towards you instinctively, but then he seems to reconsider and takes his hands back. They rest atop his knees, clenching and unclenching, just like when he picked you up. "I…I thought that's what girls liked. I haven't…no one's told me any different, and I don't, like, have a bunch of practice - I mean, I've had practice, but no one's ever said anything before. I had no idea I was hurting you. I don't…I don't have to do that if you don't want it. I can do something else. I mean, Nance never really liked it when I did that either, so-"

He stops, eyes widening once it dawns on him what just came out of his mouth. Admittedly, you're a little shocked yourself. You attempt to keep your expression neutral to not make him feel worse, but you clearly fail because Steve cringes away when he catches a glimpse of your face.

"Shit…sorry. I shouldn't… it's not cool to bring up your ex on a first date. I know that. I'm sorry…Look, if you wanna go home, I get it. I kinda messed shit up, so I can-"

He's so fixated on his contrite ramblings that he doesn't notice when you sit up, nor when your hands cup either side of his face, and he only stops talking once you've pressed your lips against his, making it physically impossible. You feel the tension melt out of his body, and he tentatively grips your elbows.

"I'm fine," you start, leaning your forehead against his. His breaths escape in panicked, warm bursts against your lips. "I don't need to go home. I'm absolutely perfect here, with you. You didn't stab me with a burning hot poker or anything, so I'm doing pretty alright." The corners of his lips twitch upward in a sad suggestion of a smile. You should know better; you shouldn't ask about Nancy Wheeler even if Steve accidentally brought her up first, but you can't help the question that ripples from your lips.

"What do you mean, 'Nance never liked it?'" you ask carefully, and his muscles flex beneath your fingers. You're treading on thin ice. You rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, attempting to put him at ease and have his eyes meet yours.

"It's… it's stupid," Steve mutters, eyes downcast at his lap. "She…Nancy really, super hated it when I went down on her. I never thought about it too hard, I guess. I chalked it up to her being kinda uptight and just moved on, but now it makes way more sense. I suck. Of course, she hated it." He offers a dry, humorless sound you suppose is his attempt at a laugh.

"Did she ever, like…tell you what you were doing wrong?" you ask softly.

"Yeah…well, no, not exactly. I don't know. She'd usually just sit up and tell me she wanted to do something else, and when I asked what was up, she would just dance around the question, and we'd do something else and…I stopped trying after that. I should've asked questions."

"Well, you can ask them now. If you'd like."

Steve finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and his eyes are markedly brighter than before. "If it's not too astoundingly lame…yeah, that'd be great. What exactly hurt about it? Was I too rough?"

"Partially that, and partially how rigid your tongue was," you giggle. "It feels much better if you loosen up. Think more like licking a lollipop than Vlad the Impaler."

Steve laughs sincerely at that one, and his head tilts forward to rest on your shoulder. "Vlad the Impaler, huh? That's pretty bad."

"It is, but it's nothing you can't improve on. I'll even let you practice if you want." Steve sits straight, his once crestfallen expression replaced with wide, hopeful eyes and a hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. I'll guide you through it, like, uh...like a pussy-eating professor."

 Steve snorts and kisses you briefly. His hands move to your hips in twitchy anticipation, unsure whether or not he should settle on your bare flesh or the hem of your skirt. It's almost like he suddenly doesn't know where to start. You decide for him; you lay your hands over his and guide them toward your body, bringing them up beneath your skirt and settling them on the bare skin of your hips.

"Give me a reason to tangle my fingers in that famous hair, pretty boy."

Without warning, you're pulled forward hard enough to fall unceremoniously onto your back, nearly thumping your head against the door handle. Steve almost concusses you in his excitement, but you can't bring yourself to care once you feel his breath washing over your exposed slit in warm, quick puffs. You sigh contentedly and thread your fingers through the hair at his temples.

"Loosen up, right?" he hums, and you make an affirmative noise high in your throat when you remember he can't see you nod.

"Start at the bottom," you say quickly, "and work your way up. Don't go straight for the clit, just-"

The sensation of Steve's hot, wet tongue licking a flat stripe up your cunt, slowly and carefully, makes your brain short-circuit. The instructions fizzle and die on your tongue, and you forget why you were speaking for a moment.

"Like that?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah, like that. You don't have to just lick, either. You can like, um…suck on certain areas, like the lips and the - fucking shit -"

Steve is, apparently, a fast and very ambitious learner - before you can finish a complete sentence, he's applying your advice fucking beautifully. He licks another long, languid stripe up your pussy and sucks gently on your labia, tugging lightly with closed lips. Shifting his face upward, his nose grazes your clit, eliciting an unexpected moan. One hand flies above your head, fumbling for the handle on the car's roof for purchase, and you keep the other firmly planted in his hair.

"Still good?" His voice has an edge, much cockier now than it was just a few moments ago. He's so entertained by your reactions, and you don't know if it makes you mad, turns you on, or both. You decide that's not important because his mouth isn't on you anymore, and you can't stand for that.

"Fucking fantastic."

"Any more lessons to teach me?" he asks smugly. His hands are splayed across your inner thighs, spreading you open just slightly, and his thumbs are massaging your outer lips as he talks. His tone ignites something defiant within you. You push yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him evenly, meeting his eyes. His rediscovered confidence is undoubtedly hot, so hot you can feel your arousal starting to leak onto the upholstery beneath your ass, but it's in your nature to want to challenge him a little bit.

"Here's one," you rasp. You fist a hand into Steve's hair, gripping it tightly by the roots, and shove his face deeper into your cunt. You toss both legs over his shoulders and lock them at the ankles.

"Give that mouth something useful to do other than fuckin' talk."

You swear to everything holy, you hear Steve Harrington growl.

He dives into your pussy with renewed fervor, fingers still keeping you opened up for him, and laps at the rivulet of slick drooling out of your hole. Once the taste hits his tongue, he moans into you and pushes his face so deep you can feel the light stubble on his cheeks grazing your sensitive folds. 

Your back arches, lifting you almost entirely off the seats, and you bite your lip to stifle the noises threatening to burst from your throat. It's not to spare whatever stranger may or may not be lurking in the bordering forest but because your moans sound downright embarrassing. His tongue burns a wet trail from your weeping hole to your clit, where it laps experimentally at the swollen bud.

You twist and shudder beneath him, your body operating without input from your brain, but the feeling of Steve's hands slamming your hips down into the seats snaps you back to attention. You lift your head from its position against the car door, struggling to focus your eyes. Steve has laid himself as flat as he can across what little space remains in the backseat. His arms coil tight around your thighs, which keep both legs hanging limply over his shoulders. He stares up at you through his thick lashes, eyes gleaming hungrily, while he licks and sucks your pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. His ordinarily perfect hair is trashed, sticking to his damp forehead in dark clumps.

You gnaw on your bottom lip stubbornly, clinging to what little rebellion still smolders inside you. Steve laughs; the vibrations feel like heaven against you, and you fling your head back down.

It isn't until his mouth has formed a near-vacuum seal around your clit that you unabashedly squeal into the humid air, unable to contain yourself anymore, pleasure wracking your body in unrelenting waves. Steve doesn't let up, swirling his tongue while he sucks, somehow keeping you glued to the seats without much apparent effort. You knew he was strong; he was an athlete the entire time you were in high school, but you didn't imagine his slender frame belied this much strength. The ease with which he's made you almost immobile is unexpected and very, very sexy.

"S-Steve, Steve - fuck - okay, God, you're getting me close already," you wheeze, voice straining high and desperate in your throat. You don't usually get close this fast unless you're alone and rubbing out a quick orgasm before bed or out of boredom. Still, the combination of his greedy suckling and licking, the sheer amount of enthusiasm he's displaying toward pleasuring you, and the fact that this long-held fantasy is coming to life right before you are making you hurtle toward the edge.

You inhale sharply, your body tenses, you're so, so close, you're about to cum -

Steve pulls off you, his lips making a wet, obscene pop before they curl into a fiendish grin. You whine, and he chuckles at you, rubbing your thigh apologetically. "You taste so fucking good," he says breathlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper. "And…thank you?"

"I'm having too much fun and didn't want you to cum yet," he says simply. "Plus, I wanted to ask something."

"Go for it."

You can't see them, but you can feel Steve's fingers on your pussy; his thumb makes a few small, tight circles around your clit before two more digits glide down the length of your folds and stop right at the entrance of your hole. They nudge around the rim as he speaks.

"Do you like getting fingered at the same time?" he asks, hopeful. "I know I'm at least good at that."

"Yes, please, do that," you beg, hardly letting him finish the sentence. You pause as the last part of Steve's sentence registers in your lust-addled brain. I know I'm at least good at that.

The corners of your mouth tug downward into a frown. Just as Steve ducks his head down again, you cup the sides of his jaw in both hands. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes flash nervously in the darkness doesn't escape you.

"By the way," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs into the stubbly flesh of his cheeks. "You've proven to be very…very good at…yanno, all this. Not just fingering."

"Yeah?" The hope in his voice is so genuine and sweet you could cry.

"Yeah. You just needed a little guidance, that's all."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, tracing circles into the back of your hand with his own before pulling it away and lacing your fingers together. Your interlocked hands rest next to your bare hip, and he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. "Want me to get back to the, uh…fun part?"

You giggle. "I'm having a ton of fun, personally, but if you mean the eating my pussy part…yes, please."

"Gotcha."

Steve wastes no time reclaiming your swollen clit in his mouth, but he's decidedly gentler as he trails his two middle fingers around the rim of your hole. You can't tell if he's teasing you or testing the waters as he dips the tips inside you a few times, never edging past the first knuckles before pulling them back out again.

If he keeps this up, you’re going to go batshit insane. You're milliseconds away from telling him so before he swipes his fingers through the slick puddling beneath your pussy, and plunges them inside you up to the last knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," you moan, writhing as much as possible while trapped between Steve's body and the car. His fingers curl, brushing against a spot that makes sparks fly behind your closed eyes, and he rubs against it purposefully once your voice pitches up and your breathing quickens even more. Both hands tangle in his disheveled hair, and you're torn on whether to push him away with how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming or pull him closer so he never stops. You settle on knotting your fingers at the roots and holding on for dear life.

Steve's fingers make lewd wet sounds as they pump in and out of your hole, and his free hand rests on the soft mound of skin above your clit. He pulls back just slightly, a stringy line of saliva connecting his tongue to your body, and his index finger stretches your skin up enough that the hood of your clit shifts backward. He chuckles.

"You should see how much of a mess your pussy is," he says. His tongue darts out to lick the slick shining on his lips. "It's so cute."

"Cute?" You don't know if that would've been the word you'd have picked to describe yourself right now, nor had anyone ever done so before. Despite the flush rising high on your cheekbones, you pretend to be more offended by it than you really are.

"Adorable," Steve coos, a smug smile sprawling across his handsome face. "And the noises you're making are even cuter. Have you been saving those just for me?"

You're speechless. You can't deny it, but you sure as hell aren't going to confirm it for him, either. His head will get so big you worry it'll fill the car's cab until you're both suffocated by the sheer mass of it. You sit up as much as you can against the car door, tugging the hand still woven with yours and smiling audaciously at him. You cross pinched fingers in front of your lips in a zipping motion, twisting them at the corner and flicking your wrist over your shoulder. My lips are sealed.

Steve scoffs. "Oh? We'll see how long that lasts, pretty girl."

Steve thrusts his fingers deep inside you again, fluttering them against your g-spot, then spits on your exposed clit. He dips his head and licks up the saliva trickling down your slit in one slow, hot strip, eyes never leaving your face.

You press your lips together tight, screwing your eyes shut and exhaling hard through your nose. Your legs are trembling, you're gripping his hand so tightly you're surprised he isn't complaining of bruised bones yet, and your chest is heaving with the effort of staying silent, but you're winning.

Or, at least, you think you're winning.

That is until he stuffs his fingers so deep inside you that it causes his hand to curl upward, almost cupping your cunt in his palm and grinding the heel of his hand into your tender clit. You can't help but gasp as he outright abuses your g-spot, rubbing circles against it with such pressure that even if you wanted to make noise, you can’t - the pleasure radiating from your core has snatched your voice away. You can't even draw in a satisfying breath and only manage a few sparse, shallow gasps.

"You done acting like you're not gonna give me what I want?" Steve asks, voice dripping with sweet condescension. You sob. It takes a stammering, whimpering, tear-filled moment before you gather enough oxygen to reply.

"U-Uh-huh, I'm - shit - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Steve…."

"Atta girl." Though his fingers don't relent in the brutal pace they've set, he does bend his hand down enough so he can lap at your clit again. Tears eke out of the corners of your eyes and drip slowly into your hairline, and when you find your voice again, it bursts out of you in a broken scream.

It takes thirty seconds of consistent attention before he's got you close again, and you warn him of that fact by whining and tugging on his hair.

"You gonna cum for me?" he huffs, breath washing over your sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes, fuck - oh fuck me, Steve -!"

"Soon, baby," he hums.

Your orgasm crashes into you full force, and your throat burns with the force of your wailing as you arch off the backseat; you guarantee you're pulling some of Steve's hair out with how tight your grip is, but he is decidedly unfazed. He milks this moment for all its worth, never stopping or slowing in his ministrations.

Tears flow down your cheeks freely, soaking into the neck of your shirt and wetting the hair you'd spent so much time on. The pleasure crescendos into something too intense to handle quickly. You choke out a few half-assed pleas, your brain melting out of your ears at this point, far beyond being capable of intelligible sentences, and Steve ignores you.

Clearly, you don't decide when Steve Harrington is done - he does.

Your orgasm seems to go on for days, months even, and just as the pain begins to nip at the edges of your earth-shattering pleasure, as you almost snap your legs shut and beg Steve to please just give you a small break, you feel it. 

Your second orgasm. Building, apparently in secret, riding the tails of your first one and sneaking up on you to the point you don't notice you're going to cum until your cunt spasms around Steve's fingers again.

"C-C-Cumming, cumming again, fuck, oh God, fuck, I can't - Steve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Steve assures, fingers working impossibly faster. You're astonished he doesn't have the mother of all hand cramps right now. Perhaps he does, and he just doesn't care. You don't think you care, either. "You can cum for me again, Y/N. Come on. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl."

This time, you don't even have the strength to scream. You weep and sag against the car door, body tremoring and barely managing a few pathetic pleas between hiccuping breaths.

You're drenched in sweat, and you're sure your makeup is fucked because of it. That and the tears, of course. You must look utterly trashed, but when Steve finally pulls off your poor, sore pussy with a pop, he looks at you like you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet.

He goes to wipe his lips with the back of one hand, and you notice slick shimmering down his chin and even splattered onto his neck. It's only then you feel the absolute lake of cum that’s accumulated beneath your ass, and your entire body burns bright red with embarrassment. He raises himself up on his palms, his arms boxing you in tightly.

"You are so gorgeous," he says, cupping your cheek in the hand that isn't glistening with your cum. You laugh shakily and lean into his touch.

"Sorry… 'bout your seats," you offer weakly, and he shakes his head. "You can ruin my upholstery anytime."

Steve leans down, dark eyes scanning your face, and smiles. It's a sweet, lopsided expression, nowhere near the self-satisfied, almost sadistic grin from earlier. They both quicken your pulse, but this one assures you you can at least take this moment to recover from possibly the best orgasm of your life.

First and second-best orgasms. Wow.

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He slots his leg between yours, narrowly avoiding the puddle you've made, and cradles your head as if he's the only thing keeping it from flopping sideways. Frankly, he is. When he pulls away, he kisses your forehead before leaning his own against it.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, sighing and swallowing despite your parched mouth. Your hands rest atop your chest, curled up into each other meekly as you try to regain any semblance of strength in your extremities. You bump your lips into him again briefly.

"You're a remarkably fast learner, Steve Harrington," you mumble, voice hoarse. He chuckles. 

"It's easy when I have such an incredible teacher.”

It takes a few minutes to clean you - and the car - up. Steve digs around in his glove box for some old fast food napkins and gingerly sops as much of your cum out of his seats as he can while you lay on your side, curled up and heavy-lidded as the adrenaline slowly dribbles out of your system. He dabs the sweat from your brow, following the rough, cheap napkin with gentle kisses to soothe your flushed skin. Afterward, he bunches the napkins and shoves them in his passenger side door before rejoining you in the backseat. 

He hoists you up onto his lap and guides your head onto his shoulder, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale his scent as he rubs your back.

"Any more pointers?" he asks just before you've dozed off. You smile and shake your head.

"None whatsoever. You've exceeded my greatest expectations, dear pupil." He laughs and thumps your back appreciatively. It's not until you're readjusting slightly to get more comfortable that you realize something - Steve is still hard. Achingly so, it would seem, as you can feel the rigid denim stretched over his bulge so tightly you're surprised the zipper hasn't popped clean off. Heat stirs in your belly, and you make a soft, serene noise in your throat as you grind your bare pussy into his lap.

His hips stutter upward just enough for you to bounce slightly, and you giggle into the crook of his neck. "We still haven't taken care of you yet." "We don't have to if you're too tired," he assures you, voice little more than a deep hum against the shell of your ear. "I'm happy just makin' you feel good."

You consider it. You know you'll be sore tomorrow, regardless of if you choose to have more of Steve Harrington stuffed inside you, and your clit is throbbing and achy to the touch. You could fall asleep on his chest right now; he could keep you in this beautiful, dreamlike space for the rest of time if he wanted to. But there's a part of you, a part much, much louder than the part complaining about your sore slit or exhausted body, that is dying to know what Steve's dick looks like.

You leave a trail of kisses up from the hollow of his neck to the curve of his jaw and blink at him happily. Once your faces are close enough that his eyelashes are nearly tickling your cheekbones, you snake one hand between your bodies and trail a finger over the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

"Just 'cause my cunt is sore doesn't mean I'm totally out of commission," you purr. "And since you did so well with your mouth on me… don't you think it's fair I return the favor?"

You feel, rather than hear, the low moan that rumbles through Steve’s chest at the insinuation. You hook your nail through the eye of his zipper and give an experimental tug.

"Can I suck your cock, Steve?"

His lips are on yours almost before the question rolls off your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you still as his tongue explores inside your mouth. Steve's natural taste mixes with the taste of your slick in an intoxicating way, but just before your head starts spinning, he breaks the kiss enough to breathe, "You're gonna have to move, baby."

Of all the lewd, downright filthy things Steve Harrington has done and said tonight, the way he slurs the word "baby" against your swollen lips is the thing that makes you blush the hottest.

He reaches behind you and opens the car door, and you both shiver slightly as the cold air rushes in from the forest and cools your sweat-soaked skin. He pats your thigh and juts his chin forward, so you awkwardly clamber out of the BMW despite your wobbling legs. You lean one hand on the car's roof while Steve scoots to sit on the edge of the backseat and swings his legs onto the ground.

He brushes past you as he emerges from the car, planting a quick kiss on the top of your head before he pops the trunk and struggles with something inside for a moment. With a victorious smile, Steve waves the same raggedy blue towel that had been wrapped around "Lucille" before assuming his spot in the backseat again. He folds it in half once and lays it out between his spread legs atop the mud and sparse grass you're standing on.

"So you don't get your legs all dirty," he explains, observing your mildly confused expression.

"My legs?"

"It'd be killer on your back, sucking my dick while you're bent at the waist, wouldn't it?" Steve laughs, undoing his belt with deft fingers while he watches the realization dawn on you. "The least I can do is make you more comfortable and keep the mud and crap off your legs, right?"

“Yeah…totally…”

Words escape you as you watch the metal of Steve's belt buckle glitter in the moonlight while he slips the leather out of the loop. His shirt is riding up just far enough onto his stomach that you can see a dark thatch of hair leading upward from the hem of his jeans, and at that moment, you are determined to follow Steve's happy trail with your tongue at some point. As he pops the button on his pants, you release your grip on the car and collapse to your knees. You grab his hands and pull them out of the way, splaying your fingers across his thighs and squeezing.

"Let me," you say, eyes darting between his mostly undone jeans and his face. He chuckles at you, and you try to commit his crooked, sweet smile and warm brown eyes to memory. He's beyond handsome, drop-dead fucking gorgeous - and he's letting you suck his cock. You take a moment to thank whatever deity or greater cosmic force that's brought you to this exact moment in your life.

"Be my guest," Steve says, leaning back on his palms and staring down the bridge of his nose at you. You lean forward, using the grip on his legs to keep balance and capture the end of his zipper between your teeth. You drag it down agonizingly slowly while keeping complete eye contact with him. You can't look away from his amazed and steadfastly aroused face. Pants fully unzipped, you think you can make out that Steve is wearing dark red boxer briefs.

Very normal, all things considered, but you know in the back of your head that this particular shade of red will always make you horny now - Pavlov's dogs had their bell, and you drool at the sight of Steve Harrington's underwear.

Steve lifts his ass off the backseat just enough for you to tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. You could pull his cock out through his underwear, but no, you want to see all of him, every last inch. Fair is fair, right? 

Steve is…fuck, he's big. Bigger than you ever even fantasized about. 

His cock springs upright fully after you've freed it from his boxers, and with a hard swallow and a fluttery feeling in your gut, you realize it's big enough to touch his navel. It curves toward his belly, an angle so perfect it's impossible not to imagine how it'll feel inside you once you can handle it. The head is flushed a dark red and slick with precum, and you watch in reverence as a milky bead forms at the slit. It's all you can do to not surge forward immediately and lick it off. The hair covering the base of Steve's dick and balls is dark, nearly black, and unexpectedly curly compared to the other hair on his body.

You reach a tentative hand out and wrap it around his shaft. He's so thick your fingers barely touch once you've made a fist. Steve hisses at the feeling and drops his head back a little.

"You're…so fucking big," you say breathlessly. Steve laughs and cards a hand through your hair, brushing sweaty strands away from your forehead. 

"You think you're gonna be able to handle it?" His voice drips with fake sympathy, so you nod your head despite being unsure. The head is so big you worry you won't be able to fit it in your mouth without your back teeth accidentally scraping it, let alone have it go down your throat. But the cocky, smug look he wears makes you want to suck his dick until he cries, just like you did. 

You nudge his shirt further up his torso, noting how solid his abdominal muscles feel beneath your palm, and dip your head down to his happy trail. You lay soft kisses amongst the thick, coarse hair, and Steve subtly squirms.

"Ticklish?" you ask. He narrows his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

You chuckle, sorely tempted.

You copy his actions from earlier and lick a long, hot stripe with your flattened tongue up the entire length of his cock, stopping only to swirl around the head and lap up his precum. The salty taste blooms across your tongue and your mouth embarrassingly floods with drool as you suck and lick more of the flavor into it. You inch carefully down his shaft, opening your jaw as wide as possible to avoid an encounter between his dick and your molars and twirl your tongue around the length in your mouth to make up for what you can't wholly swallow yet. One hand wraps around the base to make up the difference, stroking up and down slowly as you bob your head.

It's an interesting, intricate dance, trying to fit Steve Harrington's monster cock in your mouth without outright biting it. You persuade your gag reflex to let him go down your throat a bit more, your quick strokes getting slicker and slicker with the drool that pours freely down Steve's dick and wets his pubic hair. Breathing through your nose proves difficult when his massive cockhead obstructs the back of your throat entirely, but you manage well enough.

Steve is absolutely beside himself. He's moaning unabashedly, and it's like music to your ears. He's the first man you've ever been with who makes noises outside of oddly paced-out grunts or a random curse word here or there, and it's having more of an effect on you than you ever could have imagined. You press your thighs together as more slickness drips from your throbbing cunt, free to gush almost to your knees without the interference of your panties. 

"Fuck, baby, fucking shit…fuck yeah, just like that… you're sucking my cock so good, you look so fucking hot right now, oh my God," Steve babbles, eyes fluttering and head lolled over to one side. He bucks his hips, probably involuntarily, and his cock bumps the back of your throat just hard enough that it makes you gag.

You cough and pull off him far enough to take a breath, your hand still firmly locked around his base and wet with spit. He laughs breathily and caresses your cheek as you pant.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn't mean to choke you. You're just… you're so good…."

"You can, uh…like, do that again if you want," you say shyly. Steve cocks an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"That. What you just did. Again."

"You want me to gag you like that again?" It's said with genuine surprise, not judgment, and you smile sheepishly at him.

"Kinda, yeah…only if you're okay with it too, I just…I can handle it…."

He considers it, absently twirling a few strands of your hair around his fingers as he mulls your request over. Then, both hands slide to the back of your head and gather your hair into one large, tight handful that makes you sit up straighter. Cold air gusts against your freshly exposed skin, and you shiver as Steve leans forward and kisses your forehead. He uses his other hand to pull his jacket tighter around your body, tucking the collar against your throat.

"If you can handle it," he says, and with one smooth push, he's shoved you back down on his cock. The head bumps the back of your throat hard, and though your entire body jerks forward as you gag, Steve doesn't relent. He seems as determined as you were to fit the daunting length of his dick down your throat, and the fact you practically begged him to facefuck you appears to have dissolved any lingering inhibitions he may have had. He keeps one hand securely fisted in your hair, and the other moves to feel where his length is bulging through your throat. He hums lowly and strokes his fingers over your taut flesh.

"You can take more than that, can't you?"

You haven't even begun to respond before he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his way past your uvula, and you can only gag and shudder as your nose gets buried in the thick curls at the base of his cock. He guides you back by your hair only far enough that his head isn't bullying into your airway anymore, then pushes you back down - he does this over and over, hardly letting you have a moment to breathe while he chases his pleasure. You moan as you realize you've essentially become a means to an end, a method of reaching an orgasm, a warm, wet hole for Steve to fuck his cock into, and your fingers sneak down between your thighs to rub your aching clit.

Though you try to be discreet, you're soaked, and you can't do a thing to hide the obscene squelching sounds your pussy makes as you grind into your hand. Steve, with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and drunk on lust, laughs.

"You're so fuckin' cute. You like bein' my cocksleeve that much, pretty girl?" You attempt a nod and a noise that leans toward acquiescence, and it's good enough.

Steve sets a rigorous pace, bringing you down far enough to kiss his pelvis every time, moaning a little louder when the muscles of your throat contract around his thick shaft as you gag. You are, admittedly, worried you'll puke at some point, and the thought of having arguably the best sexual experience of your life ruined by you blowing chunks all over Steve Harrington's penis does, unfortunately, cross your mind. But before you can dwell too long on it - and before the building nausea becomes too much for you to handle - Steve pulls you off his cock.

Your lips pop wetly as they leave his shaft, and you gasp shakily, the sudden influx of oxygen almost dizzying. Drool drips freely from your aching jaw and the thick strand of saliva that connects your mouth to the head of his dick glints in the moonlight overhead. Your fingers never stop working your clit, though your orgasm ebbs away after your throat ceases to be utterly abused.

"Why'd you stop?" you rasp.

"Was gonna cum too soon," he chuckles. You whine and surge forward, but you're stopped by the firm hand still ensnared in your hair. You crave the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue so intensely, and the fact he isn't letting you have it right away fills you with tantrum-level frustration.

"What, you want it?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ, please."

"Aww. You can beg much better than that." His fingers curl, tugging your hair at the root and jostling you back and forth a little.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he starts dragging you further away from his shining, dark-red cock. Drool and precum ooze from the tip and you can see it twitching every few seconds, and though your throat feels raw and sore, your jaw aches, and your legs are alight with pins and needles, you need it back in your mouth. You could kneel here all night, and you would swear you were in heaven. The brazen fire in your belly has been snuffed, replaced with the most thrilling need you've ever experienced, so you can't think of anything snarky to say in response. Instead, you do as Steve says, and you fucking beg.

"Please, please give it back, Steve."

"Give what back, baby?" he purrs.

"Your cock."

"What about my cock?"

"Please give me back your cock, Steve. Pretty please, I need it."

He clicks his tongue at you, giving your head a little shake again while your eyes are helplessly fixed on his glistening shaft. "Hmm, I still don't believe you."

A broken sob falls from your mouth before you can help it, and you paw helplessly at his thighs. "Please, please, please, fuck my face, Steve, please. I need it so badly. Please give it to me. I'll do anything, just please...."

He smiles and coos at you, bending down slightly to kiss your forehead softly. "You sound so pretty and pathetic for me, baby," he hums.

Your mouth is full again in a flash, and this time, it's evident that Steve has surpassed any pretense of being gentle with you. That clumsy, nervous boy from earlier has melted away, leaving this commanding, exceedingly bold, and surprisingly dominant man in his wake. His voice has lowered to just above a growl, rough with lust. The way he's reclining back and fucking your mouth like he's pumping into his fist, the way he teases and mocks you and eggs you on - it's fucking intoxicating. You can't get enough. You want him to go further; you want more, more, more.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming, fuck Y/N," Steve gasps, placing both hands on the sides of your head and driving his cock down your battered throat. The heat of your impending orgasm begins to pool between your hips, and you rub your clit furiously as you gaze up at Steve, trails of mascara-riddled tears tracked down your spit-wet cheeks.

The exact moment his cock pulses and the first hot, thick rope of cum shoots down your throat, you push yourself over the edge of your third orgasm of the night.

You moan as much as you can around his dick, body spasming uncontrollably, and the vibrations from your noises make him grip the seats beneath him so hard you think he’ll shred the upholstery. You try to swallow as best you can, and Steve does mercifully pull out just enough that the head of his cock rests against the middle of your tongue, allowing you room to breathe. His cum is salty and heady, and you're immediately addicted to it, and you hollow your cheeks to greedily suck more of it into your mouth. He looks at you with worshipful adoration, like you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hand drops from your overstimulated clit as your orgasm abates, and you use it to hold onto Steve's thigh for balance. You distantly feel embarrassed about smearing slick on his jeans.

When Steve pulls his spent cock from your mouth and releases your bunched-up hair, you fall forward unceremoniously into his lap. You pant raggedly into the fabric clustered around his upper legs, trembling like you've been tossed in the snow. He praises you under his breath, almost like he's not entirely cognizant of what he's saying.

"You did such a good job, God, that was amazing…you did so well, baby…fuck…."

You smile dreamily, glowing under his praise. He pets your hair absentmindedly, and after a while, he gingerly guides you back so you're sitting on your haunches, the rough terrycloth of the towel digging into your knees. He looks beautiful in the bluish light of the evening, hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles, cheeks still dusted a light pink, lips swollen and red and wet with his spit. Steve cradles your face in his hands and rubs at the greyish tear tracks streaking your cheeks, almost embarrassed of their presence.

"Are you okay?"

You nod sluggishly, nuzzling your cheek into Steve's surprisingly rough palm. He smooths the frazzled hair he'd been tugging on so enthusiastically back away from your damp forehead, fluffing it apologetically once he realizes the style you'd sought to achieve is thoroughly ruined. You're sure you look destroyed, to be fair - most of your lipstick is smeared messily on the lower half of Steve's softening cock, so you imagine the rest of it is smudged down your chin and across your cheeks. When you wipe the back of your hand beneath your jaw to catch a few stray tears, your skin is stained blackish from the mascara-laden liquid. Definitely not Harrington-proof, you note amusedly.

"Lemme help you up," Steve says, scooting forward off the backseat and bending toward you. One arm snakes around your waist and tightens against the small of your back; the other hand knits itself against your right hand, and when Steve pulls you to your feet, you're pressed flush against his chest, bodies entwined like partners gliding across a dance floor. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, you still giggle nervously at the lack of distance between your face and Steve's. He smiles sweetly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

The hand clasped in Steve's twitches toward your lips reflexively. Your mouth still tastes like his cum, and while you certainly don't mind, you aren't sure if he will. He notices your hesitance, and after a moment, the reason seems to click for him. His smile grows imperceptibly.

Steve takes your face in both hands and kisses you deeply, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours. Your already weakened knees wobble, threatening to let you drop like a ton of bricks right back to the rumpled towel beneath your feet. The tangy taste of your cunt still lingers on his tongue and mixes with the salty flavor coating your mouth; it's addictive, and for a moment, it tricks you into thinking you could go just one more round. The way your clit throbs painfully at the mere insinuation, however, quickly dispels that idea.

Steve presses a final, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose after he pulls away from your lips, and the way his eyes sparkle at you in the moonlight dashed across his face makes your stomach flip excitedly, a sensation you're almost embarrassed to feel. It seems too innocent, too chaste after everything you've done tonight, but your cheeks flush hotly regardless.

"You…are something else," Steve says quietly, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"You're one to talk."

You turn your head toward his palm, kissing his warm skin. The yellow-green light of his watch glows out of the corner of your eye, and when he twists his wrist a bit to the side, you catch a glimpse of the numbers.

No. No, that can't be right.

Steve makes a discordant sound as you yank his arm back toward your face, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. You must've read the time wrong; it can't be that late.

But there it is, clear as day, in blocky electric numbers. Your curfew, which you've never broken, passed almost half an hour ago.

Your heart plummets down through your stomach, and you swear you hear it plop into the dirt at your feet.

"I'm so dead," you murmur, and Steve cocks his head quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm dead!"

You scramble toward the rearview mirror and tug it upward. You look absolutely wrecked. How will you explain why ninety percent of your makeup is gone? Why your hair looks like you've just gone through a tornado? Steve huffs out a confused laugh.

"Am I…missing something?" he asks, leaning casually against the side of the car. You tug the collar of your shirt up and scrub at your mouth - it makes your lipstick look worse and stains the inside of one of your favorite tops. Shit. You frenziedly try to work the buttons on Steve’s jacket closed, desperately tugging the collar up in an attempt to conceal the rapidly deepening red blotches he’s sucked into your skin. They’ll bruise by tomorrow, and if you weren’t in a blind panic, the thought would turn you on. Admittedly, it still does.

"I'm so, so late. My mom is gonna kill me," you say frantically. Maybe it'll be dark enough that no one will notice your lipstick…but they'll definitely see the black trenches carved into your cheeks. Shit.

You turn to the side, trying to tame your hair into a halfway decent shape. It doesn’t work, and you exhale roughly through your nose; the scrunchie you always wear around your wrist is snatched off, and you twist your hair into possibly the sloppiest, worst bun you’ve ever created, but it’ll have to do. Every single aspect of your appearance is like a bright red, flaring neon sign blinking above your head, ready to announce I HAD HOT SEX, AND THAT’S WHY I’M SO INCREDIBLY LATE.

You know it shouldn't matter; she doesn’t have much recourse since you're an adult, but fear still pangs in your gut so hard it makes you nauseous. You can picture it now, tiptoeing into the living room just to have the lamp in the living room flicker to life, your enraged and concerned mother silhouetted in the dim yellow light. You're sure you'll be able to see the steam rolling off her body in waves from where you'll be standing at the landing of the stairs. You'll be lucky if she lets you leave for the supermarket after this, let alone on another date.

"Shit, is it really that late?" Steve asks, and how his voice pitches up in genuine confusion only aids your panic. He bounds to the driver's side of the car, almost tripping over his feet as he fumbles the keys from his pocket and slams them into the ignition. Your butt barely touches the passenger side seat before the engine roars to life, and Steve slams on the gas.

Apologies tumble freely from his mouth as you clumsily clip your seatbelt into place, and you assure him it's alright as best you can while licking your fingers and scouring the mascara stripes off your cheeks. It doesn't work and tastes weird, but it's all you've got.

~~~

When Steve screeches up your driveway, you are an hour past curfew, and that’s only by the grace of God and Steve’s disregard for speed limits. 

You sling your purse strap over one shoulder and almost kick the passenger side door off its hinges as you get out of the car, but just before you're about to bolt up your driveway, you pause.

It wouldn't kill you to be just a little later, right?

You whip back around, and Steve stares up at you, a little breathless, flushed, and still so beautiful. You grip the edge of the window and bend down, poking your head inside the car.

"I had an amazing time," you say, and you wish Steve wouldn't smile at you the way he does because it makes you want to say, "Fuck it," and hop back in the car. But he does, and you don't, and he nods.

"You wanna do it again sometime? I mean, not, not it, like a date - well, we can do it again if you want to. I'm just saying we don't have to…."

He sighs, and you pretend not to notice the flexing and unflexing of his hands on the steering wheel. It's endlessly endearing how nervous he is when he isn't jamming his cock down your throat or eating you out like a starving man. Something in your mind wants to see how flustered you can make him, but you silence it.

"Such a way with words," you tease, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You kiss him tenderly, hoping it encapsulates everything you want to say but don't have time for right now. Fingers slide up the nape of your neck and ensnare themselves in your hair, keeping your lips locked for a few moments longer. Your mouth is swollen and chapped, but you'd kiss him all night if he'd let you. Maybe one day he will.

"I'd love to do this again, by the way," you hum against the corner of his mouth. "Assuming I live past tonight, that is."

"Looking forward to it, Y/N. Oh, and, by the way…."

He grips your hair, not too hard, but just enough to where you stiffen and let out a soft moan. He peppers kisses along your cheek, to your temple, to the shell of your ear.

"I'm keeping your panties. Maybe next time I'll shove 'em in your mouth if you try to play the quiet game again with me."

He releases his grip on your hair, and his hand purposefully slides along the curve of your jaw until it reaches your chin. He pinches it between thumb and forefinger and kisses the bewildered, now painfully aroused look off your face before leaning back, giving you a wink, and revving the car's engine.

"See you soon, baby," he calls. His car crunches back down your driveway, and you're left standing there, brain short-circuiting and threatening to melt out of your ears, hyperaware of the cold night air nudging against your bare pussy under your skirt. You press your thighs together and jam fabric between them self-consciously, hoping against hope that you won't flash your poor, unsuspecting mother, who is undoubtedly waiting for you to chew you out.

You turn unsteadily, gazing up at your house. The living room light is already on, and you can see a lithe shadow flitting anxiously from within the windows. You're going to get an earful.

It was so. Fucking. Worth it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington / reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #fem!reader #f!reader #smut #my writing #somebody to love series

[melrodrigo]

I really love puppy love omg 😭😭 what about when puppy like reader gets really injured by someone and ends up in the clinic and tries to hide it so that wednesday wont notice? Its up to you if you wanna write it!

ty babe! i’m glad you like it

i might’ve gone a little overboard and wrote more than i thought i would, enjoy!

Okay. Maybe picking a fight with a 6’2 giant wasn’t your brightest idea.

It started in fencing class, you making your way towards Enid, for a pair exercise. Wednesday wasn’t in class today, opting instead to sneak out and work on the hyde case, she had mentioned briefly.

“Yeah dude, Wednesday is sooo into me. I can feel it. She’s been giving me so many signals.” You hear as you walk past Xavier and his hoard of friends.

You can’t help the sudden tug in your heart, and the small voice in your head that said maybe he was right.

Wednesday had been spending a lot of time with Xavier lately, but she had claimed it was for the hyde case. It didn’t help the swell of jealousy that surged through you whenever you saw them though.

Stupid feelings. Why are you jealous anyway? It’s not like you and Wednesday are together.

A voice cuts you out of your thoughts, “Totally dude, and when you finally hit that, you gotta tell me alll the details alright?”

Your face scrunches in disgust, hands on both sides of your body starting to clench into fists.

“You know I will. I swear, she’s all over me. Next time we’re alone together, it’s on.” Xavier replies, drawing an emphasis on the last word.

Nope, that’s it.

You turn sharply and bring your clenched fists up to your face, resembling the stance of a boxer.

It probably looked a little funny, since you were what, a million feet shorter than him? But you honestly couldn’t have cared less in the moment.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” You hiss, eyes hard and unforgiving.

Xavier stays quiet for a moment, then let’s out a loud laugh.

“And what are you going to do about it, huh? Wednesday’s not here to protect your ass this time.” He drawls, smirk on his crusty thin lips.

He leans in, too close for comfort and whispers, “Wednesday would never give you the light of day. You’re so pathetically in love with her, all of us can see it. But Wednesday’s in love with me.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s trying to think of something good to say.

“And when we finally fuck, i’ll be sure to send you some photo evidence.”

That does it. You snap, lunging forward and grabbing his hair, pulling harshly.

“Ow! Get off of me!”

It’s hard to remember what happens next, you’re so lost in the fury and rage of it all you can barely register that you’re suddenly on top of him, pummeling his stupid face with all your might.

You grin in satisfaction as you see blood start to make its way from his lips down to his neck.

But your luck doesn’t last very long, and he manages to kick up at a certain weak spot between your legs, leaving you to stumble and hit the floor.

Groaning, you try and get up, but he’s faster. The adrenaline is fading away, and you’re starting to realize that he is in fact a lot stronger, even if you hate to admit it.

You start to lose feeling in the right side of your face, where his knuckles have collided against your skin. Bruises form so fast you almost let out a chuckle, was your skin really that sensitive?

“That’s enough! Xavier get off YN.” The teacher’s voice booms. Could he really not have cut in sooner?

“Enid, take YN to the nurses office.”

You barely register Enid and Ajax rushing over to you, taking you in their arms and dragging you out the classroom.

You smile a toothy grin at them.

“Did I win?” And then everything turns to black.

______

When you wake up again, Enid’s at your side immediately, looking down at you, worry prominent in her eyes.

“YN! Are you okay?”

You nod, only to find out that it’s extremely difficult to move your head and not feel like you just broke every bone in your body.

“I’m good.” You croak.

You look around the room, relieved to find that Wednesday wasn’t there. You don’t think you could bear the look she would give you, so full of worry and so unlike Wednesday.

“Where’s Wednesday?” You manage out, looking at Enid expectedly.

“She hasn’t come back from Jericho yet.” Enid confirms your suspicions, sounding a little uneasy.

“Xavier’s really got to watch his back, I have no idea what Wednesday’s going to do when she finds out about this, but it’s NOT going to be pretty.” She continues, eyes wide.

At that, your own eyes widen, and you try to shake your head.

“No no, Enid, please don’t tell Wednesday about this. I don’t want her to see me in this shape.” You reach for Enid’s hand, making sure she’s looking at you.

“But…”

“Please, Enid. You don’t have to lie or anything, just tell her you don’t know where I am. I’ll be good in a couple of days.” You plead.

“Alright, fine.” She mumbles, taking your hand in hers and rubbing the back in comfort.

——

The next few days are spent in agony. The pain is starting to subside, but you still look like a beat up raisin. Purple and green bruises litter your skin, but the real sense of pain is coming from the distance between you and Wednesday.

You two had grown….very somewhat close the last few months, though the both of you would never admit it.

It was extremely hard trying to avoid Wednesday, and even harder to cover the bruises on your face. One good look and you knew she would’ve figured it out.

So for the past week, you’ve stumbled into bushes, fallen over benches, and hit the corridor walls in an attempt to swerve from Wednesday many times.

Every time she tried to approach you, you’d hang your head low, never meeting her eyes.

It was going well for the most part, until Ms.Thornhill had decided she wanted people to work in pairs.

You crossed your fingers, praying to the lord that you didn’t even worship you wouldn’t be stuck with Wednesday.

But to no avail, your luck once again ran out.

“Wednesday Addams, YN LN.”

You sigh loudly and make your way over to sit next to Wednesday, still avoiding her eye at all costs.

Most of the lesson is spent in silence, both of you lost stirring in your thoughts.

Then, “Why have you been avoiding me?” Wednesday says, hurried, like she couldn’t help it from slipping.

You sigh, for what feels like the millionth time that day, and manage a quiet, “I haven’t been avoiding you Wednesday.”

It comes out so weak, you wouldn’t have even believed yourself.

“Yes you have. I want to know the reason, have I done something wrong? Maybe I said something to hurt your….feelings?” She pauses before the last word, tone turning uncertain.

You frown.

“No of course not Wednesday, I just…” You trail off.

You turn to Wednesday, determined to give the performance of a lifetime, but forget that your face still looks like a bruised peach, and you definitely shouldn’t look her in the face.

You let out a final sigh and pull the head of your hoodie down, feeling small under Wednesdays stare.

Her eyes widen a little at the sight of you, and worry fills them. You can’t help but feel a tinge of happiness at how much she seems to care, letting the emotionless mask slip for a second.

She stands up suddenly, startling you and the 20 other people in the room.

“Ms. Thornhill, may YN and I please be excused?”

Wednesday doesn’t wait for Ms.Thornhill to answer before taking you by the wrist and dragging you out.

She doesn’t say a word until she gets to her dorm, quickly opening the door and throwing you in.

“Wednesday?” You squeak.

She turns and reaches out to touch your face, thumb rubbing just the slightest on your bruises.

A gentleness she didn’t know she possessed took over, still moving her hand in small circles all over your face.

“Who did this to you?” She murmurs, and her voice is filled with such intense worry it makes you want to break down.

Your head falls down on instinct, staring at your shoes like they’re the most interesting piece of art in the world.

Wednesday grips your chin and tilts your face back up, inches away from you.

Then she’s placing her hands on your waist, hands rigid, like she’s nervous.

You look so vulnerable, and she might’ve even say sort of adorable, she can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to your cheek, on top of the scar.

Your breath hitches in your throat, body stiff.

She continues giving you little pecks all around the bruises, and you relax in her arms.

After a while, she pulls away, and you grab at her on instinct. She lets you, body pressing up to yours once again.

“You never answered my question.” She says.

“Xavier. He said something bad about you, but it doesn’t matter now. This is much better.” You mumble as you dig your face in her uniform.

She tenses up at this.

“He’s going to die a slow, painful death. And not the satisfying kind.” She decides, hand wrapping around your waist protectively.

You hum, “Who cares? I just wanna stay like this.”

The two of you don’t say much after that, content in simply being in each other’s presence.

-

When you get to class the next day, you bite back a smirk when you see Xavier’s positively beaten up face.

You walk over to him, acting all nonchalant.

“Yeah dude. She’s soooo into you.”

-

A/N: I kinda really enjoyed writing that, ty anon! Wednesday’s such a sweet softie on the inside.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader

[southparktexts]

Enemies to lovers with the main four?

i love this concept so much anon !! thank you !!!

Enemies to lovers w/ main four

Kyle :

- i know damn well you guys became enemies because of grades.

- academic award fights.

- this literally all happened because you two wrote on the same topic but you had one mark more than kyle.

- gave you the biggest side eye

“I can’t believe that THEY out of all people got 100! i got 99 why couldn’t i just get a 100, it was the same topic!”

“…dude. y/n is kinda smart its not that surprising.”

- he complains about you whenever you ‘beat’ him with grades

- you dont even know he got beef with you tbh 😭

- you guys didnt even talk at all, you were just in the same class as him unironically.

- one day, you got paired up with him for a history presentation

- he literally rolled his eyes when he heard that and had a mood when you talked to him.

“so.. ill to information and research and you can summarise my points?”

“yeah. whatever. i don’t care.”

- eventually, after days of the two of you guys doing the project he realised you weren’t that bad of a person.

- i can see, after you guys did your presentation he would ask to be your partner more and you happily accepted

- one day, after having kyle over to do another assignment the two of you went to mcdonald’s together.

- that was probably the first time he talked to you, outside of school work.

- he definitely caught feels for you

- unironically invited you to game night with the main 4

“..dude i thought you hated her.”

“….shes not that bad.”

“I TOLD YOU THAT??”

- definitely got jealous when kenny tried flirting with you.

- after that he unironically got more touchy with you.

- holding hands when you guys hung out after studying maths together.

- one day he asked his dad for advice and he said just to ask you out.

- he did… on text.

- my guy wrote a whole essay on you.

Eric :

- you guys definitely became prank wars enemies. full stop.

- prank wars.

- this definitely started because eric thought it would be funny to put a whopee cushion on your seat

- you saw it before you sat down and he got so fucking pissed.

“WHO DOES THIS BITCH THINK THEY ARE? NOT EVEN SITTING DOWN ON IT. WHAT THE FUCK.”

“fatass it isn’t that personal.”

- from there you and him back to back prank each other.

- ..they got worse as they progressed.

- he put a lot of laxatives and arbys sauce into your lunch once

- in return you put a lot of melatonin into his milk and made him sleep during an exam.

- yall are both fucked up like that 😭

- definitely spends a lot of time thinking how he can prank you and you do the same.

- you’re the only thing on his mind at this point.

“i fucking hate how that BITCH is always one step ahead of me.”

“you gotta admit.. theyre kinda hot..”

“NO KENNY. NO.”

“cartman you talk about them a little too much, its like you like them or something.”

“WHAT?! NO. CMON GUYS.”

“..sure fatass.”

- after stan said that he started questioning his feelings towards you.

- he kinda realised you both are kinda similar in your own fucked up way.

- after that day he made a glitter bomb card with a note inside telling you to meet him at his house.

- you arrived and you guys actually worked out well..

- gradually eric started introducing kenny into the group.

- the three of you started planning pranks on the teacher.

- eventually eric started falling. hard.

- you were always so funny and unique with pranks and he loved that.

- eventually asked you out with a cupcake.

“will you go out with me?”

“hm? yeah sure. ..this cupcake doesn’t have arbys sauce and laxatives in it, does it..?”

Kenny :

- to be honest time !! i personally think you guys wouldn’t be enemies.

- more just mutual annoyance.

- i feel like hes not the type to personally hate someone.

- the only reason he would find you annoying is because you would take the girls when he was trying to flirt with them.

“hey doll.”

“you’re talking to me?”

“oh tammy !! exactly who i was looking for!”

- he gets so annoyed because each time he was trying to talk to them you’d interrupt and drag them away to talk to them.

- one day he was fed up with it but didn’t do anything about it.

“how come y/n knows literally every girl i try to flirt with?!”

“because dude, y/n is cool and popular. their going to know everyone dude.”

“yeah bro.”

“plus they hang around the girls as well”

- after that, you kinda stopped hanging around the girls since they were doing a whole protest about something that you didnt want to be involved with.

- kenny eventually just say you walking around the school, just being yourself.

- he oddly, like it. he liked seeing you act like yourself. not pretend like you did with the girls.

- eventually he invited you to game night with the boys.

- you guys played dnd and had fun!

- after that, kenny would invite you to game night more and you eventually unironically replaced butters.

- you and kenny slowly became close friends and he became more possessive over you.

- one day he had enough of these thoughts about you and just asked you out out of the blue.

“hey y/n! doll!”

“hm? oh hey ken.”

“wanna date?”

“uh sure?”

Stan :

- if im going to be honest.. he doesn’t get enemies, except for craig.

- he definitely gets angry but doesn’t hate you.

- he probably got jealous because of you though, that what ticked him off.

- this is probably right after stan and wendy broke up

- you were wendy’s friend but also being stans.

- he once saw you comforting wendy and he got jealous.

“that backstabbing bitch! y/n is with wendy right now.”

“..dude i thought you said you were over wendy.”

“i- i am but still!”

- complained about you to the boys, slowly he would have something against you.

- since you were also friends with him he would give you a moody response when he replied back.

“how are you holding up, stan?”

“fine. just fine. its not like you care.”

- became more cold and colder.

“god look at y/n over there. at the swings with wendy.”

“dude, why are you looking at y/n so much. do you like them or something.”

“what?? no?”

- he kept looking over at you and he slowly started noticed little details of you.

- how you bite your nails when your shy, how pretty you look when your studyin.. wait.. what..

- slowly started noticing more details about you and since you were friends with him he would hang out with you more.

- became more touchy while you hang out.

- he realised now you were just being nice to both sides. trying to be there for both.

- wrapping his arms around your waist while you two walked together.

- blushing as you talk to him.

- eventually he bottles up all his feels about you and breaks down but in a good way?

- going to your house at 3am, crying as you hold him in your arms on your bed.

“and- and my dad keeps putting all this pressure and me and i love you and its so fucking difficult.”

“i know stan, i know… its alright.. wait. you love me..?”

#kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader #southpark #southparkheadcannons #southparkimagines #stan marsh x y/n #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #mainfour #southparktexts

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Mini Series

FEVER (teaser)

pairings: hyung line x reader

synopsis: while in a relationship, you caught the attention of another person and gained yourself a new lover. it says one lover is enough and having another one will complicate everything.

disclaimer: this series doesn’t reflect the member's personality. the said events/situations are purely from the writer’s imagination.

warnings: cheating, mention of cheating, members loving the same girl, r18 stuff (not yet sure). the warnings will be updated accordingly.

note📎: i got inspired by the lyrics of enhypen song’s fever. since the greek myth is finished, i decided to post this teaser. i hope you’ll look forward to it and support it. thank you so much in advance. let me know about what you think and send me some asks. i love you. 🤍

© 2023 eeunoia — all rights reserved.

lee heeseung › here

— “hyung! who’s that?” heeseung looked over his friend, sunghoon, when he heard him asking a question. at first, he didn’t understand. but as he follow his line of sight and it ends onto you, he knew. he knew that his younger friend was into his best-friend.

— he thought it was okay. his friend is a very nice guy. he will surely treat you right. introducing you both will be okay. so he did. he thought he did something good, but little does he know, he will be in a complicated situation because of it.

— “want to hang out friday?” heeseung asks you as you both open your work books at the page your teacher asked you to. you glanced at him and gave him an apologetic smile. “can’t at friday. i have to be at sunghoon’s practice.” you said.

— as you slowly drift away from him, the more he realized what he truly feels for you. heeseung was torn. he wants to pursue you, but he doesn’t want to hurt his friend. it was noticeable though, for you at least.

— “what’s up with you lately?” you asked, worried. feeling a bit guilty that you’ve been too focused to your boyfriend that you kind of neglect your best-friend. heeseung kept this gaze at you. it made your heart race, awakening the lingering feelings for him that you tried to push at the back of your mind.

— “i’m in trouble, y/n.” he starts and gulped. he was struggling to talk, like as if he has too many to say that it all got messed up inside his mind. “w-why?” you asked, nervous as you try to take a step back, but heeseung held you captive.

— “i think i can’t hide this feelings anymore. i’m afraid it’ll ruin two friendships.” he uttered too dangerously as he caress your skin using his thumb sending shivers towards your spine.

park jay › here

— “where’s heeseung hyung?” jay asked jake when he saw him sitting by the couch. he can see how his friend was holding his head, discomfort present at his expression. “in his room? i don’t know man. i have bad hang over.” jake answered that made him chuckle.

— being friends for a long time develops a bond that is very hard to break. it came along with some unsaid rules such us they should always be there for one another and to keep each other’s secret. but when jay found out about what heeseung did, he just couldn’t let him get away with it without learning a lesson.

— “dude, you fucking slept with hana. what do you think will y/n feel?” jay looked upset. heeseung seemed bothered as well, but the boy chosed to shrug it off. “whatever. as long as she doesn’t finds out.” he said and as if on cue, you entered their frat house with those big bright smile.

— at first, he just wants to be there for you. to comfort you whenever heeseung treats you badly and stood you out. but the more he get to know you, the harder he fell. the bigger his feelings developed.

— “hyung, why did you let y/n go without getting her breakfast?” jake asked innocently as he bite onto his sandwich. heeseung’s brows furrowed in confusion. “y/n was here?” his tone has a hint of shock. jake nodded. “yeah. didn’t she slept in your room?”

— heeseung was confused, very confused. he was sure you’re not in his room last night. his heart thumped and chest started to tighten. both of their heads turned over to jay when he suddenly appeared. “she slept in my room.” he revealed that made the atmosphere heavy.

— “no she didn’t.” heeseung said, trying to deny the reality that his girlfriend did stayed in his best friend’s room. jay smirked, “she did. you stood her up for hana so i thought she can stay with me instead.”

jake sim › here

— “jake, you’re late again.” sunghoon exclaimed as he rolled his eyes jokingly at the newly arrived friend. jake chuckled as he bro fist most of them, instantly noticing that they’re not yet complete.

— “yeah and i guess jay’s late too?” he asked. heeseung snorted. “he’ll be here in a moment. he’s coming with his girl.” his tone has a hint of teasing that caused their friends to laugh along with jake.

— “oh was that today? man, i forgot that he’ll be introducing the girl he’s been seeing for a while now.” he said as he sat down. just as he settles down, they heard the familiar clings of the door to their favorite restaurant followed with ni-ki’s ‘jay hyung’s here.’

— jake won’t deny he’s a bit curious of the girl that caught jay’s attention. their friend’s too busy with school life and also party so they knew he don’t do serious relationships, but this girl may be his exception.

— his smile was wide as he stood up hearing their friends greeting them. he turns his head ready to tease his friend, but all those thoughts drifts away after meeting your eyes. mirroring his reaction, your wide smile faltered a bit after seeing him again.

— “and this is jake, babe. one of my closest friends! the one i was talking about.” jay’s excited voice ringed over jake’s ears and so he snapped back to reality. you smiled awkwardly and accepted his hand, acting like you didn’t know jake. like you didn’t date him for a long time.

— “y/n, take me back. please. i can’t take it anymore. seeing you being held by another man will make me crazy!” jake sounded so frustrated and so are you. “j-jake, i’m scared...” you whispered, being honest about what you feel after a long time of denying it. jake sighed and slowly pulled you closer to him into a hug. “i w-will think of something. okay?”

park sunghoon › here

— “i’ll be gone for four months dude.” jake said and sunghoon can hear how sad his friend was. he sighs, trying to lighten his mood. “well time passes by very fast. you’ll be back even before you know it.”

— “can you do me a favor?” he asks. “yeah sure. what is it?” sunghoon was determined to do whatever it is when he said that to his friend. jake smiled, “take care of y/n for me while i’m gone. look after her and be in my place for four months.”

— sunghoon was lost of words, unable to talk right away. he felt a lump over his throat as he tried clearing it while glancing away. “y/n’s not five man. i’m sure she’ll do well.” he said.

— “i know, but i don’t want her to feel lonely.” jake said. “she hates me.” sunghoon tried stating a point, but jake just chuckles over it. “no she doesn’t. you just tease her too much.”

— and so trying to be a good friend, he do as he told. at first it was not easy. you two argues a lot and your differences just rubs off towards each other. but as time passes by, something ignites between the sleeping feelings that were just sitting at the corner of your minds.

— you bite your lower lip as you try to walk out from sunghoon’s room, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. even before you can make it outside, a hand catches you pinning you at the wall. “sunghoon, please. let me go. t-this is wrong.” you said, you yourself are afraid of your own feelings.

— sunghoon's burning eyes pierced at you, he clenches his jaw. “you think i don’t know that? y/n, i’ve tried to fight it. trust me, i did. but we both know it was there the whole time. we were just too scared to light the fire.”

——————————

main master-list

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @crjwon @love13tter @edensgardenn @simpforniki @classicroyalty @bridgebridgebirdiebridge @hime98 @moonsclover @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamyenskz @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @kimmchijjajang @hoonbrry @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @hiqhkey @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @moonlightisland @ayayiiie @aeyeree

#enhypen #enhypenwriters #eeunoiaverse #eeunoia #eeunoiawrites #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fic #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung imagine #enhypen jay park #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen yang jungwon #enhypen kim sunoo #enhypen nishimura riki

[slvt4lanadelrey]

Rebellion | Part Two | Phoebe Atwell

Warnings: this was supposed to be in part one, but I must have been high whilst publishing 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️, all the warnings on the previous one applies here.

Part One | Rebellion

Your thumb nail was between your teeth, sitting at the principal's office next to Phoebe. It had been a whole year since meeting her and she'd already turned your whole world around.

"That was honestly so fucking funny." Phoebe laughed, elbowing your side to gain your attention. You were so consumed by the thought that your mom would be mad that you couldn't hear a thing Phoebe was saying.

"God, I thought you were going to be some nerd, or something when we first met, instead you're my little project." Phoebe quipped, smirking up at you. Still, you remained silent, only daring to share a hum in return.

"Dude, everyone thought I was pregnant and that you had a dick." Your eyes landed on Phoebe, watching as she bursted with laughter. It must have rippled through her stomach, gasping out of her throat at the sheer loudness of it.

"I don't, and never did have a dick." You grumbled out, crossing your arms as you began to sulk.

"Wait. I'm confused. When I met you, granted it was for like a split second and you immediately started to stare at my boob-" Phoebe giggled, your head dropped and you sank more into your chair. It was bad enough you were in trouble, but now she was taunting you?

"I wasn't looking at your chest, I was looking at your shirt. It's been a year!" You pleaded with her knowing she'd just laughed in your face at any excuse you'd give.

"Right, and we're not totally flirting with each other." Phoebe laughed so matter of factly, not daring to back down from your challenging eyes.

"I'm not like this, I don't know why I stood up in class. I don't know why I graffitied the school walls." You mumbled through gritted teeth, staring idly at your shoes. You kicked them out a little, sinking further into the metaphoric ship you set for yourself. The ship was your future, the iceberg was Phoebe.

"Oh come on, we've known each other for a year. You can't just change your whole personality in that time period. I think you're tired of the loner nerdy girl, you wanna be a bad bitch." You cringed, rolling your eyes at the ecstatic laced tone Phoebe used.

"Absolutely not." You were dead set against turning this way, how did the teacher put it? Deviant ways behind you and turn back to your studies, that's what you wanted to do.

Phoebe was like a shot of caffeine, not labelled as a warning to be addictive but it was.

You found yourself falling harder each day, and she was there to soften your landing. But she was your friend, and sadly that was all you saw her as. You fell for her mean ways, chaotic behaviour that dragged you into a dark whole; a dark paradise, something you never wanted to wake up from.

"No seriously, Y/N, I think this change is good for you." You ignored her, muting the sound of her voice all together. What did she know? She was just some random girl you so happened to have an inside joke with, that doesn't mean she could take over your whole life.

"Miss Y/L/N, come with me." The principle started to use her more stern and solid tone with you, something that knocked the wind out of your system.

"Sit." Were you some dog? You slid into the seat she guided you in, sitting with your legs crossed.

She huffed when she pulled out your record, naming out each thing you've done since Phoebe had came to the school.

"I appreciate the fact you have trouble finding friends, but Phoebe isn't the type of crowd you were meant to get along with." You may be slightly mad at Phoebe in the time, but you weren't going to let someone degrade her character just because she had a hard life.

"You and Phoebe aren't meant to be friends. Y/N, you're an A star student, on the roll to being an honour student, your family—" your nose flared, hands gripping at the leather when she mentioned your family. You had two amazing parents, your mom was present and loving but Phoebe was in the Foster system and you weren't about to let some old women drag Phoebe even further down.

"Ma'am, I appreciate you have a job to do and one of the roles you have to play is keeping students in line. But don't think for a second I won't use my name, something you so clearly stated has a hold in society, to ruin you. Phoebe is an amazing person, who can name every film director there has been since the early 40's, she may not have the same life as me. God knows she won't be granted the same opportunities due to an unfair system, but I won't sit here and listen to you rant about how I shouldn't 'misbehave' because I have a family." Your backpack rolled onto your shoulder, you stormed out of the room and grabbed Phoebe on your way.

"Pretty sure I just got us expelled, who cares though." She smiled brightly at you, allowing your fingers to penetrate through her leather jacket and drag her down the halls. Your eyes caught a glimpse of Melanie, causing you to stutter with your footage.

"Hey!" Melanie called out, following after you in the parking lot. Phoebe shrugged, opening your car door and slid in.

"Hey, Mel." You smiled up at her, rocking on your heels.

"Did you just get kicked out of school? Like for real, all because of Phoebe?" Mel asked, reaching out to rub down your shoulder. You shuddered at the touch, blushing when she smiled down at you.

"Probably, but don't worry, I'll still give you a ride to school." You promised. At first, you fell for Phoebe, so ghastly. She was there, she smiled and said she'd kick your ass if you ever called her out on blushing. But you didn't like the way ever guy had a story with her, that Cole would tell everyone they fucked in his families boat house. So you gave up, parting ways with the romantic string and found yourself tied up with Melanie Cyrus.

She was pretty, smart, kind and actually showed interest in you. Phoebe once again acted like she didn't care, simply replied with "K." When you'd blow her off to spend time with Melanie instead of her.

"I don't care about that right now, I care if you'll be able to come to my party this afternoon?" Mel asked, teasing you with licking her lips; your eyes darting between her lips and eyes. You gulped, Phoebe pressed down on the horn, causing your body to jump.

"Shit, Phoebe! Uh, Mel, I may be grounded but I'll message you, yeah?" You didn't wait for an answer, already slipping into the seat and starting your car.

"You just fumbled so hard, loser. Phoebe kicked her foot onto the dashboard, chewing excessively on her gum. You slapped her feet down, rolling your window down.

"You literally suck dick, I don't think me getting scared by a loud noise Is a problem if you check the spectrum." The girl beside you scoffed, gagging at the thought of her earlier actions.

"The rumours will be the death of me." She mumbled, pressing hard into your chair. You nodded, not bothering to answer until your words slipped through your mouth; laced with sarcasm and venom.

"Rumours? Yeah." Phoebe whipped her head back, almost catching whiplash at the shock of hearing your words. Her eyes flooded with emotions you hadn't seen often; your only remembrance of the sadness of emotions was when she confessed about her parents.

"I didn't do that shit, Y/N. You of all people should know that I'm not like that, fuck!" She punched the head rest, anger seething through her at the fact her own bestfriend believed the lies of the sad virgin boys made up to get a slap on the back from their "boys''

"It doesn't matter if you did. You don't owe anyone anything, you can slut around if you want, you can stay a virgin if you want." The car died, phoebe was still exhaling deeply and glaring at you whenever you'd make a move to talk.

"We're not going to that party, we're going to have fun tonight." Phoebe stopped, one foot pressed to the concrete floor and the next still in your car.

"We're going to smoke weed." She declared, finally getting out of your car and ran towards her house, not spearing you a second glance.

"Weed?" She mumbled, hands ruffling through the bag you brought from home. You flung the small pouch, assuring it lands softly in the girl's hand.

"Check."

"Vodka?" She pulled out the bottle, passing it to you in a more graceful manner. You cupped the bottle, unscrewing the lid and gulping it down.

"I could be having passionate love making right now, instead I'm here with you—" Phoebe gagged, rolling the blunt in her hands.

"No. Don't call it love making, it's either sex or fucking. Plus, I'm your favourite person, who else would you rather spend your days with?" You couldn't argue, she was being honest and stating a factor that played on both of your minds.

Normally, a favourite person would be reserved for a girlfriend or a boyfriend. So why was Phoebe yours and why were you hers?

It didn't make sense, it also didn't matter.

"Okay, so." Phoebe began ranting about a new film she made, debating with herself on the pros and cons of the movie. She went back and forth, arguing with a blank space.

"That settles it!" She slammed her hand on the floor, the other hand hoisting up the blunt that was stuffed with weed.

"It's a must watch. Y/N, free tomorrow, were watching a movie!" She huffed on the paper, taking in the silky smoke that spread through her lungs. She effortlessly smoked it, handing it to you when her eyes rimmed red.

Her cheeks were inflamed, holding a red pigment when she exhaled the last bit of smoke. She sighed whilst handing it over, almost like it pained her to do.

Your lips wrapped around the blunt, taking a drag from the cigarette before blowing out the smoke.

"Why Mel?" Phoebe picked at her boots, the leather peeling under her touch. You rolled your tongue over your teeth, debating on whether to admit the blinding truth; could you lie whilst under the influence of weed?

"Cole."

Phoebe stared blankly, eyes squinting when nothing came to mind.

"Cole? I thought you were gay, they dated for like a week In the eighth grade." Phoebe mumbled through inebriated words, slurring out the confusion.

You let out a heavy breath of air, swallowing hard, pressing further into the wooden floor of Phoebe's back garden shed.

"I am gay, Phoebe." She nodded, pushing you to talk more.

"Cole's always going on about what you did for him, well, to him. I got so jealous, I guess, that I stopped liking you." Her fingers pulled at her leather skirt, dragging it further down. She looked ashamed, one for never addressing the rumours and two for never for admitting the truth to you.

"You liked me back?"

It sounded like a joke, a breathy laugh accompanied with the comment. Her eyes were red, bloodshot and coated in soft tears. She looked so sad at the realisation, everything dropping down on her all at once.

"Liked? Fuck, you were all I knew at one point." You weren't holding anything back, stating everything that had been occupying your mind for months.

She didn't say anything, sitting; stewing in the silence of your confession.

"Why'd you stop?" She wanted to be bold, but you weren't interested in boosting her ego at the moment.

"Because it was killing me, being in love with someone who wouldn't give you the time of day like you wanted. I would have dropped everything, I would have done anything for you at a point. Now I'm just confused." It didn't feel freeing, it felt like more chains were being wrapped around your body; no one could have warned you of the feeling that would consume your body. You shattered, dropping into nothing. Phoebe was staring with sad eyes, guilt hollowing away at her soul.

You stood up abruptly, causing things to fall over. You struggled to get up, stumbling to your feet with the blunt still in your hand. You took one more puff, handing it back to the owner.

"I'm going to go. I am actually grounded, I'll see you around, Phoebe." You felt silly, it wasn't like a film where she either slapped you in your face and spat out that she'd never love you back, nor did she confess her undying love for you either. Lost, lost like a leaf floating through the thick wind, like a balloon full of helium that had been dropped from a child's hand; floating aimlessly through space.

You weren't ready to address the truth, you were stuck between two girls. One- Phoebe, who was giving you nothing, occasionally dropping a flirty comment here and there. But you were so sure she was your first love, that you'd be able to change her. Then you had Mel, the sweet girl next door who had messaged you when your goldfish died.

Stuck like glue to a clumsy person's art project, stuck like butter to bread. Forever frozen in time, one part of you was paused at the moment you met Phoebe. When she picked up your glasses and pushed them back onto your face whilst brushing your hair back.

The other part was paused on last week, sleeping sound against Mel because you passed out whilst watching TV with her.

Good or bad some may say. But Phoebe wasn't bad, but she wasn't good; at least not for you.

Mel<3: (9:36pm) shame you couldn't come, the parties a drag without you :(

Mel <3: (9:36pm) shit, if you're grounded you won't get this.

Mel <3: I miss you ;)

You were a mess, a giant pit of abandonment; a fear festered within you, who would you pick?

But was their a choice in the first place.

#phoebe atwell #phoebe atwell x you #phoebe atwell x fem #phoebe atwell x fem!reader #phoebe atwell x reader #jenna ortega #jennaortega #tara carpenter #lgbt #lorraine day #vada cavell #wlw #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem #jenna ortega x fem!reader

[kimbapisnotsushi]

happy birthday aran!!! have some inarizaki hcs let's go

back when they first played shiratorizawa aran didn't know what to do bc tendou kept yelling weird shit at him and aran was, quite honestly, frightened for his life

tendou: "watch this i'm going to intimidate their ace so hard he won't be able to play properly and we'll win!" semi: "okay, what are you going to - " tendou, putting his hands around his mouth for the whole stadium to hear: "HEY NUMBER EIGHT, GET READY FOR ME TO PISS IN YOUR PANTS" semi: "dude what the fuck"

the twins are SO ready to fight and they probably would have if kita hadn't stepped in

kita didn't even have to do much he just stared down tendou with all the energy of "your most respected/favorite teacher is disappointed in you and you're going to cry bc of it" and tendou backed off

(for all of five minutes. then he started dumping on akagi but akagi gives what he gets so what the hell, kita let it slide)

this might be considered bad sportmanship tbh but it's funny as fuck so whatever

LMAO WAIT SORRY LOSING MY SHIT AT THE THOUGHT OF SHIRABU AND ATSUMU ON THE COURT AT THE SAME TIME THE IMPLICATIONS ARE SO FUCKED OH MY GOD

okay sorry back to the normal schedule

i think bc aran's the ace and court captain people try to follow his lead at school or ask him to make the final decision on things and such and he HATES it. it's soooooo much pressure and he really doesn't want to disappoint anyone!!

like no he does NOT want to be the tiebreaker for what their class should do during the school festival he just wants to walk around and eat a crepe. no he does NOT want to choose what paint color looks best for remodeling the garden fence why the fuck are you even asking him he's part of the volleyball club!!!! he always texts kita for help when this happens LMAO

and even if he DOES mess up the other students are always like, "ah, of course ojiro-san would do that!! he totally did that on purpose!! of course it's because [insert farfetched excuse here]!! why didn't we think of that either!!!"

if anyone's ever seen or read handa-kun (light-hearted prequel/spin-off to barakamon <33) it's basically that LMAO

kita's surprisingly good at telling scary stories

not just that but he tells normal stories in such a way that most people think he's telling a scary story first and then he says some totally mundane shit like "and that's why we no longer store our towels under the bed" and people are like. damn guess i'm not doing that either!!!

every day suna texts his sister one funny zero-context quote from practice. his sister has collected all of these and set up a twitter account for them.

gin thinks atsumu is going to get his ass kicked for not knowing when to shut the fuck up. atsumu thinks he's going to get his ass kicked because osamu paid someone to do it

osamu insists he wouldn't tho bc then he'd just do it himself for free

akagi, aran, and kita tease oomimi for being younger than them and make a running joke of ruffling his hair like a little kid which oomimi actually finds really comforting bc people usually shy away from being tactile with him. like guys come on oomimi is a sweetheart i love him so much

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARAN #i think this was the fastest i've ever done a post LMAAAO #no bc i've been trying to calculate how oomimi is in their year when he's feb 1995 and the others are april/april/july 1994???? #dude someone help me i can't timeline it's my biggest weakness #ojiro aran #kita shinsuke #oomimi ren #akagi michinari #miya osamu #miya atsumu #ginjima hitoshi #suna rintarou #honorary mentions to: #semi eita #tendou satori #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu hcs #sou says stuff

[cthulhu-with-a-fez]

i started naruto a few years ago and made it to like the second arc in shippuden before stopping so i never made it to the kakashi backstory but....your notes compel me. tell me more.

okay so like take this with several grains of salt because the sum total of my sources here are "my understanding of the plot and characters as synthesized from the Abridged Revised Illustrated Edition my datemate's been writing me over the last two months", a handful of clips, and the only three (3) episodes of this 600+ episode show i've seen in my life, none of the three of which were relevant to the kakashi backstory

h o w e v e r

oh my god. my dude. my man. [holds him up like longcat] there is so much wrong with you and i'm enthralled.

so like here's the thing. here's the big takeaway that i'm understanding. this whole series is an ongoing exercise in generational trauma bullshit and everyone trying so hard to course-correct from their own tragic backstories that they accidentally set up their kids/students to have completely different but still somehow exactly the same tragic backstories, and naruto's chronic case of shounen anime power-of-friendship-itis is, i mean. yes it's him being the platonic ideal of Pure Of Heart And Dumb Of Ass but it's also a direct response to seeing ninja society's perpetual tragic backstory generator and going "this is bullshit, why are we even fighting? tell me what your side is, and i'll tell you what our side is, and then we can figure out how to make our sides the same side so none of us have to fight about it at all!" and honestly i love that but this ain't about him

so like. to explain kakashi we have to explain kakashi's father sakumo first. because sakumo was one of konoha's powerhouses, been on tons of successful missions, well-liked, well-respected, one of the earliest and loudest adopters of konoha's then-new and radical pivot towards a ninja being people first and disposable tools never ideology.

he really, genuinely believed in that.

except then he and his team went on a mission. and it went really, really badly. and he had to choose between completing the mission objective or saving his teammates' lives, and he chose their lives, because those who fail their missions may be scum, but those who abandon their teammates are worse, right?

... no, actually.

just because the ideology had been circulating and people were broadly toeing the party line didn't mean they actually believed in it, and sakumo's mission failure was already causing critical backlash.after sakumo made it back to konoha he was a fucking pariah for it. he was never officially reprimanded, but he didn't need to be if people went out of their way to personally spit at his feet, and... one day young kakashi comes home to find his father's body on the floor, wrists slit and suicide note devolving into begging apologies beside him.

this, as you may imagine, fucked him up, and didn't exactly predispose him towards believing the party line about the value of life.

he gets put on a genin team that was. basically the alpha build of the sasuke-sakura-naruto team dynamic. because it was him, and rin the healer girl with a massive crush on him who he never gave the time of day, and obito the Loudest High-Vis Uchiha Who Ever Lived who had a massive crush on her, and minato their teacher who was doing his absolute best to try and get them through to understanding each other, which is an Ordeal

because kakashi at this point has internalized that the party line is pretty lies for the gullible, that his teammates are only there to drag him down, and it drives obito nuts because that's the same exact bullshit that his family keeps spouting that he's rejected as thoroughly as a 12.9-year-old can, how does kakashi not see that it's bullshit? and there's rin who's looking at kakashi like i can fix him?? and getting upset when he doesn't let them in at all or even really visibly care that they're trying, and it's one hell of a dysfunction junction but minato is working on it.

... and then the worst happens. their team is caught out alone and everything goes wrong. rin is captured and obito's body is half-crushed under a rock and one of kakashi's eyes got slashed out and none of them are going to make it out of this, at this rate, until obito calls kakashi closer and tells him to take his eye. take the sharingan. he'd give him both but the other one got squished. kakashi will do more with it than obito ever did, so use it to save rin. please. and here's kakashi in the middle of field surgery on his dying teammate finally, horribly realizing that sometimes the win condition is, actually, protecting your friends, and he's already lost. but he can still try to save rin, it was obito's dying wish.

by the time he found her it was already too late.

the people who'd captured her had tried, poorly, hastily, messily, to seal one of the Tailed Beasts into her, and she was already dying. she had a demon thrashing in her soul that was tearing her to shreds around it and all kakashi could do was mercy kill her

and she thanked him for it.

and he goes back to konoha, sole survivor of his team, charred by the newfound comprehension of why you have to care and what it feels like to lose what you love and with obito's sharingan in his head and rin's blood on his hands and something in him that was already hanging on by a thread finally snapped.

and the only thing he could think to do, the only way he could even parse that grief through, is to just... make himself into a living memorial to them. he started trying to live as obito. adopt his mannerisms, his interests, craft his entire adult persona around his memories of his friend like a grave offering, and quarantine the bleakly mercenary anything-to-get-the-job-done ice in him off into the hound mask he wore as part of konoha's black ops division, which he joined at the ripe old age of way too fucking young.

he uses the sharingan to incredibly brutally efficient effect, copying enemy jutsus and bringing them back until the library's overflowing with them. but in the end, no matter how many he can technically use, they're still just cheap copies. and so is he.

and in the meantime the uchiha are collectively losing their shit about this random outside kid having one of their eyes in his head and getting all kinds of dubious 'glory' with it, and oh, wouldn't you look at that, they have a prodigy too!

... yeah.

itachi gets shoved through the rank advancements on a timeframe of "whatever he did you have to do it faster and better." and then the kyuubi broke free. and minato and kushina died, and a fuckton of the home guard uchiha died, and suddenly he's the most able-bodied fighter in their clan overnight at age 11 and the uchiha pull strings to get him into ANBU as well.

and kakashi is his teammate.

kakashi is his teammate and kakashi sees in itachi a whole awful lot of the edges of the way kakashi used to be, sees itachi trying to live up to and embody the absolutely impossible ideal of the perfect ninja, and he tries so god damn hard to nudge him gently towards something, anything, other than that.

but in the meantime, the uchiha have been... scheming. with danzo, Guy With The World's Biggest Chip On His Shoulder About Not Being Hokage, who's been marinating in a paranoia spiral for years. danzo had tried to set himself up as kakashi's palpatine, and tried to get him to assassinate hiruzen, and kakashi hears him out, and turns right around and goes to hiruzen with it instead, and danzo is pissed. the uchiha are pissed. danzo warns hiruzen that they're almost definitely going to try again and they're gonna make the uchihas' little prodigy do it this time, and kakashi silently braces to have to fight and maybe kill his teammate he was trying so hard for, and then...

and then itachi, who'd been watching his clan get. worse. for a long time. finds his cousin shisui, his best friend shishui, bleeding out in the dirt, who tells him everything, tells him danzo tried to have shisui killed for finding it out, and it worked, he's dying, but he's not dead yet, so please. make it count.

.......................................... And Then The Uchiha Massacre.

and now itachi is one more person that kakashi tried to care about who got destroyed.

and then fast forward a little bit further, he's been retired from active-duty ANBU after a decade-plus of service because the sharingan is starting to burn him out, he's starting to lurch to a halt like unwound clockwork without something to Do, and... he gets given team seven. the worst of konoha's gremlin children.

a bitter, disillusioned loner with a chip on his shoulder and the skill to back it up, the healer girl with a crush on him that he never gives the time of day, and the Loudest High-Vis Pest In The Village.

you see where this is going.

kakashi who at this point has been coasting along by bouncing between mask-personae for years is now having to dynamically engage with life again because if he isn't present and actively responding to his team then there's a nonzero chance he'll turn around to find all three of them chewing on the drywall and he cannot default to scripted responses because they don't work on a pack of middle schoolers hellbent on squabbling til the cows come home. and it's kind of good for him?

but also, uh. [gestures broadly towards... Sasuke(TM) and the rest of the plot]

and yeah i'm not gonna get too much further into it because i'm not confident enough in my own comprehension of the timeline to do that XD but like.

hatake kakashi is a scarecrow of a man stitched together out of his dead best friend, a hunting hound, and his dead best friend again, who's spent his entire life behind one mask or another, who over the course of the series keeps surviving shit that by all odds he shouldn't have, or survives specifically because the people he cares about throw their plot armor around him before they die, and he has a personality mostly composed of the crumpled-up pages of the memetically worst-written trashy bodice-ripper novels ever published because obito used to love them and the inexplicable receipts of other people's love for him, and i want to put him in a gas station hot dog roller and perceive him.

thank you for coming to my ted talk XD

#answered asks by cwaf #snorlaxlovesme #kakashi hatake #naruto #yeah so like this very much is a thirdhand synthesis Take on it XD but oh my god. holy shit #this series is a masterclass in what is quite possibly the oldest story beat humanity has ever had #which is 'growing up realizing that your adult is fucked up because Their Adult was fucked up because THEIR ADULT was fucked up' #'and responding to it by either becoming them; becoming as different from them as possible; or a secret third thing' #anyway here i am showing up to the weeb-ubiquitous kakashi stan phase 20 years late with starbucks lmao #mr from-accounting you have so many things wrong with you and i love that for me

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

Danny Phantom

Space Case by TorScrawls

Danny runs into some astronauts from NASA’s lunar mission while trying to do his homework on the moon. This leads to new friends, a new job, and eventually to Danny finding a place for himself out among the stars.

Also, Danny gets to be a gremlin in space.

“Well,” Watkins drew the word out on a sigh as she slumped against the doorframe. “We didn’t cover this in training.”

Cecilia found her eyes trained on the spot where Danny had just walked through the wall. Like a— “Is the moon haunted?!”

Watkins was silent for a long while, and when Cecilia finally managed to tear her eyes away from the wall and look at her colleague, she found her frowning at the com. "…Who's going to tell the commander?"

Emergency Contact by lexosaurus

When William Lancer answered the phone that day, little did he know that he would go from an average literature teacher and cat-dad to now the emergency foster parent for a very injured teenage ghost.

Life had a funny way of being unpredictable like that.

Tutoring Phantom by lexosaurus

It was funny. A year ago Dash was all but praying for Fenton to shut up, but now he would do anything to hear him speak.

Stranger Things

Dustin Henderson and the Lovebirds by pukner (+ podfic)

"You look like you've been mauled, dude," says Lucas. Then, after a beat, "Oh, ew."

"What the fuck," says Dustin, cottoning on, "What the fuck. This is hell, you didn't."

"Oh, I did," says Eddie, with the air of someone who's won something. He looks like the proverbial cat who's got the canary, if the canary wore polos and listened to Blondie.

"Shut up," Steve mutters, flushing as he seems to register what's happening, "Guys, it's not what you--uh, this isn't what it looks like-"

Or, five times Dustin Henderson was subjected to Eddie Munson being gross and sappy and in love with Steve Harrington, and one time Steve didn't even have to be there.

Clone Wars

I will look for you every time by unintentionalgenius

The soldier - barely more than a boy - swallows hard.

“And you’re here reporting to me because someone else is manning the rescue mission.” They’re both silent for a long moment. “Correct?”

Boil begins gingerly. She has the sense she is being handled. “The whole system went. There’s no way to get back down there. I think it was a bomb, planned. And - “ he hesitates, eyeing her face. “And no one could have survived that, sir. Not even one of us.”

“That’s impossible,” she says, instinctively.

this guy fucking sucks by Sunfl0wer78

Anakin didn't get it. The 501st was cool. Rex was great. So why was Commander Cody so... boring? And why was Obi-wan was obsessed with him? Everyone loved him. For what fucking reason.

Anakin doesn't understand Cody. Cody hates him. Maybe.

A Minor Detail by wanderingjedihistorian (RangerJedi67)

"I do apologize for the oversight,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m from a planet called Stewjon. While we look near human, we are all shapeshifters. While this is truly a minor detail in the grand scheme of things…” Cody stared incredulously. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” “Always, Cody, you know that,” he replied. “Sir, your ability to change into an otter does not qualify as a minor detail."

or, 3 times Obi-Wan's otter form came in handy on a mission and 1 time it was used for fun.

#happy wednesday everybody! #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #dp recs #sw recs #stranger things recs

[niche-writings]

hunter wittebane-noceda - general hcs.

this man loves physical touch (not that kind y'all nasty mfs)- hand-holding, hugs, shoulder pats, etc. he's touch-starved as hell. he'll probably cry on you if you hug him, but only if he's well-rested enough not to fall asleep instantly.

hugs from people he trusts are really the only way he feels safe... even when he's by himself, he's always on edge. it feels good to know somebody has his back.

that's probably why he's so tired all the time tbh. never been well-rested a day in his life because he just doesn't feel safe enough to let himself relax. dude probably has muscle knots for days.

became the golden guard at thirteen. his hands were very badly scarred on his first mission (like in the moringmark comic) when he had to dig his troop of scouts out from underneath a landslide. he ended up with bad nerve damage from the cold of the mountains, and his hands still shake pretty badly, even when he tries really hard to hold them still. he wears compression gloves to help combat this.

never been in a relationship and never had any friends. the closest thing he ever had to a friend was steve, and the age gap was frickin' enormous, so they never really connected in the same way as hunter would have connected with others his age. still, he sees steve like a big brother and a friend at the same time. steve is fond of hunter in the way a teacher is fond of a pupil, but definitely has no idea how much hunter worships and looks up to him as a person, and he definitely has no idea hunter has never experience any sort of love or affection before.

has legitimately no idea that what he went through with belos was abuse. thinks that he deserved every scar, every bruise, every injury, because he thinks that's just what parental figures do when you fuck up.

has panic attacks over seemingly very small things, and experiences deeply traumatic flashbacks if/when he has to walk through the palace again later in life. even though the flashbacks aren't necessarily noticeable to the people around him, he does have to find an excuse to leave so he has a chance to recompose himself in private.

probably has a mild eating disorder. comes from a similar place to his lack of sleep (aside from not being able to relax) where he has this idea in his head that he needs to be able to survive off of as little as possible and take up as little space/resources as possible.

#ed tw #hunter toh x reader #hunter toh #hunter wittebane #hunter wittebane x reader #hunter noceda #disordered eating mention #tw eating issues #eating disoder trigger warning #ed ment tw #ed mention #abuse mention #abuse tw #abuse ment tw #abuse mention tw #emotional abuse #abuse cw #tw abuse #hunter the golden guard #hunter the owl house #hunter owl house #hunter deamonne #hunter golden guard #golden guard #golden guard x reader

[inklessletter]

You know the right person, wrong time trope? That one? Let's make it steddie. Suffer with me~

[Part 1]

Eddie wondered what in hell did Chrissy Cunnigham, his mess shortstack of best friend, see in Steve Harrington of all people. Eddie was sure that if he seeked out "average" in the dictionary, the definition would come alongside Steve's high school portrait. That dude was every cliché of the book, but there was nothing in him that made him stand out. He wasn't the most handsome in the school, wasn't the best in his team, wasn't that charming, (wasn't also the greatest asshole either, thank god), and he was definitely not the smartest. Yet everyone seemed to be starstruck by that guy. Now, his best friend was in his net, too.

The thing is, she was crushing hard, he could tell. Like, whe was not sighing, or running after him, or telling Eddie how cute Steve was all the time, or cutting class to go see him training, but her eyes always spotted him like they were trained to fix on his silhouette. God, Chrissy didn't even tell Eddie that she liked Steve; Eddie just guessed it. Chrissy blushed one when he smiled politely at her, not looking at her longer than necessary, and just like that, Eddie knew.

And it fucking stings.

It stings for so many reasons.

For once, he's seen Chrissy. They've been best friends for years now, and he knew where she came from. He knows what she was taught at home, what she thought love was for so long until they had this heartfelt conversation in which Eddie's heart broke as he told her that love should not hurt.

He's been there for her, you know. He was the one to jump between Chrissy and his dad to avoid a second fucking slap, just because they were hanging out together. He was there, picking her up from a party she wasn't allowed to go just because she wanted to spend time with that little shit Jason that ditched her because he was too drunk that night and couldn't drive her home. He was there holding her hair when the guilt for eating was far too much to handle, and he was there holding her hand when she thought she wasn't strong enough to hold it inside.

He's been there when she had no friends but him all last year and not even talking about crushes or romances of any kind because she was done with it.

He was there now, looking at Chrissy too-good-for-literally-anyone-in-the-world Cunningham while she looked at Steve Harrington across the high school corridors, blushing and longing.

So yes, that situation actually fucking stung.

"Don't look at me like that," she said under her breath.

"I'm sorry, this painful pining is hard to miss," Eddie replied, smirking.

"It will go away," she shut her locker door, "you know always does."

"I just don't get it, tell me again why won't you talk to him?"

Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"Not this again."

"You have got a class together, righ? Go sit next to him in French-"

"It's Spanish."

"-and just talk to him, go for the weather, talk shit about some teachers, find a common thing to hate, you know, he looks like he masters shallow conversations."

"Wow, that's not rude at all."

Eddie held a laughter.

"I'm just saying," Eddie put himself in front of her, "that you've got nothing to be afraid of. You're cute, you just became a cheerleader (you can talk him about that, too), you're smart and if he doesn't like you back he's more of an ass than I though."

Chrissy considered, looking at him from below with those impossible huge eyes of the colour of the rain. Eddie suddenly zipped up her jacket and she backed up, laughing and gently shoving him off.

"He doesn't even know that I exist," she said, speaking under the layer of thick fabric of the jacket, fit for Hawkins winters.

Chrissy readjusted her jacket and looked at Steve's direction once more. She stiffened when Steve and his group were crossing the corridor, coming their direction. And Steve had the grace of actually, actually, mutting "hi there" at Chrissy as he passed by, with a killer smile.

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard he saw little orange dots for ten seconds straight.

"You were saying?"

#inklessletter #stranger things #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #steddie #ficlet #fanfic #st fanfic #steddie fic #eddie and chrissy bffs #as it should be #work in progress #trust the process

[sourwolf-sterek32]

The Chief’s Daughter

Summary: It had been six years since your father left you behind in New York. However, now that your mother was gone, you had no choice but to drive to Hawkins to find him. That's where you meet Billy Hargrove, who turns your life upside down... literally.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, hints towards child abuse (fuck Neil Hargrove)

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2-

It wasn't hard to find the Principles Officer at school and you were surprised to find another student already sitting in the chair in front of the desk.

"Ah, Y/N? Welcome to Hawkins High, I'm Principal Higgins. Take a seat, this is Billy. It's his first day as well." The man -Principal Higgins- said, motioning towards the free seat next to the other student.

You glanced over at this Billy guy wondering why the back of his blonde curls looked familiar before he glanced over his shoulder towards you and your eyes widened in surprise.

It was Billy Hargrove. The guy with that blue Camaro from the gas station.

Billy's face broke out into a grin when he realised that it was you before you sat down on the seat beside him while Principal Higgins started to go over the school rules and gave the two of you a brief induction.

"Now, here are your class schedules. I have taken the liberty of putting the two of you in a lot of the same classes. It's fairly rare that we get new students starting this late in the year, so I figured it would be good for the two of you to be together and help each other out." He said handing you your printed class schedules just as the bell for class rang. "Well, you two should head to class. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, sir." Billy said with a nod before he stood up and you nodded your thanks at the principle before following the blonde out the office.

Neither of you said anything as you walked down the corridor, but neither of you parted ways either and continued to walk alongside each other.

All the girls were looking at Billy as you walked past. Their eyes raked over him, looking him up and down like he was a piece of meat and you found yourself getting angry on his behalf, but he didn't seem to notice the looks or if he did, he didn't seem to mind as he continued to walk.

"You got any idea where Classroom 5B actually is?" He eventually asked, looking down at his schedule before glancing over at you.

"Not a fucking clue." You admitted.

The two of you kept walking down the hall before spotting the '5B' sign above a classroom door. You walked inside only to realise that most the other students had already taken their seats and you both hesitated as you stared at everyone.

"Oh, you must be our new students. I'm Mrs. Click. Please, take a seat wherever you like." The teacher instructed.

Billy was the first to move, walking confidently past the students eyeballing him before he sat down at the back of the room and pointed to the free seat beside him before you hurriedly followed and sat down.

You zoned out while Mrs. Click started talking about the Russian Revolution and by the looks of it, Billy wasn't listening either, too busy scribing something down on a piece of paper before handing it over to you.

'Wanna skip after lunch?'

You looked over at him, but he was staring at the front of the class pretending to understand The Khodynka Tragedy before you grabbed your pen and wrote below his sentence.

'It's our first day dude'

You subtly handed the paper back to him when Mrs. Click had her back turned which he took, his fingers brushing against yours as he grabbed it and read what you wrote before raising his eyes brows at you.

'Scared?'

'Shut up. I'll meet you at the carpark during lunch'

That caused Billy to smile as he read your words before he scrunched up the paper and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket and turned back to the front of the class like nothing happened.

The next few classes dragged on longer than you thought possible, but eventually the bell for lunch finally rang and you scooped up your books and shoved them into your backpack before you walked outside.

Billy was already leaning against the side of your Mustang with a cigarette between his lips. And you were not checking him out as you walked over to him, nope definitely not.

"What's the plan, Hargrove?"

"Surprise. C'mon, I'm driving." He said, pushing himself away from Mustang before walking across the carpark to where the Camaro was parked.

"Don't want to take my car?" You teased, following him easily.

"Fuck no. Mine is way better."

"We should race then." You said causing Billy to chuckle softly, but he didn't say anything. "What's wrong? Scared you'll lose to a girl?"

"Only in your dreams, baby."

Your stomach fluttered at the nickname, but you ignored it and climbed into the passenger side of the Camaro. He turned the keys in the ignition, the engine roaring to life before music blasted from the speakers loud enough to make you flinch.

"Shit, my bad." He said, reaching to turn the volume down.

You grabbed his hand and stopped him causing him to look over at you in confusion.

"Don't ever turn down Metallica around me. I will take offence to that if you do!" You shouted over the music causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

"You know Metallica?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Most people in this stupid town." He responded bluntly causing you to chuckle.

"AIn't that the truth."

Billy tapped the Camaro into gear before he peeled out the carpark and took off down the road. You rolled the window down, leaning your head back on the headrest with your arm out the window, letting your hand dance in the wind.

You closed your eyes for a few seconds to just take it all in. The cool breeze, the fast car, the music, all of it. You were relaxed. You weren't thinking about your mother or Sara, you weren't worrying about your father or school, you were just relaxed. If you were being honest, this was the most you had felt at ease since New York.

Sooner than you would have liked, Billy began to slow the Camaro down and you opened your eyes to find him pulling off the main road onto some dirt track and you noted that he was now driving remarkably slower, not wanting to chip the paint work on any rocks.

"You know, if you're, like, planning on murdering me or something, just let me know now." You said, breaking the silence.

Billy glanced over at you from the driver's seat with raised eyebrows. "And give you a chance to run? No way."

"Who said anything about running? If I have to run, you might as well just kill me now." You responded causing Billy to laugh. "No seriously, just kill me now. I hate running."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not in a murdery mood today."

"Murdery? Dude, that's not even a real word."

"How would you know?" He asked in amusement.

"Actually, good point. I don't know because someone is making me skip English class to murder me in the middle of nowhere." You responded, trying to keep a straight face, but the second Billy began to laugh, you lost it and started to laugh as well.

Eventually, the Camaro came to stop at the top of the quarry and you both climbed out the car and your jaw dropped when you took in the view. It was stunning. The cliff overlooked the quarry, the water down below shining from the sun as the two of you leant against the hood of the Camaro and took it in.

"How'd you know about this place?"

"Heard Tommy H talking about it. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about." He replied, pulling out a packet of Marlboro from his pocket.

"Tommy H? You making friends already?"

"People seem to like me." He answered with a small shrug.

"Yeah, no shit. You haven't even been in this school for a whole day, yet you walk around with confidence like you own the place and give off this surfer, bad boy kinda vibe and these small-town folk eat that shit up. Plus, you got this car which is just as noisy and as attractive as you are, so no wonder people seem to be liking you." You said, not really thinking as you spoke before your eyes widened only just hearing your own words.

"You think I'm attractive?"

Without looking, you knew Billy was smirking when he spoke and you just rolled your eyes and continued to stare out at the quarry.

"That is seriously the only thing you heard out of everything I just said?"

He snorted softly, "pretty much."

The two of you fell into comfortable silence for a while as you enjoyed the view while Billy smoked. You would have thought that the silence would be awkward, but it wasn't. It was nice.

"How do you know so much about cars?"

You glanced over at him at his question, not really wanting to talk about your mother, but he seemed genuinely curious so you answered.

"My mother. She taught me everything I know. The Mustang used to be hers."

"She just gave it to you?" He asked in surprise.

"That's kind of what happens when someone dies and they leave it in your name, yeah."

"Oh, shit. Sorry." He apologised, looking over at you apologetically, but you just waved him off. "That why you moved to Hawkins?"

"Yeah, my dad lives here. Wouldn't have moved here if I had a choice about it though."

"You and me both."

"Why'd your family move here?" You asked curiously.

"Old man thought we needed a change of scenery. I blame my stepsister though, little bitch tried to run away. I think dad and Susan thought if we moved out to some dumb town in the middle of Indi-fucking-ana that she wouldn't try and run." He answered, glaring down at a rock on the ground like it had personally offended him.

"That's rough. I'm sorry."

He just shrugged his shoulders and took another drag of his cigarette before glancing over at you. "Once I graduate and save up enough money, I'm out of here."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Back to Cali."

"Got room for one more?" You asked causing him to look at you surprised look. "I hate this town. I hate my dad. He's an asshole. I'm leaving as soon as I can too."

"Doubt your Mustang could last the drive across the country."

"Oh, fuck off." You chuckled, bumping your shoulder into his playfully as he huffed out a laugh.

The two of you fell back into comfortable silence as Billy lit up another cigarette and held it out towards you with a questioning look and you took it taking a drag before you guys passed it between the two of you while enjoying the view.

-

"You skipped on your first day?!" Hopper shouted, marching into the cabin causing you and El to jump from where you were sitting on the couch watching cartoons.

El had taken a liking to you straight away. She was weird, not like other kids her age, but she seemed to like you and was nice. You had about a hundred questions about her though, like why she doesn't leave the house or why she had a tattoo on her wrist with a bunch of numbers, but that required talking to your father which you didn't want to do.

"I only missed a couple classes." You shrugged off, not seeing the big deal, but that was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"That doesn't matter! School is important, you can't just skip whenever you don't feel like going!"

"Then why doesn't El go to school?" You questioned, standing up from the couch to face your father properly.

That questioned seemed to stump him for a minute as he glanced down at the girl before his eyes narrowed in your direction.

"Don't try and change the subject. No more skipping classes, you hear me? If I get another call from your teachers about it, I'm going to-"

"Going to what?" You challenged, folding your arms across your chest. "Leave me with mum and fuck off without saying goodbye? Oh, right you can't, because she's dead."

"Y/N." He warned, his expression hardening.

"No, you don't get to come back into my life and tell me what to do."

"Stop fighting." El said from the couch, but you both ignored her.

"If you're living under my roof, you will do as I say." He ordered, sternly, but you just scoffed and shook your head. "Go to your room. I'm not dealing with this, you're acting like a child."

"How would you know? You weren't around when I was a child!" You snapped, angry tears starting to rise in your eyes.

"Stop!" El suddenly screamed.

You quickly covered your ears with your hands at the volume of her scream before the objects on the coffee table flew across the room and the light globes on the roof burst and you covered your head when the glass above you shattered.

"Jesus Christ." Hopper swore softly under his breath as you slowly lowered your arms from your face and looked around while you tried to process what the fuck just happened.

The things on the coffee table were just flung across the room on their own and all the lights in the house exploded. How the hell did that happen?

"What the fuck just happened?" You questioned, breathing heavily as you looked between your father and El.

"My powers." The kid answered like that was meant to explain everything.

You turned to Hopper expecting to find him freaking out, but he just looked more frustrated than anything and you quickly realised that he wasn't surprised by this. Why wasn't he surprised by this? His new daughter had fucking superpowers!

"Okay, I've officially lost my mind. Yep, that's the only reasonable explanation to this. I've gone crazy."

"Y/N-" Hopper tried to say, but you ignored him.

"I'm hallucinating. Hell, maybe I was in the car crash with mum and I'm in a coma and this is all a dream."

"Kid, listen-"

"This is crazy. This is crazy. I'm crazy-"

"Y/N, just sit down and listen. You're not crazy, but everything I'm about to tell you is going to sound crazy." Hopper said, snapping you out of your nervously rambling as you looked over at him, any hint of anger or frustration from earlier now completely gone as he stared at you. "Just sit down and let me explain."

-

Yeah, it sounded crazy.

Hawkins lab experimenting on kids and giving them powers? A gate that had been open to another dimension called the Upside Down filled the Demogorgons? That wasn't all of it, but it was crazy. It was absolutely 100% crazy, but you knew he was telling the truth and now you had absolutely no idea what to do with that information.

"You cannot tell anyone about any of this, okay?" Hopper eventually said once he finished explaining.

"Not like anyone would believe me if I did." You mumbled, rubbing your face with your hands, still trying to process it.

"I'm serious, Y/N. You can't tell anyone. It'll put El in danger, it'll put everyone who knows in danger."

"Yeah, I know. I heard you the first twenty times you said it. Don't worry, your freaky ass secret is safe with me."

Hopper glared at you, but simply nodded before you announced that you were going to bed, and he didn't try and stop you and to your relief he didn't bring up the whole skipping class thing again either.

The next day, you found yourself sitting in your car in the school carpark waiting for a particular red BMW to show up. You had many questioned about the whole Upside Down thing and you didn't want to talk to your father any more than you needed to, so you figured Steve Harrington would be the next best thing.

It didn't take long before you spotted the Beamer pull up and you quickly climbed out your own car and walked across the carpark towards him. He clocked you heading his way almost instantly and stepped out his car slowly while looking at you in confusion.

"You're Steve Harrington, right?" You asked, despite knowing full well who he was.

He was the King of Hawkins High. Steve 'the Hair' Harrington had quite a name for himself, everyone knew who he was.

"Yeah, that's me. You're the new girl..." He trailed off trying to think of your name.

"Y/N."

"Right, yeah, Y/N. Umm, is there something you wanted from me?"

"How do you kill a demogorgon?" You asked, figuring it was best to just get right to the point.

Steve practically choked on his own saliva as he coughed in surprised before grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to him before whispering.

"How do you know what that is?"

"Just answer the question."

"Why?"

"Because if another gate or whatever ever opens or those things find some other way into our world then I want to be prepared and know how to take them out."

Steve just stared at you with wide eyes, "who even are you?"

"I'm the Chief's daughter."

You didn't think Steve's eyes could widen any further, but they did and he stared at you in absolute shock, "the Chief has a daughter?!"

"Yes. Now, how do you kill one or at least hurt one? Any bit of information will help." You responded, but Steve just stared at you with his mouth hanging open causing you to sigh. "Harrington, focus."

"Right, right, sorry. Umm, okay, well, I know they don't like fire. Bullets don't hurt them, well if they do, they don't show it, but fire does." He eventually answered and you nodded, making a mental note to start carrying around your zippo everywhere you went.

"Thanks, and one last question-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence before the familiar roar of the Camaro filled the air and you turned around to find Billy pulling up in his usual parking spot out the front. The second the engine shut off a young red-haired girl stepped out with a skateboard tucked under her arm.

That must be his stepsister, the runaway.

You watched as Billy climbed out the Camaro too, shouting something at the girl over the roof of the Camaro causing her to slam the door shut before she flipped him off and skated off towards Middle School next door.

As if he could sense you watching, Billy turned and his eyes landed on you. He almost began to smile before his eyes flashed over to Steve Harrington standing beside you, the two of you still awfully close together for your hushed conversation. A flash of emotion washed across Billy's face, but it was gone before you could place it.

Was it jealously? No, that couldn't be right. Why would Billy be jealous over you talking with another guy? It wasn't like you and Billy were anything, hell, you weren't even sure if you were friends. You were just two kids who had been thrown into a new school together and were trying to figure everything out.

To your shock, Billy turned and started to storm off in the other direction with an almost angry look on his face which had you frowning in confusion before you turned back to Steve.

"Sorry, I gotta. Thanks for the help."

"Uh, you're welcome, I guess." Steve replied, but you were already jogging after Billy.

"Hargrove, wait up." You called out, but he showed no signs in stopping. "Billy!"

He sighed before stopping in his tracks and turning to face you as you reached his side and you opened your mouth to ask what was wrong before your eyes landed on his split lip.

"Shit, are you okay?"

"M'fine."

"What happened?" You asked, eyeing the cut worriedly. It was fresh and he definitely didn't have it yesterday at the quarry.

"Nothing."

He turned and began to walk off, but you quickly jumped in front of him, blocking his path causing him to grit his teeth and glare at you.

"Get the fuck out my way."

"Billy, seriously what happened?" You asked and he sighed, looking away from you while he clearly thought about his answer before those bright blue eyes met yours.

"Did the school call your father about us skipping yesterday?"

What did that have to do with his split lip?

You nodded anyway because at least he was talking to you and not trying to walk off.

"How'd your dad take it?" He asked almost worriedly causing you to frown in confusion and he sighed. "Yesterday, you said your father was an asshole. How'd he take it?"

Oh, he was worried Hopper might have reacted badly to it. Why would he be worried about that... wait, did his father react badly to it?

"I mean, he wasn't happy and he yelled at me. How did your dad take it?" You asked, almost afraid of his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders, "he was angry. He's always angry though."

You frowned a little as he ran his tongue over his busted lip and you suddenly had a sinking feeling in your stomach about who caused that cut.

Billy must have noticed you looking because he clenched his jaw and glanced back over at Steve Harrington who was now standing beside Nancy Wheeler's car.

"You and Harrington friends now or something?" He asked, swiftly changing the topic.

"No. I just had to ask him a question. Don't worry, Hargrove. You're still my only friend in this shithole of a town." You replied, resting your hand on his shoulder causing Billy snort softly.

"We friends, are we?"

"We better be because otherwise that means I'm friendless and that would be depressing."

"It's kinda depressing anyway if I'm your only friend." He pointed out.

"Ouch." You said dramatically, resting your hand over your heart.

Billy laughed at your reaction which you were counting as a win after his clearly bad mood earlier, but you still didn't like that split lip.

-

Next Chapter 

MASTERLIST in bio

Fanfic commissions open!

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #dacre montgomery #steve harrington #eddie munson #jim hopper #david harbour

[hell-drabbles]

Now you got me curious about your angel oc (⁠✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯⁠)

Can you share more about him/them if possible ?(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Also I'm new here! 🪽Anon

Welcome! I'm still here, I just have real low mental energy.

Little warning, he's a bit of an extreme OC.

Heheheh the big dude's name is Raqiel and while this dude has a ton of muscle to him, he's not really a fighter anymore so much as he is a teacher. Well, was a teacher. His role in life was to basically take in a bunch of angels and both awaken and refine their blood lust towards devils in this church in a nice and open field.

However, one thing to know about Raqiel is that he only acknowledges God as his creator, as a parent, of sorts. Meaning, Raqiel does not pray nor worship God in the same way everyone else does. So, when God up and vanished one day, Raqiel didn't feel strongly towards that.

Now this brings up the question why Raqiel would bother teaching angels about the ways of killing and hurting. The answer to that?

Raqiel is a major masochist. The body of his is scarred to hell and back and he physically built himself up so he can take any and all pain. Like, he really likes being humiliated and having his ass beaten. The final test of many angels before they're assigned to a squadron is to hurt Raqiel is whatever ways possible.

Yeah, jacked up as he may be, he's kinda gross in a way that I like.

Now, Raqiel has taught many an angel in the many years he's been existing, to the point where he was actually a pretty well respected figure. As such, when it was found out that Raqiel didn't hold that same fanatical love towards God like every angel he's ever taught, they betrayed him, justifying to themselves that Heaven has no place for someone such as him.

So, they broke the joints in his wings, chipped his halo and dragged him to Hell to be used as bait for the devils. Though, before leaving him there, the angels that took him there wanted to get one last beat up in, and that's when the dear Reader finds him: beaten bloody and bruised, covered in his own cum and tears and utterly fucked up mentally and physically. It was one of those events where Raqiel has both experienced the worst and best orgasm of his life and that's going to mess with him.

It, uh, it's real hard not to take pity on him. The Reader witnessed him at his absolute lowest, so they couldn't help but take the chance to help him out. Was it a stupid decision? Certainly felt like it at the time. Of course, one can't exactly hide an angel of his size, nor would it really go over that well when the Reader is determined to help Raqiel out, so as a compromise, he was given bondage chains and a nice dog collar since the devils are convinced the Reader wants him as a pet.

And, because the devils were pushing for the Reader to give him a nickname for his new dog tag, Reader decided on the nickname, Lucky, derived from the 'Raqi' in his name. It's not really that deep of a nickname, but for Raqiel, fireworks were going off in his head.

From then on, Raqiel has decided that the Reader will be his God, that they will be the one he prays and worships to. His home throughly abandoned him without hesitation, and, as such, Raqiel will serve and protect you with all his being. He'll even fight against his once brethren if need be, even if he can't fly anymore.

Besides, what's more humiliating then being under the beck and call of a human hated by his kind and loved by the devils?

Of course, there will be various angels that will want him to come back, but anytime any angel manages to isolate him and talk to him, Raqiel will always say no. He wants to stay here.

Oh and here's how he looks like in my brain. He wears a typical priest outfit, and his earrings are actually bells rather than crosses. He can't retract his wings, so they're usually pretty limp and dragging behind him.

#admin #whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad #oc #oc.raqiel

[tearlessrain]

The Anatomy of Lumpy Kiba

(and how to identify him in the wild)

disclaimer: this is not a wolf anatomy tutorial. it’s a tutorial on how to recognize the features of one specific wolf silhouette so you can get pretentiously annoyed about it. don’t take my advice about things.

also, don’t harass artists over this shit if you happen to see it. I shouldn’t have to say that but the internet’s favorite pastime now is spontaneously deciding to make some random civilian’s life miserable for a minor misstep and it’s a fucked up thing to do. yes plagiarism is bad but frankly while the original clipart was obviously traced, that ship sailed over a decade ago and I don’t blame everyone for using this wolf silhouette because you have to go out of your way to avoid it at this point if you’re searching for free clipart. this is meant to be funny and lighthearted.

now, with that out of the way.

nobody asked for this but I need something to occupy my brain and the notes aren’t really slowing down on that post (this is what I’m referencing btw) and I’ve seen a few people questioning my claims that it’s all the same wolf silhouette and that the original is a still from the anime Wolf’s Rain. I also really enjoy when people find this bastard in weird places and want to make it easier. so I’m doing that. in a style flagrantly stolen from mcmansionhell, which I think is fitting given the subject matter of shameless plagiarism. to start, here’s one of the cleanest/most exemplary instances I could find, broken down. There’s some variation in rotation, nose shape, and scruff distribution, but it all basically averages out to this:

further analysis, examples, and deranged ranting under the cut!

not all of these details will be present in every instance of Lumpy Kiba (especially in smaller examples or jewelry where a lot of detail is lost), but more than 2-3 together with the same pose and you’ve got a set of weirdly specific anatomical issues that are unlikely to all occur naturally together unless someone is referencing an already badly-rendered wolf instead of a photo. The most consistent and noticeable feature of Lumpy Kiba is those hind legs, with their dangerously pointy hocks and very long and concave metatarsals, but the tail position, nose shape, and pronounced shoulder bump are also strong indicators.

 for reference, here’s a photo of a real wolf in a similar pose. note the very rounded hocks and overall lack of lumps.

when you find a wolf silhouette clipart that ISN’T Lumpy Kiba, it won’t necessarily have perfect anatomy but it will have a lot more in common with the photo, like this dude

Wolves That Are Lumpy, But Not Kiba

stylizing is a thing though, and on rare occasions you WILL find a howling wolf silhouette that resembles neither a real wolf nor Lumpy Kiba. it was surprisingly hard to find ones that weren’t just “Lumpy Kiba but severely warped/altered” (I’ll get to those in a minute) but these were the two clearest examples I could find that are definitely not Lumpy Kiba or derived from him:

there are of course more differences than what I’ve pointed out, but those were the key points I used to pick them out from the ‘howling wolf silhouette’ image search.

Weird/Hard To Identify Examples

in my digging around for example images for this post, I came across not only a staggering amount of Lumpy Kiba at every turn, but some that I initially thought were doing their own thing that, on further examination, were clearly referenced from Lumpy Kiba with some “you can copy my homework, but change it a little so the teacher doesn’t notice” slapped on. unfortunately the defining characteristics of Lumpy Kiba are so glaring and distinctive that if you use him as your only reference, it’s GOING to be noticeable. this, by the way, is why if you’re learning anatomy you NEED to reference photos (and real life if you can) instead of other peoples’ drawings. everyone stylizes, everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and weird things happen when you just copy another artist instead of actually learning what an animal looks like.

(this, incidentally, is the whole problem with Lumpy Kiba in the first place, but I’ll get to that)

here’s two that most likely weren’t traced, but the artist definitely referenced Lumpy Kiba exclusively

also two particularly weird examples that barely qualify as Lumpy Kiba, but which both were undeniably shaped by his influence. the first one being this unholy frankenwolf that uses components from Lumpy Kiba but also apparently a few other wolf silhouettes:

and if you thought we were done with that youtuber “tribal wolf tattoo” guy, I found someone who made a truly next-level copy of his slightly distorted trace of a moderately shitty vector of an anime screenshot. even after that game of visual telephone, the Lumpy Kiba telltale signs are still present. if anything, they’re in their purest form here, because not one single person in this chain ever looked at a photo of an actual wolf.

Click here for Part 2: Origins.

#lumpy kiba

[souichieatr]

after being bitten by a genetically-modified spider, a shy teenager gains spider-like abilities that he uses to fight injustice as a masked superhero and face a vengeful enemies.

chapter 1

“Okay class make sure to stay with your tour guides and your group, we’ll meet back here in an hour, see you then.” The teacher exclaims, clapping her hands together as everyone branches into the assigned groups. Eren watches the faces of his peers as they walk past him, some seemed excited, most seemed bored. One face stood out, the one face that always seemed to stand out to him. His eyes always seemed to find her in any crowd.

“Eren we’re over here” a voice called him out of his trance.

“Yeah right behind you armin” he replied but his friend already walked off, turning his head to look over his shoulder to peek to find her again. Not being able to find her he turns his head quickly to follow his friend. Crashing into someone hard knocking whatever they had in there to the floor with a bang.

“Oh man I’m so sorry” he says, bending down to try and pick it.

“Don’t I got it kid” the guy says rushing to collect everything. Eren awkwardly hands him the folder labeled project øø. The man snatches the folder back, frantically looking on the floor.

“Eren! We’re leaving!” Armin yells, grabbing Erens attention.

“I’m sorry I got to” he says doing an awkward point as the man glares and Eren walks off. Feeling a weird sensation on his neck and a pinch, he yelps and slaps his hand on the back of his neck instinctively. After his yelp he catches the attention of everyone, his eyes finding her again as they make eye contact, giving her an embarrassed smile and running off with Armin and his group.

On his way home riding the bus eren found a seat and fell asleep, the bus starts to get less crowded as the hour passes. Eren stirs when someone bumps into him, knocking their phone out of their hand. He jolts up and catches the phone, handing it to them with a weak smile. As they grab the phone off of Eren's hand it doesn’t move, they tug on it and give Eren a weird look.

“Dude let go” they say through their teeth, obviously frustrated, eren gives them a panicked look.

“I’m I’m not trying to hold on to it, trust me” eren says trying to shake the phone off his hand, a few more shakes and then it falls. The guy walks off muttering under his breath. Eren looks at his hands turning them around. What the fuck.

The next day at school in the library eren spots here again, well of course they go to the same school not mentioning he actively looks for her. Totally not the point. He spots her heading into the science case. Well Armin did need something in the science section he thinks ducking into the shelves. Turning the corner to see her facing the books, her back towards him. Even her back is cute. Casually walking more into the shelves scanning each book until he’s close enough to hear her humming to herself. Noticing her reach high for a book as he opens his mouth to say something she loses her balance and before he could think he caught her with one hand and the book with the other. Face to face she looks shocked and laughs.

“Nice reflexes” she says looking at him with a small smile.

“I had some really good milk,” he says, handing her the book.

“I thought milk made you tall,” she says, raising her eyebrow.

“It does I don’t know why I said that.” He gives an awkward laugh.

“You’re funny Jaeger” she says before she walks off.

“You must think your hot shit huh jaeger?” A voice groaned behind him, Eren rolled his eyes.

“What Jean mad that Y/n can actually hold a conversation with me?” Eren turns around facing the most obnoxious guy in school. Jean’s eyebrows furry in anger and he takes a step closer to Eren.

“What did you say Jaeger?” Jean says, bawling his fists up.

“What too stupid to under-“ Eren gets cut off when Jean tries to throw a punch, Eren dodges and scoffs. “I’m out of here dude” eren walks off nudging Jeans shoulder. Eren walks to where Armin and Mikasa when Jean comes back roughly grabbing erens shoulders turning him around.

“You’re so annoying jaeger you think you’re so funny god you piss me off.” Jean shouts in eren face and a crowd slowly starts forming.

“What, you wanna start a fight in a library? Man really mature, some of us actually wanna study.” eren says with a small smile, Jean pushes eren off and tries to throw another punch. Eren dodges and grabs the basketball from a spectator's hands showing Jean.

“What scared to take me in a fight?” Jean says trying to snatch the ball but Eren moves it at the last second Jean tries again but with the same outcome the crowd starts laughing at Jean and even Eren chuckles a bit. “Ok ok go ahead” eren says holding the ball out. “I’m not going to move.” Jean tries to grab the ball but it doesn’t budge. Jean turns around when eren bounces the ball off his back, Jean turns around and stomps to eren. Eren starts to bounce the ball and runs towards Jean, crosses over him and jumps on the table. Jean tries to chase him but Eren jumps down. Jean curses at eren as everyone laughs.

“Mr. Jaeger and Mr. Kirstein to my office now.”

hey down here!!!

this will be heavily influenced on the spider-man movies, especially on the amazing spider-man please let me know your thoughts.

not proofread

#eren aot #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jeager headcanons #attack on titan eren #snk eren #eren jaeger fluff #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren yeager #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader fluff #eren headcanons #eren snk #eren spiderman

[cockdestroyer32]

some plans...

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: SFW, bickering, violence, murder (they are assassins after all), tension, drinking, rivals to (not really) lovers

summary: after reluctantly teaming up in order to survive, you and tangerine disagree about what would be the best plan to use, leading to you having to save him.

authors note: I have a really specific taste in fics and couldn't find too many that fit those strict requirements so I just decided to write one and post it lol. english is not my first language so if some things aren't correct, I apologize. anyway I love this man so much I'm abt to repeat his name three times in the mirror at 3am to see if he shows up in my room cuz I need him

The bar area was washed by the neon green light descending from the ceiling. Due to the lack of people in the room, the compartment was mainly quiet, with only the sounds of distant passengers chatting and the speeding train to fulfill that tranquility. You stood in front of the bar countertop, one elbow leaning on it, supporting the weight of your body, impatient. When you got particularly bored, you took a sip of the champagne you gave yourself the liberty of pouring. You usually didn’t allow yourself to drink on the job, but due to recent circumstances, you decided alcohol was a much-needed aid. Tangerine was “recent circumstances” of course. 

You did not, in any way, plan on teaming up with each other, but when the briefcase ended up being stolen by a third party, you found your goals aligning and decided to join forces for better chances of survival. But you truly did not expect Tangerine to be this much of a pain in the ass. You had always chosen to work alone, having control over jobs and only worrying about yourself had always been important, which is why this was so hard. Plus the fact that Tangerine was just incredibly difficult. Mainly that. Now you waited for him to return so you could continue on your little mission, and hopefully get off this train in one piece. 

You finally saw the man walking in your direction, he approached you and leaned his elbow on the countertop, mirroring you.

“Six men. Two guarding the first door, two the middle, and two the last door.” He said, looking at the passing city in the window.

“And that’s not counting the guys in the surveillance compartment?”

“No, only two there.”

“Alright. I got the 6.” You take a sip of your champagne.

“Now hold on there, darlin’ I can get the 6 guys.”

“Okay, well, so can I.”

“Well no offense love, but I can get this done way fuckin’ quicker than you.” 

You sigh. Here we go.

“Then what is your plan exactly?”

“What’d ya mean a fuckin’ plan? What do I need a goddamn plan for? Just get in there and take them on.”

“Really? That’s your plan?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He took your glass of champagne, allowing himself to take a sip, much to your displeasure.

“No offense, Tangerine, but going into a fight guns blazing isn’t exactly a tactic that works with six people, no matter how skilled you think you are.”

“Well, what is your brilliant fuckin’ plan? Enlighten me.”

“When you’re dealing with six highly trained guards all at once, your best course of action is to play a little pretend game, be obnoxious and separate a few from the rest of the group, therefore improving your odds.” You explained like an increasingly frustrated teacher on their 5th attempt at schooling a young child.

He then set your glass of champagne back on the countertop and slid it over to your side, as if saying ‘Mine, now…yours.’ “Oh so you’re gonna do some bloody theatrics is that right?”

“Yes. And they’re much more likely to believe the desperate young woman rather than the ‘Oi, now that’s bloody brilliant innit’ dude.” You mocked his accent.

“I don’t fuckin’ sound like that.”

“Beg to differ.” You mutter into your glass of champagne.

“Listen, we can stay here all night discussing what’s the best tactic to use but we are on a time crunch, and unless you let me do my fuckin’ part neither one of us is leaving this goddamn train because our corpses will be too busy being shoved inside some fuckin’ suitcases by some braindead White Death lackey.” 

He’s not wrong, you could stay here arguing all night, but you know the fucker isn’t gonna back down and there is no time, so…this time he’s gonna be having it his way. You sigh, now leaning with both elbows on the bar countertop, facing away from Tangerine, giving him no reply. He notices this quiet surrender, which of course, amuses him thoroughly. “Don’t worry love,” He continued with a smile on display. You take yet another sip of your champagne, apparently smudging your red lipstick. “Some plans…” He brushes his thumb over the corner of your mouth, cleaning it. “…are just better than others.” Then gives you the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen in your life. This little shit.

-

You made your way to the surveillance compartment with determination and poise, holding the big champagne bottle you “borrowed” from the bar, which you grievously emptied in the sink. This was going to be over quickly, and hopefully so would Tangerine’s fight. You did not have time and the necessity for a dead Tangerine on this train, you could use all the help you could get, even if that help came in the form of an incredibly irritating man with a thick mustache and a somewhat funny British accent. You couldn’t fight the six men together in case one team decided to radio the other, if no one radioed back and they noticed something sketchy was going on, they could call for backup, the last thing you fucking needed. 

“Excuse me.” You calmly announced yourself to the soon-to-be-dead men in the compartment. The room wasn’t very big, with only a small desk and a few shelves to the back and left side of the room— understandable, given all they had to do was sit and watch the security camera footage of the different parts of the train, primarily the dividing compartment, the one Tangerine was soon to be in.

“Ma’am, you cannot be in this area.” The shorter one snapped. 

“Just give me one-second sir,” You requested, holding up your finger. You set the champagne bottle down on the floor to your left, and took off your low heels, setting them down neatly to your right. The men waited in confusion, most likely assuming you were just some drunk. You picked up the bottle with your right hand.

“Okay. Let’s go.” You launched the bottle on one of the man’s faces with as much force as you could muster, then ran to the second man, wrapping your legs around his head and leaning forward, dropping you both to the ground then punched the back of his head. You kick the ankle of the champagne-bottle-struck man who falls to his knees, then kick him again in his bleeding face, knocking him out. The man you were on top of pushes you off of him, leaving you lying face up, he gets a punch in, then proceeds to strangle you. You stick your fingers inside his eyeballs causing him to loosen his grip around your neck, you push him off of you, then roll your body on the ground positioning your legs so they’ll be next to his head, proceeding to strangle him with your thighs. You hold him in a tight grip until you hear his neck snap. 

You get up off the ground and analyze the two men. Champagne bottle man was knocked out, still very much alive, so you pick up one of the glass shards from the shattered drink and stab him in the heart. Good, you’re done. You brush off your pants, adjusting them, and the screen gets your attention. It’s Tangerine, and he’s getting his fucking ass kicked. Whenever he tried to get a punch in, someone else behind him managed to strike him first. You sigh. Bloody theatrics. Those bloody theatrics could have saved you from this trouble. The men then take him to a compartment right after theirs, forcing him to sit down. The men talked a bit amongst themselves, and left him, thankfully, alive. Two men stayed back in his compartment to watch him. That’s your cue to go save this damn stubborn man.

-

“Hello? Please, please help me!” You sobbed. I mean seriously, you were actually sobbing— tears were streaming down your face, your voice was cracking…you could win a fucking Emmy with just how good your goddamn performance was right now. This was about to be the best bloody theatrics Tangerine has ever seen in his life.

“Ma’am you can’t be in here!”

“Please, please help me I’m begging you! There’s an insane British man chasing me and I think he’s trying to kill me!” The, now four, men exchanged glances with each other, knowing exactly who you were talking about and wondering what the fuck they would do with you now. “Please! I think he’s coming and I really need help, please!” You wailed, getting louder, they’re going to have to help whether they want to or not.

“Okay! okay lady, we’re going to hide and protect you okay?” One of the men seethed.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried some more. The man took you to a tiny bathroom next to the room you were in and shut the door.

“Alright ma’am, you’re gonna need to calm down a bit, then we’re going have to find another place you can hide in alright?” He stated, not even bothering to try and sound the least bit empathetic. Now expressionless, you turn to him, smudged black makeup under your eyes making you look even more deranged. His face drops and he doesn’t have time to react to the ceramic soap dispenser you strike him in the face with. It hits him with strength, so his head bounces back hitting the wall and he falls to the ground, causing a loud thud. You get his gun, which thankfully has a silencer.

“Hey! Is everything good in there?” Our number one out of three knocks on the door. You turn the handle slowly, then open the door as fast as possible, twirling Number One around and using him as a human shield. You shoot Number Two, then Number One who you throw in front of Three to block his view, when that’s done you also shoot him. You finish off the man in the bathroom before positioning your back against the wall, waiting for one of the men who were on Tangerine-watch to come out. When he does, you kick his knee, hit his head with the gun, then shoot him in the head. You hear Tangerine wrestle with the other man who was left with him. The fight quiets down, and you take a peek— Tangerine was, expectedly, the winner.

Now, you were the one with the shit-eating grin, not bothering to hide your smugness, and wearing your pride like a badge instead.

“Don’t fucking give me that look alright? If it wasn’t for the little shit hiding behind me every time I tried to make a move I would’ve won the fight.” He stated, seemingly trying to convince himself more than you. He was way more disheveled than the last time you saw him at the bar, his face sweaty and hair untidy, with wild curls falling in front of his face, much different than the slicked-back look he had beforehand.

“Mm, I don’t think so.”

“I’m a good fuckin’ fighter okay?”

“Oh I believe you, but like I said, it’s not about the fight, but the plan— my plan, which was better, and ended up saving your ass at the end of the day.” 

“Okay fine, yeah. Your plan was much better and we should have gone with it from fuckin’ the beginning, is that what you want me to say, love?”

“Thank you, and you’re welcome, now you know you should actually listen to me,” You slowly approached him. He stood with his hands on his hips, knowing he couldn’t give you any reply that would successfully defend him from this. “But hey, don’t worry about it, ‘cuz sometimes some plans…” You take another step towards him and tuck one of his loose curls behind his ear with your finger, tracing it down the side of his face, then letting it linger on his jawline. “…are just better than others.” You smile and give him two taps with the palm of your hand. Now you can both continue on your mission, and this time you’d do it with a smile on your face, knowing you proved Tangerine wrong. You are definitely not letting him forget about this. Ever.

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