#“SING! DANCE! I'M A SPY!”

[umbralsong]

I love how Normal my Bardlock Tav has decided that Wyll is because They Are Not lmao

[sour-leminies]

My little Fairy

Pairing: Hook x Fairy F!Reader

Summary: Coming to Merlin Acadamy you grew very close to the pirate with a hook. Everyone had declared you Hook's pirate Fairy. Truth be told, most people couldn't believe how loyal and caring you were to the pirate. So, when you finally snap, for the first time in a long time James didn't have you by his side, and all he knew was he wanted you back. Now.

Warnings: None I can think of, but let me know otherwise.

Taglist: @astrynyx @snixx2088 @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm Just ask to be tagged!

Navigation — other works!

I watched as Bridget and her friends all danced around the court yard - singing and dancing. It was sickening, they were so sweet and yet I couldn't help the part of me that yearned for that kind of friendship.

My only friend was Captain Hook, and if given the chance I'm positive he would have ditched me long ago if not for my help with things. Whenever he wasn't prepared for a test, I'd skip my own class to be in my smaller form tucked away in his shirt - telling him the answers. Or whoever he wanted me to spy on one of his victims he terrorized, I'd do so. Or when he wanted pixie dust, etc. The point was, I'd give my soul for Captain James Hook, and I don't even think he sees me as a friend.

Snapping out of my haze I landed on James's shoulder, whispering in his ear - telling him how Bridget was in the courtyard being all happy. A message he hurried to tell Uliana, before he made his way to the spot. I was still on his shoulder as he entered the courtyard with a dramatic flair.

I remained on his shoulder as he sang and danced, until Uliana turned into a flamingo. Something I couldn't help but smile at. Part of me was jealous of Uliana, and her relationship with James. It looked more intimate than his with Maleficent.

I pulled James through a different door, Maleficent following after us - and we cut the girls off. I now rested on Maleficent Horns. I let out a gasp, that came out like a jingle.

The Vk's all retreated once Uliana ran away - screaming and soaking wet. At least she was no longer a flamingo.

Once everyone cooled down, I was now in my human form laying on my bed, dressed in a nice pretty black dress. My makeup and hair had been done and all I had to do was wait for Hook to get here so we could go to that birthday dinner he promised me.

"Still no Hook?" Maleficent - who was also my roommate asked me. "No, you would think he'd show by now. I mean he's twenty minutes late." I praised the lord that my voice didn't come out as jingles when in my human form. Annoyingly so, only other Faires and James could understand me when I was in my smaller size.

"I hate to say this," my roommate spoke as she sat onto my bed with me. "But maybe he forgot."

I quickly shook my head. No way - he promised me. He had promised. He wouldn't forget me.

Slowly the hours ticked by and by the time it struck eight, two hours after the time we agreed on, Maleficent forced me up, and her hand Hades took me to dinner.

I wanted to cry, but how could I? Just because I love him, doesn't mean he loves me. At that very moment I accept that cold hard truth.

So as Maleficent rubbed my arm, and Hades even pat my head - I had decided that I would stop trying with Hook, it'll never happen anyways.

—

Over the next few days you ignored Hook. You hadn't made the first move to talk to him, and it seemed he had nothing he wanted you to do for him.

When the third day of you ignoring him he grew antsy. He didn't know what the sudden change in you was, but for some very odd reason - he didn't like it.

He walked out of detention - Something he had gotten when he was caught breaking in Merlin's office. His very first thought was that you weren't there. Typically, when he'd get detention - if you didn't sit in there with him in his jacket, then you'd always greet him with a hug once he walked out the doors.

"Yo, Mali." He called out to the mistress of evil. "You heading to your room?"

The dark fairy nodded her head silently, and James took that as an invitation to walk her to her room. Even though he would never admit it, the real reason was so he could check on his little fairy. The one he was now growing worried about.

—

You jumped at the sound of the door opening. Looking up from the books you were reading on your bed, you were surprised to see Maleficent, but also James.

"Hook." You spoke, but kept your voice neutral.

The man couldn't help but flinch at the name you used. You never called him that, you always either used Captain or James. Now he knew somethings wrong.

"We need to talk." Came his short reply, but you weren't dumb, you could see the slow anger bubbling up in his eyes.

You slowly got off your bed, and walked out into the hallway with him. "What's the problem?" You were honestly he hadn't already listed things he wanted done, but you were sure he'd start soon.

"The problem? You tell me. You suddenly ignore me, I haven't seen you in three days - but I know good and well Hades has. So you fucking tell me the problem." His voice was slowly growing louder and louder.

"Hey calm down." You tried to keep your guy's voice quiet - but that only set him off more.

"Calm down?! How can I be calm when you vanished. You were gone." Suddenly both of you stopped. You both could hear the hurt, the insecurity, but most importantly the fear laced in his tone. His chest breathed up and down heavily as he realized just how much he bloody missed you.

"Listen, Hook." "James."

He took a step closer to you, slightly pushing you into the wall as he pushed into you, leaning down to breath you in.

Fuck he felt like an addict who needed a hit, and finally scratched that itch under their skin.

"You call me James." His breath fanned over your face, as he slightly leaned up to get a look at your face.

Part of you loved this, as you placed your hands onto his chest, the open part of his shirt so you both could feel the skin to skin contact.

For James it was like your touch awakened something in him. Something that called for your name. Something in him burned for you.

He leaned down, his breath fanning over your lips. Making you close your eyes in anticipation. Hook didn't was a single second. He dropped his hook from his hand, and placed it onto your cheek, while his other hand grabbed a hold of the back of your neck.

You in this moment couldn't deny you loved this - the feel of his lips on yours, the feel of his wanting you. But it was too late.

He had made it clear that you weren't a priority. And even though bread crumbs of his affection felt like a feast - it wasn't enough. You hand to stand up, You deserve better. Something that Captain hook couldn't give you.

You built your strength and pushed him away. "No."

Hook looked at you confused, did you not just feel what happened between the two of you? Because he was more than happy to give a repeat.

"I deserve better than you." You pushed him again, finally letting the tears out. Letting the tears out of a woman who wanted nothing more than the man she was crying over. "I deserve so much more than what you give me." Which was nothing. You pushed him again and this time he grabbed both your hand and pulled you into him, letting you hit him over and over until you were drained - but never letting go of you.

"You done?" You glared up and him through your pretty wet eyelashes. "Good. Now listen. You will have no one other than me. There will be no other man, woman, I don't give a fuck. Your my little fairy." You went to shake you head. No - maybe once you were his but not anymore.

"You don't even make a priority - how can you say that?" Your voice was horse from the mini break down you had while punching him.

"You are my priority." How could you say you weren't? Even when he though nothing of you, from the first moment he met you he had put you as a priority on his list.

"Ask me about how I spent my birthday three days ago." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

You could see the panic cross his face. The regret and self loathing as well. And maybe once upon a time that would be enough, but not anymore.

You pulled yourself away from him and hurried into your room, locking the door.

He banged a couple time before he spoke through the wood.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry. Sorry can't even explain, let me make it up to you." When he got no response from he, he continued on. "I am sorry about this but we will move past it. Just remember you may think you are free of me, but your are not. I will haunt you, beg for your forgiveness. You want better - I'll be better."

You silently cried while Hook poured everything he had from his heart into his next words.

"I'll be so much fucking better for you, my little fairy. So better."

—

The rest of the entire week, Hook would try his best; he'd bring flowers to you in the morning, he'd always walk you to class - despite how much you told him to leave you alone.

James knew he screwed up, and he hated himself for it. He didn't know what he had and he took it for granted.

He would scowl at Hades and Maleficent when you all were hanging out at the black lagoon.

Just because you and hook were on shaky ground didn't mean you were no less a Vk. Something that the crew grew to respect about you.

Every time you walked past him - not giving him a glance, he felt his chest tighten. He miss how you would cling to him. How you would rest on your shoulder when you felt over stimulated. The way you would accidently spray him with pixie dust, causing him to float.

He missed teaching you sword fighting, and all the basics. He missed you.

"Y/N!" He called out to you, desprate to get your attention. For the first time, since that kiss you didn't glare at him - nor push him away.

Instead it was worse. He felt his stomach grow cold at the neutral and emotionless look in your eyes. At least when you hated him you still cared. Now he didn't know. Your walls were up so high - it's shadow could darken a valley.

"Yes Hook?" He closed his eyes, shaking off the feeling he had.

"First, it's James. Second, will you go to dinner with me." You opened your mouth to disagree but he covered it before you could make a sound.

"Don't say no." He could hear his heart pounding in his head. "Just come. Meet me at Dip and Go dinner tonight at eight."

He dropped his hand from your mouth, and he found his courage to speak his next words.

"If you don't come I'll leave you alone." He would not, but he needed to know that deep down he still had a chance. And if he didn't have one then he would spend the rest of his life fighting for one.

He walked away, nervous for the reality check that he would soon face tonight.

—

The clock on your dorm wall ticked, and ticked. Each second growing closer to eight. The diner was an hour away and if you were to make it in time you should be leaving now.

But you just couldn't. You were too afraid. You weren't a fool, you could tell James was sorry, and regretful, but you didn't know if you could trust him.

He had unknowingly held your heart - and then crushed it. What would he do if he had known how much you cared for him? Would he treat you different?

"You should go." You looked over to the dark fairy, you had thought she was out with Hades.

"I'm scared." You had once thought James was your only friend, but Maleficent and even her boyfriend proved me wrong. "That's what makes it worth it."

She walked over to your bed, sitting down beside me before she carried on. "If you even have a chance for love then it's worth it to fight. And if you decide that he's not worth it, then at the very least you owe it to yourself to find closure." Maybe she was right.

—

Hook glanced at the clock on the wall of the diner, it said eight forty, and he knew that she wasn't going to show. He blew his shot. He wanted to throw the glass Infront of him, the one where he poured rum into it.

He had decided to dress nicely, wore his best clothing, even left his hook at home. He wanted to look his best for you - to show you he could be a good guy for you.

He had already paid for his drink, so he left a twenty bill on the table and walked out. He would wait longer, but he could tell the employees had wanted him out.

He felt like he couldn't breathe as he walked down the path, he wanted to take you on. The trees lit up with beautiful fireflies at night, and it was a view he wanted to share with you.

His vision blurred, and his chest breathed up and down, as his heart ached, pounded. He had no problems with ripping his heart out for you, but fuck, all he needed was you. He felt like a fool - not because you didn't show, but because he was too self-absorbed and if he had opened his eyes from the beginning thing would be different.

He was a villain, and villains don't get happy endings. He knew that he could never have you, simply because you were his happy ending.

He stopped walking, as he tried to calm his heart with his shaking hands. Was he having a panic attack?

"James!" He heard your voice scream out his name, as you started to run to him. Fuck, he didn't care if he was dying as he ran to you with all the speed he could muster.

Once you were at arm's length you jumped into him, and he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could. Loving the smell that invaded his senses with open arms.

You were late, he didn't know why, nor did he care. You were here with him. That single thought caused him to break. He couldn't hold onto his sobs anymore.

He thought he lost you because of himself. He thought he would spend his entire life alone - longing for the feel of you. He thought that truly lost you. Every part of him rejected that. He couldn't live with that.

He felt his knees start to weaken as he fell to the ground, you still in his arms and he clanged to you crying. You felt your heart break once again - and all you wanted was for your pirate to feel better. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing his back as he let all his fears out, all his emotions.

"I... I love you so so so much." He heaved out, his breath making him repeat. "And I'm... I'm sorry." He was and even you knew that. You were tired as well.

You pulled his face away from your neck, and for a moment he fought you - thinking you were once again going to push him away. You rubbed you thumb across his cheek as you looked into his beautiful eyes. His brown eyes were bloodshot red from the crying, and his eyeliner had started to smidge. His eyelashes soaking together, his lips trembling as he tried to get himself together.

"I forgive you." You whispered out, before pushing your lips against his soft, and wet ones. It was a small, and short kiss, but it was full of the love you had for him. The love he felt like he no longer deserved.

"I'm sorry." His voice came out like a while as more tears dropped from his eyes.

"I forgive you." You whispered once again, and this time he initiated the kiss. Soft, craving, and you could feel his sorrow. Despite the fact he was kissing you, you could still feel him begging for forgiveness.

"I love you." You told him, and while that's all he wanted to hear. He no longer felt like that was the case. How could you love him when he hated everything about himself? How could you forgive him, when he's still kicking his own ass.

"I love you two, my little fairy." Fuck his voice broke again as he rested his forehead against yours. You also couldn't help but cry as well.

—

James kept his promise. He did become better for you, and only you. He was still a villain, but he was a gentleman to you. He kissed you every time he saw you, gave you flowers every month when your old ones would die.

He did everything he could to become a good enough person for you, and while daily you'd reassure him how happy you are - he couldn't get your heartbroken face out of his mind.

He'd have nightmares of you leaving him all alone. You loved him, and he didn't feel worthy of it, but he'd be damned of someone else had it. He was still a villain.

The first moment where he finally felt okay to breath was when you told him the future you wanted with him. You had wanted a future with him. Him.

You wanted three kids, three girls, and you would love to watch him become a father as you all lived on his ship.

When you were all banished to the Isle of the lost, he hated himself for getting you stuck there, but you'd remind him you'd rather be with him then in some land without him.

When you first got pregnant, he couldn't help but be so joyous of the boy in your stomach. He never told you he wanted a son, but you knew so you also felt happy.

You had named him Harry, after James repeatedly told you he couldn't think of one. The second born was a girl, and you demanded he named her. So, he stole your idea and named her Harriet. Then on the final and last born, you told him he couldn't name your baby girl after he just stole Harry's name and gave it to his sister.

You, James, Harry, Harriet, and CJ lived on hook's ship. And despite the living conditions, you loved your family no less.

—

A/N: Hiii, if you see this and sent me an Elsa reader x Hook request I promise I am working on that!!

[radiosteve]

I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain. 

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat. 

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up. 

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life. 

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it. 

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad. 

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike. 

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing. 

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again. 

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone. 

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends. 

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school. 

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you. 

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right? 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. 

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point. 

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you. 

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door. 

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks. 

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie. 

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you. 

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances. 

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so. 

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest. 

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin. 

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice. 

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass. 

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.    

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin. 

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words. 

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you. 

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn. 

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy. 

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room. 

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin. 

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink. 

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him. 

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you. 

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again. 

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk. 

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too. 

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler. 

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t. 

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car. 

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion. 

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place. 

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest. 

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours. 

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin. 

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you. 

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door. 

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine. 

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck. 

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more. 

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

           The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned. 

           The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

           Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered. 

           “Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor. 

           “I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes. 

           “Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too. 

           “Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process. 

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie. 

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out. 

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you. 

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life. 

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door. 

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy. 

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation. 

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected. 

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs. 

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none 

           Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement. 

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate. 

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy. 

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap. 

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin. 

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice. 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below. 

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

           Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you. 

           Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile. 

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed. 

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts. 

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say. 

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war. 

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts. 

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before. 

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs. 

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked. 

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won. 

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams. 

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it. 

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word. 

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

           The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself. 

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room. 

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his. 

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt. 

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you. 

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head. 

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full. 

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. 

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume. 

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out. 

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare. 

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did. 

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving. 

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame. 

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away. 

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

[thechocolatearmor]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

[yorshie]

Hi!! I’ve been obsessed with a recent post of yours, about the tmnt turtles and the ways they would confess their feelings, it was so on point? Seriously it has been even helping me fall asleep (dreaming about it lol) on that note, would you please do a scenario or Headcanons of tmnt x reader and their first kiss? Planned? Accidental? In a burst of emotion? Floor is yours

Thank you and hope you have a good day ♥️

Bayverse turtles (separate) x GN reader, SFW (set in 2023 so turtles 24-25)

OH this is RIGHT up my alley. Thank you for the ask! I'm glad you're getting some sleep lol, it was 3 a.m. when I wrote this. Being stuck in a car brings that special kind of tired where you're still jittery, you know? Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this, and thank you for sending in an ask so I wasn't bored staring at the ceiling fan.

It's not pertinent to the idea but I'm thinking Raph's kiss is a lot longer into the relationship, simply because in my head I keep thinking I wouldn't want to kiss him until he got over his whole angsty phase. If you wanna imagine he's still angsty when the smooch happens, feel free, but hot and cold ain't fun.

MIKEY

Angelo called you on your way home from work for a spontaneous Tuesday night date, and it was with only slight trepidation that you hurried home, visions of the sunshine ball left alone with no one to distract him amid all your stuff floating around your head.

Thankfully, there was no grand chaos when you poked your head through the door, only Mikey in an apron, twirling around your kitchen without a care in the world. He was juggling between three different bowls and the stove, singing along to the music blaring through his phone.

The oven dinged as you were shucking your shoes and jacket, and Mikey brightened upon spying you, tossing his spatula to the side and holding his arms open to hurry you towards him with a raucous, “babycakes! I missed you!”

You went willingly, not quite sure if he was intending to hug you or pull you into a dance, but it ended up being a mixture of the two. He spun you into a dip, hands pulling you upright when your socks slipped on the floor with a goofy smile and a little two step before he grabbed your hips, lifting you up onto the counter next to his work area. 

He broke off mid chorus to offer you a spoonful of whipped cream with a soft, “try this, baby, tell me what you think.”

You tried it without thinking, eyebrows jumping at the cloying taste on your tongue.

“Uh. Angelo, you used way too much sugar in this.” You twisted in your spot, tossing the spoon into the sink and giving a little cheer at the satisfying ‘plonk’ of it disappearing into soapy water, completely missing the mischeiveous smile on your turtle’s face.

“Yea? Here, let me help get rid of it.” Mikey’s words were teasing, and for a moment you thought he was talking about something completely different.

You weren’t expecting the warmth of his hands sliding into your hair. You startled, blinking at him dumbly when he sidled into your space, plastron tapping against your knees and pinning your shins against the counter drawers. 

He grinned, cradling your head, thumbs along your jaw, holding you still as he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to yours.

He was warm, lips soft, moving gently against your skin. He started to churr when you reached up and tucked your hands over the strong curve of his shoulders.

Your lips glided together once again, mouth opening barely under his direction, eyes closing at the little sweet exhale he gave at the motion.

“You taste like syrup.” You murmured against him, and felt his mouth fight not to tip upwards again.

“What can I say,” Mikey moved his thumb to brush over your lips, “I like sweet things, baby.”

You weaseled your arms down between your bodies, hooking around the edge of his shell and holding him closer, pulling a shiver from him.

“Give me another,” he pushed, and you giggled into the press of his lips.

DONNIE

Your nerd was thinking.

You could practically see the steam of over worked processors from where you lounged at the foot of his bed, book tilted far enough up so you could both pretend you weren’t sneaking glances his way.

Donnie was hunched over in his chair, just barely within eyesight around the low dresser separating the main room of the lab from his bedroom. His hands were lax on the keyboard of the refurbished laptop he was suppose to be working on, glasses low on his snout and eyes clearly trained, not on his work, but at the wall beyond his desk.

You entertained the thought of calling out to him, but the chances of reaching him in this state were slim to none even if you laid a trap with coffee for the bait, so you settled back into the book, flicking curious glances his way every now and then to make sure he was still breathing.

Your patience was rewarded, eventually, when he blinked and that sharp golden gaze flickered over to your face.

“I want to try something.” He said without preamble, once he saw he had your attention, and you closed the book you hadn’t been actually reading for a while with a snap to let him know he had the floor.

“Alright.” You scooted to sit at the edge of his bed, feet crossed under you and curiosity building. “What is it that you want to try, Dee?”

Donnie closed the laptop with a soft little click, rolled his chair towards you, then left his seat to shuffle into your space on his knees when he realized he still towered over you.

You swallowed at the abrupt closeness, breathed out slow to combat your sudden nerves.

The tall turtle took your hands in his, smoothed his thumbs softly over your knuckles. “I want… to kiss you. If that’s alright?”

You nodded as soon as the request was processed, gaze skittering to watch his tongue poke out reflexively before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss.

And held them there. No movement, no gentle give and take. You weren’t even sure he was breathing, he was so still.

He pulled back after a moment, light eyes quizzical before they turned inwards, and you could tell you were about to loose him to whatever data he’d collected.

“Ok. Hey. Wait.” You raised your hands, tapped along his cheeks until he glanced back at you. “I want to try again.” 

You kept your words soft, and when he automatically leaned in, you stopped him. “Let me lead, Dee. Just do what I do.”

This time, you used your hands to tilt his head a little bit, and softly touched his lips with your own. Pressed short kisses against him, letting him settle before you moved your jaw and pet your mouth across his.

The steam pouring out Donnie’s ears was back, his hands tightening against your own, and he gave a shaky exhale against your cheek before he responded, mouth slipping over your lips a little roughly as he moved to mirror your grip and tilt your head a little to the back. 

When the two of you broke apart, his eyes opened, and he whispered, “again?”

RAPH

The quiet times were the best with Raphael. The moments with no pressure, no societal niceties, away from the teasings of his brothers, when he’d look at you and jerk his head in a clear ‘let’s get out of here’ invitation that you’d never be able to turn down. 

Raph would unwind enough to simply exist when it was just you and him, warm and mellow and guard low enough that only affection glanced back when you met his eyes.

You were taking advantage of the quiet this particular date night. He was loose from good food and the way your smaller form sat at his side without fear. So much so, that when you swiveled and tucked a leg over his thigh, his big hand wrapped around your knee without stuttering, grip wide and warm and content to rest on the curve of your joint.

He was still engrossed in the movie, though you caught the little flicker of his eyes as he watched for your reaction to his touch, an old gut reaction that you were happy had faded even this much.

When you simply leaned into him, he relaxed further, and you were rewarded with the slow brush of his thumb against the soft skin on the inside of your knee, as though he couldn’t help the movement.

You let him settle through a few more scenes before pushing a little further, thought the amused quirk of his mouth when you finally made your move made you realize you might be a tad predictable to the large turtle.

That didn’t matter so much though, when he made no move to stop you. If anything, it confirmed his trust, at least enough that when you pulled up to your knees to reach him, hands hooking into the upper edge of his plastron, he tilted his head further to meet you halfway.

He was probably was’t expecting a kiss, however, if the little stutter that rolled through him under your hands and the way he gripped your hips was any indication.

The press of his lips were sweet and a little hesitant, especially when how small your mouth was against his broke through even your hazy thoughts, but you tipped to the side to make up for the difference. After a beat he leaned in, following your lead of how hard to press and when to move, softly scrubbing his lips against you as much as you would allow.

His hand slid up your spine, careful and soft, and you shivered at the feeling, pulling away only to dart back in for one more small peck for luck, pulling a little flustered huff from his snout.

When you pulled back for real, he tucked his head under your chin in a fit of bashfulness, even though you could feel his grin against your skin.

“Wanna finish the movie?” You asked, loathed to quit but not wanting to push him too fast.

“In a minute.” He replied, surfacing to press his mouth to yours again.

LEO 

Story time might be Leo’s favorite part of the day. Certainly it was the part of the day where he let himself relax, as much as he was able, but he coveted these moments where he wasn’t anything more than Leo, the mutant turtle that had found you.

So he soaked it all up, the softness of your back against his chest, the way you fit yourself against him without a care. It should have had his heart hammering, the way it had for hours after the first time he had found himself in this position. But the organ beat slow and steady in his chest, soothed when a shoe didn’t drop, and he became used to all the tiny movements you just couldn’t seem to help.

You were only partially aware of all the things that went on in your turtle's head, but slowly you were peeling back the layers as Leo let himself relax around you. You knew however, that he needed these small moments, and you were careful never to question when he came tired and bruised, to simply drop a book into your hands and lean his shell against the wall. He’d tell you, when he was ready.

You turned a page of the book, barely moving your wrist so the thumb sweeping back and forth across the small bones wouldn’t be dislodged, and continued weaving the story of a small elf looking for the last bit of magic in his world. 

When Leo’s thumb slipped up to touch your knuckles, framing the back of your hand with his palm, you had a moment to wonder if he wanted to hold your hand. When a sigh sounded from above you though, a small sound of contentment slipping out in a rumble you knew you weren’t suppose to hear, you realized he already was.

You glanced up, taking in Leo’s rounded shoulders, his lowered head, his large form practically curling around you. His eyes were shut, head tilted into your space, and an urge pinged hard in your chest at the sight.

You slipped the book jacket between the pages to hold your place, and set it aside, twisting around until you faced him on your knees. Your hands found the corded strength right above his knees briefly to keep yourself from falling over.

His eyes were open now, staring at you curiously, still soft around the edges.

You cupped his cheeks, leaned up against his plastron, and touched his lower lip softly with your own, eyes half lidded to gauge his reaction.

You watched his pupils blow wide, refocused when you pulled back, almost chased you hypnotically before the action caught up. There was a moment where you could see the hesitation, an errant thought, before the decision cemented in his eyes and he closed the distance again.

This time, the kiss was longer, sweeter, and he pushed into your space with a deep rumble in his chest, enough so that you had to hold his head steady to avoid being tipped backwards, stepping in when he faltered to lead him through the movements.

[tinydefector]

Hewwo Tiny (*・ω・)ﾉ

May I request a gender-neutral reader with either Blaster or Tracks (any continuity is alright btw) with hcs on how the two would react to the reader playing one of the more sensual maps of the Just Dance franchise or any dance game in general? Like the chair version of Rich Girl from Just Dance 2014, if you're unsure about what I mean by sensual.

Just Dance

Blaster x Reader

Masterlist

Word count: 770

Warning: sensual dancing, grinding while dancing.

Sorry this one wasn't long, but I do hope you like it. I was tempted to make it longer and turn it into a smut piece but I thought I'd hold off on that and just keep this piece sensual dancing.

________

Blaster stood in the doorway watching his favourite little human dancing to music on the TV, they moved in time with the small dancer on screen,  a smile is splattered to his face as he watches each move, step and spin to the dance, even enjoying as they sing along to the song.  

A low whistle leaves the mech, optics gleaming with delight. "Well well, looks like someone's cuttin' loose! Always did love the way ya move, Sugar." He shoots them a cheeky smile with a wink. 

They let out a loud yelp turning around to see Blaster standing there with a smile on his face. Embarrassment floods them when they realise that Blaster had been watching them. “What are you doing here!” 

"C'mon now hot stuff, don't blow a gasket! This song was made for dancin', an' I know just how talented you are." Spinning in place, Blaster offered his hand with a beaming smile. " show me ya best moves! I promise I won't step on those cute little toes." He aimed a playful nudge at their feet. 

He extended a servo, palm up, letting them set the pace. "Whaddaya say—care to spin a few more rounds with me?" his tone is teasing but in truth he was delighted to finally catch them letting loose and enjoying themself. 

They avoid his gaze, not knowing what to say to him, it wasn't the worst thing he could have walked in on them doing but it was still rather embarrassing to be caught in a dance like that. "Aww c'mere baby, don't be shy," Blaster rumbled, embracing them gently against his chassis. 

"Your moves got me feelin' all sorts of ways, you know that?" He coos, lowering his face until his optics met eyes. "Ain't no shame in a little fun and you sure know how to have it, can't blame me for wanting to get in on some action." 

Slowly he began to sway, nudging them to follow suit. "C’mon, sweets. Ain't nothin' but you, me, and the rhythm now." His voice dropped to a smooth croon intent on coaxing out a smile from them. 

"Can't believe you were spying on me" they grumble softly but let's Blaster slowly lead them in another dance, music fading into a rather raunchy song which has them trying to hide their face against his chassis.  "Aww, ya know I can't resist that magnetism a' yours!" Blaster chuckled, swaying their bodies sensually to the song's rhythm. 

"Gotta say, this tune's got me feelin' inspired." His voice dropped to a low purr as hands wandered boldly, tracing every curve. "Got me thinkin' 'bout all the...creative moves we could try." He loved laying on the charms hard and even more so when it got his favourite human so riled up. Leaning in close, fans whirring, Blaster nipped their earlobe gently. "I'm all tuned in to your frequency, baby. Let me show ya what this song's really about."

They move together with just dance mat discarded and the game sitting there still on the menu as Blaster sways with them."Lookit this lil number. Guaranteed to rock your world." He grinned, "Let the music move you, sweet thing. I'll handle the rest." Blaster relished.

Had anyone walked in on them they would have seen the rather saucy dance with the two nearly grinding up against each other. But the embarrassment from earlier fades as they begin dancing to the beat. Each step Blaster guide and the mech himself was light on his feet with stunning choregraphe "Mmm, there we go, sweet thing" Blaster purred, guiding their hips in a sinuous roll against his plating.  

Every sway and murmur of approval only wound him tighter. He nuzzled their neck, fans roaring, venting hot bursts of air against their skin. "You're a natural at this, baby," he grinned, sliding hands down to squeeze their assets in time to the beat. "Got me feelin' all hot and bothered now!" He teases. 

"Blaster, don't you get started" they huff while griping his servo as he begins guiding them through another sequence, nearly gasping as Blaster pulls them closer, servos resting on their hips, one would almost think they were lovers with how they were dancing. "Aw, now don't act like you don't love it," Blaster chuckled, nuzzling their cheek affectionately. "Whole world knows I just can't control myself around a cutie like you."

 He guided their steps with care, watching their face for every delight or disquiet. This dance, like any art, "Ain't nothing sweeter than getting you all to myself," Blaster murmured. “your a tease is what you are” 

_______

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[the-kr8tor]

Thank you for voting for the name Octobie! Now for the themes! I've combed through every single suggestion you gave me and categorised all of them into 12 themes.

So what I'm gonna do is post the 12 (right here) and from that 12 the 5 most top voted will move up for another poll until the top 3 wins! (Reasons/ and where I got the themes from your suggestions are listed below the poll/cut. W/ brief descriptions also)

Note: Theme names aren't finalized but the meanings will still be the same. (They'll have a cooler name once they get picked!)

Wondering why there will only be three themes? Well the third week theme is called wild card where anything goes! So if your chosen theme doesn't win you can always wait for the third week of octobie to come around and you can do whatever you want in that week as long as Hobie's in it!

Fantasy— fairy! Hobie, Dragon tamer! Hobie/Dragon rider! Hobie, Mythical creature, Sailor/Pirate! Hobie x deity! R, Time-looped historian! Hobie, fae, Mermaid. (Literally anything to do with the fantasy genre)

Halloween- Cloak Hobie, Witch R & familiar! Hobie, Witch! R and demon! Hobie, accidental summoning, pumpkin, Demon! Hobie and angel! R, death reaper! Hobie and target! R, vampire! R and human Hobie, serial killer! Hobie and detective! R, zombie! Hobie, pirates, thriller! Hobie, (anything spooky or scary!)

Eras swap/ through the decades- Modern! Hobie x 1970s! r, modern au, 1800s, different au Hobies meet and different au readers meet, aged up meet cute (they meet in their 60s), decades, (time is the main gist of it, whether it's hobie through the years or some decade specific scenario)

Music- guitar, record play, music lessons, backstage, concerts, rival bands/musicians, band practice, battle of the bands, (anything that has to do with music!)

Comfort- stray cats, nicknames, arts and crafts, london tings, hate the am (mornings), flowers, cats, snow, cozy/chilling at home, library, favourite au/trope, cottage core, (anything that wakes the butterflies in your stomach or makes you feel the ooeygoeey feeling fluff!)

Anarchy- ACAB, battle vests, protest, punk. (Anything that Hobie would be proud of doing)

Slice of life/ family life- swing date, the twins, first dance, just cozy things, cozy/chilling at home, morning/nighy routine, handsy, date day/night, meet cute, sick day, childhood friends. (Cozy or family related!)

Crossover- villains and/Vs heroes, magical girl! Hobie, tokyo ghoul au, DC Crossover, Hobie meeting batman, android! Hobie and human r, baldur's gate 3 au, hobie and mutant x-men! R, hobie and deadpool!, deadpool! Hobie, gambit! Hobie, ghost rider! hobie, spy family au, nightcrawler! Hobie (whether it's a video game, anime or a different genre of comic, that goes here!)

Medieval- royalty, royal! R and rebel! Hobie, (anything that makes you sing the game of thrones opening lol)

Villain au- black cat! Hobie, deadpool! Hobie, mystique! Hobie, prowler! Hobie x villain! r (evil! Hobie? Evil! Hobie! Or any au pertaining to villainy!)

Movie mashup- scream killer! Hobie and caller! R, freaky friday/body swap, rom-com, will they/won't they?, swan lake au, mad hatter! Hobie, phantom of the opera au, the greatest showman au, avatar au, (general movie au or theatre au)

Runway ready- patches, runway, hair, piercings, braids, dress up/ fashion show, draw in your style. (Fashun!)

[dantent]

𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐯

A/N: This is a very fluffy oneshot inspired by a song. The discord server has once again done it's job lol

The song: Frank Sinatra - My Way Of Life

Raphael sat in his study, working on another one of his contracts. His quill gently caressed the paper as he muttered the words he wrote under his nose. Oftentimes he grumbled before restarting the process, not satisfied with the already existing text. Never had he been this distracted before, or made so many mistakes in his own contracts. The Devil couldn’t pay attention to his work when his little mouse was all he could think of. 

He stopped writing, tossing away yet another ruined paper. Raphael sighed deeply while bringing his hands to his face. Instead of continuing his work, he reached for the scrying ball he used to spy on Tav. With desperation, he made the hero appear on the ball. In an instant his face relaxed. His eyes looked fondly at Tav as they smiled. Deep inside Raphael wanted to reach out to them, take their face in his hands and absolutely ravish them. He shook his head at the thought, turning back to his papers. 

Yet he couldn’t help but glance at his little mouse, unable to make progress. With a sigh he reached for his diary, having to write his thoughts out. Raphael was frustrated with these human emotions, even more so that they made him miserable. He couldn’t bear the clenching of his heart any time Tav made a witty remark at him. The way his breath hitched when his little mouse laughed at a half-hearted joke he made. How he dreamed of them, gently holding him and pressing kisses to his lips. A bliss he had never experienced before and it wasn’t even real. Waking up every day to the lingering feeling of warmth in his chest. His diary was filled with all his dreams. Raphael constantly read them back, needing to experience Tav’s embrace again. Even if it was only in his mind. 

The Devil began scribbling a song into his diary. He needed his thoughts out so he could focus again. But how hard it was to focus when he remembered how Tav’s lips perfectly fit his own. How their hand cupped his face and drew him in. The way their bodies danced in unison on his precious bed. His little mouse’s loving caress as he laid back. Life was torturing him surely, to not be able to experience this. 

“Gotta have you near all the time, with your dreams wrapped up in mine

Gotta be a part of your soul and your heart all the time” 

He sang as he wrote the words down, thinking of the next lines. Raphael hummed the tune while taking a peak at Tav. They were talking with one of their companions now. The Devil’s brows furrowed in anger. It was only him they should be talking to, not those lowly mortals. No, he needed to perish these thoughts. The mortals were nothing compared to him, and Tav could surely see that. Yes, of course, they were just playing with him. The way they blinked at him with half lidded eyes as they took his deal. Surely that wasn’t just one of his dreams. In truth he didn’t quite know anymore. All of his dreams felt so real yet he never wrapped Tav in his wings, while pressing lustful kisses along their skin. 

“Nothing in the world that I do means a thing without you

I'm just half alive in my struggle to survive without you”

Raphael tried banishing the thoughts from his head while writing the next lines, singing them out loud. His brain was in shambles. Tav occupied his mind constantly, and he was unable to do anything. For the past few days he didn’t do anything but stay in his house and daydream. It was pathetic. A mortal had ruined him. He should’ve been furious but his little mouse’s words of endearment rang in his ears, dissipating all his anger. How he longed for their whispers as they caressed his wings. The Devil had to stop writing, gripping his hair at the thoughts. Never had he experienced worse torture than the yearning he felt right now. A simple kiss wouldn’t have been able to sate his thirst, not even a night of passion. He needed Tav in ways unexplainable to a mortal mind. 

“You are my way of life, the only way I know, you are my way of life

I'll never let you go”

Oh how he had tried to deny himself the pleasure of Tav. But he couldn’t. Each night, his little mouse took another part of his body, mind and soul. It was agonizing, seeing his Tav enjoy themselves with others, not knowing how Raphael would give them the world. No matter, they will have to realize it in the near future. Once he is Archdevil Supreme, he will be loved how he wants to be. How he needs to be. With Tav by his side, their gentle fingertips tracing his skin on the nights of his victories. They were meant to be his, this much he knew. Raphael remembered very well from his dreams how well their bodies fit together. Tav’s head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his perfume. How they couldn’t have enough of his scent, asking him permission to use his perfume. Raphael’s scent on everything Tav wore, even their own skin. They were truly his.

“Never let you out of my sight, be it day, be it night

You belong to me, that's the way it will, be wrong or right”

There was desperation in his voice now, his writing getting messier before completely abandoning his diary. Raphael reached towards the scrying ball and took it into his hands, only paying attention to Tav. They had changed into a more comfortable attire, getting ready to sleep. In the city they had found an evening attire so stunning Raphael wished he had one hundred paintings done just of his little mouse in their night clothing. Another hundred of both of them, enveloped in each others’ arms, how nature intended them to be. 

“I don't need the crowds at my door, the applause from the floor

All I need is you and the love we once knew, nothing more”

He was whispering the song to the ball now. Others’ opinions and affections didn’t matter anymore. Raphael only needed Tav’s affection, no one else’s. He wouldn’t, no he couldn’t bear to waltz around with them as he did with Hope. But Tav wasn’t like her. They would accept him, love him, cherish him, support him. His little mouse had already complimented him countless times. Yet he needed more. The dreams weren’t enough anymore. He needed Tav to bow before his greatness, telling him how the crown looks ravishing on him. With half lidded eyes always on him, a smile gracing their face. 

“You are my way of life, the only way I know, make me your way of life

I'll never let you go because I love you so”

It was a disgrace to feel love as a devil but Raphael didn’t care anymore. He sang those words with the purest tone he had ever taken. Tav had already fallen into deep slumber, their face relaxed. Raphael wished he could be by their side now, his claws pulling them closer to his body. He couldn’t even imagine what bliss it would be to finally hold them to his chest. Finally getting lost in their soft flesh, leaving marks on their skin. 

“You are my way of life, the only way I know, make me your way of life

Don't ever go”

Raphael needn’t wait long. The crown would soon be his, with Tav by his side. Once he got the ever so sweet power, Tav would finally pay attention to him. They would finally look at him with love in their eyes. For that, he could be patient. He would wait for eternity if it meant that Tav would be truly his in the end. 

[avkizi]

MARAUDERS ERA DR INTRO !!

BASICS ౨ৎ-----------------------------------------------------------------

||*.name: venus mayumi

||*.nicknames: rings, vee

||*.birthday: 06/04 (11)

||*.pronouns: she/her

||*.occupation: student @ hogwarts

||*.ethnicity: filipino/japanese/german

||*.blood status: half-blood

APPEARENCE + MOODBOARD

⋆.˚ lil blurb: i have vitiligo, which affects my eye, skin in some smaller patches, and the front bits of my hair, making them lighter ⋆.˚

SCHOOL/SOCIAL ౨ৎ-----------------------------------------------------

||*.house: gryffindor

||*.friends: marauders & valkyries, + regulus black (♡), dorcas meadows, pandora rosier, kingsley shacklebolt, & emmeline vance (civil w/ the skittles/emeralds bc of reg)

||*.animagus form: raccoon

||*.personality/social life: lowkey a little loud, def more similar to james & sirius than remus & peter, but i actually know when to shut tf up, and i'm generally well-liked. there isn't as much hatred of other houses, and a lot of the death eater/pureblood stuff is way less prevelant, so friendly rivalries are common, but no all-out hatred. me n sirius are beaters for the gryffindor quidditch team (i'm also lowkey ripped asf hehehe), but i end up having to drop out mid fifth year from an injury, so me n lily end up commentating (lmao).

||*.hobbies:

muggle volleyball thrifting, crocheting, embroidery, & sewing singing + playing electric guitar jewlery making rock, fossil, and bone collecting/foraging parkour roller skating quidditch

WORLD STUFF ౨ৎ--------------------------------------------------------

||* uniforms arent as strictly enforced, fridays, weekends, and non-school days like holidays you can wear regular clothes undr your robes, accessories are always allowed (jewelry, belts, hair shit, etc.)

||* there are a bunch of extra curriculars available like different clubs, etc. and theyre lowkey super fun theres like baking club, art club, care of magical creatures, its so sick.

||* they do so many fancy events theres a halloween masquerade ball, easter ball, valentines day dance, autumn/spring equinox events, etc. also the triwizard tournament didn't get banned and there was one in my fourth year bc i said so

||* it's genrally recognized that students within the same house arent all the same sow hile friendly competition is encouraged, it's also common for students to have friends from other houses, and ppl are allowed in other house's dorms & common rooms if they're invited

||* there is a bioluminescent cave pool under the castle and its so fun to hang out in oh my god its not cold or anything its just soso cool

||*voldemorts downfall happens the year after we graduate (aka the order destroys all the horcruxes), and nobody i know well dies so none of the betrayal happens, but regulus does end up taking the mark but dosen't believe in all that shit & works as a spy (snape could NEVER) for the order, and still destroys the horcrux but survives and fully leaves his family (suck it walburga and orion)

MISC/TRIVIA ౨ৎ-----------------------------------------------------------

has three pets, two cats and an owl, whos names are mocha, shinya, & ghost, (the cats r technially communal between me n the valkyries bc they live in the dorms w us, but idc)

bands/music artists and slang r all the same as they are now, but technology etc is all 70s (w/o the homophobia racism etc)

i shift in the day before i get my hogwarts letter

sirius and reg are irish twins so while reg is still younger hes in our year (along w the rest of the skittles/emeralds its for simplicity)

there is a creek/river system in the forest and its so cool to hangout near theres like fossils and bones and cool rocks and shit EVERYWHERE i love it

the lake is swimmable (unless you can't swim cough cough regulus black) and its super fun theres a dock and floating platforms and stuff its amazing when its hot out

the dr follows kind of an atyd type timeline of events w exceptions

౨ৎ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

that's all pretty much!!! thats a long one lmao sorry abt that but also if y'all knw any younger raspier british fem voiceclaims pls tell me im in the trenches rn trying to find a british vc that dosent sound like shes in bridgerton lmao ok byeeee love u

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 15

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: I'm sorry I haven't been writing a bunch lately. I've been going through a pretty big transitional period in my life and it has my mental health in the absolute shitter. Please be patient I promise I'm writing whenever I can. Love you all I hope you enjoy the second-to-last chapter of this series.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: jealous cassian, angst but fluffy at the end

Word Count: 6,517

It’s been three weeks since we went to Hybern and I hadn’t left the cell. 

The first time I woke up Rhys had to come into the cell and cleave into my mind to make me sleep. Thankfully the burn marks on his hands and wrists are fully healed now. Feyre is in the Spring Court acting as our spy and when he’s not talking to her, Rhys is down here with me and Cassian. 

Cassian hadn't left my side for a moment since I woke. He had a small cot placed outside my cell so that I wouldn’t have to sleep down here alone. Despite my protests he wouldn't leave to see Madja, he made her come here in this dark, dingy place. I had yet to touch anyone, even him, and it was starting to weigh on me. It was as if my skin turned colder in the absence of him, of anyone. I had taken for granted all the times I hugged my brother around the neck or sparred with Azriel. Not fully appreciated waking up in Cassian’s arms and being engulfed in his embrace when he came home sweaty and stinking from training. 

But it wasn’t just me who was suffering from lack of touch. Cassian was a broken male. Many times he fought with Rhys and I to simply be allowed in the cell with me, but both of us declined. While Cassian was a strong male, Rhys had magic that could help protect him. If something happened he wouldn’t be gravely injured. Cassian argued and argued with the two of us for days. He only gave up when I told him I couldn’t live with myself if I had hurt him. I asked him to imagine the situation in reverse. 

Rhys and Amren have been working tirelessly to teach me how to control my power. Even Cassain pitched in, teaching me the breathing techniques of Valkyries to keep my emotions calm when things seemed lost. I had made progress, but with the wards on the cell it was hard to measure the true extent of my control. The flame that danced on my skin was more of a flicker now, but who knew if that was the wards doing or my own. 

“Keep pressing your power down into that well, what does it look like? What does it feel like?” Rhysand coached me. 

We had found that the best way for me to put a damper on my power was to put it somewhere else. To seal it off from the rest of me in a way. Putting it in a vault and locking the door was effective until my emotions came into play, then Cassian’s breathing techniques worked their own magic. 

“Good, good! You’re doing fantastic!” Rhys praised his voice the most enthusiastic it had been in a while.

I opened my eyes to see the flames on my skin extinguished, though I could feel them simmering under the surface, waiting to ignite once more. It hadn’t been the first time I was able to control my power, I had been doing well for the past week. Rhys figured I would do better if I let some of it out, like a cauldron that needed to boil over in order to simmer down. But I couldn’t do that here. 

“How do you feel?” Rhys asked again, stepping closer to me. 

“I feel more me now, not that I really know what that means anymore,” I say looking at my hands just waiting for them to ignite again. 

Rhys takes my hands in his own, his wards up to keep from being singed. I look up to see his eyes sparkling, the happiest he’s been in a while, a smile lighting up his face.      

“I think you’re ready to leave the cell,” he smiles and I hear Cassian remove his arms from the bars of the cell where he always rested them. 

“Rhys I don’t know,” I shake my head as he holds my hands tighter. 

“Well I do, you’re ready y/n and I can’t stand to see you in this cell any longer,” he pleads with me. 

My eyes flit to my mate, who waits dutifully on the other side of the bars. His knuckles white from where he grips the iron. Like he was praying I’d cross that threshold just so I could be in the same room as him. It was that pain, that longing in his hazel eyes, that prompted me to nod my head yes. 

“Thank the cauldron,” Rhys sighed in relief, bringing me towards the door. “Now the wards won’t be there to help you keep your power down, you’ll have to focus just as hard as you have been.”

The second my feet step over the threshold I feel it. The wards felt like a heavy blanket placed on top of me, without them I felt like I was laid bare. The violet flames under my skin flickered a bit but went out as soon as I pushed them back into that vault that kept us all from being burnt to a crisp. 

Once I feel that vault door seal itself shut I look up to see Cassian staring at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. His eyes hold hope, and longing, and unmistakable sadness. My mate, my Cassian. Just three feet away from me.

I reach for him, feeling the need to comfort him but the second I do I stop myself and look down at my hands. There are no flames, but the simmering remains, icey and hot all at once. My hands clench into fists as I feel the pain in my chest. My eyes meet Cassian’s glassed over hazel ones and I feel the last piece of me break. 

“I can’t- I can’t hold you,” I say, my voice breaking mid sentence. How long would it be till I could touch my mate again? Would I ever touch him again? 

“It’s okay, I can still feel you, in here,” Cassian says, placing a hand over his chest and tugging on the bond so I could feel it. 

I feel my throat bob as tears prick my eyes, suddenly it’s harder to breathe and flames ignite at my fingertips. My tears evaporate as they fall down my face and suddenly the room is caving in. 

“Princess you need to breathe,” Cassian coos, placing his hand on my shoulder, the hiss of burning flesh echoes through the room as my mate rips his hands away from me and cradles his burnt hand. “FUCK!” he shouts. 

“Cassian I-” my words get caught in my throat. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.” I say moving towards him, but Rhys steps in front of me.

“y/n stop, you’re burning up. Let it wash over you, like a wave washing over a rock.” he says calmly. 

I take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. I picture my power being shoved back in that vault, I imagine a wave of calm washing over me like a warm blanket. Only when I hear my heartbeat slow do I open my eyes. The flames have danced out again. 

“That was incredible, you did that without the wards and without my help,” Rhys smiles proudly. “Today feels like a setback but you’ve made more progress than you know.” 

I nod and turn my attention to Cassian who still holds his hand, “Cass I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-” 

“Shh princess, I know you didn’t mean to. I should’ve been more careful.” he says warmly, thankfully he doesn’t reach for me again.

“He’ll be okay, from the amount of times I’ve been burned Madja has the healing process down to a science,” Rhys chuckles trying to lighten the mood.

I wish his words were enough. I just burned my mate while he was trying to help him, and what’s worse, I couldn’t even hold him. I couldn’t comfort him, or ‘kiss it better’ or even inspect the injury. It was like every bone in my body wanted to see if he was alright and I couldn’t. 

“I can put some wards on your bedroom, they won’t be as strong as down here but they will help,” Rhys assures me. 

My mind wanders to  my room. I had been sleeping in Cassian’s room for forever now, it was our room. But I couldn't sleep next to him anymore. Those days were gone. 

“Put the wards on my old room, not Cassian’s,” I say calmly, averting my eyes to the stone floor. 

“Like hell you’re sleeping in there,” Cassian grumbles. “You’re sleeping with me, in our bed, in our room.” 

“Cass I can’t and you know it,” I say a little harsher than I should. I shudder a sigh and continue, “Look at what just happened, I won’t hurt you again, I refuse to.” 

“She’s right Cassian, she could have a nightmare or a flare up in the night. Trust me when I say that little burn you got was nothing compared to her full power.” Rhysand says, knowing that there needs to be another voice of reason. 

Cassain purses his lips, “Fine, then I’ll sleep in the reading chair next to your bed.” he says. 

“No it’s not comfortable, you don’t have to do that,” I pleaded with him. 

Cassian goes to argue but Rhys steps in, “I can have a bed moved into your room sister. Cassian can be close to you and he will be far enough away that he won’t be roasted alive.”

I nod solemnly, I still don’t like the idea of my mate being anywhere near me at the moment, especially after what just happened. But I knew that if I didn’t let him sleep in the room with me that he would sleep in the hall outside, and that wouldn’t do either. And besides, who knew how long things would be this way…

One month later…

Things are getting better. However I have yet to touch anyone but Rhys. 

With my brother's help, I’ve gained more control over my power. We discovered that releasing it makes it easier to manage. When I depleted my reserves, there was less to burn off. However, the problem was that my reserves kept growing every day, as if I were gaining more and more power continuously.

There was no telling if it would ever stop growing and even more alarming, we didn’t know what would happen if I burnt out. 

On top of that came new revelations. It seemed my power was more linked to the Night Court than we initially thought. I could now manipulate darkness and winnow just like Rhys could. Turns out winnowing was incredibly handy, especially since Cassian couldn’t fly me anywhere anymore.  

Rhys and I worked everyday to let out some power. He taught me how to control my fire, how to aim it, and wield it as the weapon it was. It was during one of these very lessons that he got the news that Feyre had finally returned to us. 

The reunion was teary and beautiful as I watched my brother and his mate embrace so warmly on the floor of the townhouse. Though, there was a certain pang in my heart knowing I couldn’t hold my own mate that way. I looked up at Cassian from across the room to find him already staring at me. I pursed my lips and looked away, trying my best to keep myself from crying.

“Oh y/n!” Feyre smiles and begins to run over and embrace me but Rhyand catches her around her middle. 

“Feyre no!” he shouts, a male clearly worried for his mate.

His booming voice made me curl in a little on myself as Cassian took a protective step towards me, eyeing both of them. 

“I’m sorry Feyre, but I can’t touch you. I can’t touch anyone actually, even Cassian.” I say sadly the shame washing over me like the tide. 

“W-what? Why?” she asks from where she stands a safe distance away in my brother's arms. 

I let out a breath, “When I went into the cauldron I changed, power awakened inside of me and I can’t control it. I’ve burnt Rhys about a hundred times now.” I sigh, knowing the last thing she wants to hear is how I’ve harmed her mate. 

She turns and slaps Rhys across the chest, “I knew you were lying! I could feel the heat down the bond! Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. 

My brother chuckles at his applauded mate, clearly just happy that she’s finally back in his arms. “You had enough to worry about already, and besides I had it under control. Y/n is doing much better now.” he assures Feyre. 

“As I live and breathe,” croons a voice that I hadn’t heard in years. 

My eyes flit to behind Feyre, where Lucien Vanserra stands, his eyes raking over me. I knew him when we were young and Rhys and Tamling were still friends. I was always fond of the male, and his flirtatious ways. Rhys used to call us childhood sweethearts, though we were never anything more than good friends.

“Lucien-fucking-Vanserra,” I laugh as Lucein prowls towards me. 

“It can’t be? Is that the precious Jewel of Prythian?” he jests. “If I had known I’d be seeing you I would’ve brought flowers. I think I recall the Spring Courts peonies being your favorite?” he smirks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“You’re a terrible guest Vanserra, we should throw you out,” I laughed, shaking my head at the silver tongued fox. 

“Then allow me to gift you this instead,” he drawls before reaching for my hand. 

“Lucien I wouldn’t” warns Rhys but it’s already too late. 

The fox ignites flames across his fingers and picks up my hand. He doesn’t hiss or even flinch as he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it in greeting. His eyes of gold and russet burning into mine. 

Cassian growls in warning at the sight of the Autumn Court prince touching me, but if Lucien cares or is even afraid he doesn’t let it show. Instead he flips my hand over so my palm is facing up, using his free hand to graze over the skin of my palm down to my forearm. 

“Her power is not like mine,” he says to no one in particular. “It feels darker and perhaps stronger.” 

“But you can touch her?” Amren questions watching Lucien inspect my hand. 

“Of course I can touch her,” he smirks, winking at me. “My flames burn at the same temperature as hers. I don’t feel anything but her lovely skin.” 

“That’s enough,” Cassain growls, stepping forward a bit. 

Lucien’s eyes turn to the general, nothing but sheer amusement in them. 

“Yes, yes, Feyre told me that The Jewel was spoken fort now,” Lucien tuts releasing my hand. “Forgive me for trying to ignite old flames.” he chuckles, turning away. 

Rhys and Feyre promptly excuse themselves and we all take it as our queue to get lost, clearing the room at lightning speed. I walked out of the house with Cassian in tow, and I could practically feel his anger radiating behind me.

Since going into the cauldron things between Cassian and I had been, well… different. We were so physical before I was cursed with a power I couldn’t control. Always holding hands or cuddling whenever we could. It cleaved a hole in our relationship we couldn't find a way to replace. 

While we still spent every waking moment together, we talked less. I missed the conversations we used to have about books or training (which I had kept up on in my own time). However, I knew that my new powers were a lifestyle change for him too. It felt like grieving who I once used to be, who I may never be again. 

Part of me wondered if we would survive this “new me”. Cassian fell in love with me when I was weak and meager, he might not like this new me. This female he had to walk on eggshells around. What I did know was this, he had to adjust in his own way, and I would stand by him through whatever that process was for him. 

I thought I could keep quiet about his intense brooding, until he grunted once more. I stopped and turned around to face him. My neck craned up to where his jaw ticked in frustration.

“You sound pretty angry back there big guy,” I tease, trying to keep the mood light. 

“I haven’t been able to touch you in almost two months and Lucien Vanserra walks in and holds your hand like it’s no big deal,” he grumbles looking off to the side. 

If things were the way they used to be I would be turning his chin to meet my gaze. 

“Maybe he can help Cass,” I say softly, trying to give him something to root for. 

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m always going to be upset he was the first one to touch you,” he says, lip curling into a half smile as if he realizes how ridiculous he’s being. 

“Rhys says I’m doing better, and I feel better too.” I tell him. “Better days could just be around the corner.” 

Cassain lets my words hang in the air a bit and I can practically see the wheels in his head churning, like he’s waging a war against his thoughts and instincts. 

“Can we- can we try again?” he asks hopelessly. 

Cass had been asking me the same thing for the past few weeks. He wanted to try and touch me, just for a moment. The male just wanted to hold my hand.  But I told him no every time, for every time he asked I could hear the singing of his flesh and see him cradling a burnt hand. Like a bad nightmare on a loop.

“Cass no I won’t hurt you,” I say firmly, taking a step back from him just in case he got any ideas. 

“Baby please, I just want to hold you again. I just want to feel my mate.” he begs and my heart shatters.

“I’m sorry Cass, but I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you again.” I say sadly, casting my head down. “We just have to hope that things get better tomorrow.” 

Cassian goes to brush a hair out of my face and when he realizes he can’t he clenches his hand into a fist and clenches his jaw. And so the invisible wall that had been built between us raises again, and I feel that pang in my chest that, just. Won’t. Go. Away. 

“What do you mean that was pretty close?” I cry looking at the scorched bit of grass next to the large rock I was supposed to hit.

“Pretty close could be the difference between hitting Hybern and hitting me in the heat of battle sister,” Rhys chortles. 

We had been at it for hours today. After the week-long disappearance of him and Feyre he had finally come back to the real world to help me control my magic. 

My well of power was turning shallow after hours of practice and my aim was starting to get sloppy. Which of course was dangerous for all involved, but mostly for the spring grass on the secluded hill we were on. 

“Keep trying,” Rhys urges me from the boulder he sits on. I’m sure the thing had a permanent imprint of his ass by now.

“I can’t!” I say frustrated, running my hands through my hair.  “I can’t break into people's minds, I can’t shapeshift.” 

Rhys cocks and eyebrow and gracefully stands from the rock walking over to me.

“You wouldn’t know, you haven’t tried,” he says, summoning a kernel of his magic to rest in the palm of his hand, pure violet light. I do the same, but like always, it only manifests as violet flame. “Your power resembles mine, I can feel the traces of it that you carry. Try shapeshifting, amuse me sister.” 

I look up at him with a sour face, “Into what? It’s not that simple.” I scoff, my brother always made magic seem so carefree, I was jealous of how easy he made it all look. 

Rhys smirks and the snap of leather rings in my ears. The shit eating grin he wears as his wings spread out, basking in the sun makes my blood boil. Rhys was always a show off, especially when he was trying to push all my buttons.

“Maybe we’re the same, you are half Illyrian, even though you never got the wing gene.” he says, stretching his wings like he might stretch his arms when he first woke up in the morning. 

“Rhys,” I grit out. He was toying with me, trying to poke fun at me so I might aim better or spew some more fire. 

“Oh come on, humor your big brother.” he laughs. “Picture them in your mind, what do they look like?” 

I let out a huff and rolled my eyes, and despite my better judgment I scrunch up my face and let my eyelids flutter shut. I try to picture what I might look like with wings, the same way I used to do when I was a little girl. I used to imagine myself flying around with my brother and his friends, going to far away places, anywhere but the townhouse I was raised in and caged in. 

Weight crashes over me and when I open my eyes Rhys stands there with a smug grin on his face. His eyes gleamed with that ‘I told you so’ look only a big brother could possess. I dare to shift my shoulder blade behind me, and then there they are… that weight on my back that feels all too comfortable, like it was always meant to be there. 

“Ha ha!” Rhys laughs, pumping his fists in the air.

Before I can protest he’s running over to pull me into a hug and ruffle up my hair with his knuckles. 

“Look at that! My baby sister has wings!” he smiles, his eyes taking in the sight of them as they light up brighter than I had ever seen before. 

I curl my back muscles so that my right wing comes in front of me. They look just like Rhys’, except unscarred from years of battle and much smaller, even smaller than Feyre’s. But the weight of them was perfect, like they were made for me. 

“You’ve been training with Cassian haven’t you?” he asks, circling me as if he is taking in my posture and the muscles of my back. 

“Yeah I have, why?” I ask, watching as his gaze rakes over my wings. 

Even when I was in the cell I worked hard to continue doing the exercises that Cassin has taught me. It was hard to be cooped up in there all the time. While I trained and motivated I was able to escape if only for a little bit.

“Because the drills he has you running? They’re the same ones they put us through when we were young. They’re meant to strengthen our backs so we might carry our wings,” he explains, coming back to stand in front of me. “And by the looks of it you bear yours quite well.”

I look at my wings and flex them a bit. My brother was right, I was carrying my wings like they were second nature. My back didn’t scream from the pain, instead it almost seemed to welcome their weight. However, it was another change I would have to get used to. Unrelenting power, winnowing, not being able to touch my mate, and now wings? 

I shook my head and thought for a moment. I was a completely unrecognizable person now. Far from the person Cassian fell in love with. My mind drifted back to the talk we had the other day, how I could feel the distance between us. I wondered if maybe this new me wasn’t one that he wanted. Wondered if perhaps he had preferred me to be nothing more than a princess… his mate. And now the wings? Could I possibly change any more? 

“Do you think Cassian will care?” I ask softly bracing myself for any answer my brother might provide. “I mean I’ve changed so much, and he married me without wings and now all the sudden-” 

“Sister,” Rhys says, grasping my arms to stop me from speaking. “Cassian is going to love your wings. He’s going to drool all over my carpets when he sees them.”

“Yeah but-” 

My words get caught in my throat as I feel my brother's fingers digging into my arms. Into my skin. My eyes turn down to where he grasps my bare forearms. No wards, no magic, just him and me. Rhys was touching me. And he was unburnt. 

“You-you’re touching me,” I breathe, grasping his forearms back. 

“I had a suspicion that if you deplenished that well of power enough that I would be able to touch you. Looks like I was right,” he smiles. 

I throw my arms around his neck and pull him into a soul crushing hug. It had been so long since I had been hugged or held or touched in any way. I didn’t know how badly it would burden my soul, not to feel my brothers warm hugs or my mates lingering touches. But here I was, happy and whole again. 

When I pull back there are tears in both of our eyes. Tears of hope. Hope that I might make it through whatever this power was that sought to bring me down, hope that I could make a difference in the upcoming war, and hope that when all this was over, I might have a normal life. 

“I think there’s someone who is desperately wanting to see you right now,” he smiles as a tear rolls down his face. 

The townhouse is quiet when we walk in, both of us wingless and searching for one person… Cassian.  Of course we knew he would be here, he was always here when Rhys and I went to train. Pacing and patiently waiting for me to return with some hope, some kernel of a possibility that I might be able to touch him or hold his hand that day. 

That’s where we found him, wearing a hole in Rhysand’s beloved carpet waiting for any semblance of good news. 

“Hey, how was training today?” he asked from where he stood a good few feet away. 

“It went well,” I say timidly. Despite my brother's assurance I was still scared of what Cass might have to say about my new changes. 

“It went well, that’s all you have to say? It went well,” Rhys protests from where he leans against his desk, arms crossed and looking every bit of the swaggering High Lord he was painted to be. 

“Rhys,” I growl under my breath, he had promised not to butt in if I let him see Cassian’s reaction to his winged mate. 

Rhys holds his hands up in mock surrender before signaling that he’s going to shut up now and enjoy the show. 

I sigh and prepare myself for the worst, “Rhys and I discovered yet another new aspect of my power,” I say, looking to Cassian whose face is nothing but apprehensive, like he won’t let himself get his hopes up. 

“And it’s a physical manifestation of sorts, one I’m not sure how you’ll react to,” I continue wearily. 

Cassian relaxes a bit, “You’re my mate, and you always will be. You could sprout a tail and I would still love you.” he chuckles. 

“I don’t know Cass, this one is pretty unforgivable,” Rhys teases, breaking his promise once again. 

I shoot him a pointed glare that tells him he’s run out of warnings and he closes his mouth again. I take a deep breath in, visualizing my wings just like Rhys had instructed me and when I breathe out again I can feel their comforting weight. 

When I open my eyes I find Cassian standing slack jawed in the middle of the room, Rhys’ booming laugh echoing off the walls at his usually composed brother's appearance. I can’t help but let my lip turn up at Rhys’s good humor, it was nice to have him break the tension. 

“Y-You have wings?” Cassian sputters out taking a step closer to me.

“I’ve always been half Illyrian just like Rhys, but I never had the magic to shift into wings like he did. Now I do,” I explained to him.

“How could you for one moment think I wouldn’t be overjoyed by this?” he laughs stepping closer so that he’s towering over me. The movement feels so natural, the position feels so us. 

I smile softly, my cheeks no doubt flushing under his lovesick gaze. My hand reaches out to touch him, like it had so many times before, but this time I don’t stop myself as I slowly go to touch his cheek. 

As my fingers get closer he flinches ever so slightly, I can tell it’s a knee jerk reaction from being burnt, but my gaze never falters. Not as my fingers brush over the stubble of his unshaved jaw, and my palm  comes to cup his face. 

The tension in his body releases and his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment. He opens them and a tear falls down his face as he lets out a ragged breath. 

“I can feel you,” he breathes out and I feel a piece of my soul come back to me. 

I shudder a breath as I realize I’m crying too, “I can feel you,” I cry putting my other hand on his cheek. 

“We…well I, figured out that her power is a well, when it’s near empty she doesn’t burn,” Rhys smiles from the corner of the room. 

Cassian’s hands encircle my waist as he pulls me to his chest. I breathe in his scent, cedar and leather, and thank the mother that I can be in his arms again. 

“What happens if she burns out? Uses all her power?” Cassian asks, already looking towards the future while I was still taking in the moment we had now. 

Rhys sighs and shakes his head, “I’m not sure what happens. But I’m not willing to test her limits to find out, not when the possibility could be losing her forever.” he says sadly. 

Cassian nods, I can tell that the answer Rhys gave him didn’t sit right with him. That he wanted to know more, wanted to make sure that very real possibility of losing me wouldn’t happen anytime soon. But then he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze and I could tell that he had decided that this moment was more important. 

“You’re so cold,” he breathes. “But you’re still you. You still feel like you.”

“Oh Cass,” I laugh, throwing my arms around his neck.

His arms encircled me pulling me to him in a soul crushing hug, no doubt releasing all the tension between us that had been building for nearly two months now. I can’t help but let out a sob at the feeling of being in his arms again. At some point I feel us both hit the floor as we hold each other. 

Cassian pulls back to brush the hair from my face, a movement I know he missed doing. Both of our faces streaked in tears but I didn’t care. 

“Let’s go home,” he says softly. “To our room and our bed, so I can show you how much I’ve missed you, my beautiful mate.” he says.

I wasn’t able to fly myself to the House of Wind, despite having wings of my own now I had no clue how to even begin to fly. But Cassian didn’t mind carrying me, hells I didn’t mind either. For the first time in a long time we felt like us. 

I lie on my stomach cradling a pillow as the sheets drape around my bare skin. Cassian lies next to me, propped up on his elbow as he runs a finger up and down my back, like even a simple touch like this meant the world to him. I know it did to me. 

We had been at it for hours, I had to take a couple breaks to release my flames on the balcony but somehow the display of my power only seemed to turn Cassian on more. It wasn’t until now that we were truly spent and basking in the glow of just lying in our bed together. 

“Show me again,” he muses, placing a kiss on my shoulder. 

I knew what he meant. He had asked to see my wings a million times already. The first time he wanted to touch them, feel every inch of them. He opted to show me how sensitive they could be and I was greedily taking every touch he gave them. If I had known how easily affected his wings were I would’ve been far more careful when I washed them. 

I roll my eyes and muster a kernel of power to summon my wings. His eyes light up immediately as he runs a hand down the leathery material. The hair on my skin raised and I couldn’t help but smile at the tenderness. My feared general admires my wings like they were expensive art. 

“Beautiful,” he smiles, kissing the edge near him. “My mate is so beautiful” 

I hum in delight as he repeats the phrase, fearsome general indeed. I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked in this moment. How long had it been since I saw him bare? His sculpted muscles that  make him look like a god. Hair falling from where it was tied at the nape of his neck, face worn from coupling but still aglow with love? It had been so long. I could’ve stayed there forever. 

“Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to fly,” he tells me softly, still brushing his hand over my wings and down my spine. 

“Rhys says he wants Azriel to teach me since he also learned later in life.” I reply, my voice tired as the late hours creep in. 

Cassian shakes his head, “No, you’re my mate. I’ll teach you.” he said in a tone that left no room for arguing.

“Rhys didn’t teach Feyre how to fly,” I pointed out with a smug smile. I knew how important it was to him that he be the one to teach me, but it was fun to push his buttons like this. 

“Yes and because of that Azriel pushed Feyre off a cliff as a flying lesson,” he chuckled. 

I remember the day my brother's mate came home with twigs in her hair, we all made fun of her then. Now I fear I will be living the same fate. 

“But she did in fact learn how to fly,” I say, needing to push his buttons one last time. 

“The answer is no princess,” he grumbles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Besides I feel like I just got you back.” 

I sighed knowing the feeling all too well. While Cassian and I weren’t apart physically it felt like it. Sure I saw him every single day, and he slept in a bed next to mine, but we weren’t the same. 

“I know how you feel,” I say, reaching out my hand to stroke his cheek, his eyes fluttering for a moment as if savoring the feeling. 

He was silent for a moment, the air between us thick with things we never talked about. Hybern, the Cauldron, the war. It was something we should’ve talked about weeks ago. But if I had to talk about watching him die and not be able to hold him after? I don’t think I could do that. Clearly he felt the same. 

“When you went into the Cauldron,” he said, drifting off as if recalling the horrid event. “I thought you were dead. I thought I was sitting there watching you die.” 

My breath caught in my throat as I watched him come to terms with his thoughts, his emotions. 

“I- there are no words to describe how it felt. To sit there and watch you die and not do anything about it. It was a mercy that I lost consciousness,” he continues. “When I woke up I thought you were gone. I thought I had woken up to a world where you weren’t alive anymore. Worst of all I thought they had left your body in that horrible place. That I wouldn’t be able to hold you one last time, even in death.” 

“Cass-” I start to comfort him but he cuts me off. 

“Azriel said you were here and that you were breathing and I nearly cried with happiness. But then I saw you in that cell, cold and on the dirty floor. I just wanted to hold you and…god, I wasn’t sure if we were ever going to be able to do this again.” he says, voice filled with emotion as he strokes my cheek. 

“It’s not going to be easy Cass, the road going forward. There will be war and ruin, but I know that we can get through it. We’re going to be okay,” I smile cupping the hand he has rested on my cheek. 

He smiles down and pulls me to him so that I’m laying on his chest.  “We’re going to be okay,” he repeats back. 

I had laid on his chest like this a hundred times before, but now it meant more. I sigh, breathing him in, enjoying the feel of his skin under my cheek once more. He was very adamant that this be the way I sleep tonight even though I was scared. 

“But Cass what if I burn you in the middle of the night-”

“No. You will sleep in our bed, in my arms and that’s final.” 

I didn’t argue with him after that. 

As if on queue the second I feel myself drifting into sleep Cassian shakes my shoulder a bit. 

“Princess you’re heating up a bit,” he whispers in my ear. 

We found that whenever my skin started getting hot that my power started to grow, when I expelled the excess my skin turned cold. A welcome meter of where I was at, but good lord I simply wanted to rest. 

“Ugh, I’ll go light something on fire,” I groan, pulling myself from the bed and tossing Cassian’s shirt over my head. 

It was going to be a long road back to normalcy, if there could even be a “normal” after this. But I wasn’t walking the path alone, I never would be.

Last chapter coming soon….

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[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Sign is Slaying

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top. Happy new year, BLabies!

Jan 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 8 of 12 - Tharn in Phaya’s too big clothing is the cutest thing in the world.

I gotta to say something about Babe's acting really quickly. I love the way he’s inhabiting the personality of his naga character with reptilian eye and body movements and (I don’t know how to put this) a certain reserved, elegant, slithering- ness. He's very good this new boy of ours. (He come from something physical like dance?)

I adored them doing the walk of shame and being teased.

ALSO I enjoyed the way they handled Tharn’s gender in the past with his costume (the pha chung hang is gender neutral but that green top is a kinda combo m+f) and pronouns et al.

Language corner:

They are using ancient pronouns. I *think* I heard: daow (3rd), khun/jao/tan (2nd), kaa (Ist) - all pronouns in use are gender neutral - to the best of my understanding.

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 10 of 12 - Ooo. Day comes out to fam. Also his maa legit took his phone away and said

“I don’t mind you being gay but you can’t date a poor.”

Still, these 2 do kind of make the best secret boyfriends ever.

Also I begin to love Night: “that’s my baby” indeed. You special ain’t ya?

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 -  I’m starting to find this pretty boring at this juncture. Bummer, because for a while I was enjoying it.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 11 of 12 - The stuff with the spy on the team is super boring. I’m not wild about the side characters either. So most of this episode was a bust for me. I did like First’s ex. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 14 - Charlie & Babe = honeymoon phase. Jeff & Kim = forgotten. Pete & Way = riddles wrapped in alphas but actually enigmas. Everyone else = gang bang phase…. Apparently. Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - Loved that this was a mutual kiss. (Also how comfortable are OffGunn kissing now? Babies!) I’ve moved from indifference to absolute loathing of the side couple tho.

Oddball LIES from the script = the gayest bridge in Bangkok isn’t lit up after 9pm.

Meanwhile, very important kicky kicky feet and Doc is a dork about flirting now that he’s all in. Looks like we get the official boyfriend ep next week.  

You and My Stars YT 2of 2(?) - Couldn’t find it. Not fussed. 

Time the series (Thai Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Okay so there’s a gang and someone named Chris is killed and his boyfriend, actor Foam, is jumped back in time to save him? NO SINGING. Between Chris’s death and that time-slip there’s some kind of accidental murder, a pink pocket watch, Chris being alive again but also a different person, and a make out scene. Are you also confused? Actually, the real question is: Do we continue watching? Remember we (the collective BLorg) do not trust MFlow. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 21 of 24 - The acting has been pretty terrible all along with this series, but this one is the worst. I just can’t. I may tune in for the last installment but this one is a DNF for me. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - It’s utterly adorable. Very manga, but so far not grating on my nerves. They so cute! You know I adore a hyung romance. Add a v gay sauna scene and an OUT gay boy and just... YES. All the married breeder regulars being overly invested in their pretty cook’s queer drama queening, it's so good.

AND THEN a confession in the first episode? Japan sure loves to mess with the pacing of plots drops.

Also, how much do I want to eat every single piece  of food in this darn show? 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 8 - Man I wish this were better I enjoyed this more. Sigh. I do LOVE the stepbrother sides. Of course I do. But how can this feature 2 of my favorite relationship types (age gap, stepbrothers) and not be my favorite BL airing? Japan, how do you ALWAYS do this to me? 

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I don’t know. I just wish this were better. Also shorter.

I really miss KBL right now.

It's done I Need to Catch up

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have a spare day.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Veitnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone?

After Sundown - aired on Netflix Thailand. No word on inter release.

It's Airing But...

[INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

Night Dream (Sat YT) 6 eps - It’s a pain to track down and I really didn’t like the first episode so… DNF  

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

In Case You Missed it

All my year-end round ups:

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

Top 10 BL Secondary Pairs of 2023

2023 BLs Best Trope Execution Awards! TOP 10

BL 2023's Best:

Back Hugs Thailand & Elsewhere

Cute Bits of Domesticity

Boys Feeding Boys

BOOP!

Best Cuddles

Heads in Laps

Touching Head Touches

Thailand Put His Head on Your Shoulder

Put Your Head on My Shoulder (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES FROM THAILAND

All the BLs Announced for 2023 that didn't happen

Next Week Looks Like This

More Coming Jan 2024

Beside You (Thai YouTube)

1/24 Love For Love's Sake (Korea Gaga)- based on the Manhwa ‘Love Supremacy Zone’ by Hwacha. A young man is dropped into a game based off a novel he loves. His mission is to make another player, YeoWoon happy. But then the game starts unfolding completely different from the novel.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Why are the oversized flappy flappy sleeves so adorable? (The Sign)

Pit Babe

Frankly 2024 is starting on a whimper... mostly from Babe.

(Last week)

[thalunalovegood]

I’m on my Gwynriel era (been here since 2021 🤓)

So, I’m here thinking about them, and how they will challenge each other, make a lot of bets, make inside jokes, they have so much potential to grown together and heal together.

Look at this, they are so beautiful 🥹

[I hope the artist don’t mind, I found the fanart on Pinterest]

So here a few things that I think will happen, or I would like to see/read in their book.

I said here once, but I would to see that the shadows talk to Gwyn, I know we don't have evidence yet, but I think when Gwyn ask Az if he can sing it was because maybe she heard something, and the way she smiled to them (you can't tell me the shadows aren't the captain of the ship, and don't give me "it's good for Az if they left him", it's BS, the shadows are part of him)

Bets. We know they both are competitive:

Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?” Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

“Az had let his brother boast. Especially since Azriel had been planning his own victory for a year now.”

Encouraging. They will push each other to their best version, to recognize that they both deserve good things.

Chemistry. All their interactions are so good, and funny, they have a really strong set up. If they talking it's like this, can you imagine they flirting to each other?

“I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days. Azriel laughed. — I'll give you that. Gwyn smiled broadly. — Thank you.”

Opening. Gwyn is comfortable around Az, he isn't self-conscious around her, so they will be able to talk to each other without their past, traumas get the best of them. [Don't give me the "she is a SA survivor speech", she is, but she isn't her trauma, and she can have everything she likes, she reads smut books, and she isn't a child.]

Spying together. Az is the spy master, and Gwyn showed abilities to become one.

She smiled crookedly at Nesta. “I kept to the trees the first two nights, watching the beasts, and I spotted that horrible male and his companions this morning. Saw they’d found my nightgown and displayed it, and I knew they were hunting for you. I thought I’d take them out before they could find you.” “You led the beast right to them.” “I learned where the beasts sleep during the day,” Gwyn said. “And that they get very angry when awoken.”

Gwyn and Az have so much potential, if you see the details, the songs references, the spark, the glow, all of this is used to describe a match bond, anyway, I'm here for them, I can't wait to read their story.

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason… he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

[serxinns]

Sweat treats~ Chap 2

Tw: Blood and death!

Yandere Bnha ships x undercover hero reader

Once you reach your house close and lock the door, you quickly put on your undercover Hero suit with most importantly your hero mask "Xin I'll be back sweetie!" Xin mewed and went back to sleep you grabbed your suitcase and went out of the house you pressed a button and a few seconds later it became a motorcycle you hopped on it and drove to your boss agency

"Ah there you are birdie~," Keigo said as he smirked keigo was your agent partner and boss he was in charge of striking down and killing villains and you were either the backup up or his getaway driver they walked you in the meeting room where ziki kicker and, Maharu was in "alright since everyone is here.." he drops the documents papers for everyone in the room "There's a villain planning to steal a valuable and powerful jewelry kept safe in the safe kitkari, you, and maharu find the bombs and remove them carefully while me birdie and buns (aka Mirko) will take care of her ourselves which means y/n and maharu will pretend that they're partners" you all agreed with his plan and head out with your spy car "Oh and make sure you dress up nicely and use your fake identit s and disguise make sure theyre not real " Mirko stated "hm I wonder why do we?

Time skip cause I'm lazy

Once they made it to the ball 2 large men were guarding the door "Name and partner name?" The men said pulling out their hands for any type of ID "I'm Marshall Rover this is my lovely wife Sasha Willwood " "ok get in next " "Zachary west and my lovely wife Mary~" Ziki tried fake flirting with Kitkari (aka mary) wich Mary pretended to be flustered "ok get in" you and Mahara looked at each other and nodded "State your name?" "Um I'm f/n (fake name) and this is my husband uh..moose?" Marharu and the others stared at you Keigo and Kitari tried not to laugh while Ziki and Miriko rolled their eyes the guard eyed at the both of you while you smiled at them trying to keep their cool "yea your on the list get in" you sighed in relief and walked pass the large fancy doors

and you were amazed when you saw how well done it was it felt like you were a background character in Cinderella "Well damn no wonder, why ms Miriko told me to dress nice this place is beautiful" You stared in wonder head turning at each angel to feast upon the view like a child 1st discovering candy stores unaware that hawks were chuckling at your reaction "gotta pay attention birdie don't wanna miss our target~" you snapped out your daze "Oh! Im so sorry I'll do better next time my mistake mr hawks" you made a small bow to him while Ziki snickered at you and he chuckled "That's all right now let's focus"

"Good luck!" Kitkari winked at you while she and Ziki ran off with their gear they sped away the 4 of you spread out by slow dancing to spot the red-haired woman, "look!" Marharu whispered pointing at the small crown near the food table you see the red-haired woman, the woman's name was Diana famous for stealing valuable things and has been on the run for 4 years now nobody ever caught her because of her quirk camouflage and another quirk called lava, "Mr ha- I mean Keigo I see her.." you whispered making sure nobody heard you "let ziki and kari know and I'll grab the attention of everyone in the party for a while you finished the job" suddenly Keigo went on stage and choose some music while miriko played piano with him

Your eyes sparkled at how smooth your boss's voice was and how Mirko was amazing at playing the piano and also singing with him heck you were almost distracted keigo spotted you and gave you a wink and a charming smile which made you blush while Mirko gave you a seductive wink and blow a kiss you blushed and looked away in embarrassment, Maharu changed his finger to the tip of a sniper while you had a gun in your pocket (his quirk is a firearm which allows him to form limbs as any gun his drawback is running out of bullets and losing energy) "ziki when I tell you now you turn off the lights" "on it"

3

Maharu got his aim and shot ready

2

Keigo and miriko was getting ready to fight in case they missed

1

"NOW!" You turned off the lights and heard bullets flying and people screaming and running away "Did...you get it?" You turned on the light and saw people screaming seeing the redhead on the floor blood streaming down her head everyone was running in different directions "IT THEM!!" The 2 men said pointing at the 4 of you joining them were like 100 guards guns locked and loaded "...RUN!" The 4 of you dashed off going up the stairs and down the hall "KARI ZIKI GET THE CAR READY're going TO JUMP OFF THE ROOF "

Miriko was jumping back and forth throwing punches and kicks h at the guards but there were too many and had pretty strong quirks the 4 of you made it to the roof Mirko used her leg to knock off a piece of a metal pipe and tied it around the door to block it off while you used for your quirk to try and block off the exit making them harder to get to you, "cmon cmon cmon!"m

Your mind was running wild screaming even though the doors were about to open at any minute nails and bolts falling apart while the door kept staying strong shaking back and forth "We have no choice just jump!!" The 4 of you jumped as far as you could just when the guards finally busted down the door a red sports car drove underneath the 4 of you crashing you and their fall and quickly driving away quickly.

After everyone got dropped off at their designed area with a bunch of goodbyes and teasing you were the last to drop off "Good job on today's mission Birdy did amazing today~" "yea honey bun you did amazing today!" You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly "Eh it wasn't that good the two of you were amazing, especially your singing and piano playing!" They both chuckled at your praise "well have a goodnight!" The two of them watched as You rushed off into your "house "you know baby our little employee there is kinda cute i wonder are they single?" "Patience love Patience let's get to know them 1st before we ravaged them" he playfully glared at her whole they sped off into the night

Time skip to the next day

You arrived at the lovely day at the cafe maharu was a bit cranky while ziki was being a little shit as usually "Hey y/n ready to start the day?!" "Yes and you better not steal any of the expired treats KARI" she giggled while you playfully put of the middle finger at her you heard the bell behind you and immediately turned around giving them your biggest smile "hello my name is y/n and welcome to the cafe!"

Y/n!! Y/n!!

You looked up to see a familiar green hero suit freckled and green messy hair, brown eyes and pink cheeks with slightly longer hair

"Iuzku!? Ochaco!?"

[astrologysaysno]

Saw svsss as Idols and I decided to come back to the scene for even more Idol Trainee Shang Qinghua in the middle of the night only semi-coherent.

The context: 1, 2, 3, 4

So like, I already pitched to all of you the idea of Shang Qinghua being a former Idol Trainee, but let me be extremely self-indulgent and ask how do we feel about him making his own Idol Group in the PIDW world?

Shang Qinghua never got to debut as an idol, so why not be one in this life. Sure the concept doesn't exist in the way it is for him but how hard can that be?

(To no one's surprise, it's an absolute pain to recreate)

Balancing being head of An Ding AND being Mobei-jun's spy on top of trying to form and train a modern idol group essentially guarantees him that sleep will be nonexistent, but he's had worse things occur in life, he has written chapters at breakneck speeds to pay rent.

In terms of music, there's a struggle vocally speaking. Western sensibilities and pop vocal styles are quite different from ancient Chinese singing. Power belting is a rare phenomena outside specific settings and Shang Qinghua now has to train vocal harmonies. Compound this with the fact that he has to teach them multiple extra languages since it's hard to carry the same energy over translations and it's an absolute train wreck.

Choreography wise, it's hard to teach dance moves without having his peers blush at him from the steps. This is intersecting with the fact that most of these dance styles are new. Hip-hop doesn't begin until a couple of millenias later, and Jazz hasn't been invented by the people of Louisiana since it doesn't exist yet, so his students are going in blind.

If we rope SQQ-J here, we could have him get an aneurysm as he watches Shang Qinghua flub at teaching trainees and having to be a live translator so that they have a clue on what they're saying.

SQH: "I need you to give me more 'aaa' and less 'eee'"

Trainee: *Absolutely Confused* ????

SQQ: Exasperated, "He's telling you to make your vowels sound more like an 'a' sound and make it more open."

SQH teaching the lyrics: Okay, I need you to sing this next part. *Sings rapidly in English*

SQQ: Shidi I need you to understand that I don't know what you're saying

SQH: It doesn’t matter what it means, just say the line.

SQH: showing the choreo: Then you do this. *Drops to the floor in a kick move and slides his hand up his body, showing some skin as his shirt rides up*

LGQ: *Short circuiting and blushing red after watching SQH demonstrate the choreo.* "SHAMELESS! ABSOLUTELY SHAMELESS!" *Flees*

SQQ: *Smacks SQH with his fan*

MBJ: *Hides in the corner as he watches SQH dance with only a sleeveless shirt and small shorts in somewhere private* My hamster is very talented, and very handsome

__________________________________

This is the part of this dumpsterfire word vomit I have cooked up in the middle of the night where I contemplate groups I could have Shan Qingqua's Idol Group do music from.

It all depends on the size of the group really. Plus, my vision has SQH and SQQ working together for extra wachy hijinks. So these are gonna be my inspirations mostly for each group.

Plus Plus, this list isn't for all combinations, just combinations I would probably do.

Cutting it off to just the Peak Lords, I made these.

Two Member Group:

SQH &:

SQQ - Irene and Seulgi

LQG - DubChaeng

YQY - AKMU

Three Member Group:

SQH, SQQ, LQG - Odd Eye Circle and MISAMO

SQH, SQQ, YQY - FLO

Four Member Group:

SQH, SQQ, YQY, LQG - aespa and kiof

Five Member Group:

SQH, SQQ, YQY, LQG, MQF - Red Velvet, Loossemble, and ARTMS

SQH, SQQ, YQY, LQG, WQW - ITZY, (G)-Idle, and Le Serrafim

Six Member Groups:

SQH, SQQ, YQY, LQG, MQF, WQW -

NMIXX

IVE

STAYC

Everglow

So uh, yeah. These are the K-pop groups I'm working with. As you can see, I mostly just listen to girl groups, I don't really listen to boygroups, which may be to my detriment, since they are all men.

[cosmos-coma]

Winter Mountain Soldier Spy- Part 2

A/N: Look at me not taking a month to post a new chapter! lol. I'm happy to get this one going and get writing again. I put one of my favorite songs into this chapter that I think really suits our beloved Winter Soldier (Take Back - Odie Leigh). Enjoy!

Pairing: Winter soldier!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Words: ~2994

Bucky Masterlist | AO3

Like what I do? Consider buying me a Coffee!

________

“Mmph….”

The Winter Soldier let out a quiet huff as he woke, his eyes blurry with a depth of sleep he had rarely felt before. Slowly he blinked the haze away as he sat up from the floor, the bed’s comforter folded beneath him as a makeshift mattress.

He had tried sleeping in the bed- he really did- but it was far too soft. Like sinking into a powdery snow drift, every second he tried to endure felt like another moment closer to inevitable suffocation. Even the plush blanket you had put aside was more than he was used to, but for once he allowed himself the pleasure. 

A silent wince swept across him as he sat up, his hand instantly finding one of the many bullet wounds dappling his back. His fingers came back clean- no blood- a good sign.

As he breathed a sigh of relief, the sounds of clinking and clanging finally registered in his ears. They were soft, yet still distinct as they danced through the closed door, their source- he figured- being the kitchen just below. Instinctively, his shoulders tensed in anticipation, his eyes scanning for a makeshift weapon to face the threat, until-

until a voice came.

Soft and easy, your voice sang a slow unrecognizable tune. It was only then that the prior evening came rushing back to him in a whirlwind; fleeing HYDRA, nearly getting hit by a car, and finally, being brought here- to a house in the middle of nowhere- by a persistently nice stranger who insisted on bandaging him up. 

How could he forget?

Quickly making his way to his feet and getting dressed, he silently padded down the creaky wooden stairs. Slow, practiced feet traversed each step, finding the quietest path with minimal effort as his assassin instincts refused to take a back seat.

As his feet hit the bottom of the stairs he turned toward the continuous noise, a slight frown to his expression until he saw… you. 

There you stood. The vivid orange of sunrise seemed to maneuver through the mountains and snow-covered trees just to wash over you. Your skin glowed with an alluring warmth that left his fingers twitching with the mere thought of its sensation. You hadn’t noticed him yet- your voice still soft and quiet in an attempt not to wake him. Your mind was far elsewhere, distracted by making breakfast and the melody that hung in the air around you.

He dared not speak as the song slowly faded out and a new one began, a small smile resting on your lips as you sang yet another unfamiliar tune. Though he’d never been one for music as far as he could remember, listening to you sing seemed to quell a storm he didn’t realize had occupied him. For the first time in a long time, he knew what it meant to feel at ease. Tense shoulders relaxed, letting out a soft breath as he deflated back to normal.

Yet, even amongst his newfound calm, every word in your song made his brain itch in a way he wasn't yet familiar with.

“Baby… If I can even call you that. You know I'm struggling to remember- I mean, I’m struggling to forget.

Lately, I’ve been so caught inside my head; I swear I haven’t lived in weeks- been daydreaming instead.”

Your toothy smile lit up the room effortlessly as your head nodded along to the tune. You sang as you cracked another egg into the pan and all he could do was watch and listen.

“I bet money his memory is hazed... It’s not too out of character, we paved the path that way.”

You flipped a pancake in another pan, your voice easy with practiced familiarity.

“I’m missing full night's sleep- I'm missing meals, no drinks. I miss believing words are said, words that are said to me.

And now he’s gone again, stuck on my phone again- Just waitin’ on someone-”

You grinned as you prepared two plates. 

“-I’m not waitin’ on no one…”

Your voice bubbled with a determined sort of joy as the song turned and your expression refused to fade.

And while I hope, that my pictures on your shelf when I get home. Don’t wanna see nobody else I wanna hold me accountable for things I did myself….

Don’t wanna see nobody else.

I’m gonna take back some of my time, I'm gonna take back some of my time, I'm gonna take back some of my time, I'm gonna take back…

Take back…”

As the song ended you turned, and upon seeing him, smiled with a brightness that left him feeling like he got kicked square in the chest. His breath was completely gone, his chest achingly void yet completely overfilled, and all he could do was stare. 

“You’re still here…” You said, turning down the radio a little, “I wasn’t sure if you would stay or not, but…”You grinned, “I’m glad you did. I made breakfast just in case,” You added as you handed him a large plate full of pancakes, eggs, and sausages.

Surprise could barely hide on his face as he took the plate from you. A full breakfast…? Were you sure…? As if on cue his stomach rumbled, intent on making its hunger known far and wide. 

But you just laughed and waved him on as you headed toward your regular seat at the kitchen table, your own loaded plate in tow, “Come on, let’s eat…” you said, motioning to the jams and syrup you already had out, “and there’s more than enough for seconds, so please don’t hold back.”

Slowly he slid into the seat across from you, his expression reserved as he watched you make the first few moves. That same radiant orange light still fell over you, though much more dappled now as it filtered through the layers of branches. Your actions were simple. You grabbed a jar of jam and spread it over your pancakes, then you reached for the milk, adding it to your coffee; they were all such simple actions. Such simple normal actions….

And it gave him immeasurable comfort. 

He copied your movements as he watched you go about your routine.

He tried his first set of pancakes with jam, enjoying its sharp, but sweet flavor, yet to him, the second stack reigned supreme; drizzled perfectly with syrup so that each bite was as sweet as his last. Then he tried the coffee, adding milk and sugar much like you, but recoiled immediately as an overwhelming level of sweetness flooded him. He had added far too much, but, despite your laughter, you were more than happy to get him a fresh cup and let him try again.

With HYDRA he only got what was strictly necessary. Meals were bland and lukewarm, with only the essential nutrients and nothing more. Water was about the only thing they were lenient with, but even that had its limits. 

But now hot food sat pleasantly in his belly and spices danced across his nose and tongue. He had had a feast fit for the greatest of kings and one more than worthy enough to celebrate his newfound freedom.

Yet still, the normalcy of it all buzzed in the back of his mind. The breakfast spread out across the table, the music in the background; It was a life that, weeks ago, he could only have imagined; catching nothing more than bits and pieces through the lens of his scope.

The radio mumbled on quietly, the only noise between you besides the scraping of utensils, but he liked it that way. Looking over, he noticed a small smile still lingering in your expression, perhaps a sign that you enjoyed the busy silence as well.

As the two of you finally finished you rose to your feet and gathered the dirty dishes to start washing up. 

At first, the Soldier just watched, at a loss for what you were doing, but soon stood to get a closer look, watching silently over your shoulder.

You felt the gaze of those bright blue eyes run over you and you looked back, “Did you want to help?” You asked.

At first, his brow furrowed, but then he nodded, “What can I do?” He took a step closer, the concept of personal space not seeming to exist in his mind as he slid in close beside you. 

You could feel the warmth radiating off of him where he stood, his large frame taking up space comfortably. Strong, sleeved arms brushed against yours, as he settled in, taking the drying rag you had offered. “I’ll wash and you can dry, okay?” You smiled, handing him the first dish.

He nodded and did exactly as you instructed, his expression far more serious than necessary for the simple act of drying dishes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as you glanced over, his drawn-together brows deep in concentration as he meticulously dried each and every dish before setting it aside.

He frowned, looking over at your barely stifled laughter as he finished another pan “What?”

You shook your head, a grin still plastered on your lips, “Nothing...! Nothing, you just-“ you laughed a touch, looking over at his down turned expression, “You look so serious doing this. Like the pans owe you money or something,” you grinned.

But he didn’t smile back, instead, he looked back down at the pans, not a speck of water left on their shining surfaces, “… I just wanted to be good….” He whispered.

Your heart nearly melted into your feet. His tone was so soft and earnest,  he really only wanted to do good by you and it made your heart swell and burst and melt and flutter all at the same time. You shook your head, your expression soft and warm, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. You really are doing a great job,” you held out one last plate in his direction, “Here, last one, okay?”

Warm lightly calloused fingers found yours as he went to grab the plate, sending warm pins and needles rushing through your forearm. With a short gasp, you flinched back- shocked, but not appalled, at the sudden sensation. Carelessly the plate slipped through your fingers, clattering to the floor with a violent crash that sent a wave of broken ceramic running in all directions.

“Ah!” you yelped in surprise, your instinct to move away from the noise, unfortunately, stronger than your know-how to stay put. Sharp pain gripped your foot as you stumbled back, like small teeth digging relentlessly into your flesh.

“Fuck!” You cursed and tried to step back into safety but the pain persisted, “Shit- damn it…!” you cursed again and looked down to the bottom of your foot. Blood began dripping down from your sole, a little piece of broken plate lodged firmly in the small cut.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes widened with concern as he saw red hit the floor. He had been given a dream-like start to the day and he’d already tainted it with blood. His hands reached out to help but hesitated for a moment. These hands have already hurt so many, he didn’t want to hurt you any further, “I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no, no” you interrupted him with a slight frown, carefully picking out the small shard, “No, I’m sorry… I’m the one who dropped it.” You sighed still holding your foot up as another drop of blood fell, “Fuck… Okay, would you mind- whoa!”

With surprising swiftness and little effort, he scooped you up as if you weren’t every bit of the woman you were. He held you close against his chest, his grip as gentle as he could allow as he took careful steps here and there, avoiding the needle-like shards, until you both arrived in the living room.

He set you down on the coffee table, just as you had done for him the day before, and moved his attention to your wounded foot.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine-“

“Please…” he interrupted with a surprisingly soft yet pressing voice, “Let me help…. Let me be good….” Large blue eyes looked up at you, pleading with you to let him do just this much. His hands hovered over your leg as he waited patiently for your response.

Blinking with surprise you nodded slowly. You couldn’t understand what being good had to do with it all, but with such quiet urgency, it clearly meant a lot to him, “Okay….” You agreed.  

It was impossible to ignore the delicate way he touched you, his fingers brushing your ankle tenderly as he looked over the cut on your foot. It left your chest aflutter as warm static radiated out from his touch. It was subtle at first, just a hint of a feeling, like a lover’s warm breath against your skin, but it only grew.

He nodded and with his characteristically intense and careful eyes he scanned over your wound, nodding again before stepping away to find the first aid kit, retracing your steps perfectly from yesterday.

You had to smile to yourself as he came back to you, first aid kit in tow along with another expression of determination that you weren’t sure fit the severity of the situation, but that seemed to suit him all the same.

With a tender touch, he cleaned and wrapped your foot, hiding the wound away under a layer of gauze to let it heal in peace.

“Thank you… really,” you said as you brought your foot up to poke and prod at the new bandage, “and maybe while we’re here, we can change out your bandages? I’m sure they’ve soaked up plenty enough by now”

He nodded, his voice gentle as a small smile crept upon his lips, “Okay….”

With a few ushering waves of your hand you two easily changed places, your bad leg kneeling on the sturdy table as you stood behind him. One after the other, you peeled each bandage off slowly and marveled at the state of their healing.

Each one had already healed up on its edges and was now trying to close. You were amazed, to say the least. Though it wasn’t at an otherworldly rate, each wound looked like it had already healed over a few days time, however even at this rate you were sure it would still take some time.

“So…  You really have no name..? Nothing besides ‘The Winter Soldier’….?” You finally asked over his shoulder as you pressed the fresh gauze against his muscled back, “I mean- I’m glad I can refer to you as something other than ‘the tall dark stranger’-” You jested with a small smile, but he didn’t seem to get it, “-but it feels wrong to just call you a soldier and nothing else…” 

“Hmm,” he hummed quietly, nodding a bit and pausing as if he was looking for an answer that would please you, “I was soldier number 001….” He said, obviously unknowing of the implications of his words. He gazed into the mirror across from him as you worked, watching your emotions twist as he spoke. 

You frowned harshly, locking eyes with him through your reflection, “You were numbered…?” You sighed as you continued, shaking your head, “I’m so sorry….” Your hand smoothed across his skin as you laid the last piece of tape down, your touch lingering subconsciously. 

Sparks still danced across his skin beneath your touch, radiating a comforting warmth that he had yet to grow accustomed to, but that he never wanted to be without. He wanted your hands on him always, whether it was wiping blood away from his brow or simply brushing a stray hair from his cheek. He wanted nothing more than to be held in the crackling fire of your palms and hold you in return. 

He wondered if you felt the same heat and fire he did, if you too felt the bubbling of energy beneath your skin when you touched- Or if... to you, he was just coldness. Only the cold of smooth metal and nothing more.

“Well, how about…” You continued with a hum, interrupting his swirling thoughts,  “Maybe I can call you ‘Winter’?”

Icy blue eyes softened a bit as you asked. You really wanted to give him a name..?

“It’s always been my favorite season,” you smiled as you packed up the remainder of the kit, “something about the cold, muffled silence of the snow and pine trees looming above…” you hummed as you reminisced on the recent days. “The way the moon and stars reflect off the snow at night? making it as bright as a cloudy day?” You grinned now, ducking your head to hide your expression behind his shoulder, “It always made me feel at home….”

Something cracked and shifted unknowingly in the Winter Soldier as you said that; it was small- barely noticeable- but something had already found its way in and it was here to stay.

The corners of his lips turned up, his heart beating with a little more sense of purpose now. “… I would like that…” 

“Yeah?” You lifted your head, smiling again over his shoulder at his reflection. “Well then, Winter.” You happily emphasized, your smile never faltering, “You should be all patched up now. Your wounds are looking better than I expected.” You handed his shirt back to him and took one last glance at him through the mirror. 

He nodded as he pulled his shirt back over his head, the faintest of smiles still lingering on his lips. 

You smiled back and closed up the kit, getting up to put it away,  “How does another quiet evening in sound?” You asked, “I have a couple of movies we can watch to pass the time and then, if you’re up to it, maybe you can help me with dinner…?”

He nodded, his faint yet pleasant expression still having yet to fade, “Please…” 

___________

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[carrymelikeimcute]

I'm so emotional about the Ghosts finale/xmas special guys.

Button House not only restored to all its glory, but FULL of people. Full of televisions, music, conversations to spy on, audiobooks, people to watch. An endless stream of entertainment and company for the ghosts. So much LIFE for them to witness.

And people are going to die there, you just know it. So there will be new ghosts, potentially, for them to meet and get to know.

Kitty joining in the sing-a-longs in the on-site nursery and dancing at 50th wedding anniversaries, discos and kids parties.

Robin getting to do his zumba classes and hang out with the lads on stag-dos, tagging along on pheasant shoots and playing giant chess with Julian in the garden.

Julian having real life golfers to follow around, not to mention the hen parties and dirty weekends (cheeky!). Also, his family might visit, or a party conference!

Fanny meeting all the dogs people bring along, attending all the big events and rating the decorations and the outfits like Joan Rivers with The Captain. Seeing female CEOs and innovators treat themselves to a weekend of pampering and being glad that they get to be independent and clever as she never got to be.

Pat seeing the successive generations of boys running riot in the grounds while their parents are on the course/in the spa. Watching them build camps and play soldiers - his family visiting the hotel for their milestones, even little Pat's wedding.

Thomas watching the night receptionist work on his novel, being there for the launch when it gets published. Watching the soap operas of other people's love affairs and developing crushes and head-canons for the staff.

The Captain attending staff briefings and chasing the manager around so he can give orders and see people follow them. Kicking it into overdrive for weddings and big events. Losing his mind when the weather man from TV comes to stay for a week and chokes on a piece of steak.

Humphry's head balanced on the reception desk so he can do his 'Mr Cheese' roleplay and keep an eye on the lobby, listening to all the staff gossip and practicing his French on foreign guests.