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misctf · 4 months ago

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Hunting for City Boys

“Ah reckon they went this way!”

Scott could hear the heavy footsteps and thick southern drawl of his pursuers. His back was pressed against a tree and he did his best to control his breathing. How the fuck did it get this out of hand? It started with the damn car. Of all the places for their car to break down, it had to be in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere. No internet signal, no GPS, nothing. Prior to leaving, Scott asked Will to make sure the car was ready to go. And Will reassured him that his father’s fancy BMW was more than ready to handle the drive across the state. Of course, Will insisted they take a shortcut to make better time. And for what? To get to the cabin before the rest of their frat bros? In hindsight, it wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, Ah see ’im! There he is!”

Scott felt his heart sink. Did they really see him? No... not him. Will. Scott heard Will cry out in pain, followed by a thud.

“Nice shot, Clay. Y’all wanna keep lookin’ fer the other fella?”

“Ah reckon we ought to git this one back to the house. The other fella won’t git too far.” Clay said, “Besides, we don’t want ’im wakin’ up before we get home.”

Scott could hear the engines of their four-wheelers rev up. And soon enough, they peeled away through the thick forest and back to wherever they came from. When Scott peered around the tree, he realized he was alone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Scott cursed, “This can’t be happening.”

He checked his phone again. No signal. He ran a hand through his matted light brown hair. The chase had left him worse for wear. His jeans were torn from running through the forest, while dirt and small cuts covered his hands. Even his white sweater was stained with mud. He quickly removed it, revealing a tight-fitting t-shirt that hugged his lean body nicely. He sighed. It would only be a matter of time before they started searching for him again. Those two fuckers. They came out of nowhere, driving on their stupid four wheeler. At first, Scott thought they were going to help them. It would’ve been clear to anyone that the two privileged, preppy frat guys had no idea what they were doing with the car. And despite Will being a straight As engineering major, his knowledge on car maintenance was lacking. As was Scott’s. Wasn’t like they ever really needed to learn anyway. But it was too late to worry about that now. Scott needed to figure how to get out of this mess.

“If they have a house,” Scott thought, “They might have a phone, or a car, or some way to get out of here.” He took a deep breath. He could follow the tracks of the four-wheeler back. But what happened if he got there and there were more of them? He sighed. He’d take the risk.

_______

Scott wasn’t sure how long he walked until he arrived at his destination. He spent some time hiding behind trees and bushes as his pursuers resumed their search for him. But somehow, he made it to the house undetected. Unlike the mansion his family occupied, this house (if Scott could even call it that) wasn’t much to look at. The home sits on a gravel path that winds through overgrown weeds and brambles, leading to a weathered structure that looks like it's been standing for decades. Its wooden siding is chipped and peeling, with patches of faded paint barely clinging to the surface. Scattered furniture and empty beer bottles littered the overgrown grass of the front yard.

“In and out. Find Will, find a phone, and bounce.” Scott whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. To the best of his knowledge, those fuckers were still patrolling the forest.

With a rush of adrenaline, Scott stealthily approached the front door. When he got inside, he gagged. The living room is a cluttered space with a mix of mismatched, well-worn furniture. An old plaid sofa, sagging in the middle, sits opposite a heavy wooden coffee table covered in a layer of grime and strewn with empty beer cans and fast-food wrappers. The walls are adorned with faded hunting trophies and old, family photos, framed in crooked, mismatched frames. A faint, smoky odor permeates the air, hinting at years of cigarettes smoked indoors, mingling with the pervasive smell of old wood and dust.

“Fucking pig sty.” Scott mumbled, maneuvering through the old home, “Come on, there has to be a phone or something.” But his search wasn’t all too successful, “Y’all can’t be serious, what kinda folks don’t got a phone?” Scott froze at the sound of the drawl leaving his lips “What the fuck?” He whispered, his voice returning to normal, “Shit, I’m losing it. Focus Scott.”

But there was no phone. Or car keys. Or even a radio. He took a deep breath, gagging more as the stale air filled his lungs.

“Alright, so I ain’t gonna be able to reach nobody. But where on Earth is Will?” This time, Scott barely registered the southern drawl that infected his words. Instead, he found himself focused on the basement stairwell. He gulped, “Maybe Will’s down there.” He whispered.

Scott started down the stairs. The smell that permeated his nose was more intense than the one upstairs. It caused the young man’s eyes to water and he felt like he needed to turn around to get fresh air. But Scott knew he needed to be quick. Find Will, get out of there. Head back the way they came until the got cell service. But his train of thought was shattered when he made it to the bottom of the stairwell.

“Will?” Scott asked, gazing at the figure restrained to the chair, “Oh god, Will?”

“Scott, that you?” The man said in a thick country accent, “Scott, come on now, you really gotta help me out here. Please, I’m beggin’ ya!”

The man in the chair had very few similarities to Will. Or at least to the Will that Scott knew. Where Will’s toned abdominals once were, a small beer belly was jutting out. His stubble had darkened, while his dark locks had been shaved away and covered with a ball cap. His body hair was more obvious now, leaving him lightly dusted from head to toe.

“Will, good Lord, what in the world did they do to ya?” Scott’s mind raced when he realized he was once again speaking in a southern accent, “I cain't, for the life of me, stop talkin' like this! What in tarnation’s goin' on?” Scott’s hand shot to cover his mouth, but when he made contact with his newly grown stubble, he jumped.

“It’s happenin’ to you too, ain’t it? I reckon it is.” Will mused, “It’s the smell, I tell ya. Gets in your head and messes with ya a bit.”

Scott’s eyes widened in terror. And for the first time, he started to really understand his situation. As he looked down at his own body, he could see his stomach starting to push out into a small gut. Simultaneously, small hairs started to poke out from under his collar.

“No, that just ain’t possible.” Scott whispered in disbelief, “Will, we gotta get outta here, and right quick.” He ran over to his friend and began undoing the binds around his hands. All the while, Scott tried to ignore the itchiness of his new beard.

“I tried to put up a fight too, Scott. I reckon I did. But after spendin’ some time down here, I just went on and accepted it.” Will continued. Scott watched as his friend’s eyes dulled, “Ain’t no need for fancy degrees or gettin’ all dressed up. Just a good ol' nice, simple life."

“Will, listen here, you need to focus now.” Scott said, undoing the final bind, “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” But Will shook his head and without a second thought, tackled Scott to the ground. Scott looked up at his friend in terror, trying to wriggle out from beneath his firm grasp, “Will! Lemme go, gosh darnit!”

“Well what do we have here?” Scott’s heart sank as he heard the voice of their pursuers flood the room, “Billy! What’re you doin’ strattlin’... Scott?” Clay shook his head, “Naw Scott ain’t a good name for a good ol’ southern boy, ain’t it?” He grinned, “We’ll think of somethin’ but go on now and finish the job, Billy!”

Scott’s eyes widened in terror as Billy nodded. And before Scott could stop it, he found his face in Billy’s rank armpit. The bush of moist pit hair tickled Scott’s nose, and the intensity of Billy’s country B.O. filled his nostrils. He wanted to yell out and beg them to stop, but when he opened his mouth, he only breathed in more of Billy’s stench. For poor Scott, it soon became unbearable. And as the laughter of his captors filled the air, Scott’s world went black.

_________

“We ain’t got all day, Billy!” Scott shouted from the driver’s side, “Git in the darn truck already.”

“Aww Cletus, I’m sure sorry. I went back for the gin.” Billy said, jumping into the passenger seat, “We got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott- now Cletus groaned, “Just don’t be tellin’ me about no new shortcuts. I ain’t too keen on goin’ through anything like this again.” He looked over at Billy, who was chugging the bottle of gin. He sighed, “I can’t stay mad at you though.” Sure, his upper class life was gone. And he could barely string together an intelligent sentence. His vocabulary was oversimplified and any education past the eighth grade was absent from his mind. Certainly, folks from his prior social circles wouldn’t tolerate his cigarette smoking, beer chugging, and crude jokes. Cletus sighed. His life as Scott was over, “Well, Billy, you ready?” His hand slowly wrapped around Billy’s cock and he gave it a few tugs. Billy moaned and bucked his hips, only for Cletus to stop, “I knew that’d get your attention. Besides, you got plenty more of that comin’, y’know. Especially if we go along with what Clay’s sayin’.”

Billy nodded, lifting his arm and taking a deep whiff, “Y’all think they’ll recognize us?” Cletus shook his head. There was no way their former frat bros would recognize them.

“Soon enough, they won’t even recognize their ownselves.” Cletus replied, taking a whiff of his own pits, “Now c’mon. We got a long drive ahead of us.”

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #redneck tf #personality tf

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cherrychilli · 2 months ago

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18+ Steve Harrington x f! reader, established relationship Masturbation (F&M), guided masturbation, edging, phone sex(kinda) Summary: Steve receives a special kind of phone call when the journey to his business conference is interrupted by bad weather. WC:3.4K

He'd hoped to make it into town before sundown, badly in need of some rest ahead of the conference tomorrow but the rain put a stop to that.

It started with a light drizzle, a gentle pitter patter of barely there droplets before it turned into a downpour so heavy Steve could barely make out the road in front of him no matter how swiftly his windshield wipers swept from side to side.

So heavy that he grit his teeth and reluctantly pulled over off to the side, clicking his tongue with irritation because the winding stretch of road ahead lay draped in darkness and obscured by thick sheets of rain.

The car comes to a stop on a soggy stretch of grass just by the forest line and he kills the engine, body slumping against his seat with a sigh. Several hours on the road and he's less than pleased to hit the brakes during the home stretch of his journey.

All Steve can really do about it is stew there for a while, rain pelting so hard against the roof of his beamer like the sound of a hundred soldiers marching by. He knows waiting for the shower to cease is his only option, left idle and with little else to do but try to keep from falling sleep.

In the roaring still of his BMW Steve makes a genuine effort at being productive, thinking about the conference and all the things he'll need to do to prepare for it tomorrow. Thoughts of keynote speakers, slideshows, workshops, panel discussions and more fill the space in his mind though the longer he spends on it the more it upsets the remaining calm he'd managed to retain since the rain began.

One by one those thoughts wrap around each other in knots tight enough to choke, entangling into a head throbbing mess that has him calling it quits with another irritated click of his tongue.

Brushing the tiresome details of his business trip aside, Steve rests his temple against the window for some relief. Thankfully the cool glass soothes the thick pulsing vein that runs through there below his skin before a migraine has a chance to sprout roots in his head.

Silently, his half lidded eyes follow the fat droplets of rain as they smack against the glass and turn to rivulets that spiral down his car and soak into the soil below. Watching the sight closely for a while gets his mind working again only this time it doesn't trigger any throbbing in his head.

He thinks back to how even before he'd seen the first signs of rain a few hours back, ashy clouds blooming in size to swallow up a perfectly azure sky, he had you at the back of his mind.

Inside his red knit sweater his chest puffs and fills with a fondness so warm because he's reminded of you once again, the way you love cozying up when its all whistling winds, dense showers and charcoal skies — your favorite kind of weather.

This time he isn't afraid of letting his eyes slip shut, making it easier for him to picture you back home in Hawkins and warm in your bed. How you stayed warm he could never figure out though. You were the type who habitually kicked the covers off in your sleep, and even though what you had on underneath should have done little to keep you warm, you never so much as let out a shiver in your panties and billowing baggy t-shirt.

The same outfit you'd had on this morning, Steve recalls happily. His lips quickly curve as he smiles to himself, remembering how you looked when you wished him a safe trip after having breakfast together.

Of all the things that went wrong today, Steve cursed himself the most for having to leave you looking like that at the door, wishing he'd had just one hour more to say goodbye more thoroughly.

Your legs had been bare, easy for him to admire when the hem of your t-shirt rested just below the swell of your ass. Silently, he ogled that too as you moved around the kitchen, little glimpses of your panties showing whenever you reached for the top cabinet. And underneath the thin cotton that had wrinkled while you slept with patterns like tree branches stretching high and wide, your perked nipples showed, always drawing his attention as Steve watched the shape of your tits jiggle with every step.

Already the warmth which began in Steve's chest starts to trickle down his bones, leaving him unsure if he should hit the breaks on this feeling before it's too late. The thing was, it didn't take much to get Steve going and it was near impossible for him to hold himself back once he's worked up. Most times all it took was a cheeky flash of your breasts or a firm kiss deepened with tongue and teeth, enough to have him eager to strip you both of your clothes and pull you into the bedroom.

Now that exciting familiar feeling weaves through the spaces between his ribs and swirls at the pit of his stomach. He does his best to deter it despite how much he wants to let it take him over, looking for a distraction to stop the blood in his body from rushing south but temptation gets the better of him.

He really couldn't help it, plucking his phone from out from his back pocket to get a look at you. Steve expects to see you both pictured in his lock screen as usual, smiling cheek to cheek with him all sun glistened skin the last time he'd taken you to the beach but what he finds ballooning up on his screen instead is a notification flashing bright with your name.

Unlocking it with a swipe, Steve finds he's missed a call that'd come from you an hour ago, unable to get through to him because his phone had been set to silent like he always did when he drove.

His thumb hovers over his screen, about to scroll and call you right back, hoping all is well on your end when he pauses. Steve notices you've left him one more surprise — a voice mail. Probably asking him to call you back, he figures, but when he thinks on it a little longer he decides to listen to it first since you'd gone through the effort of sending one. Not to mention that the sound of your voice is just what he needs right now, it alone able to mend all the bitterness that'd scratched at him so fervently from the inside since he'd parked on this dark and isolated spot.

Fiddling with his phone, Steve makes sure to turn the volume all the way up so he can make out everything that you're saying clearly despite the heavy rainfall, still showing no signs of tapering as he hits play.

When the sound of your voice filters through the speaker it hits him like a beam of sunlight, exactly what he needed to hear this far into his journey, bringing a rush of warmth all throughout his body to counteract the chill brought on by the rain. It's enough to make his heartbeat pick up at the raspy tone that wraps around each of your words, soft like you're letting him in on a secret, enticing like you're curling a finger at him to beckon him closer.

"-guess you're still on the road. I was hoping you'd be at the hotel by now because...well, the thing is I miss you already. I know, I know. Clingy much, right? but it got me thinking about how you'll be all alone in that hotel room...while I'm all alone in our bed...I just— I've been thinking about you all day Steve and it's been driving me crazy."

A few wide eyed blinks is all Steve can muster as your words hang in his mind like stars peppering a pitch black sky. He shifts quickly to attention, no longer slumped in his seat as he listens on attentively, spine straight and making no effort to stifle that feeling brewing in his belly any longer.

"...this'll have to do...I know how hard you've been working and I wanna make you feel better while we're apart. So go ahead, lean back and get comfortable while I tell you what's been on my mind... Promise you're going to want to hear this", you tell him as you let out a little giggle, making Steve shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the weather outside.

"...I've been so distracted at home. I couldn't get anything done...I really did try to control myself but I couldn't...it's all I want to think about. Steve, you're all I want to think about...you and the way you touch yourself... and now I'm- well, I'm imagining you rubbing your cock while you listen to my voice... and I need to touch myself while I think about you too. Will you touch yourself for me? please, I'd love to know that you're stroking your cock for me while I'm running my hands all over my body."

Suddenly, Steve couldn't be more thankful for the heavy rain that's rendered him trapped in this lonely spot. Having passed no other vehicles in the last hour, and in no mood to deny your requests, especially when you're talking to him like that, he's free to follow your instructions without any fear of getting caught. Placing his phone on the dashboard to free up his fingers, he undoes his belt and zipper before reaching in and pulling his cock out his boxers with clumsy haste, too overeager and cloddish for his own good.

Holding a hand up to his lips, he spits out a warm, generous glob of saliva into the well of his palm, wrapping it around the thickness of his veiny shaft to pump himself to fullness. It doesn't take long with the way his length had already begun to kick up and rise at the sound of your voice, listening very carefully as you continue.

"...It's so cold here without you beside me...'been trying to warm up by taking my fingertips and running them all over myself...all the places I need your touch the most... tracing them up my thighs... slowly across my hips... up to my chest... and I'm brushing them lightly around my tits... feels so nice...m' starting to play with my nipples now... I'm wetting my fingertips with my tongue...then rubbing them so gently in circles... watching them start to perk up...'n pinching and rolling them just for you Stevie... getting them all nice and hard...feels amazing but I miss having your mouth on me...having your teeth around my nipples...the way you suck and lick them better...there's nothing else like it" you mewl softly, your voice all breathy.

The more hushed sighs and moans you let out the easier it is for him to picture you and feed the fiery ache building inside. His eyes slip shut and his hand moves up and down with shallow strokes as he imagines you in bed, your soft, naked skin gliding against your bedsheets as you touch yourself just as described. Steve's able to imagine the subtle floral scent of your favorite perfume too, powdery and sweet with a hint of cream. It always mixes well with the natural musk of your sweat, the memory of it making Steve's mouth water from all the times he's buried his face in your neck while his hips rut against your own.

"Please tell me you're touching your cock for me... I want you stroke it lightly with just your fingertips? need you to tease yourself— just like the way I'm teasing my body... need you to really work for it, okay?...so rub your fingers around the tip... do it gently before sliding your hand back down to the base...Stevie, please, I hope you're leaking...your cock looks so pretty when it does that...I love when you get it everywhere...make it messy while I start to squeeze my tits... that's it..."

Steve's hands roam dutifully to wherever you dictate, teasing himself as requested. "God, yeah— doing it just how you want me to, baby", he groans out, fingers wet with his saliva and clear pearls of precum that dew and spill copiously from his slit.

There was a time when his chest would grow tight with embarrassment, unsure how you'd react to the way he'd drip so many thick droplets from his slit all the way down his length and onto the dark hair that grew at his base.

He was relieved to find he needn't have worried, nearly overwhelmed by the way you took charge and hungrily lapped him clean. Steve couldn't help but feel so impressed by the way you savored his taste and worshipped his cock too, rewarding your busy mouth with plentiful spurts of cum as you sealed your lips around his tip and sucked down all he could give you. Even begging him for more as his spend dripped out the corner of your mouth and made its way onto your chin, never too shy to wear him on your skin.

But without you here to wrap your tongue and lips around his cock, his spit and precum trickle all the way down to his balls, made even messier when he reaches lower to cup and gently squeeze his heavy sack, enough to bring him some relief.

"...I'm going to start sliding my hands down to my pussy now... and I'm using two fingers to rub gentle circles above my clit... I think I can feel it swelling up...getting me so worked up just thinking about you rubbing your dick for me... I want you to reach down to the base of your cock with one hand- grip it lightly...I want you to stroke it for me... long, slow strokes... keep going... that's it... baby, don't stop stroking yourself for me"

Steve wants more — needs more but he's not about to stray from your instructions, purposely denying himself by keeping his touches languid and light despite his own hunger.

"Shit, you're such a bad girl for working me up like this...", he breathes into the dark, flashes of how he'd like to reprimand you popping up in his mind one by one — his hand around your neck while he thrusts into you, your knees raw from kneeling between his legs with his cock nudging the back of your throat, you pulled over his lap as he cracks his hand over your ass until you're sore. He fully intends to try every one of them when he comes back home to you.

"Ngh, my clit— it's so sensitive. I'm rubbing it slowly— it feels so good...but I miss having your fingers on me more...'m spreading my legs wider, reaching lower now so I can rub my fingers over my pussy lips... just teasing myself...please, tease yourself with me Steve- just swirl your fingertips over the tip of your cock but don't touch anything else, okay?...I want you to grip it a little harder for me and pretend you're pressing the head into my hole like I'm doing with my fingers— filling myself with just the tip."

"Mm, Jesus...fuck", he leans over to dribble more spit onto the head of his cock, imagining the way your wet heat would welcome his intrusion by wrapping around him tightly.

"-And I'm pulling them out again... this time I'm sliding them in a little further, just an inch or so...slide your hand down your cock just a little bit more and pull it back up again... slide your hand a little further down your dick for me, about halfway and give it soft strokes up and down the top half of your cock while I try to...while I try to fuck myself with my fingers-"

Even with the rain still coming down heavily Steve can hear the distinct sound of you touching yourself. He's completely tuned in to the sound of the sticky clicks coming from between your legs as he hears you pulling your folds apart, wishing he could see you bare your tight hole to him before you fill it with your fingers.

"Oh god! -it's so warm and soft inside Stevie...there's so much- 's so wet every time I pull them out...it's making my thighs all sticky...it's so filthy but I need to know how it tastes...my fingers are covered in it...so slippery and glossy...just have to- have to lick them clean...before I put them back inside...mm!"

The thought of you tasting yourself makes him feel dangerously close to cumming, eyes ready to roll back because you're enjoying how sweet you taste, making his thighs tense and quiver until the sound of you gasping out urgently has him slowing his pace.

"Stevie, baby, don't be mad...I know it feels good fucking your fist but I want you to stop what you're doing...take your hands away and I want you to just sit there for a minute while I pull my fingers back out too"

Steve whines, reluctantly pulling his hand away, watching his aching cock blushing bright pink and twitching on its own without his hand wrapped around it.

"God I want it so badly — I'm not even touching myself and I'm so close to cumming for you. Will you cum with me baby? please?"

"Yes — shit that's what I want", he whines again as if you can hear him, as if he can sway you when you hear the desperation in his voice as it slips past his lips.

"Okay, you can touch yourself again... I'm sliding my fingers in again too and I'm doing it all the way this time — shit... they're buried deep...take long slow strokes with me up to the tip and back down to the base, baby — oh fuck— and up to the tip again and back down to the base... I want you to do it faster and faster...this feels so good oh fuck, keep going Steve..."

It's a mess, both his mind and body.

Steve's cock and fist are covered in a wet, viscous layer as he begins to buck his hips up to meet his hand with every pump and stroke, his whole body dewy with a light sweat. He can't remember a time he's worked harder for an orgasm, every muscle flexing and contracting around his bones, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat all pulled taught.

"...I wish I could watch you stroking it for me...the way your fingers fit around your cock...even though they are bigger than mine, your cock still looks so thick in your grasp...gosh, Steve, I love knowing how hard my voice makes you...I love..mm!..I love knowing that you're getting off to the sound of me touching myself ...oh my god, speed up for me... speed up for me- I really want us to cum together... you think you can do that for me? Steve?... fuck yourself for me... do whatever you need to make yourself cum... play with your balls, jerk your shaft, rub the tip... I don't care. Just cum with me please-"

"I'm close, shit. I'm almost there pretty girl", he spits out, eyes screwed shut.

"Oh shit. 'so good.... oh please... please please - oh fu- right there! I'm cumming...!"

In that moment Steve's treated to the sweet sound of you giving into your release just a few seconds before his own, the sound of you inhaling sharply before you cry out and writhe enough to push him over the edge. His fist works himself vigorously, until he feels it shoot up his spine, throwing his head back when he spews thick lines of sticky white all over his fist and belly — some even managing to catch on the bottom of the steering wheel too.

"...oh god that was...that was...so good....Steve? The aftershocks keep rippling through my body, oh fuck...I really can't wait until you're back home with me...there's nothing like having the real thing..."

Even as his heads spins he hangs off every word you utter into the phone until the message cuts out not much long after, nothing but the sound of Steve's own haggard breathing ringing in his ears as he unsticks his hand from around his spent cock.

Chest heaving, hand all sticky, Steve rests his temple against the window as he did before, breath fogging up the glass as he wonders how best to go about cleaning up when suddenly he notices outside-

The rain's come to an end.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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millyh23 · 1 month ago

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Weathering the storm

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word count: 1.5k

_________________________________________________

Y/N thought they could just hold on a little longer until the storm passed. But fate had other plans. The screech of tires echoed in the distance, and before Y/N could react, the world spun out of control. Metal crunched and glass shattered, filling the air with a cacophony of chaos. Y/N braced for impact, but the last thing they remembered was the blinding flash of headlights before everything went dark.

Meanwhile, Alessia was at home, scrolling through her phone when an alert buzzed in her pocket. Her heart sank as she read the news: a massive pile-up on the highway, just a few miles from where Y/N was headed. Panic surged through her veins. She dialed Y/N’s number frantically, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Please be okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. The thought of anything happening to Y/N was unbearable. Within moments, she was out the door, driving like a whirlwind through the rain-soaked streets.

When Alessia arrived at the scene, the sight was devastating. Emergency lights flashed in a kaleidoscope of colors, and the air was thick with smoke and the cries of sirens. Her heart raced as she scanned the wreckage, each twisted metal frame a haunting reminder of the fragility of life.

“Y/N!” she shouted, her voice cracking as she pushed through the crowd. But there was no response, only the chaos surrounding her. The sight of so many mangled cars sent dread washing over her. The worst scenarios played out in her mind, each one more horrifying than the last.

As she moved closer, the weight of despair settled in her chest. She stumbled upon a paramedic, desperate for information. “Please, have you seen someone? A black BMW with white lines on it?” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

The paramedic shook his head solemnly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re still assessing the situation. There are a lot of cars involved.”

Alessia felt her heart drop. She stepped back, the world around her blurring as tears threatened to fall. What if something happened to Y/N? The thought pierced through her like a knife. She felt a wave of nausea as she fought to keep herself together.

Just then, a figure emerged from the haze of smoke and chaos. It was Y/N, covered in soot and drenched from the rain, rushing toward her with a frantic look in their eyes. Alessia’s heart soared, but it was quickly replaced by overwhelming relief mixed with anger.

“Y/N!” Alessia shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran to them. She enveloped Y/N in a fierce embrace, holding on as if they might disappear again. “Thank God you’re okay! I was so scared!”

Y/N wrapped their arms around Alessia, feeling the tremors of her body against theirs. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” they reassured, though their voice shook. “My car… it’s totaled, but I’m okay.”

Alessia pulled back just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes, searching for any signs of injury. “You promise? You’re really okay?”

Y/N nodded, their expression softening as they brushed a thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears. “I’m here. I’m safe.”

But Alessia couldn’t shake the panic that had gripped her. The sight of the wreckage, the fear of losing Y/N—it was all too much. “I thought I lost you…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Y/N gently cupped Alessia’s face, their eyes locking in a moment of understanding. “You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

As they finally made their way home, the weight of the day hung heavy in the air. Alessia couldn’t stop glancing over at Y/N, her heart still racing with the remnants of fear. Once inside, she felt an overwhelming urge to cling to Y/N, as if letting go would mean losing them again.

For the next few days, Alessia stayed glued to Y/N’s side, refusing to let them out of her sight. She followed them from room to room, wrapping her arms around them whenever they were still. “I just need to know you’re okay,” she would whisper, burying her face in their shoulder.

Y/N chuckled softly, though it was tinged with tenderness. “I’m okay, Alessia. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

But Alessia couldn’t shake the image of the crash from her mind. Each time she thought about it, her heart would constrict painfully. So she held on tighter, drawing comfort from Y/N’s presence.

One evening, as they cuddled on the couch, Y/N turned to Alessia, brushing their fingers through her hair. “You know, it’s okay to be scared. What happened was serious.”

“I know,” Alessia replied softly, her voice muffled against Y/N’s chest. “But I can’t help it. You mean everything to me.”

Y/N smiled gently, tilting Alessia’s chin up to meet their gaze. “And you mean everything to me. That will never change.”

With that promise hanging in the air, Alessia felt a warmth spread through her, reminding her that in the face of chaos, love was their anchor. As she nestled closer to Y/N, she knew they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

As the week wore on, Alessia’s clinginess began to morph into a newfound appreciation for the small moments they shared. They spent evenings watching movies, cuddling under blankets, and sharing whispered secrets in the dark.

One night, as they lay together, Alessia turned to Y/N, her heart swelling with love. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. But being with you helps me feel safe again.”

Y/N smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind Alessia's ear. “You’re my home, Alessia. No matter what happens out there, you’ll always be my safe place.”

With those words, a wave of calm washed over her. She felt a sense of peace settle in her chest, knowing that they could weather any storm together.

As the sun began to set on another day, Alessia snuggled closer to Y/N, feeling more at ease than she had in days. “Let’s make a promise,” she said suddenly.

“A promise?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Yes! A promise that no matter what happens, we’ll always talk about our fears, our worries. We’ll share everything, okay? I don’t want to ever go through something like that alone again,” she declared, determination shining in her eyes.

Y/N nodded earnestly. “I promise. We’ll face everything together, and I’ll always be here to listen.”

“Good,” Alessia said, a smile spreading across her face. “Then no more hiding our feelings. We’re a team.”

“Always,” Y/N affirmed, leaning down to press a soft kiss on her forehead.

As they settled into the comfort of one another’s arms, Alessia felt a renewed sense of hope. The world outside could be chaotic and unpredictable, but within their little bubble, they had created a sanctuary filled with love, understanding, and resilience.

Together, they would navigate whatever life threw their way, hand in hand, heart to heart.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, the memories of the accident began to fade, though they were never completely gone. Instead of feeling like a shadow lurking over them, it transformed into a reminder of their strength and the bond they shared.

Y/N and Alessia found themselves enjoying more adventures together as the weather improved. They took leisurely drives, laughing and singing along to the radio, each journey a testament to their resilience. They visited parks, went on hiking trails, and spent evenings at cozy cafes, cherishing the simple joys of life.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, they decided to take a trip to the beach. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and the salty breeze filled the air as they spread a blanket on the sand. Alessia watched as Y/N dashed toward the water, laughter echoing in the air. It was a sound she had missed during those heavy days following the accident.

“Come on, Alessia! The water’s amazing!” Y/N called, splashing water in her direction.

Alessia laughed, her heart light as she joined Y/N in the surf. They played in the waves, splashing each other and racing back and forth. For the first time in a while, Alessia felt completely free, her worries washed away with each wave.

After their impromptu water fight, they settled back on the blanket, both breathless and grinning. Y/N turned to Alessia, their expression turning serious for a moment. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“About what?” Alessia prompted, tilting her head curiously.

“About how we’ve grown through all of this. The accident brought a lot of fear, but it also made me realize how important you are to me. I don’t want to take a single moment for granted anymore,” Y/N said, their voice steady yet filled with emotion.

Alessia felt her heart swell. “I feel the same way. I’ve learned to appreciate the little things, like this…” She gestured around them, taking in the beauty of the beach, the sun setting in the distance, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. “And being with you.”

Y/N smiled, leaning in closer. “What if we made it a point to have more days like this? Just us, exploring, living in the moment?”

“I’d love that,” Alessia replied, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s make it a tradition. A reminder that life is precious and we should enjoy every second together.”

“Deal.” Y/N extended their pinky, and Alessia linked hers with a grin.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky transformed into a canvas of colors, and they sat in comfortable silence, side by side. Alessia leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder, feeling grateful for the love that surrounded them.

“Promise me something?” Alessia said softly.

“Anything,” Y/N replied, their gaze focused on the waves.

“Promise me that you’ll always stay. No matter how hard it gets,” she urged.

“I promise,” Y/N assured, wrapping an arm around her. “We’re in this together, always.”

The warmth of Y/N's embrace wrapped around Alessia like a protective cocoon, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. They stayed there, watching the last rays of sunlight fade away, knowing that whatever storms might come their way in the future, they would face them together, hand in hand.

As they made their way back home that evening, hearts full and spirits high, Alessia knew that they had weathered the worst and emerged stronger. Love had carried them through the darkest moments, and as long as they had each other, every day would be a new beginning, full of hope and endless possibilities.

_________________________________________________

The End

#offside story #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso soccer #alessia russo x reader #woso #alessia russo x y/n

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

Text

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet.

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm.

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked.

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10.

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met.

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever.

Then it all comes rushing back to you.

Will’s body in the quarry.

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend.

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal.

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated.

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before.

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second.

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you.

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening.

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating.

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown.

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations.

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help.

You both just know.

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks.

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger.

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine.

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel.

You’re not sure what to say. It’s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will.

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do.

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around.

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt.

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important.

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast.

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse.

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence.

He’s gone.

–

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality.

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know.

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later.

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner?

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.”

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd.

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response.

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce.

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways.

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough.

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything.

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods.

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh.

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.”

“Anytime, bee.”

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak.

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day.

You’re in love with Jonathan.

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about.

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time.

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings.

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside.

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her.

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well.

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat.

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do.

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can.

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man.

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce.

–

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car.

You sigh.

This day definitely sucks.

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well?

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom.

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice.

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes.

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place.

“Mom, stop!”

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that.

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache.

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them.

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!”

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you.

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though.

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!”

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves.

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive.

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes.

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive.

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive.

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn.

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.”

“But-”

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan.

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan.

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him.

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?”

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.”

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.”

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone.

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.”

“I said a lot yesterday-”

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent.

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.”

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments.

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him.

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?”

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?”

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.”

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand.

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start.

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile.

You’ll take whatever you can get.

–

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does.

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place.

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious.

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her.

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.”

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place.

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.”

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.”

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.”

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend.

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El.

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong.

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says.

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway.

“Maybe she did run away-”

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons.

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom.

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.”

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-”

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore.

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.”

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.”

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.”

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening.

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?”

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think.

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not.

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers.

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot.

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure.

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

–

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start.

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy.

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth.

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him.

It’s a nauseating feeling.

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place.

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is.

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.”

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?”

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?”

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.”

“And then-”

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you.

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.”

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking.

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.”

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is.

Your smile vanishes.

He wants to impress her.

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama.

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.”

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about.

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.”

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?”

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away.

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him.

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now.

–

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him.

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.”

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…”

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan.

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window.

“Hello again, Henderson.”

“I never said hello back to you.”

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.”

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly.

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless.

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.”

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince.

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty.

Fuck Steve Harrington.

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.”

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words.

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far.

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?”

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused.

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.”

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by.

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers…

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you.

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh.

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.”

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety.

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate.

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down.

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans.

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.”

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.”

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.”

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #hey what happens in this chapter ? everything #the answer is everything

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loveshotzz · 2 years ago

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Constellations

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: under the stars, you just want steve to kiss you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ even though there’s no smut. sorry kiddos. just some first kiss fluff inspired by season 3 steve who’s kinda lost his confidence.

authors note: another blurb outta the pile! I’m a sucker for late nights at Lovers Lake with Steve ��. for @superblysubpar cause I know when I came up with this blurb months ago she was so excited. sorry it took me so long!

The sky was clear above the lake, the stars glimmering extra bright against the water illuminating patches of the trees surrounding you. The reflection hits the green and brown specks that lay nestled inside Steve’s eyes in a battle to steal your attention. You try not to meet his gaze as you search for the constellation he promised to show you when he threw rocks on your bedroom window, careful not to wake your roommate.

He was dressed more casual than your first date a few days ago. A date that didn’t end with the kiss you desperately hoped you’d get at the end of an evening filled with warm palms that covered your lower back whenever he’d get the chance, or stolen glances to the pink gloss that covered your lips just for him. Instead, an awkward hug and red cheeks is what you got as he tripped over his own feet from your doorstep to his car.

The gray shorts he wears stop just above his knees, the hair covering his legs matching the patch that’s always peeking out from the tops of his shirts. His sweater was the same color as the car that took you here, tight around his broad shoulders, and snug in all the spots you wanted to explore with your fingers. His honey colored hair was messier than you’d seen before, like he’d just woken up and had to see you, disguising it as late night stargazing by the lake. The thought of how soft it must feel makes your hands twitch at your sides.

Your shoulders are tucked into his jacket that he always keeps in the back seat of his BMW. It was the end of summer — August bleeding into September. The late nights starting to get that little bit chillier, the days a little bit shorter. The faded spice of his cologne swirls around your senses still embedded deep into the fabric from last year. The blanket he’d laid out on the lush grass that still hadn’t disappeared is soft under your hands that keep you propped up at an angle, your legs extend in front of you, crossed at your ankles and the toes of your sneakers bump into his.

The space he leaves between you is just enough to feel the heat of his body radiate off his bronzed skin, freckled and kissed by the sun, his big hands spread out palm down like a mirror with yours. The tips of his fingers are quiet, ghosting against the side of your hand. Leaning his head back to follow your line of sight, the smell of his shampoo reminds you of the woods around you when the wind catches it. He’s so close, but you want him closer.

It only takes a few minutes before you feel his eyes are on you again and you can’t stop the twist of your lips this time.

“Where are these constellations? Or you just wanna look at me?” Your voice is soft, the faint teasing edge behind it isn’t enough to cover up how he’s making you shy when your eyes finally connect with his.

He clears his throat, cheeks blooming and Adam’s apple bobbing under your grin.

“Shit - yeah, sorry. Just like seeing you in my jacket s’all.” Your stomach flutters at his words, butterflies wreaking havoc when he finally crosses the threshold, a big hand enveloping yours. He brings his attention back to the sky, fingers curling purposefully.

You lean in closer under the guise of getting a better look as he starts to trace along the path of a collection of twinkling stars.

“We’ve got Orion’s Belt right over here.” His shoulder brushes against yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles.

Water laps against the shoreline and the distant coo of an owl drowns out the fading chirp of crickets while he gives you a tour of the night sky. His voice calms your nerves, talking low enough just for you to hear while your bodies inch closer like magnets until there’s no space left, fingers daring to intertwine.

“And this…” he breathes and you know he’s not looking at the stars anymore, spearmint and a little bit of the joint you both shared hitting your nose “Is the big dipper.”

Your eyes dare to leave the wide expanse above you only to confirm your suspicions. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk when he gets caught for the second time tonight, but this time he doesn’t move to look away. You can see the stubble lining the sharp line of his jaw from this close, a collection of moles you think you could trace into the same patterns he just showed you coming into view. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips when his eyes shift down to yours and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He’s gonna do it.

“Are you gonna kiss me Steve?” Your impatience comes out in just above a whisper.

There’s a new air of confidence about him now, shifting so he can lean against his elbow, the new position has him looking up at you. The moon shimmers, wrapping around you punching the air out of his lungs. You’re beautiful. He’s gentle when he cups the side of your face, your skin heating up under the softness of his palm. His thumb traces the line of your cheekbone before moving to the silk of your bottom lip, tugging it down gently, watching it pop back into place.

“Is that what you want, baby?” His eyes darken when he sees the pinch of your brows. A pout.

The nickname makes your heart soar and your chest tighten, only letting you offer a nod and the sweetest “please.” It fills the empty spaces in the air around you, an electricity begging to explode around it.

His hold finds its way to the back of your neck, long fingers curving just below your hairline before pulling you down without a fight to meet him. Nudging his nose against yours, you can feel the brush of his lips from this close.

“I should’ve done this the other night.” His breath mingles with yours, teasing you in a way that you like. “You forgive me?”

You match his smile despite trying to fight it and he takes that as his answer, finally putting you out of your misery with the kiss you’ve been waiting for.

He takes it slow at first, his eyes fluttering shut while his hand finds your jaw. He asks you to open up for him gripping your chin while his tongue licks at your top lip. Granting him the kind of access you’d never deny him, a groan vibrates deep from his chest when you meet him in the middle to deepen it.

Your fingers find their way into his hair when he lays back on the blanket taking you with him, and it’s even softer than you imagined. Of course it is. You grab at roots on the nape of his neck when he nips at your bottom lip already addicted to the sound he gets from it.

The kisses get sloppy, all the tension coming to a head when he tugs at your hips. Your leg slots between his so the muscle of his thigh presses to the most sensitive part of you, and it takes everything not to rock against him. His hand moves to squeeze at the curve of your waist, teeth scraping together when you both start to get needy. More, more, more.

A high pitch whistle from the other side of the lake breaks you two apart with a jump, the culprits hidden by distance and darkness. A loud splash of water tells you they are none the wiser to the company they keep. A late night rendezvous like you and Steve.

He huffs out a low chuckle beneath you, with that signature hand running through his hair when his head hits the ground with a low thump. Keeping a hold on your hip to make sure you don’t go anywhere, his eyes are brighter than before when he looks at you with flushed cheeks and that smile that started your crush all those years ago.

“Took you long enough.”

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader

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tommydarlings · 1 year ago

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Villain in shining armour | s.v

pairing: german!tutor!dark!rbr!seb x student!reader

warnings: kidnapping, chocking, dacryphilia, manipulation, obsessive behaviour, spitting in mouth, grooming

w/c: 2.2k

summary: walking on the street in the middle of the night was dangerous for a girl your age, but luckily you’re german tutor came for your rescue and saved you — or did he?

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You felt eyes watching you. Or at least you imagined them, you weren’t sure.

But it felt like someone was watching you walking home with your heavy backpack, slightly scrapped knees from falling earlier and messy, unmade hair.

You turned around, briefly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, narrowing your eyes at the darkness, kind of hoping you would maybe be able to make out a figure.

You weren’t crazy, right?

Cars were driving by, but none of them seemed suspicious, none of them slowed down or something like that. And it drove you insane as you just focused on arriving at your dorm which was only five minutes away from now.

You were swearing even though the air was cold, your mind was racing while your heart was beating like never before. You had a bad feeling about all of this.

And that feeling was right.

Suddenly, a old, silver BMW stopped right beside you, a man stepping out of it and making his way towards you.

Tears were already entering your eyes but you released a breath of relief as you saw your German tutor approaching you with quick steps, smiling at you with his typical German charm.

“Y/n?” He spoke up, “What are you doing out here so late? It’s cold and you shouldn’t be outside at that time anymore,” he said, obviously referring to the fact that man are scary.

Honesty, you were glad that he saw you and decided to approach you, you were getting paranoid.

You sighed, “I know,” you mumbled, “but somehow I need to get home don’t I?” You chuckled. “You don’t have a car?” The rather young german asked you, making you shake your head.

“Not yet,” you replied in a quiet tone before you adjusted your heavy backpack.

Why were german books so big and heavy?

No wonder german is so difficult.

Sebastian quickly walked closer to you, “let me-” he didn’t even finish his sentence, Sebastian just removed the heavy backpack from your body, carrying it in his hands now before he opened his car door and gently placed it onto his backseat.

You furrowed your brows before he turned around, looking at you again, “Get in y/n, c'mon… I neither want you to catch a cold nor I want that something happens to you,” he said in a more serious tone, making you raise your brows.

You’ve never heard your tutor talk like that before, “only if you’re comfortable of course, if you-” but you shook your head, cutting him off,

“No! I’m thankful, really! I was growing pretty paranoid — you know… walking around that late in a neighbourhood that is not the safest of all as a girl,” Sebastian nodded along, knowing exactly what you mean, smiling as he did so.

He slowly leaded you to the car, opening the passenger door for you before he got into the drivers seat, starting the engine before you spoke up again, playing with your skirt.

You cleared your throat, “I bet it was nothing but it felt almost like somebody was…watching me like stalking me!” You chuckled to make it seem not so depressing, “I don’t know,” you sighed, “but then you came to my rescue,” you giggled with a smile.

Sebastian's smile fell a bit though, he adjusted himself a bit more in his seat, slowly shoving the binoculars further down his seat with his foot, clearing his throat to cover up the noise a bit.

Obviously, he didn’t wanted to get caught.

“Guess I’m not only your tutor but also your hero now, huh?” He chuckled, showing off his perfect smile in the process.

You shrugged, “Guess so, yeah!” You mumbled with a grin.

Suddenly, the air shifted a bit though.

“Why did you trust me, y/n?” Sebastian asked you all of sudden, making you furrow your brows in confusion, where was this coming from now?

“Uhm,” you thought about your answer, “because I-I know you and you’re a-always nice to-”

“Am I?” Sebastian kept looking at the road as he asked you the question, making you gulp this time.

You only nodded before the German spoke up again, taking you by suprise, “You shouldn’t have trusted me y/n — like c'mon!” He suddenly raised his voice before he slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel, making you jump as tears welled up in your eyes, “why are you trusting a man you got to know like two months ago?” He asked you as if you were a dumb kid.

He sighed, making you briefly look at him, sniffling as you saw his now visibly darker eyes looking angrily at you before he looked ahead again, “You should have never even set a foot in my car, liebling,” Sebastian whispered in a deep tone before your vision went black.

- - -

Waking up with a headache and both of your wrists and ankles tied to a stool in the middle of quite a dark room, was something that every girl your age definitely feared.

Suddenly, you noticed how your German tutor, Sebastian, buttoned his pants back up, quickly jumping up from his stool in the corner of the room as he tucked his white dress shirt back into his dress pants, eyes fixated on you.

This man is utterly disgusting, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“You’re awake,” he said with an almost proud smile as he walked closer to you, making your figure shrink as you started to whine through the tie that’s tied around your mouth.

Sebastian tilted his head to catch your gaze, “finally,” he mumbled under his breath as you tried to get free from the ropes but it was obviously no use.

“Don’t do that!” He raised his voice a bit more, sounding not so gentle anymore, “you’ll hurt your wrists and ankles and I don’t want that, okay?” He raised his brows as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

Your tutor's smile slightly fell, “oh no princess,” he whispered in a soft tone, “none of that crying, okay?” He stroked your wet cheek with his thumb, making you gasp and jump, “don’t like to see my pretty little student cry,” he stated gently.

Then you noticed how you desperately whined through the back tie he tied around your mouth, Sebastian frowned a bit, “Oh wait, here! Let me help you, liebling,” the German said before he removed the tie, letting it slide down your neck.

You took deep breaths as he finally removed the small piece of clothing, sniffling with teary eyes as you stared up at your tutor,

“L-Let me go, please…I did n-nothing wrong!” You raised your voice, making him harshly grab your hair and pulling your head back, adjusting his posture a bit to look taller.

You gulped as he roughly pulled your hair, “you did nothing wrong?” He tilted his head to the side,

“You stepped cluelessly with a feeling of relief!, might I add, into my car,” he laughed at you, “seriously thinking that I just saved you! That I’m your hero!” Sebastian smiled wickedly.

You whined, letting your head slightly drop forward, or at least as much as his big hand on the back of your head allowed.

“You know exactly what you did wrong, princess,” he caressed your wet cheek with the back of his knuckles, wiping some of your fresh tears away, “none of that I said, c'mon…this would be all so much easier if you would listen to me,” Sebastian stated with a tiny frown.

You only whined as he pulled your head more upwards again, forcing you to stare up at his standing figure with tired, red eyes.

Sebastian wiped your tears as he looked down at you with no specific facial expression.

“It’s not safe out there, mein liebling,” Sebastian mumbled with a frown, “There are bad, bad man out there nowadays… and those bad man don’t want to to nice things to you, baby,” the young German mumbled quietly.

He cleared his throat before he bend down and opened the ropes of your ankles and wrists, slowly revealing your red and irritated skin.

You slightly furrowed your brows as he finally removed the ropes, grabbing your upper arm and slowly lifting your weak body up, catching you as you almost fell since you were tired, drained and scared.

“Careful, baby,” he muttered before he went on with his little speech from before, “They want very bad things from you… they want to do very bad things to you,” he whispered in a serious tone.

As the German redbull racing driver brushed your hair out of your face and wiped some new fresh tears off of your face, you trembled as you stood so close to him.

“That’s why it’s not safe out there for a pretty, young girl like you, darling,” Sebastian stated with raised brows, “and that’s why I have to keep you safe here— with me,” he nodded along his sentence as he cupped your cheeks, smile slowly forming on his face as your eyes widened.

“W-What?” You quietly gasped as you realised what he just said, gulping as your shaking hands grabbed his wrists, quickly pulling his palms away from your face but Sebastian wasn’t so fond of that.

He immediately threw your hands away before he harshly grabbed your wrists, holding them together with one of his big hands before he slammed your face forward into the wall, running his nose along your temple, lips only slightly touching your ear as he breathed into your ear from behind.

“None of that crying, and none of that bullshit either, haben wir uns verstanden?” you got me? He quietly spat at you from behind as he roughly pressed your arms into your back, making you hiss in pain.

Sebastian's lips touched your ear, scaring you as his hands held your wrists behind your back together, “I’m the only one that can keep you safe from this filthy, disgusting world full of nasty men, mein liebling,” he whispered before he started to kiss some of the tears on your temple away.

You whined and tried to turn your head away from the touch of his lips but he only raised one of his hands and roughly put your head back in place by your jaw.

“What did I say? None of that resisting bullshit, okay?” He mumbled deeply from behind, forcing more tears down your temple that he kissed away while he held your head in place.

Suddenly, you felt him putting both of his hands onto your hair, tying them messily together in a makeshift ponytail, roughly pulling your head backwards by your hair.

You gulped before you gasped as the pain hit you in your scalp, looking up at him now with wide, teary eyes. You couldn’t believe that he was currently smiling down at you.

After shedding a few more tears, you furrowed your brows before he let his hand run up your throat, rough fingers only slightly touching your throat before he placed his visibly bigger hand on your chin, fingers oh so close to your lips.

You bit your inner cheek as he raised his brows, same evil grin still on his face,

“why don’t you open your sweet little mouth for me?” Sebastian muttered quietly in a deep and raspy tone as he played with your bottom lip, making you a shiver run down your spine.

But you couldn’t obey, you were way to scared to do anything at the moment, too nervous that whatever you would do would be wrong.

Sebastian put his hand on your jaw, pulling on your hair as he pulled your head closer while his lips ran along your jaw, making you gasp, “open your mouth, baby — c'mon,” he quietly spat at you in a harsher tone, forcing you to obey this time.

And you did. You licked your lips before you nervously opened your mouth, waiting for him to do something. You just wanted to be over with at this point.

Sebastian briefly chuckled before he squeezed your small jaw with his big hand, slowly leaning forward before he spoke up again,

“Tongue out,” he muttered before he collected to some of his spit in his mouth and spit in your mouth, watching with dark eyes as it ran down your throat.

You felt so helpless, you couldn’t do anything else expect for squeezing your shirt and thinking about how this is not attractive at all, it’s sick and twisted and disgusting — right?

Then he placed his palm on your throat again, carefully watching his spit gliding down your throat while he squeezed your throat, making you gasp.

“Just like that, princess,” Sebastian said in an undertone to you, smile still not leaving his visage, “Gosh… f-fuck,” he mumbled under his breath before you felt him lazily rubbing his crotch area against your ass, making you gulp and gasp.

You stated to whine a bit… why were you feeling this way? You couldn’t explain it, you also didn’t really wanted to.

Sebastian laughed, “Don’t hide it anymore, little one… I know you like it more than you admit it,” he kissed the side of your head, fingers squeezing your throat even harder as he hears your groan and moan, “god please don’t hide those pretty sounds from me — never, okay?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #smut #red bull sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #seb Vettel #Dark #Dark!sebastian vettel #Dark!rbr!seb #Dark ff #Dark!seb #sebastian vettel x you #f1 fic #f1 2023 #f1 smut #f1 drivers

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highdramas · 2 years ago

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you’re the only friend i need | s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader warnings: language word count: 4664 summary: having steve harrington as a fake boyfriend proves to have more pros than cons, all things considered. the biggest pro is one that you didn’t even realize until you were in the thick of your fake relationship. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. this fic is a continuation off of this request, which is a to all the boy i’ve loved before based steve drabble, and will make a lot more sense if you’ve read that first! ty for reading and enjoying ily alllllll

having a boyfriend, even if steve was your fake boyfriend, was like a set of constantly evolving circumstances that you never quite knew how to get used to.

the strangest part of it all was the dates.

your one real relationship never even offered the option of dates. with ryan, he had wanted to keep things so secretive... the extent of your “dates” was him sneaking in through your bedroom window and making out on top of the covers. but steve...

steve hadn’t been lying when he told you that if you two were going to be in a fake relationship, he was going to make it worth your while.

within the first week of your arrangement, steve had come to you with a list and furrowed brows. you’d barely gotten into his car before he was examining the list one last time and passing it to you. “okay, these are the ideas i came up with. i know what telling you removes some of the magic, but--”

you both say at the same time, “not real.”

“yeah, so... figured you could take a look at the list, tell me what you’ve already done, and we can skip those. whatever you did with ryan, you know--”

skimming the list, you shrug your shoulders. “i don’t know if we did any of these,” you admit, looking up at steve. “i don’t think that ryan would’ve even been able to come up with a list like this if you put a gun to his head.”

steve scoffs. “well, yeah, ‘course not, because he’s not me. but, not even a fraction? i mean... did he take you to dinner?”

you shake your head.

“ice cream?”

another shake.

“what, the movies? i mean, i’m not even listing off any of the creative things--”

“no, steve!” you exclaim, tossing the list back over to him. “no, he didn’t buy me dinner, or dessert, or take me to the movies! he didn’t do anything, that’s kind of the point.”

a hush falls over the car, and you’ve never felt awkward around steve before-- well, not in the last week, not when you started to really get to know him-- but you feel a little awkward now in his bmw, rubbing your hands on your jeans and wishing that you could just disappear. if you disappeared, maybe you wouldn’t have to deal with this mortification that was settling in your chest. just how pathetic you feel having said everything out loud.

it’s as if steve can see the gears in your head turning, can see you turning in on yourself. “hey, hey...” he turns the key and the car turns off. he unbuckles his seatbelt-- one thing that had surprised you about steve was how safe of a driver he was and how much of a stickler he was when it came to seatbelts and general car safety-- and shifts his body towards you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, or make you feel bad.”

“you didn’t embarrass me.”

“regardless,” steve reaches out for your hand, and you think about it for a moment, how you might feel like you gain the upper hand by refusing his, but you eventually relent and take it. your pride isn’t worth more than the comfort that steve provides, even with a simple touch. “i’m sorry.” his hand squeezes yours and his thumb draws a pattern over the back of his hand. it’s these moments where things feel so damn confusing, where your brain knows that this is all fake, but your heart can’t seem to parse the difference. “and, for the record... i know i’ve said it before, but he’s the one who should be embarrassed. i didn’t feel one way or another about him before, but he’s a total dick.”

anyone else and you may believe that they were just telling you what you wanted to hear. but steve has always had this knack about him, and maybe it’s only with you, but you simply don’t believe that he would keep things from you. that he’d be anything but perfectly genuine. maybe that’s naive, maybe that framework of thought will get you hurt one day.

you’re willing to find out.

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steve creates a schedule for your dates. a schedule.

upon the reveal of how little you’d truly been treated in the past, he had quickly snatched the list back up, folded it up nice and neatly, and tucked it away into his pocket. he’d cited that now everything was going to be a surprise.

you go on a date with steve every tuesday and friday. and, at some point, that bled in to saturday’s and sunday’s, too.

(at some point, you end up realizing that you spend more time with steve than without him.)

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DATE IDEA 17: CAMPING

“you really thought that camping would be good for our first fake-date that’s not, like, dinner and a movie?”

steve closes the trunk and slings the tent bag over his shoulder. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. this is still a great idea.”

“isn’t part of the point of all of this is for people to, you know, see us?” you make a dramatic show of looking around, using your hand as a temporary visor, searching high and low for any soul who may feast their eyes upon you with steve harrington. “i don’t see anyone.”

taking a step closer to you, nearly chest to chest, steve peers down at you. “no one’s gonna believe us as a couple if we don’t seem comfortable around each other,” he turns around and trudges towards the plot of land that the camp host had directed you to. “what better way to become comfortable than to share a tent in the middle of nowhere?”

you roll your eyes but follow behind him. he guides you towards the little picnic bench and encourages you to sit on it. “what are you doing?”

“what do you mean?” steve shrugs and grabs a coke from the cooler and hands it to you. “i’m having you sit down while i unpack the car and get the tent set up.”

“but...” your head tilts to the side like there’s a thought bubble forming over your head, trying to understand him. “don’t you want me to help?”

“nope.”

“you don’t want me to help at all?”

“no. not even a little bit.” there’s a cheeky smile on his face. “i want you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the view. maybe if you’re lucky i’ll get a little sweaty.”

you scoff and huff and make to stand up, but steve’s hands go firmly to your shoulders. “i’m serious. let me take care of it. can you do that?” he touches your chin, just the faintest brush of his index finger against it, but it’s practically a lightning strike. when you nod your head, he smiles. there’s something proud there. “good.”

for the record, he does sweat a little bit. and you don’t know what it means that you kinda... like it.

by the time that tent is up, the sleeping bags are rolled out, and the pillows are fluffed, it’s already dusk. steve has built a decent sized fire and has dragged a large log to it, patting his thigh. “c’mon.”

walking up to him, you open your mouth, trying to decide if he’s implying what you think he is. he takes you by the hand and guides you to perch on his thigh, maneuvers your arm to drape across his shoulders. “comfortable?” you nod your head and he pats your leg, the motion far too easy and affectionate for you to brush off. “fuckin’ pretty out here, isn’t it?”

looking around, you can’t help but nod. “it is really pretty. have you been here before?”

“we used to come here every summer. me and my folks, and a few other neighborhood families. it was my favorite part of the summer, every summer. i always wanted to bring someone here.” he squeezes you a little bit. “you should feel honored.”

“i do, actually,” you say to him, and you mean it, deeply from the bottom of your heart. “thanks for bringing me here. and for getting all of this set up, it’s...” you look around, but despite the beauty around, your eyes want nothing more than to settle on steve’s face and stay there. “magical.”

“thanks for letting your fake boyfriend take you out into the woods. with no showers.”

your jaw drops. “you didn’t say--”

his laughter drowns out anything else, his forehead falling to the side of your arm.

you stay out at the fire together until the bugs force you into the tent. slightly chilled from that summer evening cold that serves as a nice break from the heat, you rub your hands over your arms. “cold?” steve asks. before you can even fully nod your head he’s unzipping his duffel and tossing his sweatshirt in your direction. “here.”

looking down at it, your thumb runs along the worn material. you’ve seen him wear it a million times since you’ve known him.

his favorite sweatshirt.

you tug it on over your shirt, and before you can think to open your own bag, there’s a pair of sweatpants in front of you. “steve,” you begin slowly. “you realize i brought my own clothes, right? is this you saying you hate the way i dress? even my pajamas?”

“what? no.” steve shakes his head and begins to shuffle into his own pajamas, and your eye gets caught on the strong chest with the beautiful smattering of dark chest hair. he catches your gaze and smirks a little but doesn’t comment on it, tugging a clean shirt on. “i just...” he shrugs and starts to get into his sleeping bag. “i dunno, you in my clothes is definitely not the worst thing in the world.”

there’s nothing you have to say to that which won’t end in you being a stammering, blushing mess, so you opt for saying nothing. you get into your own sleeping bag and you’ve just clicked off the solar powered light when steve says, “comfortable? warm? need anything?”

“steve,” you place your hand on his chest. “you know that you’re supposed to enjoy our dates too, right? you can’t enjoy them if you’re constantly making sure that i’m enjoying them.”

it’s as if he hadn’t even considered this. as if his entire focus was on you and your happiness. “sorry. i’m not trying to be weird, or make you feel weird.” he rolls over onto his side, nearly nose to nose. “it just pisses me off.”

“what does?”

“that no one ever thought that maybe you would want to do these things. it’s just ridiculous to me.” he licks his lips and his hand flexes. “i won’t keep bringing it up, because i’m sure that’s just as annoying, i just... i want you to feel special. really.”

something melts inside you. “you make me feel very special. really.”

the two of you fall asleep like that, alongside the hum of the bugs and the sound of a lake lapping against the shore.

at some point in the night, steve has taken your hand between his own. fingers laced, the back of it is brought right up to his mouth, as though he fell asleep just after pressing a kiss to it. when you wake up to a screaming baby four campsites down, you don’t make any effort to move it.

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DATE IDEA 5: DRIVE IN MOVIE

when steve came to your front door to pick you up for a saturday night date, confusion instantly rattled you. “where’s the beemer?”

“oh, that thing? yeah, that thing simply wouldn’t do for what i have planned for us tonight.”

you look at him with a slightly puzzled expression. “but it worked just fine for camping? do you forget the part where we got stuck coming back--”

“yeah, well,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “we didn’t get stuck on the way there did we?” you shake your head. “and i figured that i’d learn from my mistakes.”

sticking his opposite arm out, he gestures to the pickup truck before you. “boom. i basically had to beg my dad to drive it, and i told him i’d clean the garage until it’s spotless, but... we’ve got ourselves a truck.”

“what the hell do we need a truck for? are we going mudding?”

“i think the country folk call it muddin’. but, no.” he turns to you and runs his hand through your hair, saying, “double feature. ferris bueller and back to the future. i made sure we went on a night where they weren’t playing anything scary.” the fondness in your chest opens up and threatens to swallow both you and steve whole with the sheer magnitude of it. “sound good?”

“sounds perfect, stevie.”

steve makes sure you leave early enough to get a good spot and to have enough time to go to concessions. practically all of the hawkins class of 1985 seemed to have the same idea as he did. and all of their eyes are on the two of you. they watch as steve sets up the bed of his dad’s truck, filled with big cozy blankets and fluffy pillows. you catch steve’s gaze and he raises his brows at you, as if to say-- see? knew this would work.

maybe you should’ve trusted him, because, yes-- ryan is here with his new girlfriend, and their eyes have scarcely left you or steve since you arrived two rows ahead of them.

guiding you towards the concessions, steve bends down to press a kiss against your head. with his lips against your ear, he adds, “don’t worry about them, alright? it’s just you and me.”

once in line, steve looks around and spots ryan a few people behind you two in line. you follow his gaze and you swallow but he’s already caught the movement, already caught your chin and tipped it up to look at him. “hey. what’d i say? just you and me.” your mouth falls open as his thumb rubs against your chin and then he’s bending down, once again at your ear. “can i kiss you?”

it’s all an act, it’s all an act, it’s all an act-- your brain can’t stop screaming this clarification but your heart is hammering in your chest anyway, like a running wild horse that’s never been contained by anything, least of all a ribcage, a body. you nod your head but he tuts. “words. i wanna hear it.”

“yes--”

that’s all he needed. he sweeps your hair back with a hand, the other one a steadying point on your face. he brings his lips to yours and you don’t know how he’s so good at this. so good at pretending.

because it isn’t fake when you grip at his shirt, when you lean up onto your toes to get closer to him. the way that you sigh into the kiss, an involuntary comfort at your lips on his, isn’t fake at all. the warmth that spreads all over your face when he nips at your bottom lip, that is the least fake of all of it.

it is all so painfully real to you, and it’s scary. but not scary enough to get you to stop, not now and maybe not ever. maybe you’ll be okay being steve harrington’s fake girlfriend until he gets sick of you, if it feels this good, this real.

“hey, lovebirds-- you’re gonna lose your spot in line.”

at least five people have already gotten their sodas and candy while you two have been lost in each other. you half expect steve to wear some sort of cocky grin, be proud of himself, a smirk at the fact that he just claimed you as his in front of all these people. but that machismo doesn’t exist in him. all he does is touch your cheek, tuck you into his side, and move the several paces in line.

“was that alright?” he asks you, hushed enough to know that the words are just for you. “too much?”

looking over your shoulder, you see ryan with his hands in his pockets, eyes immediately darting away from yours when your gaze settles on him. but it doesn’t fill you with the sensation of pleasure that you expected it too. in fact, you don’t feel much at all. your head is too busy reeling from steve’s kiss.

“i think it was just enough,” you murmur. you settle your cheek against his chest and his hand goes to your head, massaging at your scalp. “you’re spoiling me. i’m gonna get way too used to this, and then be disappointed when i’m not always getting scalp massages.”

steve scoffs. “nah. this should just be a way to rule out duds.” as if to prove his point, his finger tips lower to the base of your neck, working the muscles just right. “any guy who doesn’t do this can be chucked in the trash.”

“you’ve done this for all the girls you’ve dated? for nancy?”

shrugging, he pauses, as if thinking about it. “not always. i mean, i was kinda a dick in high school. i may be capable of being a good boyfriend now, but i wasn’t always, i guess.”

“dicks don’t give their girlfriends head massages?”

“definitely not.” steve smirks a little and kisses your forehead. “i like to think that i’ve matured. that i’ve grown into the kind of man who gives head massages.”

rubbing your hand up and down his back, you nod your head. “i think any girl is lucky to have you, stevie. head massages and all.”

by the time that you get back with your popcorn, your diet coke and your nerds, the sun has fallen below the horizon. fireflies flicker off in the distance, the chatter of everyone around you the backdrop to your evening. steve, getting beneath the blankets, opens it up to offer you a spot. with a grin wider than it ought to be you climb in beside him. settling against him, your cheek once again resting against that strong chest, shouldn’t be so simple. so easy, but it is.

you like the feeling of steve’s laughter against your cheek, the rumble of his chest. it makes you laugh even more. you like how he twitches beneath you when your hand rests on his stomach, your pinky finger slipping under the material of his shirt. you like the way that his fingers continue to card through your hair, sometimes switching to rub your back, your arm. you like how no one can see you in the confines of the truck bed, but he doesn’t seem to care. he treats you just the same, dotes on you just the same as if a thousand sets of eyes were on you.

you realize then that you need to come to terms with the fact that you like a lot about steve. most things, even.

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DATE IDEA 20

you. me. pick you up from work.

when you had finally finished your opening tasks for the book shop, that was when you noticed the note that had been left in your bag for you to find. and even though you had no idea what steve had planned, you knew this-- you’d done everything from go camping to stargazed at lovers lake, from a picnic in the park to going to the arcade. and everything you did together, you enjoyed. thoroughly.

all day while you check out people’s books and offer your own recommendations, all you can envision is hopping into steve’s car and driving off into the sunset and whatever it is that he has planned for the two of you.

you’re so lost in this thought process, in fact, that you hardly notice who exactly it is dropping the pile of bodice rippers onto the counter. prepared to see a horny mom of one of your classmates, imagine your surprise at who you really see.

“i kinda get the appeal,” steve says, examining the cover of a lisa kleypas novel. “i mean, this guy... he has awesome hair.”

he shakes the novel at you slightly and you snatch it from him with a tentative smile on your face. “you just like him because he looks like you.”

“who said that? not me. you said that.” he cocks his head to the side. “well, hopefully you like how he looks, because all of these are for you.” he pats the stack with pride. “i went through your collection and made sure that i didn’t grab any duplicates. i also asked the librarian for a copy of what you’ve checked out recently. so everything should be fresh.” he pauses. “why are you looking at me like that? anyway-- and don’t use your employee discount, i’m not cheap.”

slowly you start to punch in the prices, watching him all the while. “steve--” you slow yourself for a moment and look him in the eye. “you went to the librarian?”

“uh, yeah. i mean, what kind of loser would i look like buying you books you’ve already read?” steve grins. “c’mon-- you ready to get out of here?”

one hand in steve’s and the other clutching the stack of books, you slide into steve’s car, thank him for opening the door for you. “i don’t get it,” you say once he’s slid in next to you. “this is a date?”

“yeah,” he nods his head. “you’re gonna read one of your new books. i’m gonna watch the game tonight. and we’re just going to... you know, spend time with one another. cook dinner. be normal.” he pauses. “i picked up moose tracks ice cream, too. sounds like a date to me.” he glances out the window. “i know it’s not super flashy or anything, but, you know-- i dunno, a date can just be coexisting around the person that you like. maybe that’s stupid.”

“no! steve... no. that’s not stupid at all.” you tap his hand that rests on the steering wheel, coaxing him to look at you. “i think that’s actually... really sweet. you’re giving me a taste of what a real relationship is like.”

something fractures inside of him and you can see it as it happens, but you’re not quite sure how to decipher it. “’course. that’s what i’m here for.” he reaches across and ruffles your hair which makes you giggle and settle back against the seat.

since you and steve began your ruse, you’d only been to the harrington home a handful of times. almost every time you spent time together, if you weren’t out doing something, you were at your house. your parents doted upon and adored steve, and made it very clear to both him and you that they approved of this union. you silently wished that you didn’t have to bring your families into all of this. it would make everything much more confusing and difficult when it inevitably ended at the end of the summer, once both you and steve have gotten what you wanted out of your endeavor. but it’s the harrington house that comes into view now, and steve seems to sense your surprise. “parents are out of town. another conference.”

“oh.” he puts the car into park but doesn’t make a move to get out yet. you clutch the books a little bit closer to your chest. there’s something written all over his chest as he peers at his childhood home. “i really hate living here still, you know?”

“how come?”

on the outside, the harrington family was perfect. two parents still together and one son, basketball star and stand up guy. but you knew what the reality was. the state of steve’s parents marriage and steve’s own insecurities weren’t lost on you.

“my dad,” he hisses out a sigh and his head thunks against the headrest. “you know, i don’t have regrets about not going to college. would i have worked a little bit harder on my grades a little earlier? probably. but i know that i’m not dumb, or a bad person because i’m not going. and i know that i can still go! and--” he looks over at you where you’ve already opened your mouth. “no, no, don’t. i know what you’re going to say, and i know that, alright? i know the stuff you’re going to say. and i appreciate it.” he looks back to the house and shrugs his shoulders. “i know that you’re going to say that i shouldn’t care what he thinks, or that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. and, realistically, i know that. but... he’s my dad. shouldn’t he know what he’s talking about when it comes to me?”

you press your lips into a line while he carries on. “i just... i just want to make them proud, i guess. haven’t heard that in a long time.” he looks over at you. “i’m not really setting the mood for a nice date, am i?”

shaking your head, you wrap your hand around his wrist, slinking down to his hand to slot your fingers together. “i don’t care about that,” you say easily. “i’m glad that you’re talking to me about stuff. real stuff.”

“yeah, well...” he rubs his nose. “for the record, if your dad was a piece of shit, i’d listen. or... any of your problems, or fears, or anything. i’d listen.” he levels you with a slight upturn of his mouth. “you may be my fake girlfriend, but you’re also my friend now. one of my closest friends.”

maybe that’s the lesson in all of this. yes, you were sad that you felt rejected and neglected when ryan was your secret boyfriend, but... maybe what you had really wanted was a friend. a true friend.

and steve harrington was the truest kind of friend around.

it only made your heart tumble nearer towards loving him truly and completely.

you spend the night doing exactly what he laid out. you read the book with the model that looked eerily similar to steve on the cover, and secretly, you imagined him as your rakish hero the whole time. steve sat on the couch and watched the basketball game, and every once in awhile, you’d get distracted from your book and simply watch him. it’s easy to watch him from this position: your head in his lap. it gives you the perfect view.

you cook spaghetti together and you eat every last bite. you eat the moose tracks ice cream together, after your book is put away and his game is long ago, his favorite team losing. and you decide if this is what every weekday date night could be like with steve, that whoever ends up with him might just be the luckiest girl in the world.

there’s a hope that bubbles in you that maybe, in one of the alternate universes out there, you’re that girl. none of this is fake and steve’s your boyfriend for real, and he loves you.

but when he looks at you and swipes a bit of chocolate away from the corner of your mouth, you think that maybe he loves you in this universe, too. maybe.

#steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic

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jsprnt · 7 months ago

Text

Americano PT. 8 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I promise next chapter will be juicy! 😉

W/C: 3.086

part seven

"Wait- why am I actually kind of bitter about this?"

I mumble, looking up at Luis. He turns around, moving his camera away to look at me.

"Bitter about what?" He asks, fidgeting with the settings of the device.

"They literally crap out money- but get a free BMW?" I question, folding my arms.

"Oh, please. Will you stop being such a negative person?"

He gives me a nasty look, his hand coming to grab my arm.

"Or go sit in the car..?" He adds, pointing behind me.

"No, it's too hot to sit in the car.." I complain, adjusting my sleeve.

"Why did you even follow me here in the first place?" He asks, raising his brows.

"I was done with my to-do list and didn't want to stay cooped up in the office.."

Not to mention to avoid the insanely annoying looks I had been receiving ever since those stupid rumors and photos had been out.

"Okay, just stay back and watch then.."

I watch him make cinematic shots of each individual model and car. My patience begins to thin when he's still busy with it twenty minutes later.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to keep myself busy. I carefully scroll through my Instagram explore page, ignoring the thousands of follower requests to my account.

The internet was very quick, so within hours of my face being online, people had found both my full name and social media accounts.

"y/n!"

I freeze, holding my phone against my chest, and turn in the direction the noise came from.

I make immediate eye contact with Valeria, her obnoxiously fake smile burning my eyes instantly.

"Yeah? Anything wrong with the shoot?" I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.

"No, the players have just arrived- and it's a better look if you're off your phone and look interested."

I fight the urge to snort at her ridiculous comment, and just nod before I lose it.

"Sure, any reason you're here today? It's only for some short clips..”

I watch her take a step forward, a hand reaching up to her hip. She moves her neck in a weird way, staring at me for a moment.

"It's always good to see how my juniors work, and how close they are to the players is really something I like keeping an eye on.."

Oh- surprise, she was here for something stupid!

I was already over her snarky remarks, especially those insinuating a romantic relationship between Jude and me.

The thought only makes me want to gag.

I shiver at the cursed idea, noticing a few players already walking over to check out the new car they chose, and look back at Valeria.

"Well, I'm sure some of the guys really need your presence and knowledge. Please, go and join them.."

I instigate, hoping and wishing she goes to bother Toni instead.

For some reason, he could handle her bullshit really well.

"Oh, don't mind if I do.." She chuckles, immediately turning her back to me and walking away.

I sigh in relief, rubbing my nape to try to release some tension from my body.

I begin walking up to the cars myself, reading off every license plate to see which player got what model.

I stop at the car chosen by Aurélien, observing the details of the 'i4 eDrive35'.

« Très belle, non? » I hear him say. I nod, pursing my lips.

« Le couleur- noir est parfait.. » I compliment, stepping back to get a better view.

I open my mouth to say something else- but I'm startled by a loud car horn, it almost makes my eardrums explode. I shut my eyes tightly, not reacting fast enough to cover my ears properly.

"What the fuck.." I mumble, looking to my left. An obviously aggravated expression on my face, because who the hell thought that was a good idea?

“Jude! Get out of your mom’s car, please!” I exclaim, seeing him stand at the driver’s door.

The man couldn’t even drive, but got to choose a car for himself?

Not even that- he also chose the most expensive model worth more than a hundred thousand euros?

Life is so unfair.

“You’re standing in the way!” He exclaims, walking around to sit in the passenger seat. Another staff member comes over to drive him around the parking lot.

I give him a nasty look, stepping aside and looking back at Aurélien.

“Why don’t you join him?” He suggests, an obvious smirk on his face.

“What? Why would I do that?” I ask, raising my brows and folding my arms defensively.

“You know- nice car and fun drive..” He trails off, glancing at the moving car.

“I would feel like I’m in danger without him even being the driver..” I state, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He chuckles, as if to mock the fear for my safety. I shrug it off, looking behind me to see where Luis is.

“Come on- get in the car and I’ll get Luis to do a little video..” I usher, walking away to get Luis.

The entire shoot takes us about an hour before we’re finally done. I quickly bid farewell and thank fellow staff members for their hard work before jumping into my car.

I go to start my car, looking up to see where Luis is. I roll my windows down, letting some fresh air into the car, hoping he’ll be here quickly.

“No- it’s just annoying because I’m trying to do my job properly and I’m getting the craziest stares. Like, does having a conversation with someone mean we’re married with three kids and a chihuahua?!” I exclaim, looking at Amira on FaceTime.

“And you attended his match, and you wore his name on your shirt and spoke to his family and-"

I cut her off with a loud groan, rubbing my eyes in irritation.

“You’re the one who set me up!”

“I thought you already knew it was his shirt! Should I have worn Jude’s while you wore Trent’s?” She defends herself, a smirk forming on her lips.

I shake my head, dropping my pencil on the table.

I had been studying all day and had stopped the instant Amira called me.

“The way I can’t even get mad at anyone about this- ugh..” I complain, shifting in my chair.

“And those follow requests are so annoying..”

I grumble, totally aware of the fact that I had been complaining about literally every single thing and then some.

“Girl, if you set your account on public again and accept those followers..”

“What? I’m going to clout chase being that douche's fake girlfriend?”

“Obviously?”

“I have to take over my dad’s firm one day, and you want me to be known for dating my coworker?”

“Too late-"

I stop paying attention to what she’s saying when the front door opens, my gaze moving to see my dad walking in.

“I’m going to call you back later.” I mutter to Amira, waving at her until she hangs up.

I close my laptop, standing up to walk over to the door.

“Hey, dad- you’re late.” I say, grabbing his laptop bag off of him.

“I had a lot of work to review. Did you have dinner?” He asks, hanging his coat up on the coat rack.

“I had some of the food auntie Carmen made. You?”

“We all had dinner in the office. Everyone has been going home late these days.” He says, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before loosening his tie.

“With what?” I ask, setting his laptop bag on the table, prying into his business.

“Can’t say, but- don’t you think you need to tell me something?” He suddenly asks, turning to me.

I freeze, looking at him with wide eyes.

What the hell would I be hiding from him?

“Uh- no? I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” I state, scratching my nape in confusion.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, coming to hold onto my shoulders.

“I’m sure. What am I supposed to hide from you?” I ask, getting rather defensive, a frown forming in between my brows as I keep staring at him.

He notices my irritation, letting go of my shoulders and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Okay- I understand. Don’t get all angry at me..” He says, smiling.

“I’m not angry- just confused..”

“Forget I asked- How was work? How about you tell me about that instead?”

I purse my lips, looking down at my laptop.

“Alright, the players got new cars, so we had to do a shoot for BMW..” I mutter, fiddling with my notebook.

“You look so down, y/n. What? Are you jealous? I got you your new Audi less than two years ago..”

“What do you mean, dad? I love that car, would not exchange an Audi for a BMW- I have some car knowledge.” I state, my expression changing as I explain to him.

“That’s right! Come to me when you really want to change your car. I’ll call up some people I know.”

I make my way towards the printer, looking for the documents I had sent over to be copied a couple hours ago. Finding them, I quickly read them through to confirm the pages are complete, until I’m stopped by Hugo.

“Are you ready for El Classico week?” He asks, making a copy of something.

Most people, as in football fans, would say an El Classico is a match you shouldn’t miss. The long-standing rivalry between the two clubs was always interesting to watch, and I would definitely agree a hundred percent-

Only, if it didn’t mean we had to ensure our match posts, interviews, and statements were properly prepared and triple-checked and approved days leading up to the match.

Of course, I loved watching the game- but the way it exhausted literally everyone involved was no fun.

What made it harder was the fact that we had a whole Champions League match to worry about first. To sum it all up, no one was getting sleep for the next two weeks.

“Yeah, just really busy with preparations.” I reply, folding the corner of the documents.

“Good luck, we’ve all been having sleepless nights. It will be worth it in the end- you’ve experienced this before. Just keep on doing what you always do.”

I nod in acknowledgment, smiling at him.

“You’re right, we will put our best foot forward.” I give him a thumbs up, chuckling.

“Good- I’ll see you at lunch. Work hard!” He encourages, patting my shoulder before leaving with his printed papers.

I sigh in relief when he leaves, making my way up to my desk. I place the documents on the table, before running down to the pitch. Having to finish some last-minute recording of the match preparations.

I walk over to the pitch, training is already in full motion, and I notice Luis already there. I look around for any other staff members, only seeing the creepy guy I ran into weeks ago standing across the pitch.

The guy was a walking, real-life jumpscare at this point. I’d only run into him at random moments, and the way he’d look at me had my heart leaping into my throat.

“You’re late.” Luis complains, bringing me out of my thoughts, fiddling with a black cable.

“Did those two minutes kill you?” I ask, sighing, and look at the players who were training.

“Of boredom, yes..” He replies, and I notice the small- very slight compliment in his words. A smile forming on my face as I chuckle.

“We would’ve been absolutely fucked if Kepa didn’t save that one..” I mutter, insanely stressed, as I eye the scoreboard in the Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium. A temporary stadium FC Barcelona had been using for this season.

“Don’t say that- you have no trust in this team whatsoever..” Luis complains, looking up at me.

“Who will score?” I ask, we loved guessing who would score and assist goals during every match.

“Jude.” He immediately says, not hesitating one bit.

“No- I’m guessing Vinicius..” I say, eyes darting back to my laptop screen.

“I will be right- just watch..”

“It’s his second El Classico and his first in season one. What is he going-” I immediately stop talking when I notice a chance to score, my hands tangle into my shirt as I see how much space there is to score.

I gasp, and my jaw slacks open when Jude scores an absolute screamer, which I’d obviously never admit to him.

“I told you!” Luis screams, celebrating like it’s his birthday. I scoff, secretly happy we were put out of our 0-1 misery, and search for the draft I’m supposed to publish.

A couple minutes pass, it’s almost full time, and extra time is finally announced. The away side is full of Madridistas, all sitting on the edge of their seats until Luca kicks the ball towards Jude and GOAL!

The away side celebrates happily, with another El Classico win in our pocket. I quickly manage and do what I have to do, before we both get up to go back inside.

I was both delighted and annoyed at the fact that we won. Of course, it’s always amazing to win a match like this, especially when we were doing so well this season. Also because it’s Luca’s 500th match, and an assist is pretty amazing to pull off on a day like this.

The only thing making me have bitter feelings was the fact that I had to interview Jude today. Normally, Man Of The Match interviews with him were already horrific to experience. An elaborate interview with him, after I’d been avoiding him like the plague, wasn’t necessarily something I would want to do.

“Can you go first? I’ve got to pee really badly..” I say to Luis, placing my bag down and running towards the restroom. Finishing my business up quickly and washing my hands thoroughly.

I look around me for a bit, knowing that sometimes players would use these restrooms as well. I had heard about instances where the players of the opposite team had raged against our team’s staff members. Which definitely had me watching my back in moments like these.

I had interacted with some players of FC Barcelona, and they hadn’t been disrespectful so far.

Thus, I’m not too fazed when the door to the restroom opens. I look up as a sweaty and tired Ferran Tores walks in.

We make immediate eye contact, and I nod in greeting, shooting him a quick ‘hello' before pulling some paper towels from the dispenser to dry my hands.

He seems to be seething in anger, so I break eye contact, looking away.

“This is a staff bathroom, are you aware of that?”

He suddenly says, water splashing from the faucet as he begins washing his face.

“Sorry?” I question, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Not for girlfriends.” He mutters, turning the faucet off.

My face twists into one of confusion, the words throwing me for a loop. Seems like he notices, and he opens his mouth again.

“You’re Bellingham’s girl, aren’t you? This is the staff restroom.” He enunciates every single word as if I’m a kindergartner, it makes me freeze for a second.

I struggle to stop myself from reacting thoughtlessly, not knowing if I should be crying or laughing.

My hand reaches for my staff badge hanging from my neck, waving it in front of his face.

“Do I look like a girlfriend?” I ask, dropping my badge and stepping out before he can apologize.

Asshole, losing doesn’t give you the right to be so damn rude.

How could I even get rid of these stupid fucking rumors?

“Okay, smile!” I exclaim, holding Luis’s camera up to take a photo of the squad. With the happiness of winning an El Classico and the celebration of Luca's milestone came a lot of excitement and enthusiasm.

I hold back a chuckle at the sight of Aurélien laying on the floor, instructing some of them to move a bit for a better shot.

We take multiple photos together, staff members taking photos with the squad while I force them to stand in front of the camera.

“y/n, come here, and we’ll take a picture!” Antonio urges, snatching the camera off of me and pushing me to stand in front of the camera.

I feel myself being pushed, until I find myself almost pressing into Jude’s side.

I curse to myself, forcing an awkward smile as I pose next to everyone.

“What? Surely, you don’t think I bite?” Jude whispers, his arm dropping to his side.

“Please, shut up and pose. We still have that interview, so don’t start now..” I mutter between a clenched smile, pretending I’m not fazed.

I hear a soft chuckle, a mocking and breathy ‘sure’ leaving his mouth.

It gives me shivers down my spine, and I fight the urge to step on his shoe, focusing on posing instead.

This will be a long, long interview..

“You should’ve told me you’re leaving.” I mumble, mouth full of cereal and milk.

“Sorry, been so busy, didn’t even come to mind.” My dad says, walking around the house as he gets ready for work.

“Where is that blue tie I just got?” He shouts from his room.

“I ironed it! It’s in the bottom drawer!” I shout, scrolling through my messages.

“Got it!”

I hum, chugging the leftover milk in my bowl before standing up from the dining table.

“When are you going? Will you be gone for long?” I ask, watching him put the tie on in his bedroom.

“This weekend. It’s a crucial case, so I’ll be back when it’s totally over. Don’t get up to mischief. I know how you get when you’re home alone.” He points, giving me a stern look.

“Yeah, sure, I will plan a house party or two..” I joke, but it doesn’t land as he continues staring me down.

“Okay! I will be a responsible adult and call you or auntie Carmen when something happens..”

“Good, I’m leaving to get to work. Will you be back on time for dinner?” He says, grabbing his paperwork and laptop bag.

“Yeah, can we order in tonight?” I give him a pleading look, walking him out.

“You know I can’t deny my daughter happiness in the form of burgers and fries...”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

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biancadjarin · 9 months ago

Text

making out with Eddie on Halloween

em x fem reader

18+!

You walk towards Steve’s car as the cool fall air whooshes past your ears. The chocolate brown BMW 733i looks black in the setting sunlight. Goosebumps erupt on your exposed legs as you reach for the handle of the car. The muffled beat of Thriller thumping against the door. The darkly tinted windows reflect yourself back to you and the iridescent strands on your fuzzy white halo shimmer softly. Halloween in Hawkins is an especially spooky time so when Robin and Steve invited you to a costume party, you jumped at the chance to join them. Little did you know they invited Eddie too.

“Look how cute you are!” Robin exclaims from up in the passenger seat as you open the door and see two long skinny dark blue denim covered legs. You giggle nervously as you duck in and Eddie shoots you a wordless look, his eyes scanning your body more than your face. “Thanks Robin. You look cute too! Hi Steve! Hi… Eddie”. Eddie nods back an unenthusiastic “hey” and Steve turns around and wiggles his brows at you before putting the car into drive.

Nancy’s house is a 20 minute drive from yours and the thought of sitting this close to Eddie, his obsession by Calvin Klein cologne (no doubt borrowed from Steve) hitting your nostrils every few seconds and his lingering glances at you while he pretends not to, was going to drive you crazy. You played with the short hem of your white dress to appear busy, tiny sparkles shimmering on your thighs as they press into the leather backseat.

“You got that shit rolled up already right?” Steve asks Eddie, his eyes shooting up from the road to look at him in the rear view. Eddie reaches a hand into his leather jacket pocket and, like a magic trick, a long white joint emerges. He holds it in the air for Steve to see to which Steve lets out a “Niiiiice.”

Eddie places the joint between his full lips as he raises his hips and digs around in his pocket for a lighter. He flicks the black zippo and lights the end, inhaling until the tip glows an angry red and a plume of smoke flows out of his nostrils. You watch as uninterested as you can, but it’s hard to look away. The dim light of the last few minutes of sun dances across his features and you suddenly become very aware of how close he’s sitting to you.

“All you, man.” Eddie says as he passes the joint to Steve over his shoulder. Steve takes it and take a couple skillful puffs before handing it over to Robin. She takes a too big hit, coughing and choking for a few seconds as you all laugh at her. “Ok babe, your turn.” She says as she turns around to hand it to you.

You freeze. You’ve never smoked before. And you don’t think right now is the best time to make that big step. Robin’s eyes look at you expectantly, as you hear a scoff next to you. You take the joint in an awkward pinch and Robin drops back into the seat, her and Steve deep in some conversation about who’s hotter, Phoebe Cates or Farrah Fawcett.

“Do you not smoke?” Eddie asks as he scooches closer to you, his thigh touching yours. You look at him with panicked eyes. “Sweet innocent thing.” Eddie says in a teasing voice, his chin dipping low and puppy dog eyes looking up at you. “You really are an angel.” He says through a laugh. “Here,” he motions for you to hand him the joint and scooch even closer, “I’ll show you. You’ll love it.”

You feel Eddie’s hand snake behind your lower back, “watch real close now, angel.” he says softly as he pulls your body into his side. His hand rests there on your side, his thumb finding the skin between your skirt and top, rubbing it gently. “All you gotta do is breathe in like you’re taking a normal breath, see?” He demonstrates. “Then,” he says with his lungs full, “you just exhale.” A cloud of smoke rolls out like he’s the prettiest dragon you’ve ever seen. “Think you can handle that?” He asks as he hands the joint back to you. You take it from him and examine it closely, turning it in your fingers.

“Hurry,” Eddie says as his other hand lands softly on your thigh, rubbing it with urgency. “You don’t want it to go out.” He nods his chin at you, his eyes watching your lips. He licks his lips absentmindedly. Butterflies fill your stomach. “Ok,” you say with a heavy sigh “I’ll try.”

As you inhale, Eddie does a pretend inhale with you, widening his eyes so you know to hold it in. You try not to laugh when his already big chocolate brown eyes are staring at you like that. Then he pretends to exhale so you do the same.

“See?” His face unnecessarily close to yours, “wasn’t so bad was it?”

You shake your head no, going back in for another hit.

Eddie leans back in his seat with a smirk and watches you. You miss how his hands feel on your body. The weed starts to make you fixate on random things. The passing streetlamps lighting him up every few seconds as they pass. His eyes are low and glassy, pink to match his lips and cheeks.

You hand him the joint after a couple more hits and he takes it from you, hitting it once more before sending it back up to Steve. One of his hits equals at least three of yours if the smoke that he exhales is any indication.

A moment passes, he smirks and looks down at the space between you two, then at your lap, your hand resting there. He reaches for it slowly, first letting his fingertips graze the top of your hand then grasping it in his and pulling it towards him. He traces your fingers with his, not saying anything for a moment. His eyes stare at the sparkly white polish on your almond shaped nails, running his thumb over the shiny finish.

His hand comes up to tilt your chin so your eyes are locked on his. “You feeling ok?” He asks. You nod slowly, not sure what’s making you feel more dizzy. The weed, the way Eddie’s voice is filling your ears or Steve’s crazy driving. Eddie’s smile widens, his dimples showing. “I’m impressed, y/n.” You think this is the first time you’ve ever heard him say your name and it’s never sounded more beautiful. “Maybe you’re not quite the innocent angel that you appear to be.” He says as he nuzzles his face into your neck, testing the waters. Your body shudders against his, and he smiles. The soft warmth of his lips grazes your skin as they kiss your neck gently.

Your palms brace against his chest, the worn leather of his jacket feeling cool and soft under your touch. He watches you, his eyes studying your face like the textbooks in school he doesn’t look twice at. He’s waiting. Waiting for you to make the next move. Waiting to feel your glossy lips against his.

You look shyly towards the front seat to make sure Steve and Robin are still distracted. Eddie huffs out a small laugh at your innocence. He doesn’t care if Steve and Robin see. You look back at him and see the fire in his eyes. The heat radiating off his skin. The red brake lights ahead of you bathing him in a devilish light. And you let yourself do what you know you probably shouldn’t.

Your mouth collides with his in a burning kiss, your tongues dancing and darting and daring each other to go further. “You’re cute.” Eddie whispers against your cheek when he pulls away. “Your costume is so..” he sucks in a breath through his teeth as his hands squeeze your waist. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” you urge him on. “Mhm.” He nods. “I’m almost worried about walking into Nance’s party with you looking this good. Gonna have to…” his voice trails off as your hand starts to caress up his thigh, curious to feel what’s making his denim strain. Your fingers meet the rounded end of him and he groans. The opening notes of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid start up and Eddie’s eyes are watching your fingers curl around his erection through his jeans. You smile softly, feeling it throb against his thigh.

“You were saying?” You ask him teasingly. Eddie shakes his head and pulls you in for another kiss as you feel Steve turn onto Nancy’s street.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things

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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

It Was His Year

Gareth runs out to his mom's minivan, carrying another load, and his hand hurts, even with his fingers taped together. At least one is broken, he's certain. Fucking Jason Carver.

The town has cracked wide open and everyone is panicking. Fleeing. Packing their cars, ready to haul ass out of this godforsaken place. Goodie and Jeff are helping load up his drums, and what gear they have between the four of them.

But Eddie is nowhere to be found.

Hasn't been around for days, and Gareth's worried. Something's going on, something more than an earthquake. Something more than an evacuation. He gets that Eddie's been hiding out, and for good reason, but this isn't just about that. Can't be.

Eddie wouldn't have hurt Chrissy Cunningham. Not a chance in hell. Eddie's mouth runs a good game, but Gareth knows him. Really knows him. And Eddie was ready to finally get out of this sorry fucking town. Graduate.

It was his year.

And now he's missing, and the fucking Scooby Gang that is always somehow in the middle of every disaster that befalls Hawkins, are missing, too.

Dustin Henderson is never this quiet. Something's up.

Something big.

A couple miles outside of town, Gareth slams on the brakes, and Goodie braces himself against the dash, "What? What is it?"

"Steve Harrington," Gareth says, because that was Steve Harrington's BMW hauling fucking ass in the opposite direction, towards town.

"So?" Goodie says.

"That wasn't Steve Harrington driving. That was Nancy Wheeler," Gareth says, starting to make a three-point turn in the middle of the highway, getting honked at by everyone behind him. He throws his hand out the window, flipping them off, then follows the BMW as it barrels back towards town.

"No, no. Over my dead body. We're not going back. Tell me you're joking? The streets are caved in," Goodie says, looking for back-up from Jeff.

"Gareth, maybe we shouldn't-" Jeff tries.

But it's too late, he's giving chase. If anyone knows where Eddie is, it's that group, Gareth's sure of it.

After dodging streets that don't exist anymore, he sees Steve's car parked under the awning of the already bustling emergency room. Gareth gets out of the driver's seat, and looks over at the group that's surrounding the familiar car. They seem to be in costumes, like they went and raided The War Zone outside of town. Robin Buckley is standing there as Dustin is fucking bawling, holding onto the open door of the car.

And Nancy Wheeler? She's absolutely screaming, arms waving, pointing. Barking orders to an already overwhelmed staff.

That leaves Steve Harrington, and Gareth can see the soles of his boots as he's in the backseat of his own car, on top of Eddie, as Eddie's limp, boot-covered foot hangs out of the vehicle. The leather upper torn, shredded to the bone.

What could even do that? What the fuck has happened here?

Gareth runs to the other door, the still closed one, and when he opens it, Steve barely looks up at him, doing chest compressions, breathing for Eddie.

Steve looks feral. Soaked with blood, smelling of kerosene and fire.

Death.

Eddie's neck is bandaged, his cheek, and Steve drags Gareth's hands to Eddie's neck, pressing them down. Gareth puts pressure, while Jeff hovers behind him. Goodie nowhere to be seen.

Gareth holds on tight, but he thinks Eddie's dead. He's not sure there's anything he, or Steve Harrington, can do about that.

But Steve keeps working, arms pumping against Eddie's ribcage, and Gareth tries not to cry.

He's in a daze, when he realizes Goodie is standing behind him, with his dad. Dr. Goodwin. Of course. He's not the kind of doctor Eddie needs, not by a long shot, but maybe he can get him into the right hands.

"What did you kids do?" Dr. Goodwin asks, but there's no answer to that. Between all of them, they're able to get Eddie pulled out of the backseat, and loaded up onto the gurney.

Steve Harrington bullies his way beyond the staff only doors, and Gareth doesn't understand why, as he stands there, the doors gently swinging, as Eddie's taken away.

Jeff is scrubbing Gareth's hands at the public bathroom sink, and Goodie is wiping at his neck where Eddie's bloody hair rubbed against his face when he helped pull him out of the car. His bandana is in Gareth's pocket now, soaked in red. This is fucked. It's all so fucked.

"What happened? It looked like he'd been attacked by an animal," Gareth mutters, "Did Carver do this?"

"I don't know," Jeff says, and yeah, Gareth thinks, none of them know anything. Not anymore.

By early morning, Eddie is hooked up to machines and tubes, and Steve Harrington is sitting at his bedside like a guard dog, still filthy. Still itching for a fight.

"We're his friends. His band. Corroded Coffin? Hellfire Club? With Dustin?" Gareth tries. Steve Harrington doesn't look well, he's glassy-eyed and pale. He has one dirty hand on Eddie's bedrail. Gripping tight.

"We can stay with him, you could go change clothes. Take a shower? See a doctor yourself?" Gareth offers, because Steve Harrington is sweating, and looks like he can barely sit, let alone stand.

And then Robin Buckley is here, fussing, calling him a dingus and leading him to the sink in the corner of the room. Lifting his shirt.

Jesus H. Christ.

"Oh shit," Gareth says, seeing the angry, weeping wounds on Steve's sides. At the rope burn around his neck. "Goodie. Maybe get your dad again."

It takes weeks, more than a month, and they all take turns sitting with Eddie, before Eddie finally opens his eyes and blinks, looking around. It's a full-house.

Gareth leans over him from one side, Steve from the other, "Eddie? Are you okay? What year is it?" Gareth asks.

Eddie coughs, but smirks, ever so slightly. Voice hoarse from disuse, "It's '86, baby. I told you this was my year."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt twenty-one: hate this town #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day twenty-one: hate this town #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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carfashiongurgaon · 1 year ago

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Road Trip Preparation: Ensuring Your Car is Ready for the Journey

Road trips are more of adventure and freedom, especially for BMW car owners. Most BMW owners love to enjoy the luxury of their car and cherish both spontaneity and preparation. Embarking on a road trip requires more than just a sense of adventure; it demands careful planning, particularly when it comes to your vehicle. In this blog, we'll dive into the essentials of preparing your car for a road trip, ensuring a smooth and enjoyable journey. One often overlooked aspect is carrying a car cover, which can protect your vehicle in various conditions and locations.

Vehicle Maintenance: The Foundation of a Successful Road Trip

Before hitting the highway, it's crucial to conduct thorough vehicle maintenance. This is not just about avoiding breakdowns but ensuring a comfortable and safe journey. Here are key focus points:

1. Fluid Checks and Changes:

Your car's fluids are its lifeblood. Before setting off, check and top up or change the oil, radiator fluid, brake fluid, power steering fluid, transmission fluid, and windshield fluid. Remember, the right fluid levels and conditions are vital for optimal car performance.

2. Tire Maintenance:

Tires are your direct contact with the road, so their condition can't be overstated. Ensure they are properly inflated, as incorrect pressure can lead to poor fuel efficiency and handling. Check the tread depth and overall tire condition. If they show signs of excessive wear, consider replacing them before the trip.

3. General Checks:

Inspect your brakes, air filters, light bulbs, belts, and hoses. Any sign of wear or malfunction in these areas can lead to bigger problems down the line. Also, don't forget to check your car's timing belt, as its failure can cause significant engine damage.

The Importance of a Car Cover

If you own a luxurious car like BMW. Then car body covers are a must. Amidst all the mechanical preparations, a car cover might seem trivial, but it's a valuable addition to your road trip checklist. A cover protects your car from various elements, be it sun, rain, or dust, and also secures it against scratches and minor dents when parked outdoors. Choose a cover that's lightweight, easy to pack, and appropriate for your vehicle's size.

There are many waterproof car body covers BMW are available on Car Fashion. You can easily buy car body cover for BMW on the website.

Cleaning and Organizing for Comfort

A clean and organized car enhances the road trip experience. Thoroughly clean interior and exteriors of the car. Organize the interior so that everything you need is easily accessible. Ensure your trunk is clean and organized, making it easier to find luggage or emergency items. An organized car not only looks better but also helps keep the driver focused and less stressed.

Planning and Packing Smartly

Packing for a road trip is an art. Along with personal items, consider packing an emergency kit, including first aid supplies, basic tools, and a flashlight. Keep a dedicated space for snacks and drinks, and don't forget entertainment options like music playlists or audiobooks. Remember, the goal is to pack efficiently without overcrowding your vehicle.

Final Thoughts

Preparing for a road trip is about striking a balance between excitement and responsibility. By ensuring your car is in top condition, you not only safeguard your journey but also enhance the overall experience. A road trip is more than just a drive; it's about creating memories, exploring new places, and enjoying the freedom of the open road. With your car well-prepared, including the often-overlooked car cover, you're ready to embark on an adventure that's safe, comfortable, and enjoyable. Happy travels!

#Car Body Covers #Buy car Body covers #Buy BMW car body covers in Gurgaon #car body covers in gurgaon

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witerh · 5 months ago

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01 HEADCANON! || boyfriend re2r!leon — car mechanic/ sfw

lunch — every day you visited him at work for him with lunch, knowing that he would always forget it early in the morning even with a reminder. Your carefully prepared food has always been praised for your cooking skills, proud of you for such delicious masterpieces.

You pass a warm container with food into his hands, watching as he opens it and the fragrant smell of food hits his nose, and his mouth is already full of drool. He eats casually and hastily, telling you about the differences between halogen headlights and xenon ones. His speech seems to be an endless stream of technical terms that only he can understand. You sit opposite, with a look full of tenderness and tenderness, watching him «purr».

No matter how much time passes, he remains as spontaneous and sincere as on the first day you met.

You reach out with a napkin to clean the food from his lips but his fingers wrap around yours and he does it himself: "You know, your lunches make my job more enjoyable." he quietly tells you kissing your cheek and thanks you for caring about him.

touches — his strong arms will lift you onto thе cold metal bumper while fingers soak into your thighs, gently massaging; he will lean closer to you until you feel his tickling breath on you. With Leon’s clumsy movements, the strap of your dress falls down, exposing your curved shoulder completely for his gaze. The redness on your face cannot be avoided while your hand is in a hurry to correct it, but it made him amuses. A small smirk played on his lips until his nose nuzzled into your neck; fleeting and unnoticeable kisses were left on your collarbones while you sighed and giggled. Lips tenderly press against your delicate skin, which you coat with cream every evening, making it so soft that you want to kiss it forever. A light squeak leaves your lips when he lays you down on the hood of a black BMW that the owner brought for repairs.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of time just for us", he coos for you, pointing with his gaze at the sign that was on the window: «Closed»

dirty clothes — Leon was not one of those who was very bothered by motor oil on the hands, because his white short sleeve tank top was completely saturated with this smell. Sometimes he could sneak up behind you and hug you; caress your waist through your polka dot dress. He was too tactile and he didn’t care whether his hands were dirty or not until you started to sulk at him for such an act.

“Well, it will wash off, princess", he smiled slightly, ignoring your words of anger, grabbing a rag and wiping the dirt from the motor oil off his hands. "Stop being offended, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Every time he promises not to do this, but he forgets to wipe his hands, and you are always angry with him. Again soak the dress in washing powder in hopes and prayers to all the gods that it will wash off.

you and help for him — Tirelessly responsible and immensely passionate, he loved to delve into the depths of automotive mechanisms but sometimes he did not have enough hands for his work. A slight rustling sound came from under the car while he was working on the car that had been delivered recently while you were sitting on a wooden stool. He was a car repair shop worker, he invariably demonstrated his best sides and there should be no mistakes either.

"Princess, there's a tool next to the motor, see, right? Give it to me, please," his outstretched hand closer to you was waiting for the instrument.

bath time — "Princess, can you get me a new towel?" he shouted to you coming out of the bathroom. He didn't care about his naked position; there is not a drop of embarrassment in him. He rubs the back of his head with his hand, having already forgotten in the bathroom that his towel was in the trash because of being a victim of his wiping his hands at his job.

You always thought his muscular and tanned body was cute and now you embarrassedly covered your face with your hands, realizing that he was naked. The light stripes on his shoulders were due to wearing different T-shirts and tank tops. Light steam emanated from his hot body adding a little intimacy to it.

leon and cleanliness in the house — There are no spare parts or wrenches in the house because there is a garage for that. Everything is stored there, even cans of gasoline, just in case.Leon, with the liveliness and attention of a stock analyst, followed changes in gasoline prices, paying more attention to this than to his own well-being, and he did not even pay so much attention to important dates.

"Do you see? I put all the parts in the garage as I promised!”

"You're well done, honey."

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #witerh #headcanon #sfw only #comfort #resident evil 2 #resident 2 remake #re2 leon #leon resident evil

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micamicster · 9 months ago

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Super Rich Kids

Close my eyes and feel the crash...

I wrote this one on post-its on a trans-continental flight after my phone (where i was re-reading the raven cycle) died. 0/10 plane experience would not recommend but I did manage to entertain myself! And now hopefully you as well!

When Ronan pulled into Monmouth Manufacturing he knew Gansey wouldn’t be there. Adam Parrish was, though, sitting on the steps in the golden afternoon light, bike dumped to the side in dying grass. He didn’t so much as flicker an eyelid when Ronan bootlegged the BMW into an approximation of parking on the far side of the lot, which was fine because that’s how he would have parked the car anyway, whether or not Adam was here.

Ronan was pretty sure that Gansey had arranged a shift system with the other boys, to prevent Ronan from being unaccompanied on the rare occasions of his own absence. The idea of a babysitter should have rankled Ronan, but Adam did not seem particularly invested in his role. Small favors.

As he got out of the car he gave Adam his customary once-over, as brief as it was habitual. You could notice a lot in a single glance, if you were Ronan, glancing at Adam.

Adam was wearing long sleeves (his father? Or just because it was October?) and his faded camo pants, the ones Ronan said made him look like a jingoistic meathead. They had recently acquired a tear in one knee. Not in the stylish, deliberate manner in which Ronan’s own jeans were shredded, but awkwardly, in an L-shape, where they had caught on some jagged edge and given way before even careful Adam had noticed and unhooked himself. The tear gaped open at times, like it was doing now, revealing Adam’s knobby left knee and, worse, a triangle of his brown thigh.

Ronan looked away.

Ronan never allowed himself, even in dreams, to trespass beyond the carefully demarcated boundaries of Adam’s clothes. And Adam was usually helpful in the maintenance of this boundary. Unlike Gansey, who could be found working on his model Henrietta in boxers at all hours of the night, or wandering to and from the shower in a towel, absent-mindedly forgetting his clothes in bathroom or bedroom. Unlike the boys Ronan played tennis with, who stripped down casually in the locker room after practice. Unlike even Ronan himself, who’d never met a shirt he couldn’t rip the sleeves off; Adam was always fully covered.

This summer, foolishly, Ronan had imagined that this might change. Now that the hideous secrets Adam protected with his long sleeves were no longer his alone. But by now he knew what kept those sleeves in place, something that Adam had already understood: that knowing and seeing are two very different things.

For example: this. Ronan knew that Adam, like most people who walked around on earth under their own power, possessed thighs. Two of them, attached in the normal way to other body parts, such as knees and hips. To know this was one thing.

Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. The way his knee bent, and the muscle above shifted as Adam made room on the steps for him. Ronan was looking away, out at the familiar, grounding, skid marks on the concrete of Monmouth’s lot, but he could picture in their place with deadly accuracy the hinge of Adam’s knee, the tanned skin of his thigh, scattered with golden-brown hair. He could dream about pressing his face against it.

He picked up a rock and hurled it. It glanced off the side of the soulless suburban and fell anticlimactically into the grass dying by the rear tire. It didn’t help.

Adam shifted next to him, subtly.

“What?” said Ronan. “Impressed?”

“Surprised, more like. I thought you were supposed to be the tennis star.”

“You think you can do better?” Ronan pried another hunk of gravel or concrete out of the dirt and tossed it in his left hand, tauntingly.

“I know I can.”

“But?”

“But,” said Adam, with some hint of exasperation coloring his voice, “I’m not going to sit here chunking rocks at Gansey’s car to prove it. My ego’s not that fragile.” His accent slipped out on chunkin’, not as if Ronan had pissed him off enough to forget to hide it, but as if it was a word he’d never used any other way.

Ronan threw his rock again. This was, if anything, a worse throw than before, and it skittered harmlessly across the suburban’s roof.

Adam made a small but contemptuous noise.

“Don’t give me that shit, man. You know he hates this fucking car.”

“That was for your shitty aim.”

“Come on then.” Ronan hefted another piece of gravel. “Ten points if you knock out his taillight.”

“It costs a hundred and five dollars to replace a taillight on that make and model. Plus tax.”

Ronan’s brief cheer was collapsing again. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to bust Dick’s lights.”

Adam blinked slowly, his dusty eyelashes obscuring the contempt in his eyes for a brief moment. “I’ll leave.” (He wouldn’t).

Ronan dropped the rock. Next to him Adam sighed. Abruptly, he put out his hand. “Telephone pole. Six feet from the top.”

Ronan swept back up the rock and dropped it into his hand. Their fingers did not touch. His heart thudded.

Adam tossed the rock once, testing its weight while his gaze, cool and assessing, remained on the telephone pole. It was a splintered, tilting thing, shamed by his attentions. In one smooth, economical movement, he rose to his feet and let the rock fly. His leg went forward, knee jutting out of his clothes, his back curved, and his arm swept around in an arc, fingers scraping at the blue October sky. Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to know if the rock hit—he could see it in the brief hard satisfaction on Adam’s face.

Adam turned back to him, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to earn that hundred,”

Adam shrugged. The gesture was disinterested, but there was a quirk to his mouth that contradicted it. “I know nothing blew up, but…”

Ronan already had another rock in his hand. “West corner lightbulb. It breaks or it doesn’t count.” Adam rolled his eyes, but turned agreeably to watch Ronan miss.

“Would you like to get your tennis racket?”

“Eat me,” said Ronan. (Maybe).

They traded shots back and forth for a while, calling increasingly specific and complex plays.

“Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Get the government to pay for some glasses, Parrish, and then come back and try to tell me that wasn’t a fucking bullseye—”

“It wasn’t even close! You—”

“You calling me a liar?” Ronan loomed, and Adam, as usual, was unimpressed.

“Just because you don’t lie doesn’t make you right all the time! Like when you said that quote on Tuesday was Seneca. It doesn’t stop being Martial just because you’ve got a child’s sense of morality—”

“See, right there.” Ronan pointed triumphantly at an invisible scuff mark on the doorsill, marking where his handful of gravel had made impact.

Adam gave it a skeptical glance. His face was faintly flushed from exertion in the cold air, but his eyes were as cool and considering as ever. “What we need,” he said, “is a knife.”

Ronan was not allowed knives.

“Are you trying to stab each other in the feet? Why are your shoes off! It’s October!”

“Equal playing field.” Ronan wiggled his toes against the cold asphalt. “Parrish’s shitty knife is no match for my boots.” Over Gansey’s head, Ronan tried to catch Adam’s eye, to share a ‘can you believe him’ sort of look. Adam’s embarrassment over being caught acting irresponsibly meant Ronan could expect the look to be rebuffed, but he couldn’t help himself from trying it anyway.

Adam was bent over, eyes hidden. He carefully dusted off his socked feet one at a time before sliding them back into his shoes, as though the socks or sneakers could look any worse. A little parking lot crud might improve their appearance, actually.

Next to him, Gansey was still fussing. Without the pressure release valve of eye contact with someone who knew Gansey was overreacting, Ronan snapped, “Come off it, man, I’m not going to slit my throat while Parrish watches. He can’t afford that caliber of snuff film.”

Gansey’s concern transformed into revulsion, but underneath it he looked hurt, which was far far worse.

Adam straightened up. “We were just using it to mark where we hit. Honestly, we could have done it tossing a sharpie, but neither of us had one.” He sounded conciliatory, which pissed Ronan off. But Gansey was letting it go, returning the knife to Adam with an apologetic smile. Sorry for the fuss. Sorry for Ronan. Ronan’s bare feet were cold against the asphalt.

“Well? Are you going to throw or not, Parrish?” he said belligerently.

Adam rolled his eyes, but obligingly stooped for gravel and let one fly at Ronan’s open bedroom window, a shot he made easily.

Gansey whistled. “You’ve got quite the arm on you. How come you’re not on the Algionby baseball team?”

Adam shifted his feet, awkwardly.

“Please,” scoffed Ronan, “he’s not a team player.”

Gansey did not let it go. “Bet you’d have a better fastball than both our pitchers.”

There was a pause, during which Adam’s face clearly showed all of the thoughts he was trying to corral into a polite response to Gansey’s unconsidered enthusiasm. Ronan got there first. “Yeah, Parrish, why not hitch your wagon to the star of organized sports, like every other rags to riches wannabe?”

“Ronan!” said Gansey, Ronan’s offensiveness registering where his own had not.

“Hitch my wagon to a star?” Adam was unruffled. “I thought quoting Transcendentalists could get you excommunicated.”

“Who said I know it’s Emerson. It’s a sourceless idiom to those of us who aren’t sad little nerds.”

Adam smirked. The smirk said, I never said Emerson. His words said, “Gansey’s damning me with faint praise. No one’s going pro out of an Algionby sport team. Even tennis.”

“Ouch,” said Ronan, cheerfully. “Hit me where it really hurts. My school pride.”

Now that Gansey had arrived, his plans for the day took precedence over noble pastimes such as flipping pocketknives at each other’s feet. His plans involved comparing readings from various instruments and then placing said various instruments in various new locations, all of which were equally arbitrary (to Ronan’s eyes) and inaccessible. Gansey’s plans involved him waiting by the car to monitor the readings while people hiked with antennae to the outermost reaches of the signal. People, in this instance, being Ronan and Adam, Noah having mysteriously and silently fucked off, as he so often did when a job required carrying anything.

Ronan put his head down and trudged. It was brambly here, and slightly damp, and he was beginning to work up the kind of counter-intuitive sweat that appears from working in the cold, the kind that makes you colder later.

As the person leading the hike, custom would dictate that he should catch and hold the long clinging arms of the brambles for the following hiker. This presented a dilemma. Ronan compromised, and set about stomping the multiflora into the ground as he walked. Scarlet hips burst under his feet, invasive and beautiful, spreading their millions of seeds across the damp earth. Noxious weeds.

“It’s too unreliable,” said Adam, into the silence. “Sports. It all depends on… your physical condition.”

“And your condition is shit.”

There was Adam’s ironic smile. “Yes. So.” He shrugged. There was the part they weren’t saying, which was that his physical condition could always get worse. Unexpectedly.

“My dad hates baseball.” Ronan heard himself make the slip—hates and not hated—and a spark of fury burned through him, brief and inconsequential.

“My dad loves it.”

They marched on in silence.

Adam swore as a bramble Ronan had beaten down sprang up again, catching him right across the tear, where his skin was exposed. He bent to unhook it from the camo with deft, deliberate hands. “What?” he said, like he could feel Ronan’s eyes.

Ronan looked away. “Why not the military?” He kicked purposelessly at the bramble and heard Adam sigh. “And don’t tell me you never thought about it. Test scores like yours out in hicksville high school, you must have had recruiters hopping all over you like fleas.”

“Would you believe I had a moral objection?” Adam’s smile was self-deprecating. Ronan studied it.

“No.”

Adam shrugged. It, too, was self-deprecating.

“I think you had a superiority objection. You think you’re too smart for that shit.”

Adam blinked at him. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

Ronan snorted. “Hell no. You can do better than getting blown up in a desert for the United States government.”

The smile, when it came, was small and stunning. “Damned by faint praise again.”

#lmao with this and the country playlists this blog has been on a real raven boys kick the last few days #anyway... enjoy?#i need to make a tag for my writing like... generally but until then #super rich kids #this really isn't about anything and had nothing else attached to it #it was just a random scene that stood alone so like...#probably the best thing for me to start out this 'posting unfinished stuff' project #i feel like gansey does not appear at his best in this fic but that's not a reflection of how much i love him!#he's trying his best to keep this family together! and the other 15 year olds are no help at all!#ronan lynch #adam parrish #the raven cycle #pynch #tw suicide mention

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superblysubpar · 2 years ago

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You Can Have The Best Of Me, Baby:

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve and you share a desperate night together during the end of the world. | my blog and this fic are NSFW 18+

the song: lights down low by MAX

warnings: slightly angsty | mentions of blood, bruises, and overall end of the world stranger things are we going to die sort of things | SMUT (shower / unprotected piv - creampie).

Dark and threatening clouds fill the sky beyond the BMW’s windshield. They’re not the blues and purples of a summer thunderstorm, but black and oozing with something sinister. The pair of you lit up by random flashes of red that race across the sky. It’s all something straight out of a nightmare. It’s things only your unconscious body can conjure up, yet there it all sits in front of you. Here it is - actually happening. You never should have come back to Hawkins.

BANG. BANG.

Your head almost hits the roof of the car, shoulders to ears and hands slapping over your mouth to cover the scream that started to leave you. Steve glares in the rearview mirror as Murray’s voice shouts through the closed windows, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Your hands shake as they fall from your lips into your lap, caked in earth and other worldly dark goo, plus the dried blood that’s not even yours. Muscles screaming, your entire body wants to shut down, to collapse, to give up. His hand falls to your thigh and you look up through blurred vision at the boy beside you.

Well, not a boy anymore. Steve isn’t your childhood best friend with grape popsicle stained lips, holding your hand on the roof of his house while you look for shooting stars. He’s a man. A man who you’ve loved your entire life, a man you almost just lost. Again.

Body moving in slow motion it seems, you reach across the console, pulling his face closer as you press your lips to his softly. Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh, his other tangling in your hair as he deepens what may be a poorly timed kiss, but they do it in the movies, right? Plus, he almost just lost you. Steve tugs on the back of your neck gently, drawing you further into him and you start to climb over the console when another loud whack to the roof startles you apart.

Hopper’s face is unamused in the driver’s window and he hooks his thumb over his shoulder - a universal signal for “get out” as he walks away, shaking his head. Steve kisses you one more time, soft and chaste and over too soon and he starts to pull his hand away from your thigh, but you grip it in yours. Staring at him as your chin wobbles, fighting off the tears you’ve kept at bay for days. He just nods, knuckles brushed by his thumb and he pulls your enclosed hands up to start the car together. Leaving a kiss on your wrist and holding it up to his cheek as he drives to the house in a daze.

Aside from the droplets of what you hope is rain (but after everything you’ve learned, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it’s not) hitting and dripping down the windows, it’s silent the whole drive until he turns down his street. Your street. As the wheels slosh through puddles of flooded water, avoiding the caved in earth and holes into what you’d quite literally consider hell, your whisper breaks the silence.

“It’s over.” Steve squeezes your fingers now resting together on his thigh as you dare to add on, “Right?”

You watch as Steve stares out the windshield, mouth downturned and you know he’s thinking that it isn’t. That he’s been here before. This seems far from over, it seems like the beginning of the end of the world.

As Steve pulls into the driveway, he pulls the keys from the ignition, letting go of your hand despite the noise of protest you make. He’s around the front of the car and pulling you out quickly though, still rushing, but dragging you softly by the wrist into the house. His hands shake as his head does the same, back and forth, side to side like he’s frustrated, like he knows the answer but refuses to acknowledge it just like he did when you were kids. You’re waiting for the solid “Nope” to leave his lips, for him to push down the fear you see building in his eyes and neither come.

Instead, Steve’s hands shake harder as his fingertips skim over your face, eyes bouncing across your own, your nose, your lips like he’s memorizing it all, like he’s memorizing you.

“It’s not over, and I can’t-” his voice cracks, his lips pressing to yours softly, “I can’t lose you.”

His mouth plants quick kisses across your skin, catching every freckle, your nose, eyebrows, and chin as tears fall down his cheeks and any crying you planned to do is shoved further away. Steve doesn’t cry. He’s breaking. He has been, and he’s been hiding it.

Your hands hold either side of his head, pulling him away just enough so you can look into his eyes, “Hey,” pressing your forehead to his, you try to force a smile, voice thick with choked back emotions, “Where the hell would I be going, Harrington?”

Steve sobs.

His hands cling to your sides, fisting your shirt in his fingers as his head falls to your shoulder, “I’m so-sorry,” he speaks into your neck, growing wet from his tears and he presses his nose to your skin, sniffling and shutting it all down quickly. He clears his throat and you run your hands through the back of his hair.

“Steve, there’s nothing to be sorry fo-”

He interrupts you with a kiss, deeper than any of the ones you’ve shared so far tonight. It’s a kiss that he’s been holding back, one that says everything he wants to say, one that shows you all he wants to do, drawing every ounce of breath from you. Both hands falling into his hair and your body rising onto your toes, chasing and pulling away from him all at the same time as he lets you go. Both of you gasping for air as he squeezes your hips and shakes his head, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Head dizzy from the kiss, you couldn’t argue even if you wanted to try. He wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand before pulling you up the stairs and to the bathroom attached to his room. The quiet house should be a welcomed friend, but it feels too big and too ominous and Steve closes the door on it all, like the bathroom is the only place in the world right now.

You’re both ignoring the other’s shaking hands, and you suppose your own too. Telling yourselves it’s just another shower together. It’s nothing to worry about, you’re fine. It’s over.

When you both blink and squint at the harsh overhead lighting, Steve lights candles as the water heats up, steam filling the room as he flicks off the light. Hands never losing contact if the other grabs something - yours pressed to his hips as he removes a shirt, his on your lower back as you reach in to feel the water. Stealing kisses in between the dirty clothes shed and dropped to the bathroom floor. Almost shy to remove your bra and underwear despite Steve seeing it all numerous times, gaze falling to the floor as you let yourself be exposed to each other in a new way. You don’t miss his sharp inhale as your injuries are fully revealed to him now, and he doesn’t miss the way you squeeze your eyes closed at the sight of his. Steve’s hands roam up from your bare hips and his lips catch yours again, your fingers cradling his chin as he backs you both up clumsily into the open glass door.

Lips breaking apart as the hot water hits your body and you throw your head back with a groan. Steve lets you take the spot mainly under the stream first. Muscles unfurling as the hot water washes over you, running muddy and rust colored down the drain until it’s clear. His lips trail behind your hands as you wash the past few days from your skin. Kissing the pain and unwanted memories away the best he can.

Swapping places, your feet overlap on top of his, unable to back away, to give him space even though you know you should. The sight of your bright red polish stark against the tile and a different shade of red mixing at your feet has you swallowing audibly, blowing out a shaky breath against his chest. Steve’s hands have been wandering over your body, brushing carefully over bruises that have faded, scars and scratches, all reminders of the ways he wasn’t quick enough, reminders of how he didn’t protect you, how close he’s been to losing you over and over again.

Your fingers move to help wash his hair so you don’t stare at how the water runs a darker red leaving his skin than it did yours. You hide the shake in your hands by pressing his hair down flat behind his ears, swallowing the fears and tears that keep trying to rise up and out of you.

The flicker of orange and yellow candle light cast over the room should be accompanied by music, and whispering sweet nothings to each other, slow and steamy kissing to match the haze filling the room. But you’re starting to wonder if you’ll ever have sensual and intimate moments that aren’t cast in an end of the world doom again. Shouldn’t it be over? Why doesn’t it all feel over? Steve’s eyes trail across your body still, lingering on the fresh bruise across your ribs and he bends down, the furrow between his eyebrows pressing against yours.

His lips catch your top one, a barely there brush of a kiss and he whispers, voice straining, “I need you to know,” Steve’s voice wobbles, “You’re the best-”

He squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head against yours before he pulls away, eyes dancing over your face again like he had downstairs. Like he was desperate to capture you completely in that moment because he didn’t think he’d get another chance to.

Steve’s gaze finally finds yours, honey and moss dripping into and clinging to any crack he can find as the rough pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. His voice barely audible over the water hitting the tile now, “Whatever you want.”

“Steve-”

Shaking his head again, his hands move to cradle your cheeks, thumbs brushing softly as tears fill his eyes, “I don’t care about anything but you. Okay? I just need you to know that I’m yours. And whatever you want - just, take it…please? We’re going to be fine, and we’re gonna,” he swallows harshly, licking his lips as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours again, “I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll give you everything. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

He holds his breath as he waits until you nod. He’ll give you it all one day, he will. A future with your own house, and kids and that fucking RV trip to the Grand Canyon you came up with when you were twelve. He knows it. His fingertips trail over your neck, tracking the beads of water that drip down your curves. Lips hovering over each other, breaths slowing as you focus on feeling every touch of his skin to yours.

Steve’s hands settle on your hips, palms flattening and squeezing softly as he closes the small distance between you. His hands soothe up your skin, wrapping around your back, pulling you as close as you can possibly be to him. Your own hands glide over his chest, shaking fingertips brushing over the swirls of blue and purple, the angry red and raised marks. Your nose presses into his cheek and the sob you’ve been holding back falls from your lips.

You almost lost him again.

He nods - he knows, his own breath shaking as his fingers press deeper into your spine and neither of you can hold it in anymore.

Lips crashing into each other, your arms fall to over his shoulders, hands tangling in the back of his hair as he presses you into the cold glass door. Lips moving furiously, panting breaths and heaving chests, his hand moves back to your jaw, pulling softly so he can tilt your head and kiss you how he thought he’d never get to again. Dragging your mouth open for him, he catches your bottom lip, teeth scraping over it and your moans mix, lost and drowning in the water falling around you. Not new touches, but it all might as well be. Watching him almost die again, you’re determined to focus on how every kiss and touch feels until the day you die.

Steve really can’t hold back anymore, his other hand slides down, gripping at your thigh and lifting it to sit on his hip. Your frantic nodding, forehead pressed to his while your lips never stop devouring each other, leads him to let go of your jaw. Lifting your other leg until they’re both wrapped around his waist. Head hitting the glass behind you, exposing and opening your neck to him as he slides between your folds. His tip catches your clit on the drag up, the whimper you let out at the feeling he determines to be the greatest sound on earth.

“Please.”

Begging him, you tug on his hair as his mouth presses up and down your neck, he wants too much. He wants to kiss over every inch of your skin that he thought he’d never see again, he wants to take his time, to make it all stand still. He can’t though, it’s like he has tunnel vision, the world around him blurring. Steve wants to give you everything, the best of him, he wants to be sweet and slow, show you how much he loves you, but all he can do is thrust up into you without warning, a deep and gritty moan pulled from his chest as a gasp that he wants to bottle comes out of you.

Steve’s hands dig into your hips, bruising and holding you as hard as he can as another sob escapes your lips. Your hands drift to his shoulders, fingernails scraping and clawing into his skin as your back arches off of the door from the relieving drag of his cock along your walls and the push back in. It’s too slow for either of you - too soft, and on another thrust into you, his nose and forehead push into yours.

“Baby, I-”

You’re nodding as Steve chokes on his thoughts, his eyes squeezing shut, your lips catch his again. There isn’t time for words that you both already know and have said too many times to count. You just need this. You need it now.

One of his hands supports your lower back, the other runs up and down your thigh, he’s not even holding you up anymore, you’re just clinging to him with the intent of never letting go as his hips pick up their pace. Brutal and fast, pounding into you as your lips mold around his. Every inch of your body is pressed to his, holding him to you like he can’t ever leave you, because he can’t.

“Steve-” his name is a cry, a plea, an ask for something you don’t even know anymore.

Hips snapping together, water smacking the tile around you harshly as your stomach tightens and your body fills with heat quickly.

Steve is swearing against your lips, fingers dragging along your skin and your mouths aren’t even kissing each other anymore. You’re all sharp shared breaths, gasps for air, names falling out and into each other. Noses and lips bumping in passes over each other’s as he moves faster, hitting so deep over and over again that you can feel him in your throat. Sobbing as you yank on his hair too harshly, he bites your lip too forcefully, growling your name as you scream his from how much you can’t take it all anymore.

He holds your ass now, gripping it tight enough to match the bruises he’s no doubt thrusting into you and your fingers press crescent moons into his shoulders, begging him for more when he can’t possibly give you anything else.

“Oh-shit, fuck-” Steve’s hips start to stutter and you grab at his chin, forcing him to look at you.

He sobs again, clutching at your body desperately, wide hands splayed across your skin, fingers digging in as you stare into each other’s eyes. Crying one another’s names until your bottom lip catches his top one in a silent scream as your release vibrates through your whole body, his following almost immediately after. Filling you completely as his hips lose all of their momentum and rhythm and he pants your name into your mouth, kissing you as you both come down and your thighs shake as your body continues to grip his.

Steve doesn’t let you go, keeping you wrapped around him as he kisses over tear stained cheeks, whispering how much you love each other until your muscles relax again. He still doesn’t let you go as he turns the water off, not even bothering to grab towels and he brings you to his bed. It’s you who refuses to let go now, straddling him as he leans against the headboard. Wandering hands and slow and languid kisses pick up their pace once more. Sensual and soft memorizing touches turning desperate. You need to keep going, to grip the bedsheets and scream each other’s names all night long, to never ever think it was a bad idea to come back to Hawkins ever again.

A silently agreed upon plan to kiss, and kiss some more, and never take the kisses for granted because it’s the end of the world.

It most definitely isn’t over.

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