#I can only watch on Saturdays so I’m always like a week late | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thelostconsultant · 3 months ago

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I will love you 'til the end

pairing: Mark Webber x Piastri!reader

summary: She's been with Mark for years, they're happy, but life can be cruel sometimes...

note: Based on the poll/idea of @theinsanityclause. Sorry for turning it into something bittersweet.

warnings: terminal illness, age gap

She couldn’t really tell when this thing with Mark had begun. Was it back when she started working for Red Bull? Or was it later, when her little brother joined McLaren? It was hard to tell, but honestly, sometimes she couldn’t even care. They were having fun, enjoying those secret meetings on race weekends, and going off the grid during longer breaks if they had the opportunity. Her family suspected that she had someone, but every time they asked, she rolled her eyes and told them she was chronically single.

There was a twenty-year age gap, but who counted? As long as this worked between them, they couldn’t care less about this little detail. Why they decided to hide from the public was the fact he was Oscar’s manager. Things would surely become awkward if he found out. Her mom? She would probably accept it. But her brother? Not so much. Neither of them wanted to destroy their respective relationships with him, so it was better to stay under the radar for now.

“What’s the deal with you and Mark?” Max asked once he plopped down next to her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

With a sigh, she turned to him, doing her best to give him a disapproving look. “I see what you’re doing, and no, you won’t be free of the social team. We spent an entire week trying to come up with concepts you wouldn’t instantly hate, the least you can do is play nice,” she told him sternly.

But he didn’t seem to be bothered by that, he just waved his hand nonchalantly, then leaned a little closer. “I saw the way you were looking at each other. There must be something.”

“He’s my brother’s manager, we’ve known each other for a long time, that’s all. We get along, just as he gets along with everyone from my family,” she explained with a shrug.

But Max wasn’t convinced, he just rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Look, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t look at your family members as if he wanted to devour them on the spot. But when he looks at you? Ooooh, he’s smitten with you.” She hid her face into her hands, letting out a groan as she wondered why the Dutchman had to be so perceptive. “Hey, I’m not telling anyone, I swear.”

She believed him. Sure, Max wasn’t known for being the master of keeping secrets, but as long as no one asked him about her love life, she was safe. And so that’s how he became the only person who knew about the two of them, although they didn’t really talk about it again, but there were teasing looks he shot at her when he saw them talking in the paddock.

On Saturday evening, when she entered her hotel room feeling dead tired, all she wanted was to crawl under the blanket to snuggle up to Mark. They had always gotten key cards to each other’s rooms, so every day they agreed where to meet, and tonight it was her turn to host him for the night. But she was running late, it was way past eleven when she arrived, but he was still up, sitting on the bed as he read something on his phone. The corners of his lips curled into a loving smile when he noticed her, and she didn’t hesitate to kick off her shoes and sit down next to him.

As she placed a kiss on his shoulder, Mark put his phone on the nightstand, then tipped her head back to finally kiss her properly, smiling at the sound of her soft moan as she moved her hand under his shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin under her fingertips. “Long day?” he asked, deliberately planning to make her talk instead of giving her what she’d been craving since their stolen kiss in the paddock earlier that day.

It was frustrating, really, because all she wanted was being tired out in bed so she could sleep well, but now it seemed like she wasn't getting that tonight. “I missed you,” she replied eventually when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

She heard him gulp at this, his breath caught in his throat from the confession. This wasn’t the first time she had said that, and he already told her these words too, but lately it felt different, it was almost painful for him to hear it. It was understandable. With the number of secrets they were keeping growing all the time, it was only a matter of time before he retreated into a shell to protect himself.

“You don't have to say anything, don't feel like I was trying to pressure you,” she said quietly.

But when he looked at her, his hazel eyes taking in every little detail of her face, she understood what this was about, and his next words confirmed her theory. “Every time you say this, it sounds like goodbye. You know how terrified I am of that day,” he told her.

With a sad smile, she moved a little to bury her face into the crook of his neck. “Mark, that day is still far from today. Let's enjoy the time we have, okay? Don't think about this.”

“I'm just not ready to lose you, sweetheart,” he informed her as he pressed a kiss on her head, arms protectively wrapped around her frame.

“Have you showered?” she asked him, a playful gleam in her eyes making it clear that she wanted a little more than just showering together. To her luck, he understood it, so he let her go and moved out of the bed in sync with her. But on the way to the bathroom she intercepted him by putting a hand on his stomach, then reached up to pull down his head for a kiss. “I was beginning to worry you didn’t want me anymore,” she noted as a joke.

Mark’s hand moved from her back to her hips, looking for the hem of her Red Bull shirt to take it off her. A deep growl left his throat when he kissed her again, doing his best to show her just how wrong she was if she assumed he had gotten bored of her. During their years together, sex had never been a problem. In fact, in the beginning that’s what their relationship was based on, emotions only came into the picture after the first half a year or so.

By the time they arrived in Baku two weeks later, things returned to normal, although this was the weekend when they had to be extra careful since her mother was there as well. But it was hard to stay away, especially after the qualifying results and the news of Mark making sure her brother’s contract couldn’t name him the second driver in the team emerging in the media. She was so proud of him for doing everything he could to support Oscar, and in all honesty, she had dozens of ways in her mind to repay for that.

Following that fantastic win on Sunday, the Piastri family had dinner together to celebrate before the team took Oscar away, and of course he invited his manager as well, after all he was like family by now. But their mood was set before they even left her hotel, because Mark could see she wasn’t in the best shape at the moment. She was happy, he could tell, but she said she felt nauseous, which wasn’t ideal before a big family dinner.

This was one of those nights when he had to be extra attentive, making sure she was safe, and he had his doubts about doing this right in front of her family without their secrets being revealed. “Maybe we should cancel,” he noted, his bad feeling making him say it before he could truly think about it. Her brother had just won his second race, this time without team orders casting a shadow on the result, there was no way she would miss this. But he had to try for her sake.

Just as he expected, she shook her head and told him that everything was fine, that she had this under control. She wasn’t convincing at all, but there was nothing he could do apart from being there for her. “You should go first. I’ll probably throw up one last time before heading out,” she told him.

Mark shook his head as he stepped over to her and cupped her face to make her look at him. “You’re not going alone, don’t even think about it. If anyone asks, I was in your hotel to meet someone from Red Bull, and we decided to go together,” he said before giving her a quick kiss. “Or we could just as well say we arrived together because we are dating,” he suggested with a shrug, earning a shocked look from her. “What? Maybe it’s time we tell them the truth. It’s been years, we can’t hide forever. And you know why we should tell them sooner rather than later.”

“Oscar is celebrating today, he’s happy, let’s not ruin this,” she said.

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head a little. “I’m not saying we should make an announcement. I would pick a… more subtle way to let them know. Just dropping hints. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice.”

She leaned forward to bury her face into his chest, arms wrapped around him as she listened to his heartbeat. Maybe he was right. Maybe it truly was time to slowly let this secret come to light. “Okay, you won. Let’s do this your way,” you said with a sigh.

The moment they reached the entrance, Mark reached out to take her hand, lacing their fingers tightly as he navigated through the chatting crowd outside. By the time they were taken to the reserved table, Oscar and their mother were already there, deep in a conversation until they noticed them arriving. Nicole stood up and hugged her daughter as if they hadn’t met a few hours ago, but it was a nice feeling.

But her brother remained seated, his narrowed eyes watching his manager with an inquiring look in them. There was no comment from the older man, so he turned his attention to his sister, who decided to simply ignore him. They started to talk about the race, and it seemed like they would get away with that entrance and the nonchalant touches, but as they were waiting for their desserts, Oscar put up his hand to stop the discussion.

“Okay, what is going on? You arrive together, hand in hand if I’m not mistaken, you are clearly on the same wavelength as you finish each other’s sentences, and don’t even get me started on those meaningful looks you exchange,” he listed.

Their mother’s lips curled into a small smile, causing Oscar to give her a questioning look, as if he was asking why she wasn’t shocked to hear that. “You’re such a smart young man, but you can be so slow sometimes,” was all she said with a laugh before turning to her daughter. “How long has it been going on? I know you were together at the beginning of this year, but… I have a feeling there’s a longer history.”

Mark looked over at his girlfriend, deciding that it would be the best if she handled this conversation for now. It was her family, after all, he didn’t want to get involved unless it became necessary. She seemed taken aback, but after gulping loudly, she nodded. “Yeah, well, it’s been about three years now. Maybe a little more,” she confirmed. “How long have you known? And how did you find out?”

“I’m not stalking you, I promise, but you disappeared in January so I checked your location. Remember? You shared it with me. And I saw you were in Mark’s house for weeks,” she explained.

“I can’t believe it,” Oscar muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you not mad at me?” she asked her mother, once again deciding to ignore her brother.

Nicole shook her head. “No, why would I be? You’re my daughter, if you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“Well, not like you cared to ask, but I am not happy,” Oscar interjected with a disapproving look. “Have you considered what you got yourself into? How much older he is? Don’t get me wrong, Mark, you’re in great shape, but what will happen ten or twenty years from now?”

Her eyes softened as she reached out to take the younger Piastri’s hand. “Look, Osc, I know it’s probably a lot to take in, but I love him.” Oscar pulled his hand away and leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. “And we don’t need to worry about what will happen decades from now. Hell, there’s no need for a five-year plan either.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed her mother’s surprised look that was soon followed by a logical question. “Are you planning to break up?” she wondered out loud.

There was a heavy sigh before she looked over at Mark, trying to gain some strength from him. When he reached out to take her hand, she took a deep breath and began to explain the situation. “No, not exactly. I’m just… lucky if I’ll have another year. I’m already outliving my doctor’s original prognosis.”

Her mother and brother exchanged confused looks, asking her what doctor she was talking about. So she began to tell them everything she’s been hiding for almost a year, the diagnosis of glioblastoma on the weekend of the Las Vegas grand prix and the treatment that began with the new year, all the critical pieces of information they needed to understand the situation. It hit them hard, she could tell, but since they were in public, they both decided to do their best to keep themselves together.

“I didn’t want to ruin your day, I’m so sorry,” she told Oscar in the end.

He only shook his head, his eyes shining from the tears he could barely hold back at this point. “Just promise to come to the party tonight. I–I want to spend time with my sister while I can, okay?” After she nodded, his eyes turned to Mark. “So… she said her treatment started early this year, and mum said she spent weeks with you in January. Did these happen at the same time?”

“I was by her side the whole time, don’t worry. It was tough, but we got through it,” he assured his protégé.

“But you came to that thing with me, and it took almost a week. Did you leave her alone?”

Shaking his head, Mark let out a quiet laugh. “Well, no, Max was there to entertain her.”

Oscar looked at his sister. “So you told Max, but not us?” he asked incredulously.

She tilted her head to the side as she gave him a look of disappointment. “Trust me, that wasn’t entirely my decision. He was the one who took me to the hospital in Vegas. He didn’t leave my side until we found out what was wrong with me.”

“I’m your brother, you should have asked me to take you.”

Nicole put a hand on his shoulder, probably understanding that it hadn’t been the kind of situation when she could be picky about the driver. “Let’s just be happy she had people looking out for her. And now she has us too,” she said, flashing a warm smile at her daughter.

At the party, Oscar decided not to leave his sister’s side. He even took the time to go out and get some fresh air with her, using this opportunity to talk. He wanted to know why she made her decisions, why she decided to hide her relationship with Mark, why she came to the conclusion that not telling them about her illness was a good idea. This was the first time in a while when they had such an honest conversation. She told him that she didn’t want his focus to shift from racing, and that she believed their mother knowing would have resulted in him finding out as well. In return he admitted that she still wasn’t fully okay with her dating his manager, but he promised to try and be understanding.

They agreed to have a dedicated night on every race weekend when they would just hang out in his room, playing stupid games, eating a lot, and watching TV until they passed out. Oscar would have never admitted it, but ever since he was old enough to remember, he had been clinging to his sister, always begging her to read one more article from his favorite magazine, or to play one more hour with him, or to come see him race to bring him good luck. And she was always there, always supporting and protecting him, even when some stupid kids used his kindness against him.

Long hours later, around three in the morning, she stumbled into Mark’s hotel room, not drunk, just tired, and she was surprised to see him awake at this time. When she sat on the edge of the bed next to him, he was quick to wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss on her lips as a welcome. After everything that had happened earlier in the day, she couldn’t fight back her tears anymore, so she buried her face into his shoulder and started sobbing. He tried to soothe her, but it took quite a long time for her to calm down.

When she finally stopped crying, he lied down and pulled her down with him, his arms still safely around her as she moved closer to him. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered to her, happy to hear her breathing slow down, giving away that she finally fell asleep. It didn’t take him long to drift off to sleep himself, moving on to a dream where everything was okay, where he didn’t have to face the harsh reality of losing her one day.

#mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber #oscar piastri #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen

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mc-i-r · 1 year ago

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Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fillet #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #things get better for Steve i promise #hes just having his angsty time right now #robins part is next tho so stay tuned for that #disposable heroes

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probably-writing-x · 6 months ago

Text

All The Firsts (Part 2)

Summary: So, could you write something about the reader being in her first relationship with spider (hbh) and her being worried about how she’s new at this?

Warnings: Mentions of sex / sexual acts, cursing, hints at anxiety / overthinking, Missy being a villain (I’m so sorry it just fits the story okay?)

Word Count: 5.8k

Author’s Note: Thank you for the love on part one!! Part three is already in the works if y’all want it??

You’d spent the whole weekend with Spencer after that. You cooked dinner together on Saturday night and bickered over when the pasta was done cooking. You watched his favourite movie and then made him watch yours. And on Sunday, you went to watch the sunrise over the water and then spent the rest of the day cuddled in bed. Spencer kissed you at every opportunity, like he was reminding you more and more that this was real. You still got nervous at the contact, still weren’t exactly sure if you were doing it right or if it felt as good for him as it did for you. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“I should really go back to mine,” You mumble, laying between his legs with your back pressed against his chest as he played video games.

He was propped up against the headboard, pausing the game when you speak.

“A few more hours won’t hurt,” He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Yes, it will,” You laugh, “I’ve still not done my homework for tomorrow, and I need to be home at least some point this weekend.”

He grumbles and tightens his grip around you, “Homework can wait.”

You hum, tilting your head to peck his lips quickly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He groans, kissing you once more before releasing his grip on you.

Spencer gets up and walks you down the stairs, even standing at the door to watch you walk the few steps over to your house. He only closes the door when he sees you go inside.

If you thought about it briefly, this entire weekend felt like a fever dream. How had you gone from Friday to now? On Friday, you’d been preparing for your first date, with a guy you’d known for a week, your first experience of anything like this. And in the past two days, Spencer had shown you so much of what you felt like you’d been missing. Kissing you, holding you, making you feel like you were worthy of every piece of affection. Your heart seemed to backflip at the thought, the idea that this was reality.

“There she is!” It’s your Mum who speaks up as soon as you enter the house, “I’d have started to get worried if you were any further away than next door.”

You laugh, “Yeah, sorry, I thought I should come home at least once before the weekend’s over.”

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re young, you’re supposed to be out all the time,” She chuckles, “This is what we’re meant to be putting up with as parents.”

You’d always been close with your parents, mainly because they never had much to worry about. You got good grades, you were always home on time, you helped out around the house, you were never one to be out late partying or off somewhere they didn’t know. You were too much of a golden girl to be a worry for them. If anything, your Mum was a little relieved to see you doing something at least slightly out of character.

“So, Spencer?” She raises her brows at you, “Little Spec that you used to have sleepovers with, Spec that drives you to school every day. When did this happen?”

“Um,” You clear your throat, scratching at the back of your neck, “I don’t know, it’s new. I actually don’t know wh- I don’t know.”

“Oh I don’t understand you young kids these days,” She shakes her head, “Are you dating are you not dating? I’ll never understand it.”

“I should go and do my work before tomorrow,” You excuse yourself, making your way upstairs to your own room.

The curtains are open and so are Spencer’s across the way. He’s sat back on his bed still playing the same game he’d been playing before you left, fully engrossed in the screen.

Do your work!!

You send the text and set your phone down onto your desk, glancing through the window once more to see him smile down at the words on his screen. He looks up to you through the window then and his lips curl into an even brighter smile. You feel your heart flip once more.

———

The following morning, Spencer is waiting in the car like he always is for you. You hurry down and get into the passenger seat, dropping your bag onto the back seats,

“Good morning, doll,” He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to kiss you quickly, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready,” You nod, plugging your phone into the aux.

You’d done this same journey a million times with Spencer. And yet something felt so different about being sat next to him now. He wasn’t just the boy you’d grown up with now, he was your first kiss, your first date, the first time you’d stayed over at a guys house, the first boy you were talking to your Mum about. He was filling in so many firsts.

In that moment, however, you have the realisation that none of those were yet to be firsts for him. He’d had plenty of kisses in his time, had more than enough dates, had a number of girls stay over at his house, his Mum had even met Missy. He’d done all of those things before he’d done them with you. And that was okay. You couldn’t exactly be annoyed at him for experiencing those things before you. What mattered that it was you now. Right? But what if those other girls had been better than you? What if they’d kissed better or been prettier or been more confident or…

“Where’s that head gone?” Spencer speaks over your overthinking, “Because if you’re about to start talking to me about your math homework I’m pulling the car over.”

“No, no, I’m just-“ You half-laugh, looking over to him, “Nothing.”

He smiles, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he moves his hand from the gearstick to instead rest on your thigh, his thumb smoothing over the bare skin below the cut-off of your shorts.

Your skin tingles beneath his touch, seemingly another first for you. But how many girls had sat in this seat? How many girls had he made that same move with? You swallow the lump in your throat and try to ignore it.

———

Spencer parks up in his usual spot and you both get out of the car, him handing you your bag as you do.

“Okay, I’ll see you at the end of the day,” You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” He laughs, reaching for your hand and interlocking your fingers, “Come on, come say hi to the guys, at least stay with us until first period.”

“I-“ You frown, “I never see you much in school.”

He laughs again, turning around to face you, “Got somewhere better to be, (Y/l/n)?”

“I- no,” You smile, following alongside him as he walks you over to the wall where a group of the boys were sat.

You didn’t recognise any of them, apart from Ant. The only other two you’d known were Dusty and Malakai but both of them had left now. Ant is sat with another girl, Harper, and she smiles when she sees you.

“Morning boys,” Spider says, “You all know (Y/n), right?”

“Yeah how’s it going (Y/n)? You’re never with us in the morning,” Ant points out, smiling so you knew he didn’t mean it rudely.

“Yeah Ant’s brain will probably combust if he’s with more than one girl at once, right buddy?” Spencer hits his leg and takes a seat on the wall opposite them.

This spot used to be an old bike park but too many kids got their wheels slashed so Woodsy gave up on the idea of having one. Now, it was just three walls all perpendicular to each other, with the remains of metal railings in the centre. You hop up onto the spot beside Spencer and he leans one of his arms around the back of you - not necessarily around you, just resting there as if he wanted to reassure you.

“How come you weren’t out on Friday Spider?” One of the guys asks him.

“I…” Spider glances at you and then back to the group, “Something came up.”

Harper looks at you across the way and smiles. She must be able to tell you’re nervous. You’re not sure if you should speak or let the others do the talking. Should you be making it more obvious that something was going on with Spencer? Were they all going to question him on it as soon as you left?

“Well, you should’ve been there.”

“Yeah, man, you missed a good party.”

They all go into explaining something that had happened at the party and you try to pick up on names you might recognise. Someone mentions Missy and you feel your chest tighten, a strange reaction, you think.

“Hey (Y/n), I think we have first period together,” Harper mentions, “Maths right? Do you want to walk over?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” You nod, reaching for your bag.

You hop down from the wall and watch as Harper turns to kiss Ant before she leaves. Oh god. Should you do the same to Spencer. You turn around and look at him and he smiles.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” You nod, “See you.”

He didn’t make a move to kiss you. But, then again, neither did you. Maybe you should have done. Will his friends think you were weird if you didn’t?

“Sorry, thought you might just want to get away from that boy talk for a while,” Harper leans in to say to you quietly as you’re both walking away, “You and Spencer are a thing then?”

“Oh, um,” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess so, it’s new so I don’t know.”

“You guys have been friends for like ever though right?” She points out, “He mentions you all the time.”

“He does?”

“Oh yeah,” Harper laughs, “Ant was telling me the other week the boys ask for lifts off Spider all the time and he always refuses. They call you his ‘golden girl’. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to make a move.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, suppressing a smile that you’d save for when you mentioned this to Spider later, “Yeah, I didn’t think anything would ever happen with us. But I’m glad it has.”

You walk through to class with her and go to sit with your friends on the table near the front. They ask you about your weekend and oddly enough you can’t bring yourself to mention anything about Spencer. What would you say? You knew a few of them silently judged him and that entire group for everything. They were so different to you guys. They were loud and outgoing and disruptive. And you guys got your work in on time and spoke about plans for after school or what the latest book you were reading was. They were… just different. And so you liked the idea of keeping the two things separate for a while. At least whilst you were still figuring out what exactly was going on with you and Spencer. You didn’t want to ask for fear of the answer not being what you desired.

———

By the middle of the day, you’re leaving your class for lunch. Your few friends walk out with you and go to turn down the corridor towards your lockers but, as you step out of the room, you’re stopped by someone else.

“Last out of class, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Spencer comments as his hand stops your wrist in motion, “Ready to go to lunch?”

The girls turn around and look at you with a frown, looking between you and him and then down to where his hand still held you.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” You smile to them, turning around to Spencer before you can catch sight of their disapproving faces.

“I don’t think you’ve ever introduced me to your friends,” Spencer points out, “Do they know about me?”

“Everyone knows about you,” You laugh, “You’re not exactly known for being incognito around school. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hit one of them with a cake once when you started that food fight after the elections.”

He grimaces, “Yeah, might have to apologise for that one if I want to get in their good books.”

You like the idea of him wanting to impress your friends, the idea that he’d want them to like him. It makes you feel like there is some sort of permanence to this. Some sort of longevity that stretched beyond one perfect weekend.

“Here, you can put your stuff in my locker,” He mentions, taking your books from your arms, “I won’t let you forget it.”

Spencer closes the locker and then continues his walk beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often until his fingers lace with your own. Every little contact from him seemed like a gentle reminder that you really weren’t dreaming this. This was really happening.

You both wait in line to get your food and he places a hand on your back to let you go ahead of him. You still tingle under the touch. He asks you how your days been and tells you he’s thought of another film you need to watch. You ask him if he listened to the song you’d sent him last night and he said he’d already added it to his playlist.

He points out a table over in the corner and the two of you go over, sitting opposite each other.

“So this is technically our first meal out together,” You point out, pushing the rice around your plate, “You’re practically taking me out for dinner.”

“I always thought it would be more romantic than this,” Spider laughs, his leg brushing yours under the table.

“So you’ve thought about it.”

“Well I mean I-“

“There you are!”

Within moments, you’re interrupted by Spider’s friends clambering around the table. Ant sits down next to you and smiles, throwing down a wrapped sandwich and a bag of chips and a can of soda.

“Don’t mind if we join you, do you?” One of the boys sits beside Spider and nudges his arm.

“Um,” Spencer clears his throat, “Course not.”

He looks over to you but you’re already distracted by the chorus of conversation that starts up beside you.

Was this normal? The new normal? If you wanted to see Spencer did you have to spend all this time with his friends too? They seemed okay. But they were talking about a game you didn’t know, and another one of them brought up a school trip that was happening tomorrow. They all seem to speak over each other and yet all manage to understand. You eat your food, not really adding much to the conversation but smiling and nodding so that you at least looked like you were engaged. You wanted to be back with your friends in that moment - they’d be talking to you about a new film that they wanted to see, or a new album that was coming out and you’d agree and have something to actually input into the conversation. You could actually be part of the chorus. But right now you felt like a bystander.

———

Spencer drives you home, of course, and this time he comes round to your house instead of you parting ways at the car.

“I’m back Mum!” You call out as you step inside, tossing your keys into the bowl near the front door.

“Oh hello darling!” She beams when she sees you, “And Spencer! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were making burgers, I’m just here for the burgers,” He grins, “It’s good to see you.”

“Im sure you get taller every time I see you, and you’re only over the way,” She smiles up at him, “Well you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, as long as you help me open the pickles. I was going to wait for Dad to get home but now you’re here you can try.”

“Of course,” Spencer smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I knew it would happen eventually,” Your Mum turns to you with a smile on her face, one that reminded you of your own, “I knew it!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh stop it Mum. It’s still new, we’re just… seeing how it goes.”

“Got them!” Spencer steps back out into the hallway, “I left the jar on the counter.”

“Oh thank you darling,” Your Mum smiles, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

“Should we…?” Spencer looks at you.

“Yeah let’s go,” You go up the stairs and he follows behind you up into your bedroom.

It was a bedroom of magnolia walls, one of which was covered in displayed vinyl covers, a vinyl player on a table in the corner beside your desk. Your bed was against the same wall as the window and Spencer sits down onto the edge of it as you set your bag down and check your appearance in the mirror above your vanity.

“It feels weird to do the whole ‘meeting the parents thing’ when I already know her,” Spencer mentions, flicking through the pages of the book you’d left on your bed, “Less nerve wracking.”

“Is it normally worse than that?” You ask, “Because that still seemed pretty uncomfortable."

"What do you mean? She loves me!"

"I dont know I just-" You shake your head, "I don't know what to say when people ask me about us. Harper asked about it earlier and I just don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Well, there’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” He shrugs, “It’s up to you.”

“I think it’s up to you too,” You point out, stepping towards him.

When you’re close enough, he reaches his hands out to draw you in between his legs, looking up at you as you stand there, “Just tell them we’re seeing each other. That’s enough to shut them up.”

“Are we? I mean… are we seeing each other?” Your cheeks are heating up again.

Spencer squints at you, “Yeah I think I can see you.”

You hit at his chest, “You know what I mean.”

He hums and moves his hands around to the back of your thighs, guiding you onto his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his, “Yeah, I think we are,” He mumbles close to your lips, planting a kiss there.

You smile against his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck. He holds his hands on your waist, deepening the kiss. You still weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, but you let him take the lead. You just let instinct take over. Spencer moves one hand to your back as if he wants to draw you impossibly closer to him. He smiles against your lips and shifts just enough to lift you up, guiding you down onto the mattress. Your head drops down to the pillow, hair splaying behind you. He’s hovering over you, hand gripping your hip as yours grip his shoulders, him dipping down to kiss you again. There’s contact and friction and the unfamiliar feeling of his weight on top of you. And something in your brain seems to ignite in that moment.

“Spencer,” You whisper, feeling your heartbeat pound against your chest, averting your eyes away from his gaze, “I don’t want to- I don’t-“

He stops in his movements, his hand still on your waist, looking down at you until your eyes meet his, “(Y/n), I didn’t- you know that’s okay, right?”

He shifts his weight until he drops down to the mattress beside you, leaning up onto his elbow so that he doesn’t lose your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” He assures you, “I’m not in any rush.”

You look at him for a second and take a deep breath, “But I know you’ve… you know, you’ve done all of that before. Isn’t it weird for you if I don’t want to do any of that yet?”

He shakes his head instantly, “Absolutely not.”

There’s a tightness in your chest and for some reason, the longer he looks at you the more you feel like you’re going to cry under his focus. You can feel your bottom lip threatening to tremble.

“(Y/n) you’ve not done this before. You’re not supposed to know what to do or how to act or what to say - it’s okay to figure all of that out. I just want you to feel like you can tell me when things aren’t what you want, okay?” He holds your hand in his, “And if you ever feel like you can’t tell me, that’s when we’ve got a problem we need to fix.”

You smile and nod at him, not sure of any words that fit the moment, not sure of any words that you could get out without your voice breaking.

“Okay, can I kiss you now?” He smiles at you, leaning in and pausing just inches from your lips.

When you nod, he kisses you softly with a smile on his face. You feel your heart skip the same way it had done after your first kiss.

———

Your Mum was surprisingly relaxed about you and Spencer being together. She didn’t even think twice about saying he should stay the night. Maybe she was just happy to see you happy. Or maybe her old dreams for you were finally becoming a reality and she just wanted to hold onto it. You eat dinner with your parents and then watch a film with them downstairs before Spencer’s eyes start to slowly lose their energy and you tell your parents you should probably go to bed. He used a spare toothbrush and waited for you in the bathroom whilst you got unready, he sat on the toilet and read the ingredients of your skincare - stumbling over the complex spellings. He followed you out and back into your bedroom, closing the door behind him gently.

“Okay, full transparency, I normally sleep naked,” He raises his hands as if he’s surrendering the information.

You laugh, “Well, thanks for telling me.”

“But I can sacrifice that freedom for tonight and at least wear boxers,” He nods, pulling off his t-shirt and hanging it over your desk chair.

He’s toned and his muscles seem even more so defined in the dim light. His shoulders are broad and seem to contort so intensely that it makes the soft features of his face look almost misplaced on him.

“Are you staring at me, (Y/n)?” He grins, stepping towards you.

“Just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Looking.”

“Looking?” He cocks a brow, wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as you’re within reach.

He buries his face into your neck, planting a soft kiss into the crook before tightening his arms and lifting you from the ground. You let out an involuntary squeal and wrap your arms around him as he carries you over to the bed, planting you down on the side closest to the wall before dropping down onto the mattress beside you. His arm is already outstretched, waiting for you to tuck in against his chest. You lay there and feel his heart under your head, swirling patterns with the tip of your finger around the bare skin of his torso.

“So I wanted to ask you something,” You take a breath, “How does this all work now? Like… if we’re… whatever we are… how does it work at school?”

“Do you mean with lunch? I’m sorry they all came over and sat with us, it’s just a force of habit and they probably didn’t think anything of it but-“

“No, it’s okay,” You say softly, looking down at a crease in the sheets on your bed, “I just mean in general - lunch, classes, before school - if we’re… i mean, should i be with you the whole time?”

“Do you not want to be?” He chuckles, “Because if I’m keeping you from-“

You lean up onto your elbow and roll your eyes, “That’s not what I meant!”

He laughs again, brushing your hair back over your shoulder, “There’s no rule book, (Y/n). I want to see you as much as I can but that doesn’t mean you should be worried about having to spend all this time with my friends too.”

“I know but like… Harper’s with you guys,” You shrug, your index finger drawing circles on his chest, “Would they think it’s weird if I’m not with you?”

He leans up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, dropping back down onto the pillow before he says, “They can think whatever they want.”

He tightens his arm around you and pulls you back into him, wrapping both of his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

“We should get some sleep,” You mumble into him, arm draped over his torso.

It was strange to you how quickly you settled into contact with Spencer. You’d never done anything like this. And yet when he held you, when he touched you, it felt like it was just natural. It wasn’t as scary as you thought it would all be. Sure, some parts of it still were. But you weren’t as scared as before.

———

The following morning, Spencer leaves early to go and pack a bag. There was a school trip this week - in these cabins in the woods, surrounding a vast lake. All of your year group were going and more often than not it was an opportunity to hide drink and add to the complex web of gossip that already existed. You were almost packed anyway, putting the last couple of bits in, a book for when you got bored, a notebook and a few pens, an extra outfit just in case.

He texts you to make sure he’s not forgetting anything and then you go downstairs to meet him. He drives with his hand on your leg, singing along to the throwback playlist you’d queued. He pulls into his parking space and the bus is already waiting as students file on. His friends are still hanging around outside, yelling at him to come over when they see him get out of the car.

“I think I’m going to meet my friends on the bus,” You mention as you’re walking over, feeling a little nervousness in your voice, “Is that okay?”

Spencer looks at you and smiles, “Of course it is.”

He glances at his friends momentarily and then leans in to kiss you softly - it was quick but he didn’t rush, squeezing your hand before he heads over towards the boys. One of them swings his arm over Spencer’s shoulders, saying something incoherent before glancing over at you and grinning. You make your way onto the bus and go to sit in the few seats your friends were already occupying. They ask you if the Spencer White had seriously just kissed you outside and then complain at you for not telling them sooner. They weren’t as judgy as you’d expected. More surprised. They want to know how it happened, when it happened, was he a good kisser?

Spencer and his friends all pile into the bus and stumble over each other to get to their seats. They’re loud and take up space and your friends seem to exchange a glance between each other that they’re almost hiding from you. Like they want to complain but figure you’re not the one to complain to.

Spencer sits in the seat behind you and your friend, Ant sitting in one of the seats opposite as the other boys fill in the space. Missy and Sasha walk on, taking the row behind Spencer. You realise this is the first time you’d properly seen her since you and Spencer had got together. You hadn’t thought about it enough, clearly. But when you see her sit down you feel your stomach turn a little. She’d done all of this before. With Spider. Had he done all of the same things with her? Had he taken her to the same spot to swim? Had he fallen asleep watching a film with her? Had he kissed her the same way? She might’ve been better than you were, too. She was more experienced. She knew more of what to do, probably more confident in doing it too.

“So, our boy Spider’s in for a fun trip,” Ant wiggles his brows at his friend, “Should we be expecting a pregnancy by the end of the week?”

“Fuck off Ant,” Spencer returns quickly, and it’s as if you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Come on, I’d be a good uncle!” Ant defends.

You glance over your shoulder and see Spencer laughing at him, a bright smile on his face. He turns over to you and rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering. You feel the heat in your cheeks again.

“Spider with a kid?” Missy laughs outwardly, “He’d give up after a few months, might not even make it to the birth.”

“Yeah I think Spider could be used as an example of why contraception is a good thing,” Sasha adds.

You turn around a little, like you want to tune into the conversation. They thought so little of him.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon, our boy’s married off now,” Ant raises his hands and he looks at you with a smile like he is reminding you he means well.

Harper hits at his arm as she sits down as if hoping it would take back what he just said. She looks at you and shakes her head.

“Married off? To who?” Missy persists.

“(Y/n).”

One of the boys says it but you don’t know which one. You feel your stomach churn again and that strange sort of numbness in your body where you wish you could just disappear into the seat beneath you. You didn’t like being the centre of attention like this. And it seemed to be a new common occurrence now that you were with Spencer.

“(Y/n)?” Missy doesn’t laugh but she might as well do, like it’s the most surprising news she’s heard, “You must be joking.”

Nobody says anything at first. And you feel the urge to get up and pretend this had nothing to do with you. You could just go back to being invisible, to existing away from the conversations of these people. To no longer be a topic of their discussion.

“Why would that be a joke?”

Even when you say the words you’re convinced they haven’t come from you. Surely not. You wouldn’t say anything. You would just sit there and not say anything. But you had done. And now even more eyes seemed to be on you.

You turn around and Missy is looking at you directly. Her arms are folded, her head cocked to the side, her eyebrows raised just slightly as if she’s analysing you.

“You’re smart, right?” She shrugs, “Shouldn’t take you long to figure it out.”

You don’t say anything more, turning back to the front of the bus. Your friends look at you but dont say anything and you feel Spencer move behind you as if he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. He sinks back into this seat and the boys carry on a conversation like nothing has happened.

———

You’re in assigned rooms for the trip. And it’s just your luck, isn’t it? You, Harper, Amerie and Missy.

“Well, this looks cosy,” Amerie says as the four of you step into the room.

It’s a typical cabin bedroom, walls of wooden slats and a roof just the same. A wooden floor decorated with an aged carpet rug that was fraying at either end. There’s a window on the far side, a single pane that looks like it could be made of plastic. It looks out over to the water, seemingly a redeemable feature of the setting. There are two bunk beds, one either side of the room, either side of the window. The mattresses are thin, the pillows even thinner, blankets folded in a square on the ends of the bed beside a rolled up towel.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Missy grumbles, dropping her bag down onto one of the bed, “This can’t get any worse.”

“Yeah, it can’t,” You mumble, sitting down on the opposite mattress.

Missy looks over at you as she sits down, taking a deep breath.

“Missy, don’t start something,” Harper says quickly, glancing at you with a sympathetic furrow between her brows.

“I just-“ Missy raises her hands as if gesturing that she came in peace, “I want to know what Spider’s told you. I mean, I dated that guy. I know what he’s like. What’s changed that he’s suddenly got to you?”

“Got to me?” You frown, “What do you mean?”

“He spoke about you a lot and when i asked him about it he said you two were just friends or whatever,” She shrugs, “Like, he told you he could never imagine seeing you like that.”

“Missy,” Harper’s voice is more of a warning tone now, like she can see exactly where this is going and what’s to end up ahead of it.

“Im just saying, he used to tell me he felt sorry for you - so is that what this is? This is just him feeling really, really sorry for you?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you can’t figure out the right way to respond. What could you say? What did she want you to say?

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door. Amerie goes over to open it, mumbling something about it being a relief that something would break the tension.

“Fucking terrible timing Spider,” She winces, stepping aside at the doorway as if opening up the room.

You look over and he’s stood there. His hair is flopping on either side of his forehead, the smile on his face faltering at the sight. You and Missy sat opposite each other, your mouth empty of any words and your eyes brimming just enough with tears that hadn’t fallen. That lump still in your throat making it feel like it was impossible to breathe.

“(Y/n)?” He frowns, glancing between the girls as if he’s hoping at least one of them will give him an answer, “What’s happened?”

#heartbreak high #spencer white #heartbreak high spider #heartbreak high imagine #heartbreak high one shot #heartbreak high drabble #heartbreak high blurb #heartbreak high fic #spencer white x reader #spencer white x you #spencer white x y/n #spencer white fic #spencer white imagine #spencer white drabble #spencer white blurb #spider x reader #spider x you #spider x y/n

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multifariousqueer · 2 years ago

Note

im starving for 42 miles and i agree w ur hcs so can u pls write a fem reader fic where we’re chilling at home n he js barges in one night all roughed up n he has heaps of cuts n is bloody- and we get concerned but we know not to ask so we js silently patch him up while he stares at us (and hes got like sm thoughts in his head ab how much he loves us and appreciates us etc) and u can finish it off BUT YEAH

also pls include the pet names cos his accent has me WEAKKK and ik he def calls us ma and mami😩😩😩

Ofc Love!!! I’ve wanted to get this done for a bit now so here it is!!:

A/n: keep requesting miles!42 and regular miles fics please!! 🩷

Warnings: suggestiveness at the end, make out sessions, angst, fluff, groping(it’s consensual and it’s only seen when you squint), love confessions, possible spoilers if you haven’t seen atsv yet

3:00 AM

You: miles, baby are you okay?

Seen

You: are you mad at me for the joke I made about your braids being fluffy?

Seen

You: I didn’t mean it

You: text me when you can. Love you 🩷🩷

Seen

You fell asleep exasperated like you’ve been doing for the last three weeks now. Miles hasn’t been answering any of your texts or calls and has been leaving you on seen for no reason. When you did see him in person, he looked tired and diminished. Ever since his dad died, he’s been acting weird like this; but you could understand why. Although him and Uncle Aaron were closer, Miles was still really close to his dad and his dad loved you. You came over Rio and Miles’ house every day since then and tried to provide solace to them but Miles was always gone when you came over. His room looked different too, having ditched the bright superhero posters and traded them in for boxing gloves and a punching bag. Thankfully, you had established trust with Miles and he knew he could come to you any time, you just didn’t expect him to come through your window at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

It was about 3:15 when he saw your message, he wondered why you were still up and what were you doing but he couldn’t ponder the question for too long because he had someone chained up to his punching bag.

“Miles? Get off your phone, man.”- Uncle Aaron’s voice brought Miles back to reality

Miles did as told and geared up to kill the young boy who looked exactly like himself when all of a sudden, the chains fell and the doppelgänger swung at Miles’ perfectly structured face. A few of the punches connected but he was still able to subdue the mirrored image of himself(if everything went right).

However, Miles’ suit had been clobbered, his clothes covered in blood from a broken nose and blood from the fight. Even though he won, he couldn’t go back to his house because his mom would admonish him for this and Uncle Aaron was keeping watch so he went to your house.

You heard faint tapping on the window that you had assumed it was a bird, until the tapping became a loud knocking. You scurried up grabbing the nearest thing that looked like a weapon and went to the window. You found a battered Miles and knew something was wrong:

“Miles?”-you whisper shouted

“Ola mi amor” he said, trying to be suave but flinching in pain

You opened the window and let him in. You knew he was rough and bloodied up for a reason but it was late(or early depending on how you look at it) and you knew he wouldn’t tell you why; a small part of you also knew but chose not to acknowledge it. You just silently grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up as best as you could. You noticed he had a broken nose:

“Rough night?” You Said, trying to ease the tension

Miles didn’t reply, rather he looked at you through bruised eyes and simply nodded.

“Your nose is broken. You should probably go the the hospital for that” you said, nonchalantly

“Can’t you fix it?” He mumbled

“not easily” you mumbled, mocking his tone

He gave you an annoyed glare before saying:

“I’m sorry to come in late like this. And I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, Mami; it’s a lot going on that you wouldn’t understand and I’m trying to protect you.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to call or text” you said while closing the first-aid kit.

“I knew you would’ve worried about me and I didn’t want that” he said, hanging his head

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s my job to worry about you” you chuckled

It was like a Disney movie, Miles realized that if no one else would, you would hold it down for him and that you were gonna be there through thick and thin. He knew he loved you but this solidified it in his mind; he knew that if he survived long enough, you were gonna be his wife. It would be you waking him up everyday, it would be you kissing him goodnight and good morning, it would be you carrying and having his babies. Some days, he would wake up and wonder how he got so lucky with someone like you but he never thought too much into it because he knew he would find a way to sabotage it for himself but now, he didn’t care:

“I love you, Y/n” he said

“I love you too, Miles” you replied softly

“No. I mean like I love you so much that I can’t stand it, I wanna marry you, Y/n and be with you for life. If no one else has me, I know you do and I can’t even imagine myself without you.” Miles said

You started to tear up before crashing your lips onto his. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he grabbed your hips with one hand, and cupped your face in the other. You stayed this way for a while until Miles slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance against your tongue which he emerged victorious. He started moving his other hand to your ass as you moved yours to his chest when suddenly, you hear your parent call out:

“Y/n!!!”

“Yeah” you replied nervously, Miles leaving a trail of kisses down your neck

“Breakfast is ready” they shouted

You looked at your phone as Miles rubbed your back and saw it was 8:00 already.

“Shit” You Said under your breath, partly because of how Miles was making you feel

“Go Mamà, we’ll finish this later” he said against his neck

“Okay I love you, call me this time” you smiled

“Por supesto, Mami” he replied

You went down for breakfast and sat in your normal spot:

“Y/n?” Your parent said

“Yeah?” You replied

“What’s that on your neck?” They smirked

Damn it Miles

Translations

Por supesto- of course

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #miles!prowler #miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles!spiderman #earth42!miles #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider verse #marvel #foryou

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flemingsfreckles · 6 months ago

Text

Replacement Part 4

Read the rest of the series here

Warnings: cursing, injury to reader, mentions of blood, needles, stitches

WC: 3.4k

A/N: hello 👋

It was well after training had ended and you still found yourself standing on the pitch, drenched in sweat. Twice you had missed an opportunity to score on Saturday so here you were, for the third time this week, staying late practicing the shot over and over. You wanted to perfect it before your game in two days.

So here you were, practicing, making sure you wouldn’t mess up again, you had to prove yourself instead of looking foolish missing twice only for Jessie to come in at the half for you and make a similar shot with ease.

“You’re turning off the ball too quickly.” A voice you didn’t want to hear spoke from behind you. You could already feel your frustration beginning to build. Clenching your fists you take a deep breath trying to focus on the ball in front of you. You take another shot, watching as it tails away again. You turn and give Jessie a sharp look, hoping she’ll get the hint to leave. Instead she continues to speak to you. “I know because I used to do the same thing.”

“I really don't want your help Fleming, I can figure this out on my own.” She doesn’t see the way you roll your eyes at her when you turn back to face the goal.

“I’m just offering. I know we’re not friends and whatever you said, but you do realize we're on the same team right?” You take a deep breath, trying to block out the Canadian behind you. You take another shot, this one misses high, knowing Jessie is standing behind you watching has you a mess.

When you turn to grab another ball you acknowledge Jessie again. “Yeah I know we’re on the same team, thanks, I’m not stupid. It just doesn’t always feel like that when it seems like all I do with you is fight for playing time, which is your fault because you decided to come here.”

You notice you must’ve struck a cord within Jessie, her typical calm demeanor shifting, she looked upset, not sad, but angry. “Look I didn’t join this team with the sole intention of taking someone’s spot!” She throws her hands out.

“Then why’d you come here? You came for playing time, you came to be a starter right? You saw Portland had a weak link in the midfield and you saw your opportunity.”

“Is that why you hate me so much? You think I came here to take your spot?” Jessie’s tone shifts from anger to one of hurt.

Her words cut deep. The sadness in her eyes obvious.

“I don’t hate you.” You didn’t, you didn’t like the girl but the more and more time you spent around her, you hated her less and less. On the pitch you couldn’t stand her but in the locker room and at team dinners, she wasn’t the girl you hated. She made you laugh, she made you smile, and she gave you that stupid warm feeling.

“It sure feels like you do. All I’ve wanted was to get to know you! Since day one you’ve ignored me, you don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe that you just forgot to respond to my texts that first day. You don’t think I notice how short you are with me? And then I see you off with anyone else on this team and you’re completely different. All I want is to get to know you, and you won’t let me!” Jessie’s waving her hands around as she speaks to you.

“Janine spoke so highly of you on and off the pitch, I was so excited to come meet you and get to play with you and then I get here and you’re not at all like she said. She was so excited for us to meet, I think she thought we’d get on really well together. Even she’s noticed your behavior, she knows this isn’t how you usually are. I’m sorry that you maybe felt threatened with my move here, I promise it had nothing to do with you. I would never intentionally go to a team to take someone’s spot. I wanted more playing time, but I never had a negative motive against you or anyone on this team. I wouldn’t be offering advice if I wanted your spot!”

You hear her, she’s only explaining herself. She was right, it wasn’t fair for you to act how you did, but I you felt threatened and still did by the girl. “Whatever, I don’t need your help.”

Jessie provides her insight anyway, pushing your emotions to a greater level. “Just keep your momentum forward for maybe half a second longer, you’re pulling off.”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, I’m trying to help you! I’ve been through this, Sinc walked me through the problem, let me help you and you’ll make those shots next time.”

“I already said I didn’t want the help!” You turn screaming at Jessie. Your anger towards the girl finally breaking through. You couldn’t stand her being here acting like she knew all the answers. Jessie stares at you, dumbfounded at the way you had just yelled at her. You both just look at each other. You were a little shocked by your own actions, you rarely even raised your voice at anyone, let alone screamed at them.

The longer you look at her the more the guilt begins to set in. You had been nothing but an asshole to her since she arrived. Here she was, trying to help you, being nothing but nice to you, day after day as you continued to be terrible.

“Sorry.” You whisper, looking at the ground.

“Just try it.” She gives you a sad smile before turning and walking away, her head down.

When Jessie finally leaves, you placed the ball back down. You thought about her words, you didn’t want her to be right but she probably was. You hated that she was going to be right, you’d just wait an extra half of a second, the ball would go in. You look at the ball in front of you then at the goal then back at the ball. You couldn’t let her be right. So you didn’t, you walked up, grabbed the ball and headed toward the locker room.

You never gave yourself a chance to find out if Jessie was right about your shot. The next day you decided to have some grace with yourself, going home once training was over and before you knew it you found yourself parking your car at the stadium to start your pre-match work.

Much to your surprise, when you walked into the locker room for Sunday’s game, you found your name on the starting lineup. Adding to your surprise, two names below your own, Jessie’s was listed.

“Oh that’s different.” Sam’s voice comes from behind you, seeing the three of your names listed as the starting midfield. “Are you going to be able to handle that?”

“Handle what?” Jessie’s voice joins in behind you. “Oh, well that’s new.” She says as she also notices the changes in lineup. The three of you had practiced in this formation a few times, but it definitely wasn’t the formation you had expected for game day.

“Oh just, her not being center mid anymore, being more on the wing, just sort of newer stuff, I mean it’s new for all of us.” You knew that Sam was lying, she meant to be asking if you could handle being with Jessie.

“She’ll be fine. She’s smart.” Jessie says and you feel a hand pat you on the back, you’re not sure if it’s Sam’s or Jessie’s.

The first half was uneventful for you, spending your time running back and forth, seeing a couple passes, making a couple passes. But you found yourself on the ground for most of the game. Getting tripped up a few times and more often than not being taken out by tackles. It was beyond frustrating, ending up face down on the ground, you knew you’d be bruised and scratched up tomorrow. Being tackled frustrated you on its own, but blatant fouls being ignored frustrated you even more.

Your teammates were starting to get sick of it too. At halftime a few of them came to check on you, making comments that it’s crazy none of them are being called as fouls, telling you to keep it up and they were proud of you for playing through the apparent beating your body was taking.

Sam even made a threatening comment to the previous girl who fouled you early into the second half before she came to your side.

“That one was some bullshit.” Sam said as she extended her hand out to you, you had made the mistake of staying on the ground too long, causing the whistle to blow.

“It’s fine, feels a little targeted, but it’s fine.” You reach down to wipe the dirt and grass off your legs before giving a thumbs up to the sidelines where your coach and the training team stood ready to come check on you. You seemed to be the only one ending up on the ground this much, the only one being tackled this hard. Sam and Jessie had both taken a few, but not nearly as many.

“I know kid, Sinc’s already had some words with the refs about it.” You cringe at the childish nickname but nod at Sam. As play starts up again, you could help but notice how calm it felt being on the field despite all the physicality. Sam was always where you needed her for a pass, as was Jessie. It felt like Jessie always knew where you were going to be, even before you did. It felt easy playing with her. Your team was up 2-0, Jessie having one assist, you having the other, Sophia having both goals, it felt easy.

Maybe playing with her wouldn’t be the worst thing.

You would’ve liked the chance to score yourself but the opportunity had yet to present itself. That was until the last 20 minutes of game time. You look across to Jessie, she looks to you for a second before sending the ball your way. You were open, you had space, you also had an open line to the goal. A similar line you had last game when you missed both shots. Jessie’s words from the other day flash through your mind.

“Keep your momentum forward.”

Just as you go to take the shot, you’re sent flying forward into the ground, the ball getting away from you and you end up in a tangled heap with a KC player. A sharp pain in your back and face take the air from your lungs. You hear a whistle and the girl on top of you scrambles to get up and leaves you without a word. You’re too busy trying to ignore the sting on the side of your face and the soreness in your ribs to see the girl being shown a yellow card.

“What the fuck is your problem!” You pick your head up at the sound of yelling next to you. You see a pair of white boots stomp by you, followed quickly by two other pairs running after the first. When you pick up your head you see Jessie making her way to a group of KC players. She’s being quickly followed by Janine and Becky who are both calling at her to leave it be.

“You alright?” Coffey is once again at your side, hand pressing on your back. When you pick your face up to look at her she winces and quickly waves to the sidelines. “You’re bleeding.” She points to her own cheek, you start to bring your hand to wipe it before Sam grabs your wrist and shakes her head at you.

You take a deep breath before rolling over and taking her hand to stand up. You took a second to check out your body, you were sore overall, a little winded from the hit but nothing on an unbearable level. “Did that one at least get called?” Sam starts to nod before both of your attention is brought back to the yelling going on between your teammates and the other team.

“That was dirty and you know it, you fucking hit her from behind.” Jessie’s got her finger pointing at the girl's chest. “You’re lucky you’re getting away with just a yellow, that should be a red.” She looks at the referee trying to plead her case that the girl should be given a harsher punishment.

You watch as Janine and Becky try to put themselves between Jessie and the other girl, both of them failing as the two girls keep shouting at each other.

Your eyes are pulled away from Jessie as the trainers start assessing your face, holding gauze to the cut. They start asking how you’re feeling, if you hit your head, if you feel dizzy, all to which you say no, trying to get them to let you play again.

“You’ll probably need a stitch or two in this.” One of the trainers says to you as he pulls the gauze back from your face. You barely hear what he says as you get distracted by the sound of a whistle and commotion to your left, you watch as a girl from the Current shoves Jessie on the shoulders causing her to stumble back. Once she regains her balance, she immediately lunges back at the girl, getting her hand on the girl’s shirt collar only to be grabbed around the waist by Janine and physically pulled back. Janine drags Jessie back to where the rest of your team stood waiting. Jessie is now yelling at Janine to let her go and let her show the girl what a dirty play can look like.

The trainers keep wiping at your face, checking over the rest of your body for injuries, but your eyes are too busy locked on Jessie to care what they were doing. You can’t help but feel relaxed at Jessie’s behavior, knowing she was sticking up for you, that relaxation only lasts a moment as it quickly becomes guilt as Jessie is shown a red card. She’s been kicked out of the game because of you.

She quickly walks off the pitch, turning and shouting something as the Current player who pushed, who was making her own way into the visitors locker room, you assume she was shown a red too.

“We’re going to take you off, get this fixed up now.” You hear the assistant coach say behind you.

“No!” You try to argue but you also know there’s no point, it wouldn’t make a difference. Feeling defeated you follow the trainer off the pitch, holding gauze to your own cheek.

You walk down the tunnel and into the locker room, you pass by Jessie giving her a quick glimpse. She still looks angry but her expression softens when she sees you and turns to a look of concern. You turn into the training room and hop onto the table. The trainer takes the gauze from you and moves across the room to grab more tools. The team doctor walks in shortly after and Jessie’s head pops around the corner.

“Hey, oh.” She says, her eyes catching the cut on your face.

“Hey.” You respond, not sure how to interact with the girl. The doctor comes and stands between the two of you, gently looking at your cheek. You wince as he pulls at the skin.

“Probably just two stitches, could be three, unfortunately it’s too deep to glue.”

“Oh.” You say, you hated needles, absolutely hated them, they made your knees feel weak and your vision tunnel. “Can I lay down when you do it? I just don’t always do well with needles.” You knew better to ask now than when you started feeling faint mid-stitch a needle in your face. He nods and gestures to the pillow already on the bed. You lay down, putting your cheek with the cut face up. You close your eyes and try to relax yourself, two stitches would be quick, you’d be fine.

Suddenly having the feeling that someone was watching you, you open your eyes, expecting to see the doctor again. You confirm your feelings when you open your eyes, but instead of the doctor, it’s Jessie. She was now sitting in a chair by your head looking at you. You’re about to open your mouth when the doctor returns.

He sets up everything before turning to you. “Ready? Couple small pinches to numb, then we’ll wait a second, I’ll make sure you can’t feel anything and I’ll get you fixed up.”

You nod and watch as Jessie extends a hand to you. You look at her hand then back at her face. “If you want something to squeeze.” She says before adding, “if not that’s fine, I know it’s maybe silly but just thought I’d offer.” Before you can think you reach your own hand out, taking hers in yours. You squeeze it tight as you feel the doctor begin numbing your cheek. She gives you a soft squeeze back.

You focus on breathing, trying to ignore the feeling on your cheek. You also try to ignore the feeling of Jessie’s hand in yours. The way her thumb gently circled your skin, the way her fingers held tightly on yours. Breathing in and out, in and out. It’s only a few moments later that the doctor places his hand on your shoulder and tells you he’s done before he walks away to clean up. You feel Jessie’s grip on your hand relax, reminding you to take your own hand back from her. That’s when you realize how clammy and sweaty your hands were.

“Sorry, didn’t realize my hands were so sweaty.” You wipe your palms on your shorts, embarrassed that you probably gotJessie’s hands wet.

“No worries.” Jessie gives you a smile as she pushes herself up from the chair. “How are you feeling? I didn’t even know you got a cut.”

You laugh a bit at her comment. “I know, you were too busy trying to rip that girl's head off.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened there.” She looks at the ground, kicking the leg of the chair with her foot. “It was just pretty a dirty hit, she could’ve seriously injured you, and they hadn’t left you alone all game, I just got a little frustrated.”

“It’s fine, it happens to everyone at some point.” You’re about to thank her, tell her that it felt nice knowing she was looking out for you when Sam comes through the door, followed by a few more teammates. Jessie gives you a quick pat on the leg and heads over to begin her recovery.

“That’ll leave a scar.” Sam says looking at the fresh stitches in your cheek.

You hadn’t even thought about that, you’d have a permanent reminder of this game. A game that while successful in terms of your passing efficiency and the assist, you’d rather forget. “I hope not.”

“Hey, people think scars are hot, it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.” There's a silence between the two of you which is filled with the commotion and conversations being held by your teammates. “So, are you two good now? You two looked good playing off each other.” Sam glances to where Jessie had been standing when she walked in.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, you weren’t sure how to sort your feelings, it had been easy playing with her, you didn’t feel like she was a threat to you, she felt like a teammate for the first time.

“You know, I think there’s a reason she did it.” Sam has a sly smile on her face as she looks at you, then over to where Jessie is getting an ice bath set up.

“Why’s that?”

“Oh come on, the coffees, the muffins, the way she wanted to talk with you constantly on our little midfield bonding, now she's being protective, are you blind?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Sam, I don't know what you’re talking about.” Maybe you had hit your head but you weren’t able to figure out what Sam was getting at.

“I'm just saying, I think there’s something there, a little crush.”

You stare back at Sam, you can begin to hear your parents voices again, you knew what Sam was implying but that couldn’t be true. Jessie couldn’t have a crush on you, you definitely didn’t have a crush on her, or anyone.

“I’ve got to go stretch.” You hop off the bed and move to grab a mat and begin stretching across the room in your own corner of solitude. Your mind wanders to the yelling match with Jessie, how she told you how all she wanted was to get to know you, it seemed friendly.

Was it not friendly? Did she mean something more by that? Did she share the same confused feelings as you did? Did she also have the warm tingle when she saw you? Did she also feel terrified of what it meant?

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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vinylfoxbooks · 7 months ago

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June 2 - Night | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 691 Warning: drinking, talks of alcohol, James is in a state of inebriation

It’s always joked about that when people get drunk, they call up their ex and it’s always a bad idea. James never assumed that it would be his problem -- he only has one ex and, as much as he loves Lily, his love for her has turned completely platonic and even if he did text her a random ‘I love you, please take me back’ text, Lily would be immediately concerned and ask him how many drinks he’s had. However, with Sirius and Remus having wandered off to, probably, shag in the bathroom and Pete left early because he has work in the morning -- on a Saturday, the poor bloke -- James is left alone, scrolling through Instagram with the hand not nursing his Sex on the Beach, which Sirius did in fact make fun of him for upon order because ‘only the single man would order something like that.’

And then there’s a post from Pandora. It’s a simple one, just a photo dump of her life for the past couple weeks, a couple pictures of her, Lily, and Mary, some with Barty and Evan, a picture of all of the girls together, and finally a picture of her and Regulus at some fancy event. Pandora is wearing a beautiful green sparkly dress that reaches the floor and hugs her body in the most flattering way possible and has her arm thrown around Regulus, who is-

James takes a deep breath.

And before he knows it, he’s stepping outside with a lit cigarette between his lips and his phone pressed to his ears, calling up Regulus in the middle of the fucking night on a random Friday in June.

To his surprise, Regulus answers. It’s with a tired, groggy voice that indicates he just woke up that he says into the phone, “James?” James doesn’t answer at first, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t know what he’s going to say, he doesn’t- “Hello? James, are you there?”

“Regulus.” Is the only word that manages to escape James’ lips, quiet and almost desperate, “Regulus.”

“Jamie?” Regulus asks, and James hears some rustling as though Regulus is sitting up in bed, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It takes James a minute to respond, not having much to say, “I’m not very… sober, I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry, Jamie.” Regulus says, his voice light and comforting, “Where are you right now, let me get you home.”

“At the…” James starts, “I went out drinking with Remus and Sirius.”

“Are you at the pub near their place?” James just hums in response. He’s not that drunk. He’s only had a couple drinks, why is he acting like this? He’s always been the type of person to grow quieter the more drinks he’s had, usually because he gets even more emotional when he’s drinking and those emotions overwhelm him, leaving him quiet. But not like this… “Alright James, I’m on my way, give me a couple minutes. Are you outside?”

“Mhm, ‘m smoking.”

“Good, just stay outside for me, it’ll be easier for me to find you.”

“Mkay.” James hums, “‘m tired.”

“I’m sure you are, it’s late.” Regulus hums, “I’m getting into my car now, do you mind hanging up so I can focus on driving?”

“Yeah.” With that, James pulls his phone away from his face and moves to press the hang up button, muttering, “I love you, Reg.” Then the call disconnects. James is just stubbing out his cigarette when Regulus comes driving around the corner and parking just in front of James, stepping out of his car. He helps James into the car silently before hopping in himself and starting to drive them to his flat.

James doesn’t remember much of the rest of the night other than Regulus helping him inside and James bursting into tears for no apparent reason, but the next morning he wakes up laying in Regulus’ bed with the younger watching him rouse and he definitely remembers Regulus’ first words upon them making eye contact, “I love you too, James.”

James grins, “Let me take you out on a date?”

“Of course.”

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #dead gay wizards #james x regulus #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #pandora lovegood #peter pettigrew #jegulus #microfic

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ssivinee · 30 days ago

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❥ 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎

ITZY! Racer! Shin Ryujin x F reader x tripleS! Racer! Park Sohyun: After the awkward encounter, you try to avoid the two women, but to your luck, it fails while you're out with your best friend. This seems to work more in your favor, helping your heart get to the finish line.

Word Count: 7.1 k

Author's Note: This is part two of Racing Hearts! I suggest you read part 1 for more background. YOU GUYS HAVE ALSO SPOKEN AND CHOSEN WHO TO END UP WITH, SO KEEP THAT IN MIND😭! ⚠️excessive language is used here⚠️

➳ Character Concept - Jeon Y/n

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 2

It was a Saturday morning, which meant short work hours at your brother's mechanic shop. You were currently working on a 2005 Honda Civic for an elderly man who brought it in early in the morning.

Since the last time you saw Ryujin and Sohyun, you practically buried yourself in work, doing your best to avoid any interaction with them.

The race was three weeks ago, and that tension… just had you feeling super anxious about it all. You didn’t want to become the wedge between the two girls, but you couldn’t help but perceive it that way. They basically had a standoff before you left, so of course, it felt heavy to you.

“You’ve been staring at the engine for, like, fifteen minutes, Y/n,” your older brother said as he looked at his watch. “How bout’ you don’t time me and focus on that paperwork?” You ask playfully, but your brother wasn’t having any of it at the moment. “Y/n,” you hear Wonwoo’s stern voice call out, and you sigh, shoulders lowering in defeat.

“Yes?” You turn around, trying to show the most innocent face possible, which had him rolling his eyes hard. “What’s up with you? Since that day, you’ve been staying at the shop late, spacing out, and not even taking time for yourself?”

You were just at a loss for words, sitting in the chair before him. “I- I don’t even know, myself.”

“Did you enjoy the race with Cheuksin?” He asked with a worried expression on his face. You furiously shake your hands, “I enjoyed it! That just… isn’t the problem.” Wonwoo’s face softened at hearing you sound tired. “So what is it then?” “I really liked racing with them. It felt new and fresh. I just felt so free again,” as you spoke, a cheesy grin formed on your face, causing your brother to be even more curious as to what was puzzling your mind. “It’s Sohyun and Ryujin.”

You tried ending it there, but as you lifted up your head to find your brother's face, it clearly said, ‘Well, elaborate,’ despite no words coming out of his mouth. You sigh again, “When I won the race, the two just felt like… they were declaring they’d fight for me? I don’t even know at this point. I just wouldn’t want to break a friendship, you know?”

“You can’t exactly help how you feel, Y/n. You're only human too. Besides, if their bond is great, your choice wouldn’t get in the way of that,” he explains, trying to be a good older brother and your voice of reason. Yet, hearing that only stressed you out even more. You lift your hands abruptly in defeat as they fall straight down to your sides, “That’s the thing! I don’t know who to choose. I literally met them a month ago, oppa. Also, adding onto the fact that I broke up with Shuhua on the same night we met.”

Now that Wonwoo was seeing the stress on your face, he never liked seeing you like that. It was always a rare occurrence, and when it did happen, Wonwoo always did his best to cheer you up.

You are his little sister and practically his only family left. When both your parents basically left, he swore he’d protect you, even with love problems like this.

“How bout’ this? You take a day off tomorrow and on Monday. Then, you can hang out with Isa, go shopping, race, and go out of town. Literally anything other than work right now,” you look at him like he’s crazy at the suggestion. “But you’ll be alone, and the store is gonna be bu-”

“You know I’m not taking no for an answer, so,” he shrugs, walking away from you to return to his office. You groan and admit defeat as you head back to working on your car, mumbling, “Yeah, I know.”

Since Wonwoo was doing his best not to hear you argue with him, he let you finish up your work for the rest of the day. As hours passed, it was nighttime, and to avoid you staying longer, Wonwoo turned off the garage lights and locked the door that kept the light switches.

“REALLY?!” You yell as he waves, walking out the door. “Get your stuff and lock up! Thanks!” His grin made you want to slap his face, but you knew your brother had good intentions. So, without wasting another thought in the dark space, you went to your locker, got your belongings out, turned off the lights, locked the store, and drove home.

The ten-minute car ride was quick, as it was late and fewer vehicles were on the road. Once you entered your humble abode, you changed into your slippers and walked sluggishly to your room. As you entered your safe space, you dropped your bag onto the floor and fell onto your bed, not wanting to think about anything anymore.

Your brother gave you a day off, and you didn’t know what to do with it at this point.

You just decided to take a brisk hot shower and lay in bed afterward, scrolling through your phone. As you looked through your social media, you saw Sohyun had posted a new photo. Seeing no harm in it, you decided to look, not knowing what to expect.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw.

When looking at Sohyun’s feed, it was quite calm, with aspects of her daily life shown. So the selfie of her in a short strapless bodycon dress at a party with her hair tousled out of place was not something you were expecting.

She looked like she was dancing in the picture, a red solo cup in one hand. Her lips in a smirk, and her eyes were squinting, looking as if they were seducing you into a trap. Added with the effect of purple and blue party lights raining down on her head, she had you almost drooling instantly.

Your eyes travel down to the caption, ‘At a party with so many people, but only looking for you.’

That just caused you to turn your phone off and slam it down on the bed. You could just grip your hair with how crazy reading that made you feel. The photo put your brain in a frenzy, so you just had to put yourself in a harder position, huh? You wanted to hit yourself, but try to think of a different way to spend your days off instead to keep your mind off it.

You could do anything, but it was like your brain was on low-power mode.

It was as if on time, a notification pinged your phone, and when you looked, it was Isa asking if you were free to go shopping with her tomorrow. You mentally praised her and responded with what your brain cells could handle at the moment.

YES, you’re a literal lifesaver right now, Isa.

It was the next day, and you and Isa were already out at the shopping plaza two bags each in hand. “Lord, I legit needed this day off today,” Isa tells you, extremely happy with the free time she was given after so many days of work at the cafe. “You literally own the cafe. Can’t you get a day off whenever you want?”

She shrugs at you with a smile, “That’s not my kind of business owner ethic.” Still walking, the plaza was buzzing with many adults, likely due to it being a weekday. “So~”

“Oh, please don’t,” you say, already expecting the topic that’s about to come up. “What? Are you not feeling the two?” She asked, her face looking like a clueless puppy. “No. I am feeling the two, and that’s the issue!”

“Ah, I love a good love triangle,” she giggles, trying to make light of the situation, but she realizes you were serious about it. “Y/n, you just met them. You shouldn’t have to force anything. Just go with the flow!”

“You weren’t there, Isa. It just felt like I added two new problems into my life when I quite literally just finished one,” you say, insinuating your first problem being Shuhua. “Girl, seriously, try not to stress. Whatever happens, happens. You like who you like, and you love who you love. You know, the whole shebang.”

You laugh, “I just don’t want to be in a position where I have to pick from the two, but I just seem to be heading down that path right now.”

“Well, just have some fun with it. Hang out with both, get to know them more, and find who you want. No need to pressure yourself in choosing and finding love when you don’t have a definite answer.”

That was probably one of the most genuine pieces of advice that Isa gave in a long time, making you go into thought. “Maybe… That actually sounds like a good idea.”

The words slip out of your mouth. You guys go to a stall selling bubble tea and wait in line. As if you manifested it out of your conversation, from the corner of your eyes, you see Sohyun walking with a couple of friends. She wore her glasses, some washed mom jeans, and a hoody, making her quite comfy.

While walking, Sohyun feels the eyes on her. She looks around and finds you in the line of people, a smile forming on her face. “Guys, I’ll catch up in a little,” she tells her friends and walks over to you and Isa.

You tried looking at Isa as if you didn’t see the younger girl in the first place, hoping that would save your ass… at least you tried. As Isa stared at you confusingly, your best friend looked behind you, and she saw someone a tad bit taller towering over you. Once she realizes who it is, she stares at you with wide eyes, and your eyes practically signal, ‘SOS, I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO!’

" Y/n-unnie?” You heard her voice, and Isa signaled you with her hands to go on, trying to save you from any embarrassment. You coughed, spinning around: “Sohyun! What a coincidence seeing you here.” The tone of your voice evidently confused the young a bit; it was as if you were talking to your pet about how good they were.

One brow was raised, and slight amusement hinted in her face. “Uh yeah, I was just hanging out with some university friends today, and then I got a race later.” You tried to act as if you were interested. Which you were, but all you wanted to do was run away as fast as possible.

“That’s cool. I have the day off, so-”

Shit.

“A day off?” As soon as that sentence slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it. Yeah~, my brother told me I’ve been working a lot, so,” you awkwardly giggle, which makes Isa nudge you a bit. You look at her, and she shakes her head, mouthing, ' Stop embarrassing yourself in front of a hottie.’

Sohyun finally noticed you were with a friend. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you guys,” she said, “and Isa got startled at the respectable gesture. Don’t worry, you weren’t.”

You look at the two, and Isa gives you crazy eyes for involving her in this mortifying interaction. “Ah, Sohyun-ah, this is Isa, my childhood best friend,” the younger girl's eyebrows raised at the fact, shaking her hand. “I’m Sohyun.”

“Oh, I know,” Isa says, making Sohyun look at you as you just slapped your forehead with quite the force.

“It’s been quite some time since we hung out. Maybe… you wanna come to the race tonight? You can just watch, too, if you prefer that,” she asks, and you look at Isa, not knowing how to answer. The younger notices the hesitance and clarifies, “You can bring Isa too if you’d like.”

You look at her in surprise, slowly nodding in agreement. “That can work.”

Sohyun’s smile grows excited as she does a tiny dace, “Great! I’ll send you the details, unnie!” She then looks at her phone, her friends pinging her every second they could. “I do have to go. My friends are looking for me, but I’ll see you guys there?” You and Isa nod, still unsure about the idea, as Isa looks more enthusiastic.

“You just like how painful this is for me,” the two of you inched up in the line, two spots away from the counter. “Oh, most definitely,” your best friend says with an evil grin as you pout at her, finding this entertaining.

As the two of you reach the front of the line, you order your prepared drinks quickly. You then begin walking in the opposite direction of Sohyun and her friends. Your phone receives a notification while sipping your milk tea and thinking of the race.

You see that it’s Sohyun sending you a direct message on Instagram, but when you read it, it feels like your heart drops. ‘Here are the details of the race later tn. I’m sure all of Cheuksin will be happy to see you. Ryujin unnie and I missed you a lot, so :3.’

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” You just mumble and get louder and louder. This had Isa looking around before looking back at you, “Okay, relax before someone thinks you actually needa shit, please.”

“Dude, it totally went over my head that Ryujin is going to be at the race. " As you struggled to process the forgotten information, Isa gave you a deadpanned face. “Ryujin… is literally, like… the leader of her group. You just forgot all that or~?”

“Well, Sherlock, I clearly did,” you roll your eyes at Isa, who giggles. “Stop finding this funny~.”

“I can’t help it,” she says, laughing harder while admitting it.

You and Isa arrived thirty minutes late at the race in your car. Isa suggested that more people be around so it wouldn’t feel awkward. Yet your heart couldn’t stop racing because it likely wouldn’t matter. As your car rolled in, many Cheuksin members remembered the vehicle, giving subtle waves in its direction.

“Well, aren’t you miss popular in these streets,” Isa says, genuinely impressed at everyone waving. You roll your eyes but chuckle, “Maybe I left a good impression.”

“Yeah. After you didn’t show up for three weeks,” Isa cracks at her own joke, and you slap her shoulder, making her give you a fake offensive stare. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The both of you exit your car and stand on the sidewalk, just wanting to be on the sidelines and out of anyone’s vision. You knew someone would tell the two girls about your arrival, but you were delaying the inevitable.

“It’s been so long~,” Isa practically wines, and you smile. When she lived near Incheon as a child, the two of you religiously hung out. So, realistically, she was there for your early days in racing. Isa had seen the triumphs, the disasters, the breakdowns, and everything under the sun at these events and she always loved them. “You always ate up all the drama at these things.”

You laugh, but she makes another joke, “Yeah, but now you're a part of the drama.” That had your face switched up so fast, causing Isa to laugh even harder. “Dude, this just can’t be happening to me right now,” you groan.

“Hey, stranger,” you hear a soft voice to your close left, causing you to whip your head in that direction to find Sohyun with a goofy smile on her face. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“I mean, we were free, so we said, why not,” you tried playing it cool, not wanting to hurt her feelings by being ‘mean.’ “Oh, long time no see,” you heard that deep voice coming from in front of you and it made you nervous.

You see Ryujin walking forward, her strides ever so authoritative. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” she expresses as her head tilts in curiosity. “Cause I invited her,” the younger butted in, and the both of you gave her a side eye, one more hostile looking than the other. “Word spread fast, so I had to see if it was real.”

“Definitely real,” Isa mumbles, but it catches Ryujin’s attention. She glances between the two of you, a bit confused. “And this is?”

“Uhm, Isa. My best friend,” you tell her as you feel your heart racing and your palms getting a bit sweaty. “Childhood best friend,” Isa emphasizes, making the leader chuckle. “Had to establish the title there, huh?” Isa nods in a joking manner, and her hand points at Ryujin.

“Are you gonna stay until my race at the end?”

The question was so innocent, but it felt that it was entailing something more. Your nervousness wasn’t so noticeable, but as an observant one, Sohyun felt the vibes shift once Ryujin walked over. While watching the two of you, the younger didn’t want to accept that her mentor had this kind of effect on you.

The effect that had a person weak to the knees, or as if they were holding their breath. It made Sohyun feel unworthy of your attention, especially since you felt more nonchalant at the shopping plaza earlier in the day.

She decided to butt in, trying to still catch your attention. “Y/n unnie, can you cheer for me?” You were taken aback by the request, looking back at Ryujin, but gave in, “Of course, Hyun.”

You just saying her nickname made her heart skip a beat. Only people close to her used the name, and the two of you didn’t interact much, but it just did something to her. She may have felt like she was overreacting, but these are the kind of small gestures she was looking for from you.

Ryujin notices her protege’s attempts, trying not to glare at the girl. There was no reason to be territorial over you. It felt far too soon for that.

But Ryujin was a woman who knew what she wanted, and she wanted you. She was willing to make that happen, even if it meant of getting in Sohyun’s way.

As a leader, Ryujin was rarely ever mean, aggressive, or power hungry. In fact she was alway nice, sweet, and heroic for a lot of Cheuksin’s member. Yet in her heart, she knew, that it was okay to be selfish once in a while, especially if it was the sake of her love life.

“Make sure you stay till the end, okay?” Ryujin asks, softening her tone. You look at her, perplexed as to why she sounded a bit desperate there, “why?”

“I wanna have a pretty trophy for tonight,” she says, walking away backward with a smirk. She wasn’t telling you nor saying the trophy was you, but you knew exactly what she was implying without saying it. You were speechless at the smooth comment, your stomach filling with butterflies instantly. Isa slaps your arm as she squeals, “that was so hot,” she whispers in your ear.

You hear a slight cough, remembering Sohyun was still beside you. The girl didn’t want to make it obvious but was irritated. She invited you here, so she should be getting this attention.

She would admit she isn’t one to have so much charisma. Sohyun may have been popular, but she was a nerd, shy, and a bit awkward at times. The only way she could probably compete with Ryujin in that aspect was with her driving… and some liquid courage, which was obviously impossible for tonight.

“I don’t blame her,” Sohyun admits to you, and now you are back in confusion. “I’d wanna win a prize as good as you,” she smiles. Now, this was cute, and it made your heart wanna burst as she walked back to her car.

“They’re basically having a rizz battle over you, girl.” Isa laughs at your disgusted face, “Never say that shit ever again, please,” you giggle as she throws her hands up. In your friendship, she had always been the comedian, which was a relief ninety percent of the time, so you weren’t always stressed out.

After a few minutes, an announcement blares from a mega phone, stating the next race with the racers, which included Sohyun. This wasn’t a Cheuksin exclusive event so you were surprised to hear the infamous Yeonjun being there against her again.

“Oh dear,” you mumbled and Isa looks into the street, seeing his fiery red hair in his car. “As in like… Djinn, Yeonjun?” You reluctantly nod at the question. “Then oh dear, indeed.”

As you watch, Sohyun sat in her car, eyes shut as she did her best to calm her nerves. She kept telling herself that she’s beaten him once, but knowing in the back of her mind, you were watching made her heart race. Since seeing you race, Sohyun wanted to do something that could impress and amazing racer like you.

That meant if she had to get reckless in this race… she would.

When the flag girl’s voice was loud and clear on go, Sohyun and Yeonjun could be seen neck and neck right out the gates.

The vice captain of Djinn thought he would take his revenge, so despite the rest of the crew not being there, he was gonna do anything to win. Little did he know that the newbie was feeling the exact same way.

The dron flew around, following the race with its camera and everyone pulls out their phones. The track was insanely harder than the last, their were many sharp turns, a straight line to the freeway, and it was going into many busy streets with many cars.

The four cars hit the first sharp turn, Sohyun taking a smaller drift to stay in front. Yeonjun wouldn’t let her off easy though, as he smoothly follows, almost rearing her car. “I’m gonna win this shit today,” Yeonjun tells himself, the aggressiveness begging to simmer. Everyone dislikes losing, but Yeonjun was one that hated feeling like a sore loser in anything, which was quite obvious with his dirty tactics.

Another sharp turn followed, the street leading up to the free way. Sohyun saw a car double parked in front of her and the smartest thing would be to remove herself from the lane instantly, but when she looks in her rearview mirror, she sees Yeonjun’s vicious smirk basically toying with her.

That made the next decision easy.

Sohyun would clutch her gear shift, moving it down to speed up the vehicle with the car in the way. You watched, eyes widening trying to run over to Ryujin as Isa followed. “What the fuck is she thinking?” You asked the leader, eyes glued to the phone. That decision could end ugly and you wouldn’t want to think of any racer getting hurt.

“I’m not sure,” Ryujin mumbles, slightly worried at the odd choice. Was she doing this to impress you? That thought made Ryujin furious. She was aware that her and Sohyun liked you, but putting her life in danger? That was a line that Ryujin wasn’t willing to cross over a race like this.

“She better move that clutch and get out the way now!” As if Sohyun heard you from miles away, she swerved out the way. Behind her, Yeonjun’s eyes go wide at the move, and seeing the car in front of him, he doesn’t have enough time to process, swerving out of the way and into the side walk.

“Crazy bitch!” Yeonjun slams his fist on the steering wheel, and does his best to compose himself as he backed up. Yet the other two cars passing him surely didn’t help his anger. “What the actual fuck was that?” Isa asks, concern in her tone. All the years she had watched you and your brother race, she had never seen someone do such a risky move like that.

She basically had the intent to hurt Yeonjun, which didn’t sit well with you or your best friend. Sohyun on the other hand kept driving, not knowing if she was actually mentally ill or proud of what she had done. As she gets on the freeway, Sohyun successfully weaves through every car.

The young girl was getting confident until she heard cars honking behind her from afar. Sohyun peaks at her right side mirror seeing a raging Yeonjun who was overtaking cars fast, close to making several accidents happen. “What is going on in this race?” You help your forehead, shaking it in disappointment. Ryujin takes a glimpse at you, and when looking back to her phone, she didn’t know what to think. “Your playing a dumb game here, Hyun,” she mumbles.

Sohyun drives past the last car, turning as fast as she can into the race treacks exit. As she reaches the busy streets, she does her best to avoid people and the cars but it seemed that her situation wasn’t stopping Yeonjun from going crazy. In a fit of rage, he started bumping into parked cars, the paint of his car were getting chipped, and little dents could be found all around.

“Yeonjun looks like he's about to go on a rampage…” Isa tells both you and Ryujin, the both of you looking extremely worried. He was gaining speed quick, almost as if her wanted to ram her car so bad. Sohyun was beginning to sweat bullets, until she takes a quick turn, taking a slight short cut which causes Yeonjun to crash a little harder that before. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” At this rate he couldn’t catch up, and the younger sighs in relief.

She comes across the finish line, the two of the races far behind due to the scene and you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. This wasn’t the kind of racing you liked, and as much as you knew of Sohyun’s potential, you’d never want her to race like that ever again.

Sohyun runs over to you, Ryujin, and Isa with a large grin on her face, seemingly proud of her efforts. “How’d I do?” “Well, you won,” Ryujin states the obvious, not knowing whether she should approve of her in the moment, or be disappointed at her letting her emotions run wild. Sohyun’s eyes look at you all puppy like but you can’t help but look at her with such dismay.

Although, you understood emotions getting the nest of you, especially as a new racer so you didn’t want to go too hard on her. You sigh but give a tight lipped smile, “You did good, but please try not to race like that ever again.” The tone of your voice made Sohyun a bit sad but she can only nod, understanding that it was mainly out of concern. Seeing this, Ryujin smiles but then remembers Yeonjun.

“You may have dealt with him today, but Yeonjun will likely have a big target on your back… possibly all of Djinn as well.”

“Well, I guess I’ve officially made them an enemy,” Sohyun whines but you outright laugh. “You don’t even have to worry about that. Djinn has been trying to get at Cheuksin for years, and I mean many years. They won’t be a threat to you guys. Well, that’s not to say Yeonjun won’t be a threat to you, but you have trustworthy members by your side,” you point over at the majority of the crew, her best friends Jay and Jake giving a small wave and some enthusiastic thumbs up which has Sohyun and Ryujin chuckle.

“Well, I guess I’m up,” Ryujin tells all of you, waving off to her car as she gets ready. You then began to think of a big possibility, “Shuhua won’t be here, will she?”

Those words had Isa thinking of the worst. Sohyun shakes her head furiously. “You don’t have to worry. Shuhua seems to have slown down on racing since the Turf Races.”

Isa jokes, “Don’t tell me she’s heartbroken or something?” You laugh at the joke as well, but Sohyun makes this weird face basically saying, ‘kinda?’

“You can’t be serious now…” You looked reluctant to believe it but Sohyun shrugs. “You must’ve done a number on her. Apparently her last race was two weeks ago in Incheon and she lost. Seems to be on a losing streak as well.”

Isa looks at you, quite impressed with your usual, ‘heartbreaking powers’ as she likes to call them. You begin to hear engines reaving, seeing Ryujin’s car at the starting point. From what the drone showed, it seemed like the race track would be quite different. The four cars would be going through the same sharp turns but they’ll stay on the freeway longer, reaching a long tunnel that many vehicles don’t usually take, then they circle around, taking a more curved path while coming back.

You weren’t even paying attention and as the race began, you were so pleased to watch Ryujin drive so effortlessly. It’s so evident in how smoothly she drives her Shelby, no surprising moves, no insane tricks, and it just felt relaxing to watch. Not heart pumping, but still exciting. It was the traditional racing Wonwoo surrounded you with growing up.

It felt like comfort. Felt like home, actually.

You smiled at the way she maneuvered, it looked like watching pure perfection. The close calls didn’t feel like that what’s so ever, just the tire marks looking like perfect curves, and how effortlessly she would speed up when needed.

As the group traveled into the tunnel, the drone flew lower giving everyone who watched a closer view. It zoomed in front of Ryujin who had the relaxed expression on her face, the evident deep breaths she took made her feel comfortable in each spot.

You watched as she made use of her large space, increasing the gap she had with the three cars. They did a fast loop around in a busier road, she would smoothly move out of the way, just her heart at ease. While driving, Ryujin could feel the adrenaline rising, but she regulated her breathing, trying to keep her head clear.

Which clearly paid off, since she passes the finish line further ahead than the other racers.

Everyone begins to cheer and you clap, clearly impressed by her performance. When Sohyun looked at you and saw the significant difference in your face while watching both races, she couldn’t help but be disappointed with herself.

She had a plan, to show of what she’s capable of, but it just backfired with making Ryujin look like the better person. “So~, how’d I do?” Ryujin asks you as she walks up, her forearms reaching out.

You were almost speechless by what you saw, but just almost. “You did amazing,” you say with a smile, giving her a genuine hug. You haven’t enjoyed that kind of racing since Wonwoo’s last race seven years ago. Just watching it all had your heart swelling out of joy.

Sohyun watched from afar, getting annoyed, and just stormed off while only Ryujin took notice. You and Isa couldn’t even tell especiall with all the ruckus going on in the crowd.

“Wanna stop ignoring me now and come to my our races?” Ryujin quipped in a joking manner but those words shocked you. She noticed despite not knowing you for so long.

“Dude, when I tell you she raced like how you used to. You’d have to see it for yourself oppa!”

It was the day you got back to work, and Wonwoo had been given an earful about the races in the past few hours. “I know, I saw everything,” you look at him confused, “how?”

“I think you forget, these races are live streamed. I was fixing up a motorcycle here while watching,” you were gonna say something, but held back your tongue knowing you did forget. “That Sohyun kid… she did some very questionable things out there,” you heard him say as he worked under a car. You could only sigh, “I know! I tried telling her not to…”

“Do you think-” He pauses, not knowing whether he should say it or not. “Do I think what?”

“Do you think she did those things to show off to you?” You halt from working on the engine in front of you, not liking the way your brain was thinking. “I would hope not.”

“Don’t forget, she’s a young, new racer, Y/n/n. It gets the best of everyone sometimes,” you were aware of that, but it still didn’t sit right with you. “I wouldn’t want anyone risking their own safety for me. She also put another racer at risk,” you grunted, more frustrated than anything.

“I know Yeonjun is a dick, but it doesn’t justify why she did. Two wrongs do not make a right,” you emphasis your last sentence and Wonwoo preaches, “That I will always agree on. Never stoop lower. Ever. Because once you do and get into the habit of it-”

“There’s always a high possibly of you getting hurt in the end,” you say at the same time as him, always remembering your older brothers words when racing. Everything Sohyun did went against your morals. Yeonjun does play dirty, theres no doubt about it, but he also had a reasonable excuse to be angry. He just can’t control his emotions properly.

As you were about to switch to pliers, your phone rings and you see Ryujin’s contact name come up. After her race, she boldy asked for your number saying, “Now I think the only reward I’ll accept today is your number.”

You open up the text reading ‘pls come to Cheuksin’s spot tonight at eight.’ And that was it. You rolled your eyes subconsciously, finding her suspiciousness funny, so you reply ‘sure,’ leaving it at that.

Once 7:30 rolls around, you say bye to your brother, and going home for a brisk shower and change of outfit. You washed up and changed into some more comfortable running sneakers, some black legging, and a cropped off the shoulder knitted sweater.

Driving to the spot took no long than twenty minutes, and you see everyone hanging out under the bridge. As you parked your car and walked over, you find Ryujin standing in the middle. Sohyun, who didn’t look surprise at all to see you, makes eye contact. Her eyes were full of sadness, and she looked down to her knees quickly while sitting on a lawn chair.

“Since you were all free today, I decided to call an emergency meeting,” Ryujin looks around, then sees you and gives a small wave. You smile at the small gesture and she continues, “There are a few things I want to speak about tonight.”

“One, Sohyun and your race,” she looks at Sohyun who still hasnt raised her head, knowing she was about to get told off. “I get it,” the leader starts and Sohyun looks up surprised. “You’re a young racer. Less experience, and we all make dumb decisions. Although that doesn’t mean your let off the hook tonight.”

“No matter what you are feeling in the moment, no matter whose around, none of you should be putting your safety at risk for a race. With that being said, Sohyun is suspended from racing for two weeks. What happened that day isn’t against the racing rules, but we have order here in Cheuksin, but we also care about all of our racers, so please keep that in mind.”

Sohyun knew it, it was going to be her likely punishment anyways but she still couldn’t help but be so angry at herself.

Ryujin continued with all her announcements like more races, some meeting with the ‘alumni’ of Cheuksin, and everything she could fit in that moment. She ends the meeting, but everyone stays, enjoying each others company. Ryujin walks over to you and you proceed to look impressed, “Did you invite me here to show off your leader skill?”

She laughs, “I just thought it would be fun, okay?” You carry on the conversation with her, Ryujin keeping a beautiful smile on your face. As the two of you were enjoying yourselves, you catch Sohyun sitting far away from everyone at the corner of your eye. You feel terribly bad and say, “I’ll be back.” Ryujin sees you walking over to her direction, sighing.

Ryujin wasn’t cocky, but she was sure you liked her more than Sohyun, but it was also clear that you had a big heart.

“Well this isn’t a way to party now,” Sohyun hears your voice and jolts up. “Oh, hey, Y/n,” she sounded so out of it, and you just sit down next to her, letting the silence engulf the both of you. It was a comfortable silence, but in Sohyun’s mind, she seemed to be having an internal warfare until she made up her mind.

“You know I like you, right?” After five minutes of silence, Sohyun admits her feelings. “Wha-”

“I like you,” You look at her surprised, it was obvious but just outright saying it was now what you were expecting out of just sitting next to her. “Your kind, smart, experienced, knowledgeable, pretty, and everything I could want in a woman,” she said, lowering her head once she called you pretty.

You didn’t know what to say, “Sohyun I-”

“Just… listen first, please?” You shut your mouth quickly, letting her pour everything out. “When I first saw you, I thought the the world sent me a goddess when I needed it. Any racer, no, any person out thee would find you perfect. I guess, I’m just glad that I feel seen by you, even if it isn’t much.”

“...but I know you like her,” Sohyun voices, her voice feeling frail at the reality. “Like who?” “I know you like Ryujin, Y/n. It isn’t exactly a secret. We’ve both known you for the same amount of time, but you see Ryujin for all that she is. Her talent, her brains, her demenour, her personality.”

She sighs leaning her head back, trying to not let the tears fall, “You guys are perfect for each other,” she whispered. “Sohyun-” “You should go back to her,” She tells you, wiping her tearful eyes quickly, not wanting to cry in front of you. Before you get up and got cut off again, you just tell her, “You’re a greet person, Hyun, and a great Racer. It’s just a small bump in the road. Remember that?” She nodded, looking away from you.

You walked back over to Ryujin who waited while leaning on her own car. “Good talk?” Your face morphs indifferently, “It was something.” She sees the sad gaze you give Sohyun, and decides to do something nice to put a smile on your face. Ryujin begins pulling your arm over to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, “Come on, let’s go for a drive.”

You stood there, really confused, “Huh? What about my car?” She pushes you in lightly, but you willingly go in yourself, “We’ll come back for it don’t worry.”

She hops into the driver seat, and the ride was in comfortable silence as the empty roads felt serene. Ryujin stops her car at an abandoned lot that was large yet in the middle of nowhere. She signals to exit the vehicle and lays on the hood of her car, you follow, just leaning on it.

“I wanted to get away with you, even if it was just for a moment,” Ryujin tells you, and you look up at the dark sky, seeing specks of stars. “This is beautiful,” she leans up, looking at your face, “it is.” You turn your head, finding her gaze and blush hard whil quickly looking away.

“I hope… you go easy on Hyun. The girl has so much talent and the moment got to her,” you nod, understanding the situation. “I know, I just always hated racing that way. Wonwoo kind of wired me that way,” you chuckle.

Ryujin wanted to say it now, she wanted to say she liked you, before you could slip out of her grasp. But instead of saying her feelings, she randomly goes, “Wanna take my car for a spin?” Your eyes widen. Within racing culture, letting others drive your car was pretty rare because of how much people cared for their vehicles. “But not anyone should be driving racers cars.”

“You aren’t just anyone, Y/n,” those words made your heart jump, the racing feeling happening in your chest instead. She tosses her keys to you, and you catch it with ease. “Come on~” She whines, making you smile and get in from the drivers side. You start of the car, the feeling of the leather steering wheel making you feel comfortable. “Book it,” Ryujin says, and you look at her. She looks straight ahead with a smile, confident in your abilities. “Well, you said so,” you move the clutch and drive at a high speed.

The lot was enormous, making you drift whenever and wherever as Ryujin just smiles at the experience. She had never let anyone drive her Shelby, but she was glad to give the first opportunity to you. She know she was an excellent driving, but being in the car while you took the wheel felt otherworldly. Your hand looked so delicate on the clutch and wheel and every movement you made felt like you culd do this in your sleep.

“God, how can I not like you?” Ryujin says in the spur of the moment, but doesnt regret it as you stop the car super abruptly, the both of you jolting forward ever so slightly. “Okay, ouch. But what did you just say?” She rubs her neck a bit, the slight pain lingering from the whiplash. “I said, how can I not like you?”

…You looked as if you seen a ghost, keeping your mouth shut tight and Ryujin laughs at the reaction. “Come on~, I knew it was obvious, no?”

“I mean, yeah, but hearing it makes it feel real.”

“But it is real. I like you a lot, Y/n,” Ryujin confesses and you feel your shoulders relaxing, her words fully processing in your mind. “I like you a lot too,” You tell her with a smile, and Ryujin just wanted to kiss your beautiful face right then and there, but she wanted to cherish you and take it slow. “How ‘bout we grab a bite?”

“Is this you asking me out?” Ryujin looks offended, shaking her head rapidly. “First off, our first date will definitely be more prepared. I just want to spend the night with you and have the night never end,” her eyes twinkled due to the moonlight and your cheeks flush a bit.

“Then I’d love to.”

#❅ ssivinee's fic #gxg #wlw #kpop gg #kpop x female reader #kpop x reader #kpop girls #itzy ryujin #itzy ryujin x reader #itzy #itzy x reader #itzy x f! reader #itzy x you #triples sohyun #triples park sohyun #triples x reader #triples sohyun x reader #triples sohyun x f reader

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footygirl114 · 1 year ago

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Cervecería (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hi friends, this is a bit late (but better late than never?) The one I was inspired to write post that champions league win with Alexia beelining it to someone in the crowd. It’s definitely not the best thing I have written but I know if i keep editing it I’ll scrap it so this is as good as it’ll get

The need to not live through another Canadian winter was the biggest draw that made you start a second business in Spain. Having started a successful craft brewery in Toronto, you knew exactly what you needed to do, when you brought the craft beer craze to Barcelona.

You had been in the city for 7 months, your restaurant had only opened a month ago but you were happy with how it was going. It was a process to get it open, but once you realised you needed to find someone who spoke both Spanish and Catalan and was familiar with the restaurant business it became a lot smoother.

You had found a spot near to the downtown without being ridiculously priced, you wanted to draw tourists but you also didn’t want to scare away any locals. The starting days were slow but as more advertising and more interest in different craft beers gre you started to get busier. Fridays and Saturdays were busy enough you had to hire extra staff, but during the week you liked to be the one behind the bar.

The whole reason you got into the brewery business in the first place, was because you loved to connect with people and share your love of beer with them. The best way you were able to do that was to be the one serving it, plus it was helping with learning Spanish.

You also drew in a unique crowd on game days, you had all the subscriptions from back home which meant you were able to play many American sports. You also always had at least one TV dedicated to women games.

About 6 weeks after you opened you were tending the bar on a slow Wednesday night, the crowd had died off after the Barca Femini game was completed, but you still had a few stragglers around. Movement caught your eye where you cleaning tables and you watched a slim female with her hair pulled in a pony tail, black hat and hoodie on walk in and settle at the end of the bar.

Moving back behind the bar she looked up and met your eyes and immediately you were drawn in to her expressive eyes. You moved toward her and said “Hola, can I get you anything?”

She smiled at you and said “Agua?”

You raise an eyebrow at her and ask “You come into a brewery sit at the bar and order water?”

She chuckles and shrugs and asks “should I sit somewhere else then?”

“no no no but let me make you a deal” you smile wanting to hear her laugh again.

She raises an eye brow as she asks “What’s the deal?”

You smirk and step back moving to pour her a glass of water, and a small taster pint of your favourite beer. You place both glasses in front of her as you tell her “I will keep pouring you the finest water all night, IF you try this small glass of my favourite beer”

She chuckles shaking her head and smiles at you as she holds out her hand and says “deal.”

You laugh and place your hand in hers, immediately feeling a tingling run up your arm, you tell her “I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Alexia” she says and releases your hand and grabs the beer glass. She slowly raises it to her lips meeting your eyes over the glass. She holds your gaze as she takes a sip.

You keep your eyes on her as she places it down and you ask “well?”

“I can see why its your favourite” she says with a smile.

Before you can say anything else another customer draws your attention away. You have to deal with an issue in the kitchen and one with the supply closets. Its almost half an hour later when you make it back behind the bar. When you get back she is standing up looking around for you.

Smiling you walk up asking her “leaving so soon?”

She chuckles and says “si, just needed some fresh air. I can grab my bill though”

You shake your head and say “it’s on the house”

“Won’t your boss be upset” she asks with a smile.

You chuckle and say “I think they’ll be okay.”

“well thank you” she says with another smile. Your name is called by another server and you turn toward them as she says “I’ll get out of your hair Y/N”

You chuckle out a bye before turning and tending to your team.The rest of the night is spent thinking about the Beautiful girl who sat at your bar. You have a feeling you recognise her but are unsure how you would. Until you are closing up and you see her face on the TV, chuckling you can’t help but think how you just embarrassed yourself in front of the queen of football.

You spend the next week elbow deep in testing a new batch of beer. It consumes you when you have an idea and you cannot put it into the taste correctly. Working late one night the bar is pretty quiet apart from a few regulars, you have taken over a table near the far side of the bar which is slightly hidden. Your notes are spread out all over the table and you are completely consumed in them until you hear your name at the bar.

You had told your staff to act like you are not here, but when you recognise the voice ask for a water you smile to your self and look up and see Alexia sitting at your bar. As you get up to walk towards her you recall that you had seen the Barca team had played earlier in the evening away.

“looking for me” you ask her as you step beside her at the bar.

Alexia and your bartender, Sam, turns towards you with their own expressions. Alexia looks happy to see you, and you bartender is giving you the raised eyebrow as she thought you didn’t want to be disturbed.

“I thought you weren’t here tonight boss” your bartender asks.

“boss?” Alexia echos.

You chuckle at them both and you say “I’m not here tonight Sam” to your bartender who gets the hint with a chuckle turning away.

“Boss?” Alexia asks you again.

Chuckling you move behind the bar and grab a small pint glasses as you tell her “I own the place.”

She looks at you and with a low whistle she says “Impressive”

“thank you” you say as you move and pour a glass of another one of your beers. You place it in front of her and say “If our deal still stands this is another one of my favourite beers”

She grabs it and asks “if you brew them all do you have a least favourite?”

You chuckle and say “not really, well just the one I cant figure out right now”

“Can I help?” she asks and takes a sip of the beer with a low moan. “sorry that one is really good” she says with a blush.

You chuckle and say “its cute” and then immediately blush and say “I just cant get what is in my head to translate into the beer. I have this taste I can imagine but I cannot find the right combination of hops and flavours to get it right” you ramble on.

“What’s the flavour?” she asks with a smile.

You blush almost forgetting she was there during your ramble and say “I am sorry you don’t want to hear me nerd out about beer”

She shakes her head and reaches across to grab your hand as she says “I kinda want to know everything you’ll share”

Before you can respond her phone buzzes and she reaches down looking at the screen and then gets up reaching for her wallet. You place your hand on her wallet and say “This one is on the house in exchange for the ramble”

“You know I can afford to pay for my beers” she says.

Immediately you shake your head and say “I know you can La reina, but I do really hope this makes you keep coming back” finishing with a wink.

She blushes at the nickname and leans across the bar and presses a kiss to your cheek as she whispers into your ear “You will make me come back.” She then turns and walks towards the door turning at the door with a wink she disappears.

You continue staring at the door when you hear Sam walk back behind you and say “Nice work boss, I thought you’d lose her with the beer talk”

You chuckle and whip your towel at her say “get back to work.”

The following two weeks you see Alexia 3 more times at your bar, always on days the Barca team plays. You looked her up after the last time and know she’s not playing yet but is very close to being back. You both have flirted but nothing else other than the one cheek kiss has happened. You both just keeping things light and flirty. She has slowly worked her way through some of your staple beers.

When the next Barca game happens and she doesn’t show up to the bar that night you have to admit that you were very disappointed. You knew that it was all just a fantasy and flirting but it definitely hurt that she decided you weren’t worth it.

You were deep in the back room tonight still trying to perfect your beer. You kept one small cask in the back room where you used it to experiment with your brews, this time being no different. Your desk back here was covered in notes and you had a white board with formulas and flavours all over it. During the day the back part of the brewery was a hive of activity keeping up with the demand of brewing beers, but at night it was quiet which is when you loved to use the time to work on your own stuff.

Tonight was no different, you were still a bit hurt and disappointed in your self for being hurt about Alexia so thats why you were staying hidden in the back not out front tonight. The staff knew you were here and knew not to bug you when you were back here.

So when you heard the door open you didn’t even look back when you said “Sam I thought I told you not to interrupt me tonight”

You hear the steps falter and someone take a deep breath as they ask “I was just looking for a glass of Aqua”

Immediately you turn and can feel your cheeks blush as you say “Alexia, what are you doing here?”

She still doesn’t come any closer as she says “I wanted to tell you something, and then if you want me to not interrupt you I will go”

You nod at her and lean back against the desk behind you.

She slowly steps towards you and says “I know you know who I am, and you should know then that I have been injured and not playing for awhile?”

You nod and smile saying softly “I do know that”

She keeps slowly stepping closer as she continues “Well that first time I walked in here, was after one of the teams away games. I still wasn’t travelling with the team and I watched them almost lose and knew that I let them down. So I needed some air and went for a walk, I saw the sign on your bar and decided to come in and have some water and then leave.”

“But you didn’t” you tell her softly as she stops in front of you.

“No I didn’t” she says. “for the first time in a very long time I forgot who I was letting down, I was able to just be me Alexia, not me the captain who let her team down. That was because of you, something about you just drew me in and I kept coming back any time we played so I could be that person again.”

You smile softly at her and say “I am glad to help.”

“Last night was my first game back Y/N” She smiles at you.

You smile back and say “I am proud of you Ale”

She steps another step closer so she is right in front of you and grabs your hands softly as she says “The only reason I was able to be back last night and not let the team down was because I kept picturing your voice in my head talking about beer. It helped to ground me and remind me that I am Alexia as well as the captain”

You close the gap even more and move your hand to her cheek as you say “I am glad that you have that then Ale. I am honoured to be able to do that for you”

She steps closer and looks down at your lips looking back up meeting your eyes you nod slightly and lean in slowly. You feel her breathe on your lips when the door slams open again and Sam walks in as she says “Sorry boss, need to change the keg.”

Immediately Alexia has sprung back from you and you both turn slightly away from each other. “It’s okay Sam come in.”

“I should go” Alexia says “I have training early tomorrow”

“You don't have to go” you say at the same time Sam says “did I interrupt?”

“No you didn’t Sam, I was just leaving” Alexia says as she flees the back room.

“sorry boss?” Sam says with a smirk.

“Sam?”

“Yeah boss?”

“how did she get back here?” you ask her.

She shrugs and grabs the keg and says “I may have told her to come back here at her own risk”

“But you still interrupted?” you ask.

She laughs and says “honestly I forgot, and needed a keg badly. I really didn’t think you would been that position though boss”

You blush and move to help her as you say “me either”

That moment was burned in your brain, every free moment you had your brain was immediately back in the store room. You watched her sit on the bench in the following champions league game, but you at least now knew why she didn’t come in to the bar on that day. You waited the rest of the week for her to show again, she didn’t.

It was just before bar opening on the day of the second leg of the champions league. You knew that it was home game and you knew that you wouldn’t see her today. You were hoping she would show tomorrow but you can only hope.

You were sat at the bar, with your note book open and three samples of your newest beer in front of you trying to decide which one would be the closest to the taste you want. You hear the door open and turn and to greet who you would think is one of your servers since you aren’t open and instead you are shocked and say “Alexia! I didn’t expect to see you today.”

She is dressed in her pre game outfit when she walks closer to you and says “I needed to see you before I go to play today.”

You look at her with a questioning look and ask “you did?”

She stops right in front of you and says “I cant get you out of my head Y/N”

“You can’t?”

She turns you and spins you towards her on your stool. She steps right in between your legs and says “I keep thinking about kissing you Y/N, and I know I should be able to focus on football, but I just keep thinking about you”

“Thats not good than Ale, what are you going to do?” you ask with a smirk.

She smiles and says “I know what I want to do but I do not have the time for that.”

You chuckle and move your hands to her hips and you ask “want to make a deal?”

Smirking she nods and says “what’s the deal?”

“You go out and with the champions league and you can kiss me as much as you want” you say with a smirk moving your hand to her cheek.

She laughs and holds out her hand between you and asks “Only if I can take you out on a date too?”

“deal” and you put your hand in hers shaking it softly.

“I have to go” she says softly

You nod and whisper “good luck Ale” before turning and grabbing your pen and writing your number down on a piece of paper. You hand it to her with a smirk saying “I hope this will help you focus now”

She smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek saying “I have an objective now I will be fully focused on completing it.” as she backs away slowly.

You chuckle watching her and say “Good luck la reina”

The month in between the day the deal was made and the champions league final was a tense one, in the best way possible. Anytime you both texted, which was any free time between her trainings and games and your bar, the flirting was relentless. You only saw her twice in the month but she confessed to you that she couldn’t see you or else she would have to, in her words, “press you against the wall and make you see stars.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either but you wanted to hear her voice, which lead to phone calls every single night. No matter how late you were at the bar she would sleepy wake up just to ask you about your day.

The day of the final she called you as she was about to leave in a bit of panic. She needed to hear your voice to remind her that she is Alexia too and not just the captain. All of the media and build up of her return was getting into her head and you knew she just needed to be grounded. You happily helped and reminded her of your deal and you couldn’t wait to taste her.

The bar threw a watch party and it was packed. The mood was sombre at halftime with Barca being down 2-0. You nervously paced waiting for the second half. When it started and Alexia came on at the start of half you couldn’t help but smile.

It was like the team changed with her and when immediately it sparked the team to score 2 quick goals the bar was electric cheering. When the 85th minute rolled around you were nervous, but you knew that once you saw Alexia gather a crappy clearance from the wolfsburg back line this was it. She cut in once around a defender just above the top of the 18 where she lined up and put a screamer in the top left corner.

That was it, they held on and the bar was electric and the party lasted all night. You snuck away to speak to Alexia briefly on the phone, but she couldn’t talk as she was pulled away. You turned the excitement you had and finally got the mixture right on your beer. You immediately had given samples out to have a second opinion and it was a hit.

She inspired you just like you did to her. When the parade for the team was organised and you knew they would be coming out side your bar you kept an eye out. Once it was the time for them to come this way, you pushed your way to the front of the crowd.

When the team came around the corner you hoped that you would be able to catch her. It was like when she came around the corner she could sense you, as she immediately met your eyes and her smile lit up her whole face.

You watched as she turned and almost sprinted to you, when she reached you she had placed her hands on your hips pulling you in. You placed your hand around her neck with a smile as she says “A deal is a deal Y/N”

You nod and say “You won it all Ale, time for my end of the deal” and you lean and press your lips to hers hard. She immediately presses back and you lose yourself in her forgetting about the crowd around you. You just feel the sparks only she has been able to give you.

When the need to breathe comes to much you both pull back and you slowly hear the crowd around you again, where you pull back slightly and whisper “wow.”

She smiles and says “I gotta go finish this thing” with a jerk of her thumb over her shoulder.

Nodding you say “come by after and you can finally taste my favourite beer I just finished”

She smiles wide “you finished it?”

“I did”

“Then I cannot wait, but only if it comes with the finest aqua you have” she says with a smile and you cant help but laugh and press your lips to hers one more time.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #Alexia Putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #espwnt x reader

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 4: Alone Together

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (for mature content)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), angst, language, a bit of fluff

Word Count: ~5.7k

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Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: You and Annie attend a dinner at the Mu Phi sorority house on campus. Reiner, on his way out of Delta Delta, ambushes you on the walk back to your dorm for a less than pleasant conversation. Later that week, RA Eren hosts a game-night for his fellow residents. But, with it being on a Friday right after midterms, he's disappointed when it flops. Fortunately, someone comes to his rescue. Author’s Notes: Hope you enjoy this one! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Please let me know what you think, I thrive off of reading your comments! If you want to be tagged in any future chapters, please let me know! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.

“Eren, are you paying attention?”

Armin waves his hands in front of his friend’s face, snapping Eren out of whatever reverie he’s stuck in. He shakes his head slightly, grinning. “Sorry, Armin. Sort of zoned out for a minute there.” They sit next to each other on Eren’s bed, watching a movie on his laptop. It’s Saturday night, and Eren actually agreed to be social today.

Armin taps on the space bar, pausing the film. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?”

The real answer is no, but with Armin, he’ll only worry if he knows the truth. “Plenty. All eight hours,” Eren lies. In reality, he’s getting four hours tops. He stays up late studying, then spends the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, anxious about the future.

Oblivious, Armin responds happily. “Good! Living by yourself is already paying off. Sometimes I wish I could have my own space. The frat house can get pretty noisy, especially with Connie as a roommate.” He chuckles, reaching towards the bag of chips between them.

“Connie’s a blast to be around, though. I’m sure you’re having fun.”

“Yeah, I am. You should really come by the house.”

“Maybe. When I have time.” In all honestly, he has no intention of stepping foot in that frat house. Not because he has a disdain for Greek life; but because it’ll only show him what he’s missing out on. He already feels that way whenever he catches up with Mikasa and Armin, both thoroughly enjoying their college experience still.

Mikasa returns from the bathroom, hopping on the bed to squeeze next to Eren. “What did I miss?”

“We ended up pausing the movie anyways, so not much.” Armin passes the snacks to Mikasa, who throws a handful into her mouth.

They continue the movie, Eren’s mind drifting into space again. He’s already thinking about the upcoming chemistry midterm next week, how he hasn’t fully memorized the amino acids and their structures yet. And how he has to schedule a date to meet with Hange Zoë, a senior doing research in the lab, to see if he can shadow her for a month. On top of that, he’s planning on hosting a small event at the dorms, something to help his residents let off some steam after exams. It’s all too much. He wants to sleep and pretend that none of these obligations exist.

The credits roll on his computer screen. He blinks, fully unaware of what transpired during the movie. His friends hang around for a few more minutes before leaving to head to a party somewhere else on campus. Once again, he’s alone.

He is not motivated to study tonight, already burnt out from the last couple of days. Instead, he practices his electric guitar, working on a particular riff of this song he likes, replaying it over and over through his headphones. He loses himself in the music for a while, the closest thing to an escape that he can reproduce inside his own bedroom. Fingers sore from picking and strumming, he decides to call it a night. Face washed and teeth brushed, he snuggles under the covers, glancing at his phone. 11:00 PM. Wild night, he thinks to himself, laughing.

Suddenly, his brother’s name flashes across the screen. “Zeke?”

“Eren, hey. You’re not sleeping already, are you?”

“Nah. But I’m in bed.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Yep.”

Zeke chuckles heartily. “Oh boy. I can already hear it in your voice. Welcome to the club, little brother. Your descent into med school hell is starting.”

“Yay, can’t wait,” Eren responds sarcastically. “Anyways, what’s up?”

“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. Clearly not well.”

“I’ve been better.” He keeps his answer vague on purpose. With Zeke, he doesn’t go into too much detail with the emotions he’s experiencing. As much as he respects his older brother, the two of them don’t always see eye-to-eye. While Eren usually acts out of emotion, sometimes to a fault, Zeke is detached, unable to empathize with what his younger brother is struggling with.

“Is dad still giving you a hard time? I heard he wasn’t happy with your last quiz grade.”

Eren ignores the urge to ask how he knows about that, already aware that they talk about him behind his back. “I told him it was weighted, so technically I passed.”

“Well, you know how the old man is. Technicalities don’t really matter to him.”

He rolls his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, almost regretting picking up this call. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you should study harder.”

He’s fighting to keep his cool, his body tense with anger. Before he loses it, he mutters through gritted teeth, “Okay, thanks. I actually gotta go now, bye.”

“Eren, I’m just trying to help – ”

He doesn’t wait for Zeke to finish his sentence, already tapping on the red button to end the call. Now, with his mood ruined, he’s not sure if he can fall asleep. He wishes it was still daylight, specifically the golden hour when the sun sets. It would be the perfect time to head to his favorite spot: the beach that overlooks the shimmering expanse of blue ocean water separating Paradis and Marley. He discovered this area recently, on one of his drives that he takes to temporarily escape. It brings him peace, even if the moment is fleeting.

Instead, he scrolls through his contacts, tapping on his mom’s name, holding the phone back up to his ear. When her familiar voice greets him on the other line, the tears start flowing and he spends the next half hour confiding in her.

~~~

You and Reiner cuddle in bed, his nose nuzzled to the back of your neck, spooning you. Bertolt is home for the weekend, leaving the room to yourselves.

“Coco, are you still awake?”

You hum, snuggling closer to him, on the verge of sleep. He swallows hard behind you, as if he’s nervous. “I think I want to live in the fraternity house next semester.”

This gets your attention. Surprised, you turn around to face him. “What?”

“It’ll help me bond with my brothers better.”

“But we were supposed to live together.” The two of your agreed quite early in the semester that you would live together in one of the on-campus apartments. This news comes to you as a shock, since he’s never mentioned wanting to live on Greek Row, until now.

“I just want to try it out for a year, baby. When we’re juniors, we can find our own place off campus, so we can do whatever we want.” He pulls you closer, kissing your forehead. “Everything is going to work out, okay? You can wait a year, right?”

Of course you can wait; that’s what he asks you of, so you’ll do it. But you don’t want to. You had all these exciting ideas laid out in your head: cooking meals together, relaxing on the couch in each other’s arms, being alone without worrying about parents or roommates barging in on the two of you. Being together all the time.

“Coco, say something.”

It’s easy to get upset. Make a fuss and yell at him for being selfish. Simultaneously, you feel guilty for thinking this way, like you’re the bad girlfriend for disagreeing with it. For wanting him all to yourself.

“Okay,” you finally respond. “I’ll ask Annie if she wants to live together again, I guess.” It’s a compromise for the sake of making him happy. Because more than anything, you want him to be happy.

He smiles, kissing you on the lips. “You’re the best, you know that? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You wake up, back in your own bed, Annie’s soft snores filling the quiet of the room. A quick glance at your phone shows you it’s only 4 AM in the morning. It’s been a few days since you dreamt about Reiner, a new record since the break-up. Still, whenever you do, it hurts as much as it did the first night.

He never warned you about wanting to move into the fraternity house. It came out of nowhere, a total and complete blindside, much like when he broke up with you. He’s been this way for a while, making rash decisions and springing it on you without a mention of it beforehand. You always end up going along with it, forcing yourself to accept it without disagreement. You never could stand up for yourself, thinking it was less hassle to bend for him than to argue about it. When you’re with someone for so long, the easy road seems the obvious choice, compared to one that has bumps and cracks along the way. But just because it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s better; it doesn’t always lead you to the right destination. And maybe that’s why you are where you are now: lost.

It’s been almost two weeks since you saw him on that rainy day. Two weeks since he sent you that text message, which remains unanswered. There’s been moments where you stared at the screen, fingers ghosting the keyboard, wanting to send him a reply. Somehow, you’ve resisted those temptations. In the end, it’ll only lead to more heartache. The memories haven’t kept you up at night as much as it did before. Thankfully, your sleep schedule is back to normal, except for nights like this. You’re doing better each day. Annie’s two words to you are on constant loop in your head: Baby steps. Any progress, no matter how little or big, is still progress. As long as you don’t go backwards into a downward spiral.

Later in the week, Annie extends an invitation to eat dinner at one of the sorority houses on campus, Mu Phi. Hitch, a close friend, is a sister who currently lives there. As you approach Greek Row with your roommate, you look at the Delta Delta house right next door, wondering if Reiner is there, working as their hasher tonight. Possibly flirting with Christa or other sisters that surely find him attractive. You let the insecurities fade as soon as you knock on the door to Mu Phi, soon greeted by Hitch and two other friendly sisters. They lead you into the dining room, chatting about various topics, subtlety sneaking in how great sorority life is, asking if you’ve ever been interested. After all, they are constantly in recruitment mode, which doesn’t bother you. It feels nice to be desired.

During the meal, the conversations continue. Annie, being the secret gossip she is, mentions the neighbors. You briefly described to her your run-in with Reiner and Christa, so naturally, she’s been curious since. “What’s it like living next to them?”

Hitch replies, “It’s fine. Did you know that Mikasa’s a Delta Delta?”

“Really? She rushed? I guess they can’t be all bad,” Annie muses.

Hitch eyes her with an amused smirk on her face. “Why would you say that? Who’s in there that you don’t like?”

Before Annie can respond, you interrupt, not wanting to spread any unwarranted gossip. “She’s joking. By the way, who’s Mikasa?”

“She’s this girl that attends Annie’s kickboxing class.”

Annie adds, “She’s also our RA’s sister.”

“Eren?”

She nods, confirming. His appearance around the dorms has lessened, possibly because of the upcoming midterms. He is a pre-med major after all, so you’re certain he’s too busy studying to be out and about. You wished you could have seen his face when he received the bag full of Pocky you bought for him, as thanks for sharing his umbrella on that rainy day. “I didn’t know he has a sister.”

“She’s adopted, from what I heard,” Hitch comments. “But they’re super close. Her, Eren, and Armin.”

At that third name, you glance at Annie, a slight blush creeping on her cheeks. She had a class with Armin last semester, and they were paired up for a big project. From then on, your roommate has been smitten with him, but she’ll never admit it out loud. You also recognize the name as one of Reiner’s pledge brothers from the same fraternity, though you’ve never met him personally. Knowing he’s close to Eren already gives you the impression that he’s a nice guy.

The dinner ends with a tour of the house, not including the exclusive sleeping porch on the top floor, where all the sisters are forced to slumber beside each other. Right outside the entrance, you, Hitch, and Annie talk for a little while longer until your roommate announces, “My shift at the library is starting, so I have to leave now. Thanks for dinner Hitch!”

The three of you say your goodbyes, Hitch waving farewell from the door, you and Annie parting ways in opposite directions. It’s a clear sky tonight, the moon glowing brightly in the vast darkness, littered with barely visible stars. You take your time walking, enjoying the pleasantly cool air, admiring the other houses along Greek Row. From behind, a familiar voice calls out to you. “Coco.”

Before you face him, you curse under your breath, aware of exactly who it is. You find Reiner several feet away from you, presumably from the Delta Delta house. His fraternity is in the opposite direction, so he must have spotted you from afar, maybe heard you talking outside. You stand in place, waiting for him to catch up to you, ambushed.

“Hey,” he says, with a sheepish grin.

You nod stiffly, unsure what to do next. It’s too late to make a run for it. Impossible to turn back the clock and sprint your way across campus. You should have known better, especially when you already assumed he’d be working there tonight. It doesn’t matter now; you’re trapped.

“Are you heading back to your dorm?” he asks, hands in his pockets.

You nod once more, voice stuck in your throat, unable to speak.

“I’ll walk with you.” It’s not a question or a suggestion. It’s final. He’s determined to do it.

Reluctant, you let him, pivoting on your heel towards the direction of your dorm, remaining silent. He stays beside you, hands in his pocket, glancing at you hesitantly. “What were you doing at Mu Phi?”

So he did notice you first. Eyes focused on the ground, you answer, “Hitch invited us for dinner.”

“Christa also invited you, remember? To the Delta Delta house.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You don’t mean to sound venomous; well, maybe you do. Why bother bringing that up?

“I’m just reminding you. She’s really nice, you know.”

You snap, annoyed and frustrated. “Yes, Reiner, I’m sure she is very nice. That’s why I think she’d understand why I refuse to go to that house for dinner.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course it’s because of you!”

He sighs, scratching his arm excessively. Something he does when he’s anxious. “I don’t understand why you’ve been ignoring me. I thought we agreed to be friends. You won’t even respond to my texts. How am I supposed to know that you’re okay?”

“Okay? You want to know if I’m okay? Reiner, I haven’t been okay since the day you broke up with me.”

“That’s why I’m trying to talk to you.”

You scoff, blood boiling. “You’re the last person I want to talk to. You’re the reason I’m not okay. You broke my heart.” It’s a cheap shot to blame him, but that’s what you do. Fire everything in your arsenal to defend yourself, to hurt him.

His expression turns sullen at your harsh words. “I couldn’t be your boyfriend anymore. It’s fucked up, I know. But I did what I thought was right. I didn’t want to string you along.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way? Why didn’t you talk to me about it? We tell each other everything. Why keep this away from me?”

He chews on his lip, nervous. “I was scared, okay? Really scared to lose you. I thought if I started talking about it, you’d break up with me and hate me forever. I wasn’t ready for that.”

You process this, not sure how you truly feel about it. On the one hand, you understand the fear of losing the most important person in your life. That’s what you two are to each other. Well, were. On the other hand, it isn’t fair that he makes decisions when he’s ready. What about you?

You arrive outside your dorm building, standing feet away from each other, your arms crossed over your chest, protecting your heart. When you don’t respond, he continues. “I care about you, Coco. You’re my best friend. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“You say that now, but eventually, somebody else will come along. Then what?”

Quietly, he replies, “I don’t know.”

You have to stand up for yourself. Hit him with the bitter truth even if it makes him uncomfortable. You’ve gone far too long agreeing to what he wants, following his plan, sacrificing your sanity to protect him. You don’t owe him anything. He decided to dump you when he was ready. That gives you free reign to do the same. “I don’t want to be a placeholder for whenever the next person comes along. Do you understand how painful that is? To know I’m temporary? I can’t be the most important person in your life. Not like this. That’s why we can’t be friends.”

He stares at you, dumbfounded that you won’t concede to him. Disappointed that he can’t get what he wants this time, after so many years of doing so. This is what it’s like to have control, to stick up for yourself. Maybe there is some good to come out of this breakup.

After a while, Reiner speaks, voice trembling, eyes glistening. “You can’t do this to me, Coco. I still…I still love – ”

“Don’t say it. Do not fucking say it.” You cover your ears, as if that will prevent your brain from finishing the rest of that sentence in your head.

“I mean it, though. No matter what happens between us. I want you in my life.”

“Why is everything about what you want? Have you ever considered what I want?” You begin to pace back and forth on the pavement, arms jittery, increasingly erratic.

A little louder now, a tinge of arrogance in his tone, he says, “We’ve known each other our whole lives. Pretty sure I have a good idea about what you want.”

“Well, you don’t. It’s different now. You don’t know me just as much as I don’t know you.”

“How can you say this right now? You’re just going to throw us away?!”

“You did it first!” you yell at him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

He steps towards you, hands in a desperate prayer, begging. “I don’t want to lose you. Please, Coco. I need you. I need you.” It’s the magic words that he so expertly chants to you. The ones that tug at your heartstrings, make you weak in the knees. And for a second, you consider taking everything back. Reach out and hold him, forget about the pain you’ve suffered these past two months and agree to be friends. Because you’d do anything to see him happy again. For this to be a long nightmare and to wake up together, perfectly back to normal.

But you don’t. And only because the entrance to your building suddenly swings open, revealing Eren at the door, inspecting the scene with a concerned expression on his face. “Is everything okay out here?”

Reiner glares at him for the interruption. “Who are you?”

Eren steps towards you, glancing at you and Reiner. “I’m Eren, the RA for this building. Heard some yelling and thought I should check it out.”

“Reiner is leaving now,” you murmur, avoiding Eren’s gaze, embarrassed. “I’m sorry for the commotion.” You turn to head inside, not bothering to wave goodbye to your ex, who stands there, watching you. Eren follows, sneaking glances at Reiner before swiping his ID at the door to let you both in.

“Coco,” he calls out. “Please.”

You ignore him, wiping your tears with the back of your shaky hands, listening to the door shut behind you.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks, voice calm.

You face him, forcing a weak smile, eyes still wet. “Perfectly fine.” You turn to hurry into your room, overwhelmed and wanting to hide in the safety of your bed forever.

Before you can, he grabs you gently by the hand, thumb brushing your knuckles. “If you ever need to talk or anything, my door is always open for you.”

You mutter a timid, “Thank you,” then rush down the hall and into your room, heart pounding against your chest. His comforting words replay in your head, trying to replace all that was said between you and Reiner.

~~~

At the end of the week, Eren hosts a game night in the common room of the dorm building. He’s excited to bond with his residents with pizza from his favorite local Italian joint and some good old-fashioned Mario Kart. He lays the food out on the table and sets up his Nintendo console to the TV, the familiar opening sequence playing on the screen. Then, he patiently waits for his first guest. Fifteen minutes pass and still no one shows up. Where is everybody?

At the thirty-minute mark, he lays down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The pizzas are surely lukewarm now, and the same tune playing on the TV is starting to grate on his ears. He texts Mikasa and Armin, complaining about the complete lack of attendees. Immediately, he gets a call from his sister. When he picks up, she states, “Eren, nobody is there because it’s the Friday night after midterms.”

“So?”

“People are getting ready to party. That’s what I’m doing, that’s what Armin is doing. That’s what everyone is doing.”

Someone in the background yells, “Tell him to come out with us!” It’s Sasha’s voice.

He groans, realizing his mistake. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not. Just come out with us. You deserve a break.”

He considers it for a few seconds, before he replies, “Thanks, but I’m gonna head to bed.”

Sasha boos him. “C’mon, Eren! Join us! It’ll be fun!”

“I’m tired, Sash. Next time.”

Believing she can’t be heard, she whispers to Mikasa, “He always says that.” Well, she’s not wrong.

Eren bids farewell to his friends, wishing them fun tonight. He lays on the couch for a while longer, trying to not to be too devastated at this failure of an event. Finally standing up, he heads to the table to begin packing.

“Am I too late?”

He turns around, surprised by her voice. The resident from down the hall, Room 104. The girl he’s seen cry at least three times now, the most recent being earlier in the week, outside the dorms. A small confrontation with the guy who Eren assumes is her ex, the cause behind all the tears. He was hoping to run into her soon, to check if she’s doing alright. He’s delighted to find her standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” he greets, waving at her. She steps towards him, inspecting the plethora of food on the table. He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “You’re the first person to show up, so we have plenty of food.”

She gives him a sympathetic look, opening the pizza box to grab a slice. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

He grins. “Hey, you’re here, aren’t you? That’s all that matters to me.”

As she settles in on the couch with her food, she explains, “I would have come earlier, but I was helping Annie get ready for a party.”

Eren takes the seat beside her, dropping a piece of pepperoni into his mouth. “I guess everyone really is going out tonight,” he muses, recalling what Mikasa told him earlier.

“Well, not everyone,” she reminds him, smiling. His chest swells with warmth seeing this side of her. Eyes free of tears, cheeks rounded with happiness, relaxed in his presence. He secretly resents Reiner, or whatever that guy’s name is, for putting her through all the misery she’s had to suffer.

They eat their pizza, chatting about arbitrary topics like favorite toppings, best local restaurants around the town, even a silly bet about who will beat who in a race. The upbeat melody of the Mario Kart intro still playing in the background is no longer annoying now that Eren has company.

One box only halfway finished, they wipe their hands clean of pizza grease to start the game, picking their favorite characters. Eren always opts for Yoshi, because of course he’s got to get the green dinosaur. She selects Toad, going on about how adorable she finds him, doing a decent impersonation of his high-pitched, bouncy voice, causing Eren to bust out laughing. They race, moving their bodies along with their controllers, bumping elbows and shoulders with bright smiles on their faces. She nudges him in the ribs when he tosses a red shell at her, knocking her off the course to take first place. He taps her knee with his when he slips on a banana peel she strategically lays out for him. It’s competitive, but not serious, both of them gloating and teasing one another at their victories. After going through most of the courses, they play battle mode, teaming up together to destroy CPUs on the most difficult levels.

After exhausting most of the game to their heart’s contents, Eren checks his phone, shocked that it’s already past 11 o’clock. He glances at her, checking if she’s ready to leave once they shut down the game. She remains beside him, her attention focused on the piano in the corner of the room. Pointing at it, she asks, “We have a piano in here?”, clearly never noticing it before.

He chuckles. “Yeah we do. Do you play?”

She shakes her head, standing up to approach it, sitting on one side of the bench. He follows her, taking his place next to her. It’s only now that he realizes how close they’ve been all night. His heart starts to beat faster for some reason.

Finger at a key, she presses on it, filling the room with a very out-of-tune C-note. “Do you play?” she asks.

“Not much, just the basics really. I’m better at guitar.”

“Acoustic?”

“Electric,” he answers, resting his hand on the piano, hovering his fingers over a chord.

“Electric guitar is so cool. I’d love to hear you play sometime.” It’s an innocent suggestion. But for whatever reason, Eren is shy about the idea of her being inside his room, watching him play his guitar. And for a split second, he imagines what other activities they can do with each other, in the privacy of his bedroom. He catches himself, mentally waving away the potentially inappropriate thoughts.

Desperate to change the subject, he suggests, “Want me to teach you something?”

She nods, eager to learn. He starts his thumb on a C-note. “This is a C-major scale. It starts here,” he presses down, wincing at how out of tune it is. “And then you follow through with the rest of your fingers. That’s a very basic scale, without complicating it too much.”

She does it easily, smiling at the keys in front of her. “Now can you teach me Moonlight Sonata?” she jokes.

He laughs. “How about Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star instead?”

“Fine,” she says, fake pouting. She’s really cute.

By midnight, she’s perfected the lullaby, enough for the two of them to sing along to it. Even with the notes out of tune, it’s still pleasant to listen to. He then shows her how to play the easiest version of Heart & Soul, a fun duet they manage to practice together within the hour. She’s a quick learner, which he appreciates. After their performance, she looks at him, smiling. “You’re a really good teacher.”

He brushes his fingers along the keys. “That was my dream job growing up. I always wanted to be a teacher.”

“A music teacher?”

“No, an elementary school science teacher,” he admits. “Thought it’d be so cool to blow their minds with little experiments or facts about the living things.” He stares distantly, a longing grin on his face, fantasizing an imaginary world where he’s pursuing a career he enjoys.

“So, what made you want to become a doctor instead?”

At this point, he’s speaking candidly, no longer worried about hiding the truth. He’s comfortable with her. “My dad. He’s a doctor, and it’s pretty much expected of me.”

“Are you enjoying it so far?”

“No, but at the end of the day, I’ll be helping people. And that’s what matters right?”

There’s a small pause in the conversation as she pushes on one of the keys, the note ringing out in the temporary quiet. “Teachers help people too. More than what society gives them credit for. And besides, no one wants to go to a doctor who isn’t happy being a doctor, right?”

He faces her, processing her statement. “I guess I never thought about that.”

She continues, drumming her fingers lightly on the piano. “You shouldn’t force yourself to do something you don’t want to. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past few months, it’s that forcing yourself to be happy doesn’t actually make you happy. It’s silly to say that out loud, like it’s so obvious. But I’ve made a lot of excuses, pretending I was fine with decisions made on my behalf without my feelings being considered. It was always easier to go along with it, avoid confrontation or an argument. But at what cost? Sacrificing my own happiness? It isn’t worth it, especially when it’s your life that you’re living, nobody else’s.”

This is about her ex. There’s a strong urge to ask her about it, offer a lending ear to listen to what else is on her mind. But he doesn’t question it further. The words she speaks to him resonate. Although they’re both going through different struggles in their lives, she understands him better than he expects her to. Maybe more than anyone in his circle of friends right now.

“I have a friend who’s an education major. Erwin Smith. His dad is also a teacher. I can give you his contact info if you want to talk to him?” she offers.

“I don’t know,” he responds hesitantly. He’s never considered changing his major. He can already picture the faces his father makes, disdainful and disappointment at his son “downgrading” his career.

“It doesn’t hurt to have it, right? Just in case?”

He thinks about it carefully before he eventually relents, whipping his phone out to type out the information she recites to him. She’s right; it doesn’t hurt to have it. It doesn’t mean anything.

Phone still in his hand, he abruptly blurts out, “We should exchange numbers.” Almost instantly, he regrets it, aware at how inappropriate that would be. But when she grins at him, nodding, he’s immediately relieved.

“I’m assuming this will be your personal number and not your RA emergency line?” she smirks.

Laughing, he confirms, “Yes, my personal number. I, um, enjoyed hanging out with you tonight. We should definitely do this again.” He passes her his phone as she does the same.

“You’re teaching me Moonlight Sonata next, remember?” she jokes, tapping her number into his screen.

“Yeah, of course.”

She slips her phone back into her pocket. “Also, if you ever need someone to talk to or listen to you, I’m just down the hall.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be my line,” he teases, nudging her elbow with his.

“Well, you’ve helped me out way more than you know, so I want to do the same for you. Rely on me, okay? We’re friends now.”

Outside the room, students begin to stumble through the hall, back from their night of partying. Eren checks his phone, surprised to read 1:35 AM on the screen. “It’s already past 1. I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“Don’t be. I wanted to be here with you. Thank you for hosting this.”

“Thank you for being the only person to show up.”

They gaze at each other, smiling. He wants to stay like this a little while longer, but he knows it has to end. At least, for tonight. They’re friends now, and he’ll be able to enjoy that warm, vibrant smile more often, he hopes.

“Anyways, we should probably sleep soon,” she suggests, glancing at the pizza boxes on the table. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“Thanks. Maybe we can hand some of these out. I bet someone out there has the munchies right now.”

She giggles. “Great idea, Mr. RA.”

They tidy up, clearing the room of trash and putting away the video game console back in Eren’s knapsack. She carries it with her while Eren balances the pizzas in his hands, offering a box to the passing residents that are not-so-discreetly drunk. By the time they make it to his room, he’s only got one left, deeming the event an overall success. Especially now that he’s made a friend from it.

She sets the bag down on the floor, watching him unlock the door. “I guess this is goodnight,” she says, giving him a small wave as she begins to step backwards down the hall, facing him.

“Yeah. I guess it is. Sweet dreams, okay?”

“Sweet dreams, Eren,” she repeats, turning on her heel to walk to her room.

~~~

You lay in bed, listening to Annie’s drunken snores beside you, mind focused on your new friend Eren. Snuggling closer to your pillow, you smile to yourself, happy for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s the most fun you’ve had this semester, and most importantly, it’s the longest you’ve gone without sulking about Reiner.

It’s in this moment that you realize the baby steps you’ve taken so far don’t seem so small anymore. Things are finally starting to look up.

Taglist:

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @mrs-wolfwood @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

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morganbritton132 · 2 years ago

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So does eddie ever realize that Steve's moment of "maybe I should retire" was based around the fact that he was getting death threat letters? Or is he just too excited by the prospect that he just focuses on how much fun it would be to have Steve w him all the time?

He does eventually make the connection, but it takes time.

Steve mentioned retiring before Eddie had any inkling of the letters so it’s not an obvious connection for him. Especially because Steve still talked about retiring after Eddie found out.

He’s clouded by the possibility of having it all.

Eddie loves touring. He loves every aspect of it and he loves the possibility of being able to do whatever they want whenever they want. The best times of Eddie’s life were when Steve joined Corroded Coffin on the road, and like. Eddie gets it.

Steve was meant to be a teacher. He’s good at his job and he loves it, and the world is better off because Steve was a teacher. Eddie knows that.

It’s just… it’s just that they got together and then Corroded Coffin went from playing to five drunks at The Hideout to an opening act to headlining their own tours so fast. In those early days, Steve had all these health issues that they were learning to live with and then was in school, and then was working.

And yeah, he would spend the summer on the road with the band but then it was half the summer because he had to work to pay for school or because he was teaching summer school, and then it was even less. Then it was not at all.

The idea that Eddie could have it all made him blind to what – upon reflection – was so obvious.

Eddie would make a joke about how Steve won’t be blowing him off to write lesson plans next year and miss the way that Steve would cringe. He’d point out that Steve didn’t need to buy the funny encouragement stickers at the store because this was his last year teaching and then miss the hollowness in Steve’s voice when he says, “Yeah, I guess.”

It’s not until one day when Dustin’s over. They’re planning to play some new video game that he bought and Eddie’s trying to figure out how to connect his PS5 to the tv in his studio when Dustin asks, “Is Steve okay? Like, no bad test results or anything?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie says and then after a beat, “Why? Did he say something to you?”

“No, but you always bug him until he sets this shit up for you,” Dustin points out. “And I know that he’s in bed right now. At 5 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Saturday.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” He replies sarcastically, waving some cords at him until Dustin takes them and plugs them in the back of the tv. “He has a headache.”

“Okayyyy, so he’s been having a lot of headaches then?” Dustin asked, matching the sarcasm in Eddie’s voice. “I’ve been here a lot since the – you know, death threats. He is either in bed or laying on the couch. I haven’t seen him exercise in-“

“He’s working on that,” Eddie says. “Would you go on a run when someone knows where you live and threatened to beat you to death? Nope. He’s just… working through it. Processing and shit. He has a therapist.”

“I thought that was for his mom?”

“A therapist can have more than one purpose.”

“I’m just saying, he seems depressed,” Dustin says after a bit, completely unwilling to let it go. “He barely hangs out with Robin, he didn’t come to D&D last week, and you were literally just complaining that Steve hasn’t been – gross – in the mood lately. It seems like he’s really checked out and he only gets like that when something is wrong.”

“He’s got that make up MRI coming up,” Eddie replies, but it feels like he’s reaching. His mind is slotting together how many times they’ve eaten pizza this month or how many times he’s woken up before Steve. Last weekend, they watched Star Trek: The Next Generation and Steve didn’t even complain. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Eddie confronts Steve in the morning.

They’re eating cereal at the kitchen table and Eddie watches as Steve picks the marshmallows out of his Luck Charms before asking bluntly, “Are you dying?”

A little too bluntly because Steve startles like he’s been shocked, “What?”

“So, that’s a no?” Eddie asks, and then to Steve’s bewildered look, “Dustin’s worried that you’re dying. He says you’re acting weird, and you are. I can’t trust that you’ll tell me things anymore so… So, I’m asking, and I will take your word that you’re not going to lie directly to my face. Are you dying?”

“No,” Steve says. “No, I – Ed, I’d never keep something like that from you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“But you ARE acting weird,” Eddie insists. “I know that the letters were a lot and they were scary, and it’s completely normal to not be okay about it, but this seems like it’s something else. You’re not doing any of your normal Steve stuff so… what’s going on?”

“I don’t – Eddie, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay,” He says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Don’t do that,” Steve tells him. “Don’t say it like you think I’m lying to you. I’m not. I – I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the letter. I didn’t know what to do, so stop… Stop treating me like you can’t trust me.”

“You’re hiding something, Steve! How can-“

“Do you know what I’m giving up?” Steve snaps, somewhere between sad and angry. He drops his spoon and pushes away from the table. “I would give up the world for you, Eddie, and I – I am! If you can’t trust me then what are we doing? I don’t want to be in my parents relationship and that’s what it feels like. I feel like I’m giving everything up so I can be here and you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy, Steve, I’m – I’m confused! I don’t know what’s going on. What are you giving up?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” Eddie exclaims, tugging on his hair before getting up and following Steve. They’re standing in front of the kitchen sink when Eddie says, “I want to understand. What’s going-“

“I don’t want to stop teaching.”

Eddie stops, and it’s like every conversation they’ve had for the last month slots into place with brand new context and he’s – god, he’s an idiot. “Steve, baby. You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” He says and he tries to smile like everything is fine. “We’re going to travel and it’s going to be really fun. It’s just hard right now.”

“I didn’t – god, Steve. I’m sorry if I pressured you into thinking that you – we travel during the summer and on spring break, and we go on dates on the weekend, and that’s enough for me, babe. I don’t need you to give up anything for me.”

“I want to.”

Eddie takes a breath and he squeezes Steve’s hand, “Would you ever make me stop playing guitar? Would you ever let me break up the band and stop making music so we could spend time together?”

“It’s different, Eddie.”

“No, it’s not,” He tells him. “It’s your life and it’s your passion, and I’m a really shitty husband if I take that from you.”

#Posts that are slightly too long #I really like the idea that Dustin is the one to realize that there’s something going on #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson

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harmonictechnicality · 2 years ago

Text

Memory Log: Day 52

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.

He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).

Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.

He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.

Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.

“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?”

Yeah. Why does he care so much?

She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”

They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.

They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.

So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.

He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:

“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”

He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.

“I’m doing it for them.”

Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.

Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.

“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”

“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”

“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”

“Right.”

This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.

Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.

But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.

He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night.

So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.

Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.

“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.

So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize.

Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.

That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.

Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.

“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.

“Never said he did.”

He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.

“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”

“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.

They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident.

His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”

“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”

“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”

“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”

“Fine.”

Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.

“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:

Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.

“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”

Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).

Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.

Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.

The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too.

He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets.

Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?

Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.

The notes are still there. Fading, but there.

It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.

Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life.

He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.

Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.

Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.

After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.

“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.

Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”

“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”

This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”

“Right. And what theory would that be?”

That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”

Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”

Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”

“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”

“Not all the time, but -”

“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”

Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”

“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”

Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”

Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”

“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”

“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”

Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”

Memory Log: Day 53

Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.

“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.

“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”

“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”

That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.

Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”

Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).

“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”

Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.

Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape.

And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.

But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections?

The payoff might be worth the weirdness.

“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.

Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”

“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.

“You think of something better then.”

Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”

“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.

“Better than yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”

“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”

“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”

Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.

“You sure are, Steve.”

Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.

“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.

“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”

Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.

“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”

Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”

Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.”

“Too late.”

Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”

“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.

Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.

“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”

Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”

He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.

“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”

God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.”

“Got it.”

The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.

They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.

It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.

“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.

“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”

Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.

Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:

“I won’t forget, Eds.”

Day 56:

Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.

He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can’t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.

But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.

After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.

“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.

Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”

“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”

Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”

“With what insurance?”

“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”

“So?”

“Final conclusion?”

“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”

“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.

“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”

“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.

“Whatever you say, man.”

“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”

Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.

They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.

Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”

“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”

“It wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”

“Oh.”

“With you.”

The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.

The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.

It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.

Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.

But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?

Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’

But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’

Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.

“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?”

Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”

Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

His monitor is ballad again.

One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.

The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches.

Headaches…

Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.

Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now.

Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.

“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”

Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”

“Share with the class, please.”

Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”

“Not joking, no.”

Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”

Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.

“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”

Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.

So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.

“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”

“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”

“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”

They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.

Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.

“Hey.”

Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”

And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green.

This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.

He probably deserves it.

Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.

It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.

Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.

The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.

The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.

He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.

“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.

Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?

“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”

“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”

Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.

“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”

He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line.

Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’

But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”

Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”

Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.

And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.

Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.

“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”

She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”

“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”

“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”

Steve smirks. “Got it.”

“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”

Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.

He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.

Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he’s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.

Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.

And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.

Day 57:

It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.

He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home.

His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.

They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever.

The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.

Awake.

Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.

Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.

It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth.

Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.

Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.

Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”

Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.

Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.

“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”

Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.

“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.

“The sounds you’re making?”

Steve nods.

“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”

Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”

Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.

He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.

Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”

The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.

Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”

Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.

“Good.”

Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.

He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.

Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily.

It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.

“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”

Right. It's the weekend.

Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”

Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”

“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”

She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.

Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.

Steve nervously whistles. “So…”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”

Um. What?

Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”

“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”

This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”

“Get out of here already!”

Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever.

Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.

Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.

If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.

And a kiss on the lips.

Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too).

#🎶here comes some contenttttt🎶#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #sorrrrrrryyyyy these keep getting longer and longer #also - this is as close as I can get to a bed sharing trope in a hospital fic #and I hope this helps y'all feel better after the *last* chapter #and if I missed your tag pls reach out and tell me - I'm trying to keep up but my brain is a cluttered place to be in

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