#but even then on my end i feel like i have to lie down on my back at some point when trying to fall asleep so

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Manx Norton: going over the limit

Contents: 18+ mdni, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, blowjob, deepthroating, throat fucking, swallowing, marks the end of their pre-relationship story

“We need to talk,” you say. 

Geto looks up from his journal, slow and steady like he knew you would come here and at this time. He sets his pen down. His hair is tied up completely today and there are dark bags under his eyes that you can’t bear to look at, so you don’t. Instead, you settle into the seat, without being asked, and you cross your legs and your arms. 

You mean business. 

“Good afternoon, pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

Sighing, you ignore that fluttering in your stomach. There’s no point in getting carried away by his charm; it’s his instinct to be sweet, otherwise he wouldn’t have as many clients as he does. But you��re aware, faintly and right at the very back of your mind, that his words have a bite to them — they’re complimentary whilst also accusatory. 

“I need an explanation, Geto,” you state firmly. 

His left eye twitches. It’s not a flicker or a nervous tick, it’s a flinch. You have the power, just like your sister said, when you were throwing her shoes out of the window, and she was offering advice as a means to fight your murderous intent off. It didn’t work.

There’s always something shifting between you, something unstable, and it’s been difficult to manage — you’re new to relationships, so new to venturing outside your comfort zone that you’ve relied so much on him to guide you. But you’ve also had to step up and make decisions for yourself. 

Your friends weren’t very helpful; they insisted you quit or bring a new man to the studio to make him jealous, and as tempting as it is to be petty, you know they wouldn’t solve anything. It’ll just make you feel bad and icky. 

So, you’ve chosen the high road, providing him the opportunity to share his side, to explain why he let you down once again and why everything between you had been built on a lie.

Nodding, he opens a drawer and takes out a familiar sheet of paper. Then, in a conversational tone, he asks, “What do you see?”

“It’s my CV,” you answer. Truthfully, you have no clue what game he’s playing; there’s something in particular he’s looking for but all you see is the whites of the paper and the lines of ink. 

“Look at it from the perspective of an employer looking to fill a hole in their establishment,” is his reply. 

You’ve heard that tone often, every day, in fact. It’s the tone he uses on clients when he needs to go over payment plans, or on suppliers when he needs to negotiate a new contract. But he’s never used it on you. Distant and devoid of attachment, it makes you feel uneasy. 

Fiddling with a loose thread on your sweater, you furrow your brows as you read over the paper. Geto is leaning back on the chair, hands folded on his lap, the pinnacle of confidence. That used to be so attractive. Now, you’re just a little peeved off. You were supposed to be the confident one; you came here on your own volition, even prepared a speech you practised with your sister.

You should have known he’d sweep the rug from under you. 

Frustrated, you groan and smack the sheet. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to see! I have no time for this.”

Smiling reassuringly, Geto doesn’t bat an eye at your outburst and instead, begins a lecture, “What I saw was a CV lacking in relevant work experience. In fact, you had very little experience. Your most recent job was in high school, when you worked as a librarian’s assistant for a day. The other things on there were debate club and a certificate for being a neighbourhood ‘sweetheart’, and I’m not even sure what that means.”

“Oh.”

To your embarrassment, he laughs. A blush is growing on your face and suddenly you’re very aware of how some strands of hair are sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, how the sweater you’re wearing is a little scratchy and that maybe, just maybe, you’ve overreacted terribly.

Maybe you should have confronted him sooner. Perhaps just as soon as you overheard him tell Miguel that your sister owes him a favour for hiring you. However, in your defence, you were feeling a little hurt from having been left at the restaurant — you waited for an hour, watching people pass by and give you sympathetic looks as you sent text after text to a man too busy with a client to realise time passed by. 

A week has gone by since then, and you haven’t come to work at all, you dodged every text and call from Geto and ignored him when he showed up on campus and had the nerve to get upset that you’re hanging out with a classmate. Your sister tried to defend him, and herself, but you weren’t willing to hear her out. On many occasions, you’ve told her to butt out, to leave you to make mistakes and get hurt, because it’s your prerogative. 

She can’t protect you from everything and the more she tries, the harder you all learn that lesson. 

“Okay, fine. So, my CV sucks a little,” you huff, “but you should have never hired me under the pretence that I was good enough when the real reason was because my sister asked you. It’s unfair on me. I wanted to earn this job on my own and you two went behind my back to manipulate this whole situation!”

The man sighs and leans forward. You smell his cologne and it’s muddling your mind a little, so you lean back, away from him. He notices. “I understand you’re upset. And I’m sorry to have colluded with your meddling sister. But it really isn’t what you think, pretty girl.”

You hate how patient he sounds, like you’re the crazy one. And maybe you are. You don’t know anymore. In fact, you’re starting to think you know nothing at all. 

“Yes, it’s true she asked me to give you a job. But all I promised her was that I’ll give you a chance, like everyone else. And when you came for the interview, I thought a lot of things. One was that you are so different from your sister. Different from the people that tend to come through the door, from me. You’re much brighter, much warmer and lighter than everyone I’ve ever seen.”

There’s something in his eyes, a sincerity that makes you breathless. All the air has left the room and you’re leaning in without even realising it. Everything that he says is entrancing, he’s a pied piper playing a tune that fills your soul with a fire you can’t put out, and he’s leading you closer to him, away from everything you’ve ever known, away from safety and reason. 

You’re not afraid. 

“I had a look at your CV and thought, there’s no way I would hire you, not even if she begged or blackmailed me — I take great pride in my studio, I turned it from a little backroom space with flickering lights to what it is now. My clients trust me to provide quality service from beginning to end, and I will not let a woman, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of that.”

Geto reaches for your cheek, like he can’t help himself, and you let him. His hands are slightly calloused but otherwise smooth and soft. And that smile, the polite one he always wears, is gone. In its place is something that reflects how you feel, how you’ve both been feeling for a long time now. A frustration against the distance between you, the boundary that’s erected itself between employer and employee, boss and receptionist, and a man who’s seen it all versus a girl who knows so little. 

You aren’t meant to be. Everything about this relationship is wrong, it’s inadvisable, foolish, like Hades and Persephone, or Eros and Psyche. It’s a tragic love story doomed from the very beginning, the kind people talk about centuries later with a mix sense of awe and pity. You know all about it, have read so many variations of the same story with the same individuals who think they know everything, who believe they’re different, special and that the Fates will smile fondly on them. 

Except neither you nor Suguru are under the impression that you’re different, that this will turn out differently and that the cards you’ve been dealt are from a separate, fresh deck. You both know you’re playing a dangerous game. 

Neither of you care. 

“But then I talked to you. And you were so witty, so undeterred by my unrelenting questions, and so willing to learn as you go. You had the confidence of someone who’s worked a thousand jobs, who’s met a thousand people that, despite knowing better, I wanted to hire you on the spot.”

Carefully, with your eyes fluttering shut at the tentative touch of your skin, you breathe out, “Suguru, we shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

When your eyes open, you see his gorgeous, tortured eyes fall to your lips and you know what you want. 

Your lips meet his.

This kiss is so similar to the one you shared that night, but oh so new. It seems so long ago now, and when you feel his plush lips devour yours it feels like this is new to both of you and it urges you to push in further. His tongue touches yours and you don’t hesitate to intertwine it, to explore all that he’s laying out for you. 

Gasping for breath, you pull away with little success before he’s grasping the back of your neck and urging you over the desk, kneeing the papers there and hearing the pens and stapler fall to the floor with a dull clatter, you sit onto the desk and you hear his chair slam against the wall when he stands to press himself closer to you. He kisses you again. 

“Things work differently with me,” he says in between pecks to your lips. 

Whilst his mouth moves to your jaw, sucking at the skin by your ear, you giggle. “I know. My sister says you like control. Something about Christian Grey.”

Chuckling in your ear before nipping you there, he admits, “I’m not as insane as him. In truth, I don’t really know what I am, but I know it’s more intense than what most men ask for.”

“That’s okay, Suguru. We can work it out together, step by step.”

He kisses your pulse point. You moan. Goosebumps are rising along your arms; your back is arching to press as much of you closer to him. You’re barely capable of creating a single train of thought, you feel so lightheaded you don’t register how your legs are wrapping around his hips. 

“My smart girl,” Suguru muses against your skin. 

Your legs are wrapped around his hip, pulling him close until you can feel the bulge there push against your core. With a roll of your hips, the zipper of his jeans nudges your bundle of nerves. You gasp. And you seek out that pleasure again with slow, gradual grinds. 

Breathlessly, you say, “Suguru…”

He’s scraping his teeth against your pulse point, one hand kneading your thigh and the other holding himself up. Filling your senses, all you can think about is him and how there’s a growing pressure within that’s dying to be released. 

“Go on, pretty girl. Take what you need.” Tightening your legs around his hips, you grind harder, frustrated that there are layers between you. Your arch your back, chest rubbing against his. Like he knows what you want, his hand finds your breast, squeezing and groping. “No bra? Are you sure you came here to talk, angel?”

When his thumb brushes over your nipple, you cry out, body tightening as that coil inside snaps. You spasm, grinding hastily to draw out your pleasure. It’s much better than you any could have given yourself and you’re addicted. Hand flying to his hair, you thread it through, brushing out his hair tie until his silky hair cascades down.

He groans. 

In a blink of an eye, you’re being pulled and pushed down onto your knees. You grip his thighs, blinking fast as you desperately try to regain your bearings. 

“You’re asking for trouble, sweet thing. Can you handle it?” Suguru asks, a challenge glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. 

You bite your lip, thighs squeezing to subdue the regrowing aching there. With a sudden bravery, your hands make their way up, revelling in the marble like strength in his muscles before they find his zip. 

Hesitating, you feel something holding you back, an instinct within awakening. Awkwardly, you question, “May I?”

His smile widens, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then he’s threading his hands through your hair. It’s a rewarding pat, one full of warmth, and it’s empowering. 

“Such a good girl. You’re a perfect little angel, aren’t you?” He coos. “Of course you may, my pretty girl. Go on, go at your own pace.”

Nodding, you unzip his jeans, tugging it down with his boxers. And what springs out leaves your mouth watering. It’s huge and intimidating. It’s bad enough that he’s well-endowed, but nothing about him is typical. He’s different to the average man in every way. 

Starting with the metal piercing the underside of his dick, emerging through the head. 

Seeing the horrified look on your face, he chuckles, the hair soothing your head delving down to pinch your chin. Unperturbed by your reaction, likely expecting it, he explains, “I got it done a year ago, mostly as a dare. It took around nine weeks to heal and yes, it did hurt.”

“B-but I-I can’t,” you stammer and shake your head, adding, “there’s just n-no way.”

Suguru sighs, thumb grazing your cheek. “You don’t need to. I understand this is too much too soon, but I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’re more than capable.”

You don’t want to disappoint him. And you want to prove you can do whatever you set your mind to. Recalling one of your sister’s drunken admissions, you know the trick is to pinch your thumb, so you don’t gag, to breathe through your nose and take a little at a time. 

“Okay, okay. I can do it.”

He gathers your hair and keeps them out of the way. Slowly, you wrap your hand around the base, gasping at the way your fingers barely touch. With no particular method in mind, you explore his length, thumb following a vein from bottom to top. He’s hot in your hand, almost burning, and the tip is shining with what you know to be pre-cum. 

It’s pearly white and you can’t wait to know what it tastes like; you lean in and scoop up the drop with your tongue. You both groan. 

Salty, you mull the taste over. It isn’t bad. And suddenly, you no longer feel scared. Your tongue fiddles with the bent metal barbell, surprisingly not minding the cold sensation against your hot tongue. 

“That’s it,” he groans, grip on your hair tightening. 

You widen your jaw, suckling the head, tongue pressing against the slit before it circles around, grinding the barbell back and forth. He groans louder, deep breaths vibrating through the room. 

When you push in further, you make the mistake of doing it too fast. You gag, eyes tearing up. 

“Slowly, pretty. Slowly. There’s no rush, okay?”

Coughing, you nod weakly, feeling embarrassed. Recovering your breath, you go back in, slower. Eventually, you work up a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more of him but never quite making it further than halfway. 

Both hands on your head, he soothes your tears away with his thumb before he advises, “Relax your throat, sweet thing. I’ll guide you, is that alright?”

You tap his thighs twice in a yes. 

And then he’s pushing in, more and more until he’s filling your throat, muscles stretching to take him in. Tearing up once more, you mentally swallow that panic rising, the claustrophobia within forcing your nails into his bare thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. So good -ngh- for me, hmm?”

Suguru pulls back, the piercing scraping your tongue. And then he pushes back in. Again and again, he builds up to a rhythm, allowing you to get used to it, before he gives you more of him. 

This is so overwhelming, the feeling of his piercing bumping at the back of your throat, the ache in your jaw at the stretch, and the salty taste filling your senses. All you can see and feel and hear and taste is Suguru. You can’t get enough of him. 

So, when he bottoms out, your lips tickling his skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head just as his do. 

“I’m going to cum, pretty. Do you want to pull out?” He asks, pleasure written all over his face, the veins in his arm bulging at his barely constrained urge to fuck your throat freely. Knowing that he’s so in control, so concerned over you, when he could use you how he pleased, could take what he wants makes you so wet. 

You blink rapidly. 

“No? Are you sure you -ha- can take it? I won’t let you spit it out,” he warns. 

Sucking your cheeks in, you suction him closer. His cock head is rubbing the back of your throat, piercing burning, and with a shallow thrust, he’s cumming down your throat. 

Hot liquid fills your mouth. 

Suguru pulls out and you swallow the thick cream he leaves in your mouth. Your head slumps against his thigh, gasping for breath, heaving like you’ve just ridden a rollercoaster. 

Hands tucking themselves under your arms, he lifts you onto his lap just as he sits back on his chair, boxers pulled up before you even realise what position you’re in now. 

He rubs your back, muttering encouraging words about how perfect you were, how amazing you did, and how he knew you’d do well for him. 

“Open,” he orders, bottom lip pulled down by his thumb. He inspects your mouth and smiles at what he sees. “Good girl.”

And then he’s kissing you, tasting both yours and his essence. 

“No wonder Miguel gave me a funny look when I asked how many piercings you have,” you whisper against his lips, a high pulsing through your veins. 

Suguru chuckles. “He’s a good guy, did all my piercings. Eased all my concerns every time and I knew I wanted him in my studio.”

You nod. 

Your eyes are heavy and you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and pondering the change between you. You’ve accepted that you’re entering an unconventional relationship, that he’s going to introduce you to a world none of your friends had seen a glimpse of, but you won’t be navigating it by yourself. 

He’ll lead you just as he had when you first started working here. 

Softly, gently and with so much patience, you’ll be free to stumble as often as you need until you know who you are, what you want, and what you need to be.

“Get some sleep, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Is the last thing you hear before you fall deeper into sleep in his arms.

[lumenhuman]

"Once you get down to it, it's really funny how much our senses lie to us, omitting details to make everything seem so much simpler than it is.

"An open flame looks incredibly simple on the surface. Lashing tangerine whips that peel away at the air, giving rise to smoke and heat for seemingly no reason. At least, to your limited faculties.

"But to control something in the manner of a mage, a true mage, one must understand it, in its entirety. Study it, nurture it, consume and be consumed by it. As you might tell," I raised my arms from underneath my cloak, making a show of the myriad burn scars that plastered my skin oh so beautifully, "I've taken that crucial step, and I'm all the better a wielder of the arcane for it."

"Human," The judge interjected, "I am not here today to absorb the philosophy of a man who's brutally killed thousands of elven POWs." The disgust in his voice was evident. "I've seen the crystal images captured in your camps. Do you truly expect me to believe you caused such suffering with basic fire magic?"

I grinned. I couldn't help it. This was always my favorite part. "I do." I held in a small chuckle. Not yet. "Because you don't know what fire is."

The gallery behind me broke into enraged jeering at the sound of my proclamation. It took a full minute of the judge banging his gavel and shouting "Order!" before the racket died down. Finally, he glared at me from atop his bench once more, before explaining, "It is simply impossible for any human to perform what you've done. Even your strongest mages can't hold a candle to a mid-ranked elven apprentice. So tell me exactly wh-"

"That's just it!" I yelled into the courtroom. I couldn't contain it anymore, I had to speak my mind. I could feel my grin widening, threatening to split my cheeks at the ends. "You pompous twig-eaters have lorded your mastery of magic over mankind for far too long! Your raw power, your mana control, your casting speed, we can't compare to any of it! But you forgot what humans are best at," I let out a single laugh, which echoed through the deathly silent courtroom, before I swiftly contained it. I continued, "We can adapt like no other.

"We live nowhere near as long as you self-righteous pricks. Seven of our generations pass in only a half of one of yours. But we always make the most of our time. We study, and we learn, and we consolidate that knowledge on what those before us discovered, over and over again, until we finally learn the truth. And I," I met the judge's gaze, peering deep into his spirit, searching for the fire, "Am the first to discover it."

The elf sitting in front of me simply asked, "What did you discover?" His voice was a sumptuous mixture of repulsion and morbid curiosity, a cocktail I'd drank many times before whenever I regaled another with my knowledge, and was always fond of.

The hilarity of the situation was getting unbearable. I couldn't help but laugh through my words as I revealed, "Fire doesn't make heat," I fought down another fit of laughter, "It IS heat!"

Both the gallery and the judge simply stared at me, silence covering the room for a precious few seconds while I let them marinate in my knowledge.

The judge was apparently the sharpest one there. I could tell he understood the moment I saw his face of confusion twist into absolute horror.

Yes, YES, YES!

His voice now barely above a whisper, he stuttered, "You... you mean that... that it's...?"

"It's nothing more than a pretty little light show that our eyes use to make sense of the world?" If my feet weren't shackled to the floor I would've approached him, to get a better look at his dying soul. "Because that's all it is. Fire is not a producer, it's a product. You wood-brained aristocrats spend your whole lives so focused on only what you can see and what you can hear, that you never figured it out!

"What we call 'fire' is just a sensory representation of vast amounts of heat. And what is heat, if not pure, unadulterated energy. The force the drives all motion, all change, EVERYTHING that happens in the entire cosmos, happens because of energy. If you control fire, you control heat. If you control heat, you control energy. And if you control energy..."

"STOP!" The judge shouted, livid that his reality was being shattered. A common reaction. "Clearly you're making all of this up! Those pictures must have been faked, scenes staged with illusion magic as a fear tactic!"

Grasping at straws. This questioning never would've happened if that was what the elven high-council believed from the start. I smirked. "If you truly don't believe me, you can always come and remove this restraint collar, and ask me to prove it. It's either that, or accept that the humans are getting stronger than you."

Chaos erupted once again, my challenge being met with mixed response. The screaming only quieted down after the judge pulled out a wand and swiftly cast a silencing spell over the gallery, muting them until they were barely audible.

I kept my mouth shut through the whole ordeal, until the judge was staring daggers at me again. His rage and internal conflict were palpable in his expression, and it took a few minutes for him to make up his mind.

Then another few to cast every warding spell that he knew on himself before he stepped down from the bench.

Aglow with the mana from his wards, he approached the desk where I stood, until he was mere feet from my face. He was a good foot taller than me, but so much thinner, it seemed he would snap in a stiff breeze. His eyes were filled with defiance, a look of absolute certainty that he was right.

It was so lovely. Or rather, what it would become was lovely.

He drew a rune in the air, and I heard the latch of my collar click, before it fell to the ground. I stretched my neck back and forth, getting it used to it's full range of motion again. "You've made the right choice, your honor."

He chuckled, "I knew you couldn't do it."

Before he could react I launched out my right hand directly through all of his wards and grabbed him by the face. "You've given me an entire plater of new subjects!"

I started by boiling his tongue.

The Elf looks down to the lone human mage "You stand trial for warcrimes. Explain how you did it with just fire Magic" he said dismissively. "Well. Have you ever thought how and why fire burns?"

[fenharel-babe]

I’m sorry but the way Solas, in his letter, says he wanted to stay as Solas with Lavellan just hits me.

In DATV, in my opinion, we see Fen’Harel. We see a GENERAL, someone who knows war, someone who’s using Rook (Mythal literally says it outright, which made me laugh), who is a liar (sprinkling some truths here and there), and is literally using blood magic on Rook. He’s lying and tricking them. We see who he used to be, his skills he kept hidden because they didn’t belong to Solas.

They belonged to Fen’Harel. In my head, Solas is who he was in DAI, mostly. A fade loving nerd who loves to help people and LOVES to answer questions if you ask. I feel like even if someone asked about something other than the Fade, he would do his best to answer because he just loves to see people wanting to know more. It’s why I feel like he’d be such a good dad. Kids are so curious about the world around them, and I believe he would support them, keep them safe and love them while teaching them so much about the real world and the Fade. And I can imagine him, if he ever ran into kids at Skyhold or even helping children slaves or parents, he would be so comforting and good at dealing with them. He’s awkward, since he hasn’t felt love (whether it be companionship or romantic) in so long, but sweet because he knows they’re innocent, curious and he wants to protect that.

I see a nerd that has a little snort when he chuckles, a man that deals with teasing from everyone and pranks from Sera even if they piss him off, and I believe sometimes he would participate in pranking even it it was small. He gets into arguments with Vivienne, yet I believe he would still protect her in the end of things. In my mind anyways. He literally is just a man in DAI who wants someone to understand him, and he’s so awkward when he gets that. He doesn’t know how to react because he hasn’t felt love in so long, and maybe never has. He went through hell when he was dealing with the Evanuris, and his relationship with Mythal was terribly abusive, so I can imagine him not wanting to get close to anyone. Not just because he was lying in DAI, but ALSO BECAUSE OF FEAR. HE WAS AFRAID THEY WOULD TREAT HIM THE SAME AS SHE DID. They wouldn’t see him as a person or someone worthy of getting help. He’s a scared man who wants love, so when he finds it he holds onto it.

I see him as such a good lover as Solas because it’s who he is deep down. He’s caring and doesn’t care about other people’s opinions. In DAI, he cares about Lavellan’s opinion and he wants her to have freedom. Like when you drink from the Well, he’s all upset because now you DONT HAVE FREEDOM. Whether inquisitor or lover, he’s scared. He cares about freedom, people knowing all they can, I feel like he doesn’t like to lie.

I see that as Solas, and it just HITS me when he says in the letter that he wanted to stay as Solas with her. I feel like he would tell her the truth eventually, but mainly keep himself with her. I see DAI Solas as SOLAS. He wanted to stay with her like that. As a nerd who loves her deeply and cares for other people. He didn’t want to be Fen’Harel anymore. Didn’t want to keep lying, hiding himself from others, and ever be a general again.

He wanted to give wisdom, not orders.

He wanted to stay as Solas and love Lavellan with all of him, but his devotion was so deep that he couldn’t. It hits when he says that he wanted to stay like THAT with Lavellan. I KNOW IT’S NOT SUCH A BIG DEAL BUT IT IS TO ME. It just makes me think that he didn’t want to be Fen’Harel ever again. Didn’t want this shit deep down, but he felt like he had to. And I imagine him as leaving clues for Lavellan because he loves her and wants her to stop him deep down. Help him be SOLAS AGAIN. Her Fade nerd that loves people as well and loves to grab ass.

Anyways. I’m overthinking and I love Solas deeply. I can never escape this hole of Solavellan hell and Solavellan heaven.

[zaceouiswriting]

The Football Stud: Fever

Character: Gabe x male reader, (mentioned) Nolan Halloway

Universe: Somewhere in Teen wolf

Warnings: Smut: hardcore, degradation, humiliation, feminization, mentioned non-con

Author's Note: Sorry for the late upload. I was going to post something for Christmas, but that's coming much later. I actually wanted to do something wholesome, but it turned into smut faster than I could see, and I lost interest in it, so I wrote a smutty half request instead. (Please don't ask about the logic; there is none) I hope you guys enjoy this one.

You felt uncomfortable even though it fit perfectly, and unfortunately, you had to admit that it didn't look bad on you as you admired yourself in the bathroom mirror.

“Are you coming or not?” Gabe’s deep voice bellowed authoritatively through the locker room, easily reaching your ear.

You swallowed nervously, not wanting to answer, as you knew he would be mad if you were honest. But you took a deep breath because you were even more afraid of his reaction if you didn't answer.

"I don't really feel comfortable showing-"

"Shut up and come out," he shouted, audibly annoyed, "so you can do literally the only thing a stupid fag like you is good for!"

It felt like he had just punched you right in the chest. You felt humiliated on so many levels, and yet you opened the bathroom door, which led straight into the changing room near the showers.

You would be in the locker room if you just walked around the corner. It had been nearly an hour since the football game ended, and the coach handed Gabe the keys to lock the room behind him. The only visible light was the static glow of the lamps in the room, as the sun had long since given way to the moon.

Head down, you rounded the corner with tiny steps. You didn't see Gabe right away, but you became very aware of him when you heard him whistle after you. The first time it happened, you felt exhilarated, even ecstatic.

There, Gabe sat comfortably on one of the benches against the wall. His body was now much more muscular, as he trained twice as much as he used to, but on his lips was the same superior, condescending smirk, still the same, yet so different.

"You look so fucking hot," he commented, beckoning you to come closer to him, which you did.

When you were in front of him, he ordered you to twirl. You saw his eyes darken with lust as he took another swig of his beer bottle. Technically, he wasn't old enough to drink yet, but the football team had some leeway, at least on university grounds.

He emptied his bottle, placed it safely under the bench, and then simply grabbed you by the waist and sat you on one of his legs.

“Look at this skirt,” he said, fascinated by the sight.

You had no idea where he got it, but right before the game, he gave you a backpack with a cheerleading uniform and something else you wouldn't even think about out of embarrassment. Still, you put on everything he gave you.

“Are you satisfied?” you asked, stuttering and uncertain.

“You can be fucking sure of that!” he boasted loudly. "And even more so if a certain slut had listened to me the first time and not made me wait so long!"

There was a danger gleaming in his eyes that you knew all too well. He'll punish you, force you to shout more than just his name, and treat you so roughly that you'll miss class again. Before starting, you knew you'd have to lie to the others again about all the bruises you'd come home with. Last time, your fraternity almost started a manhunt because they thought someone was forcing them on you, but you somehow managed to calm them down, even though you had to admit to some pretty dirty secrets of yours.

You felt his rough hand on your lower back, moving further down to your ass. Suddenly, you let out a yelp as the same big hand gave your behind a hearty squeeze.

“What a perky ass,” he mutters in a slightly slurred voice, “fuck!”

"Don't you want to sit on my lap, baby girl?" His lips were so close to your ear that you almost moaned reflexively. "I know a dirty slut like you would love to know how fucking hard you make me."

Before you knew it, he had pulled you onto his lap. Both his hands were on your waist as he vigorously ground your ass on his lap. You could feel his big cock getting hard and poking you through his tight football pants.

When you heard him moan softly, you felt the heat rise to your face; you had never heard him moan desperately like that before. Usually, he moans like a rutting bull as he relentlessly thrusts his cock into you, but this somehow felt much more intimate.

"Do I have to remind you what I am to you?" His voice, which had previously been filled with lust, was suddenly stern, even cold. You swallowed hard and couldn't answer. "Pretend you can't hear me?" His laugh was dry; you already knew he was done.

Without a word, he pushed you off his lap but held you up, standing in front of him. Just a second later, his large body overshadowed you, with his hands tightened around your waist once more.

"What a cute little girl," he murmurs into your hair, "So small and yet so disobedient."

Your blood ran cold. He seemed angry, even furious, but you didn't do anything that bad, right? But even if you argue with him, it won't help and will only worsen things.

He doesn't say another word. Instead, he wraps one arm around your waist and lifts you effortlessly. He carried you to some lockers in the middle of the room, sat you back down on the floor, and bent you forward slightly with his other hand while he told you in a barely whispered voice to hold on to the lockers for dear life.

You were already halfway gone from worry and desire—if you were a girl, you knew you would be soaked—now only pre-cum covered the surprise under your short skirt. You truly felt like a slut in that moment, just like Gabe had always told you. Even though you weren't entirely sure what would happen next, you knew you had to hide how much you were already enjoying it.

He traced his rough fingertips over your figure, dancing on your skin like a drunken wisp. By the time they landed on your skirt and took it in his hands, you felt him shudder. Fearing that something had happened, you turned your head only to see Gabe's sinister grin. When he caught your gaze, his intentions were more than clear.

“Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

There it was again. At first, you thought he was just maddened from drunkenness, but now it was clear. He was actually feminizing you. You should have known when he made you dress in a girl's cheerleading outfit.

As you were in thought, Gabe covered you completely with his body, pressing his head firmly into your nape, gently kissing your neck, and eliciting soft moans from your stunned body. His hands continued to explore the entire time, finding their way under your skirt and gently caressing your legs, but you were sure that this would be the only time he would be tender with you that night.

And as if you had summoned it, he ripped up your skirt and slapped your right butt cheek with so much force that it almost threw you flat against the locker, only for him to whistle as if nothing had happened.

"Bitch, you look good in lace!" Gabe slurred like the drunken stud he is, so needy and horny that it was hard to believe.

You didn't even know where he got it because the price tag was still on when you got it, and you almost fainted; it was so expensive that you knew he wanted to do this more often, or so you thought.

“I really can’t wait,” Gabe suddenly murmured as he leaned back in his standing position.

With a quick movement, he shifted the tiny piece of fabric that hid your hole to the side, circling it with his finger before attempting to enter it, only to be stopped as it had contracted too much. You could hear him swearing quietly, cursing you and your uselessness.

Before you knew it, Gabe had raised two fingers to your mouth and ordered you to wet them, as that was the only lube you would get.

Without hesitation, you took them between your lips, let your tongue dance on his long, salty, calloused fingers, and finally took them completely into your mouth, feeling them touch the back of your throat.

The second his fingers reached the back of your throat, all you heard was him cursing once again, angry that he didn't use your throat, even though he had trained it for so long not to gag, even when he shoved his huge cock all the way into your mouth with one sharp thrust.

You knew from the beginning that it would make him mad because you knew full well that deepthroating him was his favorite sensation, especially in a crowded university lecture hall.

Gabe only gave you about a minute before he pulled his finger out of your mouth and immediately, with a precision that a drunk man like him shouldn't have, slid his fingers inside your ass. You gritted your teeth, holding back the pain, knowing that Gabe hated it when you showed any emotion other than lust and desire for him.

Without even trying, this guy hit the spot that made your mind go blank for a second, and when you came back, you felt a pain in your forehead. You found yourself in direct contact with the metal side of the locker.

As his fingers aggressively penetrated your hole, a pain shot through your ass. But you didn't complain because that was all you would get before he took you at a pace so brutal that you'd thank God he'd even prepared you in any way, which was already something great of him, as it was something he didn't do all the time.

“That should be enough,” Gabe mumbled, something he probably didn’t even want to say out loud.

Suddenly, you feel him swaying from side to side, the alcohol clearly taking its effect. But he doesn't let that distract him and instead guides his cock, albeit with difficulty, to your hole.

Although you feared the brutal treatment you would receive, you could barely contain your anticipation of feeling him again. It had been a while, and your hole felt empty for quite a long time. As he circled your hole, you quickly became impatient. While you subtly tried to get his cock into you, all you got was a hard smack on your ass, which was glowing a bright red color at this point.

Gabe muttered under his breath, cursing you for being an impatient cockslut, a bitch that needed to be filled. Although it seemed odd to you that he was trying to feminize you, it did something deep inside you.

"You want this cock?" he asked smugly, his words becoming more slurred by the second. "I'll fill you up like the good little slut you are until your belly is full of my child!"

Without even waiting for an answer, he pushed his cock in and didn't stop, even when you felt it was getting too tight, but you knew it would fit, even if it hurt a little. So you bit your tongue and waited for the pain to subside instead of saying anything or even making a sound.

In one forceful motion, his hands wrapped painfully tightly around your hips, just under your skirt, so tight that it hurt, but you still didn't make a sound; he penetrated you.

Only when you finally felt his thick glans pressing against your prostate did you open your mouth, which was usually so large when he hadn't had anything to drink. This drew a long, intense moan from you, which, in turn, elicited a deep, sadistic chuckle from Gabe.

“That's the shit,” grunted Gabe, “Moan louder for me, bitch!”

As you felt another slap and his cock throbbing violently inside you, you were forced to give him exactly what he wanted. You gave him more, moaning sluttily and even going an octave higher than you thought possible, sounding almost like a real girl.

"God... fuck," he muttered quietly as his hands became a little more bearable. "That's my little girl, my good little slut!"

He even went so far as to pet your head, almost making you feel like he really cared about you. But the relentless pace of his thrusts told you otherwise. Although you wished things were different, you knew there would be nothing between you, nothing other than mind-blowing sex, that is.

Gabe's thrusts got even harder, his warm manhood burning so well in your hole, but the worst part for you was how precisely he hit your prostate each time. With every thrust deep into your bowels, barely visible on your stomach, he ripped your senses from their sockets again and again. It was almost torture, but you loved every second of it, feeling like you could fly, breathe underwater, and face the next day as if you had conquered it many times before.

At the limit of your senses, you felt one of his hands moving up your stomach to your pectoral muscles. He squeezes your slightly trained muscle, which elicits a satisfied grunt from him.

For a long moment, it was completely silent; nothing was said, and the only sounds echoing through the room were the rapid, rhythmic slapping of your skins and the animalistic noises Gabe made like the brute he was.

“I’m about to bust,” Gabe suddenly announced, although his breathing and voice were even.

You were speechless; he had never come so quickly and calmly, always out of breath, sweating like crazy. Now, he was none of that.

As announced, it took almost no time before a few thick jets of cum filled your insides with much-needed warmth.

Gabe didn't pull out as he usually would. Instead, you saw his hand on the locker wall next to your head as you returned to the plane of the living, his muscular body hard against your back, and his warm breath that smelled of beer and something fruity, maybe strawberries or something similar. Turning your head slightly, you saw him grinning smugly at you; your heart dropped into your skirt.

Suddenly, you felt something soft on your lips. You couldn't process the sight before you; Gabe was so close, his eyes closed and his sinful lips capturing yours in a gentle, warm embrace. It lasted only a fleeting moment, warm and completely unexpected.

“Such a good, pretty girl for daddy.”

Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red. You wanted to mock and belittle him for calling himself that, but you didn't. You felt warm and wanted for once. So you let it pass and looked away in embarrassment, but Gabe, with a gentleness you'd never experienced from him before, placed a finger around your chin and forced your head back without much effort.

"Don't look away, baby," he murmured against your lips before capturing them again.

This time, he didn't close his eyes, instead holding eye contact with a knowing glint in his eyes. But you couldn't hold the eye contact for long. You closed your eyes and melted in his embrace. Your tongues quickly entangled with his, clearly more dominant. He pulled you closer to him, both of his hands exploring the front of your body as if it belonged to him.

It wasn't until he separated the two of you that you realized you were no longer standing but sitting safely on Gabe's lap. He was now leaning comfortably against the wall, hands clasped behind his head, flexing his biceps the entire time, clearly visible even through his football uniform. You'd be lying if you didn't feel things you weren't too proud of.

"Now be a good little slut and ride me," he told you arrogantly. "I've made you cum three times already, and I only came once, so keep going, baby."

He massaged your upper body as if calming you down as he spoke. It worked somewhat, but as you tried to follow his orders, you realized something: your legs hurt too much to move. Panic rose in you, afraid of what would happen if he knew. So you tried your best and even put your hands on his thighs, using them as leverage to move yourself up. But your whole body felt heavy.

Before you knew it, your arms gave way, and you fell against Gabe's chest. You heard his angry breathing and felt his hot breath on your neck.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” you admitted sheepishly.

Suddenly, you felt a violent jolt and quickly found yourself on the cold floor. The skirt you had been given and the tight top were already worn out, even slightly torn, not to mention the lace underwear that was already crumpled and almost destroyed.

Gabe towered over you with his fists clenched. "You worthless bitch," he mutters, seemingly ready to dish out the worst punishment. But to your surprise, he just crouches down next to you. "I told you what will happen if you turn out to be worthless and unable to complete your one fucking job, you stupid whore!"

His voice was steady; none of the slurring you heard before was left as if he had never been drunk. Without hesitation, he spat in your face, stood back up, went to his backpack, and pulled out his phone.

Unable to move, you could only stare at him with wide eyes, horror coursing through your veins as you heard the disgusting words he used.

Just as you started to feel your legs again, the locker room door busted open. Loud laughter and energetic, indistinct conversations followed. The entire football team soon filled the room, but no one was looking at you as they greeted their quarterback. Gabe made pleasant conversation before folding his arms across his chest, not glancing in your direction once, just a small nod in your direction and more demeaning words.

When the team first looked at you, they were smug, calling you a needy slut who would even play a girl just to get some cock. Even though you felt bad, they had a point. But you still thought Gabe would say something in your defense, but he didn't.

Instead, even more horrible words came from him: He told his team that they could do whatever they wanted with you since you were useless to him now, but he wanted the cheerleading uniform and underwear back, even if they were in tatters.

You were too stunned, but when you saw Gabe, already changed and leaving, you stretched out your arm and begged him to take you with him. Instead, you only heard a scoff before he left the room and closed the door behind him.

As you were about to lower your hand, one of the boys took it with a wickedly grim grin. He gently stroked your hand, only to tell you to be a good slut to them because they weren't as generous as Gabe and would take drastic measures to make sure you did right by them.

Although you were disgusted and scared, you still nodded. You cried silently as you felt dozens of hands on you and someone supporting you. But when he was about to enter you, you screamed.

***

You woke up weakened, your body covered in a thick layer of sweat. Groaning in pain, you tried to find out where you were, only to find yourself in your fraternity bedroom.

“Thank God you’re awake,” you heard a gentle voice say.

You turned your head and smiled gently. "Nolan, what happened?"

Concerned, he touched your forehead, only to quickly pull away.

"You're not any better," he whispers lightly. "You fainted in one of your lectures, and our university doctor sent you back with Mark because you weren't so bad that you had to stay there. He did give him some medication for you, though."

You wanted to take the pills, but you couldn't move your body, just like in the locker room. Nolan quickly noticed this, put them in your mouth, and helped you drink some water.

You grimaced as the cold liquid ran down your throat, but then a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“Did something happen to Gabe or the football team?” you asked in a hoarse voice.

It was immediately obvious that Nolan was uncomfortable. You feared the worst and believed that your dream was actually reality. 

"Gabe came over but left when he heard you were sick," Nolan told you. "I still can't believe you tolerate him taking advantage of you like that."

Smiling and relieved that what you had experienced, even though it felt real, was only a dream, you gently stroked Nolan's hand.

"I wish he loved me as much as I love him, but I'm content with how things are right now," you said slowly, even though your throat hurt. "As long as I'm in this fraternity, I get the best of both worlds: mind-numbing sex with the person I love while also being able to cuddle with you guys and do all the cute couple things without anyone being pressured to feel anything."

Nolan sat there stunned, never having thought about it like you did, but he realized they actually treated you like their partner. All the time outside of class and when you weren't getting fucked by Gabe, they spent with you and your fraternity, cuddling, watching movies, playing games, and going out. None of them even had partners; they were completely focused on you.

You smiled as you slowly fell back asleep but asked Nolan to take care of you. Unconsciously, you laid your head on his hand, causing Nolan to get stuck.

A few hours later, someone else opened your bedroom door.

"Is everything okay?" The new person asked but got no answer. When he walked in, he saw Nolan holding you in his arms. "Damn, I must be late," he commented quietly, chuckling as she walked back out and closed the door behind her. Cursing himself for letting Nolan out of his sight.

[Masterlist]

[revelboo]

A silly little thing,, but I’m an Optimus Prime girlie & happen to also be an ‘exotic dancer’ lmao, so when I was reading Gravity….you can imagine the actual surprise & joy I felt when the reader revealed she was (or used to be one) too, like 😭😭😭 what are the ODDS?? Must be his aura….I love him, your honor

It’s meant to be!

Gravity Pt 12

Optimus x Reader

• Staring at the screen long after Megatron’s little message ends and his fellow Autobots that had seen it start speculating, all he can think of is that he’s not alone. And it’s a relief. Leaving the warmth of you to report for his duties had been difficult. Especially since you’d woken up first and had straddled him. Even deep in recharge, his body responding to those soft hands touching him. Definitely not the worse way to come to alertness and even though he’d hit the washracks, he swears he can still scent you clinging to him. But then it really sinks in. That the Decepticons are taking humans and using them. Because that’s an atrocity that hadn’t even occurred to him.

• Stretching to touch your toes, you idly run through a few stances to limber up because you’re bored out of your mind. As much fun as playing with Optimus is, as soon as he leaves, you’re alone with your thoughts again. Remembering the look on his face before he’s schooled his expression into neutrality. Like a big, lovesick puppy, hurt that sex is all you want. Blowing out a breath as you spin in a slow circle, head tipping back, you know you’d lied to him. But then, you’d lied to yourself to. Saying you don’t want more, when deep down, you do. You’re just afraid to hope, to let down your defenses knowing you can get hurt again if you do. That love is just a pretty lie used to reach a goal.

• Sliding into his seat, he steeples his servos as he listen to the bits of gossip and conversation around him. How many humans are in the Ark at this point? Honestly, he’s not sure anymore. But he does know one thing, he’s probably not the only one who’s gotten attached to their ward. Who’s crossed that particular line. And it’s out there now for all of them, the fact that their species are at least compatible that way. Dropping his head into his hands, he stares at the floor. Because someone’s going to need to have that conversation with the Autobots keeping humans. On the ethics of taking advantage of a much younger species. And how is he supposed to do that when he’s interfacing with you?

• Head lifting when he finally returns, your smile wavers when he just stares at you. “You look like the other kids were bullying you, babe.” Venting he sits on the edge of the berth and then just slumps backwards, hands over his face. Oh. Well this is new, usually he’s so calm and serious. Climbing up his arm and over onto his chassis, you drop to straddle his neck, arms crossed on his chin. “Want me to beat up someone for you?” When his head tips to look at you, you lift an arm to flex your nonexistent muscle for him.

• Your mischievous expression twists through him as he lifts a servo to slide against your spine. “When we- er- interfaced,” he says, ignoring when you cheerfully interject ‘fucked like bunnies.’ “I didn’t pressure you. Right?” Because he can’t imagine what those poor humans captured by the Decepticons are suffering and can’t help but wonder if you’d let him have you out of intimidation or fear.

• “Oh, you are too sweet for words. If anything I seduced you, big guy.” Laughing as he frowns seriously at you, you push up to stand on his neck and drape yourself against his chin, tapping a finger on his bottom lip. “Don’t worry. I promise you didn’t corrupt my innocence.” More likely, you’re corrupting his.

• “I could have,” he says, joking as some of his worry eases and you grin, brows lifting. Expression giving away how much you doubt that. “I can be a bad influence.” His protest just makes you laugh, that warm sound stroking over him. How can this be wrong when you feel so much like home? When he wants to lay beside you and exchange stories. Ask about each other’s day and spend his free time in your arms, listening to you laugh with him. Wants so much more than your body. “The Decepticons are taking humans.” Unable to say to interface with.

Previous

[pocket-of-sunshine24]

Home For The Holidays (S.H. x Reader)

Summary: Steve and the reader were inseparable as kids, but when high school hit, Steve became "King Steve," and their friendship fell apart. After graduation, the reader leaves Hawkins for college, trying to move on from the past.

Years later, they return home for winter break, only to be forced to confront old memories and people they thought they’d moved on from. At the top of that list is Steve Harrington. He’s changed, but is it enough for the reader to trust that he’s no longer the person who left them behind—or is there still too much pain from their past to bridge the gap?

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, hurt and comfort, Steve calls reader "sunshine", fluff at the end, lots of feeling alone and left out, having to talk things out, King Steve ruins things for himself (as usual)

Authors Note: Heyyyy! Here's the full fic of the drabble I posted a few days ago. I tried to keep this gender neutral, but if you notice any mistakes please let me know. Also this is my first time ever writing a fic so please be nice, but feel free to comment feedback! Thanks for reading!

Divider created by @strangergraphics-archive

Driving through Hawkins on the way home feels bittersweet. Watching all the holiday lights flash by as you turn down your street, with memories from when you were younger flashing by just as quickly. With a deep breath you try to remind yourself that you’re only home for a couple of weeks. You can do this. It’s not like you’ll have to see him. No matter how small the town is, you know you can just stay home and avoid your old usual spots no matter how much you want to see what he’s up to now. But that boat passed a long time ago. You both made your decision. You doubt he even remembers you. With that thought you pull into your driveway, an ache for what once was sits on your chest.

The house looks the same as you remember it—nothing about Hawkins ever seems to change. The faded shutters, the cracked driveway, the overgrown rose bushes that your mom used to tend to—everything is just as it was when you left, frozen in time. But as you stand there, you feel the weight of something missing, like the town itself has stalled, unmoving, while everything you once felt here has slipped away. The memories, once vivid and full of life, now feel distant, as if they belong to someone else. You take a breath, and it feels as if you’re the only one who’s changed. Hawkins hasn’t moved, but somehow, you have. And you don’t fit anymore.

You grab your bag and step out of the car, the cool air biting at your skin as you walk toward the door. The familiar sound of your mom’s voice calls out from inside, pulling you back to reality. You’re home and you’re here to spend time with your parents, not get caught up in the past.

The evening passes in a blur of catching up, the easy chatter of family life filling the space that once seemed so comforting. But no matter how hard you try, your thoughts seem haunted by the ghost of your childhood. A tall, tanned boy with a penchant for mischief. Steve Harrington.

What had he become? Was he still the same guy who’d once made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or was he still ruling over Hawkins as King Steve like he had in high school? You didn’t know. And part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to find out. You had your own life now, a life that no longer included him. The thought should have been comforting, but instead, it gnawed at you in the quiet of the evening.

Later that night, as you lie in your old bed, the familiar creaks of the house lull you into a restless sleep. You can’t shake the feeling that you no longer belong in this space. The bed feels too small, the sheets too itchy. It’s as though Hawkins itself can sense the change in you, urging you to either fit back into the version of yourself that once belonged here—or leave for good.

The next day, you wake up feeling exhausted from the restless night. Deciding that being cooped up in your house for 2 weeks will only serve to drive you insane, you head out for a morning walk to clear your mind. You spent too many hours the night before reminiscing on what was and people from your past. You need to remind yourself why you left Hawkins in the first place.

You make your way downtown and step into the grocery store, recalling your mom’s complaint about not having any eggs for the holiday party she always hosts at the end of next week. As you pass through the doors, you welcome the warmth, a respite from the biting cold. Keeping your head down, you move quickly through the aisles, eager to grab the eggs and get out without running into anyone who might recognize you.

But as soon as you send that wish out into the universe you run into Nancy Wheeler. You freeze for a moment, your stomach dropping. Nancy, Nancy, who always had a knack for seeing through people, looks at you, her expression shifting from surprise to a hint of recognition. Her eyes flash with an emotion too quick to place. The grocery store suddenly feels smaller, and the cold of the outside world seems to creep in despite the warmth around you.

"Well, look who it is," Nancy says, her voice both familiar and slightly guarded. "I didn’t expect to see you back in town." She gives you a polite but somewhat distant smile and, you can’t tell if it’s just her usual friendliness or if there's something more beneath it.

You manage a tight smile, feeling the awkwardness settling in like a thick fog. "Yeah, just for the holidays. You know how it is." You try to sound casual, but your voice feels a little too forced.

Nancy nods, taking a step back to give you space in the aisle. Her gaze lingers for a second longer than necessary, as if waiting for something, but then she pulls a carton of milk off the shelf and places it in her basket. The silence between you both stretches, heavy with unspoken words and broken promises. Past memories bubble up of watching her and Steve through their best and worst times. Memories of Steve coming to your house drunk and crying because Nancy had said their whole relationship was bullshit.There had been so much left unsaid between them, so much hurt, that it fractured his relationships with everyone else. You suppose that’s when time started to slow to a stop in Hawkins. And now, here you are, standing in the sterile aisles of the grocery store. The years apart feel like a wall that neither you or Nancy is sure how to climb.

“So…” Nancy starts, as though she’s considering something, the words tentative. “How have you been? Really, I mean.” The question hangs in the air, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in her voice, but there's something else there, too. A carefulness.

You feel the pressure to answer, but you’re not sure where to start. What part of your life do you even mention? The life you’ve built away from Hawkins? The tangled feelings about everything you left behind? Or do you just lie, let it all slide with a simple answer?

You’re not even sure if Nancy knows about what happened between you and Steve. Do they still even talk? You’ve been so out of the loop on everything in the lives of those who stayed in Hawkins. You feel as if you’re just passing through, forced to watch as they continue on without you.

“Oh you know, I've just been busy with school, but it’s been good. It’s nice to have a break at home though,” you respond politely. Trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation without seeming rude. You glance towards the door hoping she’ll end the conversation there and let you leave. But she continues on oblivious to your growing discomfort.

“Hey, I know you haven’t been home in a while, but you should stop by mine this Friday. I’m having a small get together with a couple friends. You’re invited if you want. I will let you know Mike and his little group will be there too because if they aren’t invited he’ll give me hell.” Your lips twitch into a genuine smile at the mention of Mike and the others. It’s been so long you wonder how they have changed, if at all, in this town stuck in time. Your heart twinges at the thought that they’ve grown since you’ve last seen them, but it was your decision to leave. Your decision to not come back until now.

With a tentative smile you say, “sure I’ll see if I can make it.” You begin to turn, having long forgotten the eggs that sent you into the store in the first place, when Nancy grabs your wrist and says, “It’s good to see you again, really it is.” Her eyes are earnest as she stares at you. It’s as if she’s trying to see something in your eyes. Or piece together a puzzle in her head. You just give her another small smile and quickly exit the store, your mind even more foggy than when you left the house this morning.

Hands shaking as you exit, the bitter cold rushes against your cheeks. You weren’t ready to see anyone from your past, let alone anyone with a connection to Steve. It’s been so long. You aren’t even sure you would recognize him if he stood right in front of you. The memories with him are precious, too precious to let go of, but the hurt has frayed them over time—left you wanting to forget even as you long to keep them close to your heart.

You mull over Nancy’s invitation for this Friday. It’s only a couple nights away. Is Steve gonna be there? Are you ready to face even more people you left behind here? You’re not sure, but maybe it’s time you tried anyway.

The rest of the week passes with no further drama. You spend lots of time with your parents getting the house ready for your mom’s annual holiday party. Setting up decorations, putting up the tree, finally getting those eggs she needed.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. You eventually let the awkward interaction with Nancy fall out of your mind as you find a small comfort in the routine with your family.

Friday creeps up on you until it’s merely two hours before Nancy’s get together. You’re freaking out. Clothes thrown all over the floor, your room a disaster zone. Nancy didn’t say much about what to wear. Did you need to dress up? Was it more casual? You were overthinking every little thing because it was easier to do that than to think about who might be in attendance at said gathering. Your heart races as you think about what might happen tonight. You force yourself to take a deep breath and square your shoulders, you’ve been running from this town, this moment for long enough, you need to face the past and the mistakes that haunt you.

You step in front of your mirror, still unsure of what you're doing. The outfit you finally settled on is simple—a nice sweater, some jeans, shoes that are neither too casual nor too formal—but nothing about it feels like it fits. The sweater clings uncomfortably, the jeans stiff—like they're not even yours anymore. You feel like you're pretending to belong here, as if all these years away haven't changed anything. You stare at your reflection just for a moment, and it feels like you’ve stepped back in time—like you’re sixteen again, about to sneak over to Steve’s for a movie night—when everything seemed so much simpler. But you’re not that girl anymore. The one who fit so perfectly in this town. You try to shake the memory from your head, but it lingers, pulling at you like a thread ready to unravel everything. For a second, you wonder if you’re making a mistake, if going to the party is just you trying to force yourself to become the girl you were before you left. To pretend that time stopped for you too after you left Hawkins. But it didn’t. Time kept going. You left, and you changed. You don’t fit here anymore, not like you did before. You don’t match. Before you can second-guess yourself, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that facing the friends who stayed in Hawkins is the only way forward. No matter how much it hurts. With one last glance at the mirror, you grab your keys and head out the door. Your car hums softly as you drive toward Nancy's place. The familiar streets of Hawkins look the same as always, but now they feel cold, unfamiliar, as if the air is heavy with something more than just the winter chill. You arrive at the Wheeler’s house, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the windows. The faint sound of music and laughter drifts through the air, a stark contrast to the tightness in your chest. You take one last moment to yourself before stepping out of your car. And as you exit, the cold bites at your skin. It feels as though the sound of your shoes echoes louder than they should against the quiet street. You try to steady your breath, your heart racing as you work up the courage to ring the doorbell. For a second, you hesitate, the weight of everything you left behind in this town bearing down on you. Then, with a final deep breath, you press the doorbell and wait, feeling your pulse thundering in your ears. Nancy opens the door with a wide smile, looking exactly the same. The same easy confidence, the same look of someone who’s always known her place in the world. She steps aside to let you in. “Hey, you made it!” she says, her voice casual and warm. You almost feel like you belong here. Almost.

She leads you into the living room, where a few people are already gathered. It’s quiet enough to still feel intimate, but lively enough that the evening doesn’t feel awkward. Christmas lights hang everywhere, casting a soft glow that feels like a gentle embrace. The scent of cinnamon and pine lingers in the air, pulling you back to childhood holidays where her and her mom would drop off their special holiday cookies to everyone in town.

A modest Christmas tree sits in the corner, its twinkling lights offering a simple, homey feel that tugs at something deep in your chest. It feels almost like nothing’s changed, even when you know so much has. Still, the warmth of the room eases some of the tension you didn’t realize you were holding.

You glance around, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Your eyes scan the room, landing on familiar faces—Jonathan, Robin, Dustin, Max, Mike, El, and Will—all of them seem the same, but also different. Not just older, but somehow… more. More aware, more grounded. Their eyes carry a maturity that wasn’t there the last time you saw them, bickering and riding their bikes to Mike’s house, so carefree. The weight of it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for, the ache of time missed, of them growing up without you being there for it.

But then your gaze drifts to the couch, and everything else fades. Steve Harrington in all his glory. He’s sitting there, chatting with Lucas, a beer in hand, that familiar charisma still clinging to him like a second skin. For a moment, it’s as if you can pretend you’re 13 again about to watch some corny holiday movie with him at your house.

You hadn’t expected him to look the same—tall, tanned, but a little more muscular. His hair still that perfect mix of messy and styled. But it’s the new depth in his eyes that catches you off guard. There’s a quietness there now, something behind his usual charm that wasn’t there before. And it pulls at your chest, tightens it, a knot you can’t untangle. How much has he changed? How much has he been through that you missed?

You’re not sure if he’s noticed you yet. You try to steady your breath, your mind racing for something to say, something to do to break the tension that’s suddenly hanging on you like a storm cloud. But before you can move, Nancy’s voice breaks through.

“You can grab a drink from the kitchen if you want. It’s right through there,” she says with a smile, and you nod, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between you and Steve.

You head toward the kitchen, trying not to look too much like you’re avoiding anyone. As you step in, you find yourself staring at the sink, trying to gather your thoughts. You know this feeling—this knot in your stomach that tightens every time you think about him, about the things left unsaid between you two. It's been years, and yet here you are, standing in a room where everything is the same, but nothing feels familiar. It’s like walking into a scene you've seen before, only something’s different now. The sink, the countertop, even the way the light hits the corner of the room—they should be comforting, but instead, they feel distant, like you've stumbled into a version of your past that’s been subtly altered without you realizing. You can recognize the outline of what once was, but the edges are blurred, the picture incomplete.

The changes are small, almost invisible at first glance, but they pull at you, unsettling in a way you can't quite explain. It’s as though the space itself remembers, but it’s forgotten you. It’s still Hawkins, still Nancy’s house, but it’s not the one you left behind. It’s like the place has shifted without you, and no matter how much you try to fit into this scene, you know something is different—just enough for you to feel like you don't belong anymore.

You open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, when the sound of footsteps behind you causes you to freeze.

The smooth timbre of a voice you once knew so well, one that used to bring you so much comfort, cuts through the air. “Didn't think I'd see you tonight.”

You turn, and there he is. Steve Harrington. Right behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his presence. He looks at you, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though there's something else in his eyes—something soft, almost vulnerable, like he's unsure how to read this situation either.

You swallow hard, struggling to find your voice. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure either.”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it, just a quiet kind of acknowledgment. “It’s good to see you. I mean, I—" He pauses, and then his expression softens, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. "I didn’t expect you to come back. After everything…”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, like an unspoken invitation. An opening to finally speak the truth about what happened between you two all those years ago — when you made the decision to leave Hawkins, when you realized you no longer fit in a town that used to feel like home.

You want to say something — anything that might clear the air or break the sudden tension between you two — but it’s hard to find the right words. The only thing that feels clear is the space between you that’s been there for so long, and it seems impossible to cross.

Even when he’s standing here right in front of you it feels as though he’s miles away. Your fingers twitch with the subconscious urge to pull him into you. You look up at his soft brown eyes and open your mouth to respond, but before you can get anything out, Nancy’s voice calls from the living room. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging in there! We’re about to start a game.”

Steve glances at the door and then back at you, his expression unreadable. “I guess we better get in there,” he says quietly, taking a step back. "It’s… good to see you again."

As he moves to leave, you feel that familiar ache in your chest, the pull to say something more, to break through the walls you’ve both built. But the moment slips away before you can.

You follow him into the living room, where the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air. Your eyes find him again, across the room, and his presence feels like an open wound you can’t quite heal. As you watch, he seems so at ease here, surrounded by the people you can tell are his family. He laughs so freely, loves so loudly. It's so evident in the playful way he knocks his shoulder into Robin's.

So much has changed about him. When you left, he wasn’t this open with anyone—not even you. You would’ve never imagined he could share such easy camaraderie with Nancy or Jonathan. But here they are, smiling together like nothing in the past ever happened.

It hurts. To know that they reached him in ways you couldn’t. It makes you feel like you were never really needed. As if it was a good thing you left. As that thought crosses your mind, you suddenly grow hot and uncomfortable. Sitting here, watching them… it feels like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be. Something you aren’t meant to be a part of. You begin to fidget with the bracelet that sits on your wrist, twisting it with a sense of urgency. As if that small, repetitive motion could somehow quiet the storm inside your head as Dustin explains an overly complicated holiday game that his long distance girlfriend Susie told him about.

When you finally manage to pull yourself from your racing thoughts and look up, you catch Steve’s gaze—his eyes fixed on the bracelet you’re nervously twisting. It’s a brief moment, but it’s enough as he looks at you with an intensity that lights up your skin, his expression searching for something in your eyes. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but the weight of everything unsaid—everything that’s always hung between you—feels too much.

You still remember the way he used to notice the smallest things, once saying, ‘You always seem to do that when you’re overwhelmed.’ Observing your need to fidget with something when you get anxious. The memory resurfaces now, and you watch him track the movement of the bracelet, a quiet familiarity in his gaze. You clamp down on it, halting the motion, and in that instant, his eyes snap to yours, sharp and perceptive. It’s like he sees straight through your façade, into the unspoken turmoil beneath.

You find yourself holding your breath, not knowing whether to look away or keep staring. He knows you, maybe better than anyone else, and there's a quiet ache in your chest at how easily he seems to read you even now. You feel like a stranger in this house full of people, full of laughter, but with him, it feels like time has gone backwards and you’re back to being best friends sitting on his patio complaining about the English essay you have to have done before the end of the week. You’re not sure what he sees now—whether it’s the girl he once knew, or the stranger you’ve become—but his eyes linger for just a second too long.

You want to say something. To bridge this gap that feels ever growing, but the truth is, you don’t even know what you’re feeling or what you would say. It’s been so long since you last saw him and you don’t even know if he would want to hear what you have to say. So much is different now. There’s so much you don’t know about him anymore.

The sound of laughter from Robin seems to shatter the moment, pulling Steve’s attention back to her. You just sit there, frozen, your hand still gripping the bracelet like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored. The noise of the party swells around you, but it’s distant—like you’re standing on the edge of it all, watching from the outside. Everyone is laughing, caught up in their conversations, and you feel like a shadow, unnoticed, as though you’re no longer part of this world. When you finally check back in, Dustin and Lucas have started bickering over the rules of the game.

“Man, that doesn’t even make sense! Why would I have to go back to Santa’s Workshop just because Rudolph saw me walking outside? You made these rules up just so you could win!” Lucas accuses.

“I didn’t make them up! You’re just mad because you’re losing!” Dustin shoots back, pointing an accusing finger.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I wouldn’t be losing if you didn’t keep changing the rules halfway through! First, you say we have to find the presents, then you say the elves are watching us, and now—” Lucas waves his hands in frustration, “—I’m supposed to be stuck in Santa’s Workshop because of some imaginary reindeer?”

“It’s not imaginary! It’s part of the game!” Dustin retorts, crossing his arms. “You just don’t get it!”

“You’re cheating, that’s what you’re doing!” Lucas yells, causing a few heads to turn.

Steve, who had been half-listening, stands up. The laughter and chatter fade into a low hum in the background as he steps toward the two arguing boys, his voice calm but firm.

“Alright dipshits, enough,” Steve says, his tone brokering no argument. “We’re all here to have fun, not start World War III over a game. This is supposed to be fun for everyone.”

Dustin and Lucas both stop mid-argument, but they glare at each other, clearly unwilling to back down. Steve sighs, looking from one to the other with a raised eyebrow.

“Lucas, you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s just a game. And Dustin,” Steve turns his gaze to the other boy, “stop making up rules just to win.”

The tension between them doesn’t dissolve immediately, but there’s a subtle shift. Lucas crosses his arms, but the fire has gone out of his argument. Dustin shrugs but doesn’t speak, his posture a little less defensive.

“Look,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, “why don’t we just take a breather, okay? If you two can’t agree on the rules, then we’ll just play something else. It’s not that big of a deal.”

After a beat, Dustin huffs, but he nods reluctantly. “Fine,” he mutters, not entirely happy, but willing to let it go for now.

Lucas lets out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s play something else.”

Steve gives them both a half-smile, satisfied with the result. “Good. Now hug it out so we all know you still love each other,” he says with a grin.

The boys roll their eyes but give each other an awkward hug. “You’re so lame Steve,” Dustin mumbles.

“Yeah way to make things weird Harrington,” Lucas agrees.

“Hey it’s not my fault you idiots start acting like 3 year olds when it comes to playing a game. I do what I have to do to keep the peace.”

The boys give each other one last look and walk off with the rest of the younger kids to find something else to occupy their attention. Slowly, the rest of the group begins to disperse, picking out new games or chatting in small circles. Steve turns back to the others, rolling his eyes. “If we weren’t here, they would burn this house to the ground.”

“Luckily we are here so they won’t,” Nancy says with a playful twinkle in her eye.

The two of them share a look, one that feels familiar—too familiar. It’s a shared joke, an easy camaraderie that feels like it has always existed between them. You can’t help but watch, feeling a pang in your chest. The last time you saw either of them, they weren’t even speaking to each other. The breakup had left things between them fractured, awkward, and heavy. You remember the silence between them, how they'd avoided eye contact and made excuses not to be in the same room. The tension had been so thick you could almost taste it. There were so many nights where you laid awake with Steve as he cried over the broken pieces of their relationship.

It’s unsettling to see them so comfortable. You wonder when things shifted, when they went from bitter exes to whatever this is now. It used to be like walking on broken glass around them, carefully avoiding the cracks in the conversation.

Now, though? It’s like that tension never existed. The warmth between them feels natural, even easy. They seem completely at ease with one another, like nothing ever happened. The way Steve looks at her, and the way she responds—it’s not the strained politeness you expected, but the kind of closeness you’d expect from long-time friends, maybe even something more. You watch them, trying to make sense of what’s happening. It’s strange. Stranger still, is how you didn’t even know it happened. Being away for so long, leaving these people behind—they didn’t stop living. They didn’t pause their lives waiting for you to come back. They went on, found new rhythms, new routines… and now, you’re a stranger in a space you once belonged. A space that’s now filled with laughter and inside jokes, with people who’ve moved on without you.

Steve turns back to the group, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, though, it’s kind of impressive how much chaos they can create in such a short time.” He flashes a grin, and Nancy laughs, nodding in agreement.

You feel a strange twinge in your chest, as if you’re not quite sure where you fit in this new dynamic, this new version of Steve, Nancy, and everyone else . You shift in your seat, suddenly aware of how much has changed—and how much you haven’t been a part of.

Even though you made the decision to leave, you can’t help but feel hurt—like no one fought to keep you here, like no one wanted you to stay. You’ve never felt the passage of time as much as in this moment. These people sitting across from you look the same on the outside, but so much has happened since you left. So much you weren’t a part of that you don’t know how you could ever fit in their lives again.

At this realization, you feel like an imposter, trying to slip into a life that no longer belongs to you. Sitting here, watching the group interact, you feel hollow. Steve pushes a hand through his hair and laughs at something Robin says, and it’s like watching a memory play back—his familiar movements, his laughter, the ease of it all. It’s like you were once fluent in their secret language, one made of glances, gestures, and unspoken words, but now it feels like you've forgotten how to speak it, and everything feels foreign.

You wish you hadn’t come tonight. But even as the thought crosses your mind, there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to turn back. You stand and head towards Nancy to say your goodbyes. Tonight has rattled your nerves and you aren’t sure you could make it through a full night of being an outsider in the lives of people you used to call friends.

“Hey Nance, I’m gonna head out. I’ve got to be up early to help my mom with preparing for the holiday thing next weekend. Thanks again for having me.” You give her a tight smile.

“Of course! So glad you could make it. Do you want me to walk you out?” She starts to stand and the rest of the group looks over curiously.

“No you don’t have to do that! I’m just parked out front. I'll be okay.” You turn with a wave to the rest of the group, actively avoiding Steve’s gaze and head out to your car. The cold has only gotten sharper since your arrival and chills you to the bone. The wind whips past your face causing tears to well up in your eyes. A sigh escapes your lips, your steps heavy as you trudge towards your car, weighed down by your thoughts.

You hear a voice call out your name in the stillness of the night. Turning, you see Steve standing at the front door, his chest rising rapidly, like he sprinted to catch you before you slipped away. He looks both relieved and hesitant, his usual confidence softened by something you can't quite place.

“Wait up! I um.. I wanted to talk to you,” he scratches at the back of his neck. A sign you know means he’s nervous. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to have a conversation with him yet, but you don’t think he’ll let you get away without getting this off his chest either.

"I—um…" he clears his throat, then looks away briefly, before meeting your eyes again. "I’m really glad you came tonight, even if… well, I know it’s probably not easy."

A tight knot forms in your chest, and all the unspoken words you’ve held inside for all these years press against your throat, desperate to spill out, but you swallow them back down. Unexpectedly, a wave of emotion crashes over you. This is the person you once bared your soul to, the one you’d talk to for hours until the sun came up, losing track of time. Now, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes. The tears that the wind has coaxed threaten to fall now as you force yourself to look into his warm, honey eyes.

“Steve…” It’s one simple word, but it carries a heavy history that presses against your chest. Saying his name out loud for the first time since being back feels like your heart breaking all over again. It’s strange how right it feels falling from your lips, and yet you don’t even know him as he is now. The Steve you knew was a lanky 10-year-old who always let you win at tag. But then, in the blink of an eye that boy grew up, and in doing so, he left behind his childhood to become someone new—King Steve.

King Steve was cruel and broken. You tried to stay by his side through it all, but when Nancy broke up with him it all fell apart. At first, he leaned on you, and it seemed like you might get your Steve back. But you quickly realized that wouldn’t happen. He put up new walls, built them higher each day, and you could feel the distance between you growing wider, until one day, you woke up, and there was an ocean between you.

You still remember the first time Steve didn’t smile when he saw you, the first time his eyes didn’t light up when he saw you. You told yourself it was nothing—just a bad day—but you couldn’t shake the feeling. Slowly, you started noticing the small changes: the way his voice lost its warmth when he spoke to you, the way his laughter felt strained, as if it was something he had to force. And then one day, you realized that the person you were talking to wasn’t Steve anymore. Not the Steve who had once been a part of every second of your life. It was as if all the years you spent together didn’t matter. Like you meant nothing to him. Not even worth remembering. You thought, maybe naively, that your friendship was something stronger, something that couldn’t just fade away. But when Steve pulled back, when he let the walls rise higher and higher, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under you. The person who once knew you better than anyone else was slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it. The innate trust you had in him started to fissure and crack, breaking until there was nothing left to salvage. That abandonment, the slow and painful disintegration of something you thought would always be there, made you question everything you knew about your friendship, about yourself. It hurt so much more than you ever expected it would.

You became a shadow of yourself—once bright and eager, now a hollow version of who you used to be. You stopped going out, stopped talking to anyone. It wasn’t just that you lost Steve. You lost yourself too. You lost your spark, the fire that used to drive you, and in its place was only emptiness. You withdrew into yourself, living on autopilot. Without Steve, it felt like a part of you was missing. He wasn’t just your best friend; he was your person.

You used to be confident, full of life, and now… you weren’t sure who you were anymore. When Steve shut you out, it wasn’t just him you lost—it was that piece of yourself that only existed when you were together. You became a stranger in your own skin, unsure of who you were without him beside you. And that uncertainty, that emptiness, followed you everywhere you went. Your parents noticed, their concern growing as they saw you shrink from the world.

It took time, and a lot of self-reflection, but eventually, you realized that staying in Hawkins was only hurting you more. You weren’t healing, you were sinking deeper into the same numbness. Leaving Hawkins wasn’t a choice—it was a breaking point. It wasn’t easy, not by any means. Every part of you ached at the thought of leaving behind what little you had left of Steve, what little you had left of the past. But staying was worse. Staying meant continuing to live in the shell of a life you once had, clinging to memories that could never be relived.

So, right after graduation you packed your bags, walked away from everything you knew, and left it all behind. You needed to find yourself again, to figure out who you were on your own. No Steve, no parents, just you. You went to college as far away as you could get, and promised yourself you wouldn’t look back. Until now.

When you look at him, it feels like all the old pain surges up again—like the weight of all the years and hurt is crashing down on you. Seeing him this close, after all this time, is like opening a door to a past you never fully closed.

“Steve..” you say his name again allowing yourself this one indulgence. “I don’t know if I can do this right now.” Looking up at his face, the face that you used to think was the sun, it’s almost too much, and for a split second, the world feels impossibly small. Everything around you fades into the background as you focus on Steve, standing in front of you—so close, so real. And yet, it’s like you can’t reach him, like you’re stuck in some place between the past and the present, where nothing feels clear. He’s here, and you want to reach out, but something inside of you pulls away, reminding you of everything that happened before. “Please, just—just let me say this. I know being back here is hard. Hell, it’s hard for me, too, seeing you here. But I missed you so much. You were my best friend—the only person I could truly be myself with. I don’t want to lose the chance of having you back in my life, all because I was too much of an ass to talk to you.”

His words hit you right in the heart, and for a moment you don’t know what to say. You want to believe him. You want to believe that he means it—that this is the Steve you used to know, the one you could trust. You can feel yourself so close to forgiving him, to allowing him back into your life, but the doubt lingers—like a shadow. How can you trust that this time would be different? The memory of him pulling away, disappearing without a word, is still so fresh in your mind. It was like he vanished without a trace, and you were left standing there, wondering if you had imagined the whole thing.

“You mean so much to me. Every day that you were gone was agony. I had to live a life without you in it, and I can’t imagine doing that again. Please, let me show you that I’m not the same idiot I was in high school. I’m different now.” His voice cracks on the word "please," emotion thick in his tone.

“Steve, I want to believe you, but how can I? I haven’t seen or spoken to you since before I left for college. We’re basically strangers now. I don’t know if I can put myself through that again. It almost destroyed me the last time. I can’t go through that again.”

As you look into his eyes, you realize you're both crying. Steve takes a shaky breath, wiping his eyes, but his gaze never leaves yours. The silence stretches between you, thick with all the things left unsaid. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out but is afraid of scaring you off. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto this moment as if it’s the last chance he’ll get.

“I’m not asking for things to go back to how they were,” he says softly, his voice steadying a little. “I know that’s impossible. But I can’t keep living like this, wondering if there’s even a chance we can get back to some version of us. Maybe it won’t be the same, but I want… I want to try. To make it right.”

You take a breath, his words creating cracks in the armour around your heart. Part of you wants to give in. It’s so easy, so tempting, to fall back into the safety of something familiar. But you know the truth. You know that the old Steve, the one you could talk to for hours, the one who was your constant, is gone. In his place is this man, this version of him who’s grown and changed. You’ve grown too. And that hurts more than anything.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can be the person you want me to be right now."

"I’m not asking you to be anything. I just want you to let me in. Let me prove that I’ve changed. That I’m not that guy who hurt you anymore." The desperation in his eyes is almost too much to bear. You can feel the tension between you, the pull of something that used to be so easy now tangled in doubts and fears.

"You don’t know what it was like," you say, voice cracking, "what it felt like when you… when you shut me out. It wasn’t just you pulling away. I felt like I lost everything. I didn’t just lose you, Steve. I lost myself. I couldn’t get out of bed for days because I thought I had done something wrong. I kept replaying every conversation we had over and over hoping to piece together what had gone wrong. It felt like I didn’t matter to you."

Steve winces at your words, his face falling. “I never wanted that. I swear, I never wanted to make you feel that way.” His voice trembles as he steps closer, hesitantly, as if testing the waters, unsure whether you'll let him. "I was such a mess back then, I didn’t know how to fix myself after Nancy left me. I thought I was broken. That no one wanted me in their life. I felt so lost for so long. I didn’t even realize I was drowning.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your chest tightening. You can see the guilt in his eyes, but you also see the vulnerability. And despite everything, despite the hurt, you want to believe him.

"I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whisper, the words stinging as they leave your lips.

Steve flinches when you say that. "I can’t promise that things will be easy. But I can promise I’ll show you every day that I’m trying. That I want to make this work." He pauses, letting the words settle.”I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just… please give me a chance to show you."

The silence lingers, and you’re left standing there, caught between the person you once knew and the person he’s become. You want so badly to reach out, to make it all better, but you’re scared. Scared of losing him again. Scared of opening yourself up to someone who might disappear again.

“I’m not asking for all of you right now," Steve says gently, as if sensing your hesitation. "Just… a chance. A chance to prove that I can be the friend you need. A chance to show you that I’m not the same person I was.”

You don’t know what to say. So, you don’t say anything at all. You just look at him, trying to make sense of everything. The past. The present. The possibility of something in between.

“I’ll… think about it. But I can’t give you an answer right now.” The words hurt to say, like a knife in your chest, cold and sharp, twisting deeper with every second that passes. But everything is so complicated now. You don’t know him anymore, don’t know if you can trust him, and it hurts so much to have to guard yourself from him—the one person you thought you would have by your side forever.

His face falls, and you see the disappointment in his eyes, but he nods slowly. “That’s fair. Just know, if you need anything, or want to talk… my number’s the same. And I work at Family Video now. You can stop in whenever.”

His words hang in the air, and there’s a rawness in his voice that makes it hard to look him in the eye. He goes to reach out, like he wants to comfort you, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he simply says, “I do miss you. So much.”

A tear escapes, running down your face. “I miss you too, Steve,” you say, your voice shaking, but you manage a watery smile before finally opening your car door to leave.

“I promise I’ll think about it. I just need some time,” you add, your hands trembling as you grip the steering wheel. He nods silently, his eyes never leaving you as you start to drive away.

"Get home safe," he calls after you, his voice small, almost lost in the wind.

Your hands are shaking as you back out of the driveway of the Wheeler home. You notice Steve is still standing there, watching you leave, his figure growing smaller in your rearview mirror until you turn off the street.

You know you needed to have that talk with Steve about everything. But that conversation has muddled your brain. Your heart is racing, and the weight of everything hangs heavy on your chest. Steve says he wants to show you he’s different, but deep down you know: if you let him back in, he’ll become your everything again. You worked so hard to figure out who you are without him and how you fit into the world, and now that you’re back home in Hawkins, all that work seems to be crumbling down.

You spend the next few days just trying to make sense of your emotions and figure out what you want. It feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest, like you’re fifteen again, replaying every conversation you ever had with Steve, trying to unravel what he’s really thinking.

You’re not sure if you can trust him, but he seemed so sincere. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls you in, but that only makes you more cautious. He may look like the Steve you used to know, but there’s something different about him now. An air around him, a subtle shift in his presence, like he’s grown into someone else—someone you’re not sure you recognize. And that terrifies you.

What if you’ve both changed too much? What if you’re just too different now to reconnect, to rebuild what you once had? Letting him in again feels like taking a risk, like handing him the key to your heart and hoping he doesn’t have a knife waiting to use.

After thinking it over for days and days, you decide to go over to Family Video and invite Steve to your mom’s holiday party. You spent so much time deliberating that it’s now 3 days away. As you get ready you keep having to wipe your hands on your jeans because they’re so clammy. You aren’t sure why you’re so anxious. You’re just inviting him to a party. Your mom throws it every year, and everyone in town is basically invited. Taking a deep breath, you look at yourself in the mirror and try to reassure yourself. 'This is no big deal. Just two former friends reconnecting.’ But when you glance down, your hands are still trembling. You sigh and grab your keys getting ready to face Steve.

The bell rings as you step into Family Video. Glancing around your eyes are drawn to the checkout counter and instead of seeing Steve like you expected you find Robin, looking bored out of her mind as she flips through a magazine. She glances up at you as you walk over. “Oh hey! How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you since Nancy’s party.” She gives you a knowing look, the kind of look that makes you wonder if she knows more about what happened that night than you’d like.

“Oh, um yeah… just been stuck at home helping my parents.” You twist your bracelet nervously, eyes flicking around the space as you clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. You still haven’t figured out how to ask her where Steve is, when he steps out from the back room. It’s as though you summoned him with a single thought.

“Hey Rob, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure Dustin used my login to extend his movie rental again. I swear that kid will be the death of me.” He says as he walks out, pulling on his vest. Once his eyes find you, his face lights up, and he breaks out into a wide smile.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” His voice is so full of joy it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. You glance at Robin, who stands behind the counter with a teasing glint in her eye. She looks at Steve, then back at you, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“I’m just gonna do some inventory in the back. Stevie buddy, you watch the counter while I’m gone.” She turns to leave, but not without muttering under her breath, “Try not to make a complete fool of yourself this time, dingus.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile stays soft and warm. He turns back to you, his gaze is so intense you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“So, what’s up? You here to pick out a movie? I’ve got a couple I think you might like.” His voice is steady, but there’s a spark there that makes you swallow hard, unsure of how to respond.

“No, actually, I um, I wanted to invite you to my parents’ annual holiday party this Friday.” You force the words out in a rush, nervousness spilling from you. “I know it’s only three days away and you were probably going to come anyway because, you know, it’s kind of a town tradition, but I—uh, I just wanted to invite you because you were really nice the other night and I’ve been thinking things over. I do want to try to be friends again, but I’m just a little nervous, so… I figured this could be a good first step?” You finish the sentence with a nervous chuckle, hoping he didn’t notice how much you just word-vomited in his direction. Your face heats up even more as you glance up at him, half-expecting him to laugh at you. But instead, his eyes light up with amusement, and he grins.

“Thanks, Sunshine, I’d love to go.” His voice is teasing, but there’s an undeniable warmth in his tone, that same old fondness you haven’t heard in years.

Your heart skips a beat at the old nickname. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips before you can stop it. You never thought you’d hear it again—and part of you is surprised to know that Steve still remembers it, even after all this time.

“Okay, good.” You swallow, trying to steady yourself. “Well, then… I guess I’ll see you there.” You turn to leave, but then his hand is gently on your wrist, and you freeze. His touch burns through the fabric of your sleeve, a searing heat that rushes to your chest, making your breath hitch. It’s been so long since he’s touched you like this, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed.

Your eyes widen as you stare down at where his hand rests on your wrist, the heat from his skin making your pulse race. When he realizes what he’s done, he immediately pulls back, a flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he says quickly, his voice softening. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I know this is just a party, but… you didn’t have to come all the way here just to invite me. This means a lot to me, and I want to prove to you that you can trust me.” His eyes meet yours with such sincerity, the emotion so raw it almost takes your breath away. “So, thank you—for letting me.”

Again, it feels like you’re seeing your Steve from so many years ago, and it’s like time hasn’t passed at all. The familiar, easy banter between the two of you feels comforting. You return his smile and say, “Of course. I want to get to know the you now, in the present. The Steve who’s friends with literal children and Robin Buckley. Nothing against her, she’s just way too cool for you, Harrington.”

“Hey, I’m way cooler than Robin could ever be!” he jokes, his grin wide and teasing.

You hear Robin’s voice float in from a few aisles over, “You wish, dingus!”

A small laugh escapes you, and you notice Steve’s entire demeanor shift—his shoulders relax, his smile grows, and there's a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It's as if the sound of your laugh has put him completely at ease.

“Well, if she’s cooler than me, does that make me adjacently cool?” Steve asks with a sly smile, still holding that lighthearted tone.

“Sure, Steve,” you reply with a grin, your voice a little more carefree than before. After a few more exchanges, you find yourself waving goodbye and walking out of Family Video, feeling lighter than you have in days. It’s strange, but something has shifted in the air between you two. Maybe, just maybe, things could be okay between you again.

The whole drive home, you can’t help but smile. It feels like a small but important step forward. As you count down the days until the holiday party, you think about how it could be the beginning of something new. A new chapter. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe this time, things will be different.

The days fly by as you help your parents get ready for the holiday party. Your mom pulls out all the stops every year, but this time it feels like she’s taken it to a new level. The house is filled with decorations, and you half expect fireworks to go off and a dance number to break out. You keep that thought to yourself, though. God knows your mom would absolutely consider it if she knew how much her enthusiasm makes you feel like you're starring in a holiday special.

By the time Friday rolls around, you’ve lost track of the days completely. You’re so focused on getting every detail just right—helping your mom with the decorations, making sure everything is in place. She’s been running around in a tizzy since the morning, clutching a clipboard like a drill sergeant, barking out orders for the workers she hired to set everything up. You can practically see the pressure mounting on her as she insists, this party has to be perfect.

“Mom, you know you don’t have to do all of this just because I’m home this year,” you say as you watch her direct the placement of a giant ice sculpture—a snowflake, naturally.

“Yes I do, sweetie! This is the first time in four years that my baby’s back home, and I will not let it be anything less than perfect,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement. “Now, please go help your father with the garlands.”

You look over at her, still juggling a thousand things at once, and can’t help but smile. It’s hard to stay irritated at her energy; she’s just trying to make everything perfect. But you’re already thinking ahead to the evening, knowing you’ll spend the whole time playing the role of “dutiful child,” smiling politely at the family you haven’t seen in forever, while your mind lingers on the invitation you extended to Steve.

The pressure of the night ahead weighs on you, but you nod and make your way to find your dad, who’s untangling garlands and muttering about how nothing ever goes right when it’s time to decorate.

A few hours before the party is set to start, you head upstairs to get ready. The moment your foot hits the bottom step, it suddenly hits you—Steve is going to be here. Steve Harrington. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you nearly trip on the stairs, your body betraying the flurry of thoughts in your head.

You hadn’t fully processed this fact until now. Sure, you knew he was coming, but the thought was more a presence you couldn’t shake as you got ready throughout the day. Now, his arrival was just a few hours away, and the thought settled heavily in your chest. You could feel the flutter of nerves, the tightness in your throat, the pulse of doubt that made it hard to breathe. How would tonight go? You wanted to give him a chance, you really did. But the weight of the past hung on your shoulders.

Despite yourself, there was that tiny spark of hope flickering inside you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be the man you’d always thought he would be. But what if you were wrong? What if the person you once knew is gone, and all that remains of him is a memory that only you carry, a memory fading in the quiet spaces between what was and what is now?

You stand in front of your closet, staring at the array of clothes like you’re trying to decode some secret message. What do you wear when you’re trying to look casual but also somehow impress the guy who used to be your best friend? Maybe boots. Maybe a chunky sweater. You huff a small laugh at yourself. You’re definitely overthinking this. Your mind and heart race, the possibility of seeing Steve again churning up all sorts of emotions. The truth is, if tonight doesn’t go well, you’re terrified of losing him again.

After getting dressed, you step out into the backyard, hoping a few deep breaths will calm you down. The cool evening air brushes against your skin, and you listen to your parents putting finishing touches on the house, their chatter a steady hum in the background. You close your eyes letting the noise fade as you try to quiet the chaos inside your mind. Tonight will be fine. It has to be.

Soon enough, the party is in full swing. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before the neighbors and your parents’ friends sweep you into their orbit. You’re the guest of honor, they say, and everyone wants a piece of you. There are too many familiar faces, too many questions. You try your best to smile, to be charming, to make small talk. But it’s all a blur, like you’re watching it happen to someone else.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the warm hand that lands on your shoulder, grounding you in the present.

“Hey, stranger,” Steve’s voice whispers in your ear.

You jump and spin around at the sound of his greeting. He looks… devastating. His hair, as always, is meticulously styled but looks soft, somehow. He’s wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans that hug his thighs in all the right ways. His shirt is a soft blue button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In one word—perfection. If you could, you would have paintings made of the way he looks right now: the twinkle of the lights catching in his eyes, the flush of his cheeks from the cold, and the soft scent of eggnog mixed with something distinctly Steve.

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush off how flustered you feel. “Geez, Steve, you really know how to sneak up on me.” You attempt to sound casual, but he’s standing so close and you can feel the heat of his arm resting on your shoulder, burning through the fabric of your sweater. And yet, a warmth settles in your chest, like the missing piece that made everything feel out of place was the absence of Steve at your side.

“Sorry to spook you, Sunshine, but you looked a little lost standing here all by yourself. It’s my duty to make sure you have the best time tonight, especially since it’s your first holiday party since you left.”

“Oh, how kind of you, Steve. My knight in shining armour,” you tease, but the words feel lighter than they should. In reality, you’re relieved Steve has decided to stay by your side tonight. You’re not sure you could’ve handled a whole evening of your parents parading you around like a show dog. You know it’s just because they’re proud of you and have missed you, but it’s exhausting. What you really want is to spend time with Steve—just the two of you, getting to know the man he’s become since you left.

Steve takes your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen with an ease that feels both nostalgic and surreal. He’s been here before, countless times as a kid, and the familiarity of it all catches you off guard. Everything about tonight, about him, feels like stepping back in time.

He grabs two glasses from the cabinet, pours a drink for each of you, and hands one over. "I don’t know about you, but after all that forced small talk, I could really use something stronger."

You laugh softly, accepting the drink, and clink your glass against his. "We both deserve this. Cheers to surviving our parents’ social events."

The quiet clink of the glasses feels almost like a reset, an unspoken acknowledgment that the weight of the night—of the past—is slowly starting to lift. You both step outside, into the backyard, where the cool night air cuts through the still heat of the house. The contrast is almost soothing.

As you settle onto the swing set your parents gave you so many Christmases ago, a sense of calm settles over you. The air feels fresher out here, more open, and the gentle creak of the chains is oddly comforting. Steve leans against them, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth, but something is different now—there’s a hesitation there, a quiet understanding that feels new.

"So…" Steve begins, his voice soft as he swirls his drink, "I still remember how much you used to love these parties. You’d dress up as an elf, and your dad would play Santa. Your mom was Mrs. Claus, and you’d talk about it for weeks before the big night."

You smile, a soft, bittersweet laugh escaping you as you look up at the twinkling string lights that fill the yard. "Yeah, it was a big deal back then. My mom always goes all out, even now, like she has something to prove every year." You pause, letting the memory settle. "It’s nice to be home, even if it’s a bit of a whirlwind." You turn to face Steve, your eyes scanning his face, noting how much he’s changed, how much time has passed. But his smile, his laugh, they’re all the same. "How about you? How’ve you been?"

Steve chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "You know me, same old same old. After high school, I didn’t really know what I was doing with my life. But, I made it through. Just… took some time to figure things out. I had to work out who I wanted to be and who I didn’t."

He pauses, taking a slow sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on the glass as if searching for something in it. Then, with a small, almost sad smile, he looks back at you. "But of course, some things never change. My dad still thinks I’m a failure and a disappointment. My mom, on the other hand, hardly talks to me unless it’s about dad."

You can hear the hurt in his voice, but there’s a quiet strength behind it now—like he’s made peace with something difficult.

"I had to realize," he continues, his eyes steady, "that even though they’re my parents, I get to pick who I call family." He pauses, letting the weight of his words hang in the air for a moment. "My real family… are the kids, Rob, and Nance."

Your heart aches for him. You know Steve always longed for the approval of his parents, but they never gave him the love or recognition he deserved. It’s something that’s weighed on him his whole life. You remember how hard he worked to prove himself, and yet they never showed interest. But now, at least, he’s surrounded by people who truly see him—Robin, Nancy, the kids. They get to witness the real Steve, the one who’s found his place.

Surprisingly, a sharp pang of jealousy twists in your chest. They get to see him. The real him. And you’re not even part of his world anymore. You try to ignore the ache that forms in your throat. You’re trying, aren’t you? Trying to be a part of Steve’s world again.

You feel the shift in the air. "It’s weird how much life has changed since high school huh?"

Steve lets out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, weird isn’t the word I’d use. But it’s true. I’m not the same guy I was back then." He hesitates, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, like he’s uncertain about what comes next. "And… I guess neither are you."

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. There’s a part of you that wishes things were simpler, that the time apart hadn’t complicated everything. But then, you both need to be honest if there's any chance of moving forward.

The conversation hangs in the air, thick with unspoken things. You take a deep breath, knowing this moment can’t be avoided anymore. "Steve," you say quietly, "we need to talk about what happened. About… everything with you and me… what happened after you and Nancy broke up.”

Steve visibly stiffens at the mention of it. His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the tension in his shoulders. There's a long silence, and then he lets out a breath, like he's been holding it for too long. Finally, his eyes meet yours, and there's something raw in his expression—vulnerability mixed with regret.

"I figured we’d get here eventually," he says, his voice quieter than usual. He looks at his drink before continuing. “I know you probably hated me after that. And I get it—I was a mess. But I never meant for it to hurt you the way it did.”

Your heart tightens at his words. Even though you’d tried to talk things out last week, something about this moment feels like the real beginning of the conversation—the part where everything comes into focus. “It wasn’t just the breakup, Steve. It was how everything went down. The way you… distanced yourself after. It felt like you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me what happened. We were supposed to be best friends, but you just shut me out. You didn’t even try to explain anything. Why didn’t you let me in?”

He winces, and his eyes fill with guilt. It’s the first time you’ve seen this side of him in so long. The Steve you knew in high school was always wrapped in confidence, hiding behind his jokes and easy charm. But now? Now, there’s a heaviness to his shoulders, a softness to his eyes.

“I didn’t know how,” he admits, his voice low, almost fragile. “I was falling apart. So caught up in everything that happened with Nancy. There were things we both said that made me rethink everything about my relationship with her—hell, about myself, about anyone. The last thing I wanted was for you to see that side of me, the part that was so lost and confused. I pushed everyone away, including you, and I regret it everyday.”

The weight of his words presses down on you. You don’t know how to respond. It’s like you’re seeing Steve in a way you’ve never seen him before—raw, unguarded, unsure.

You nod, your throat tight, feeling the years of silence between you both finally unraveling. “I get it,” you say softly. “But it didn’t make it any easier. You just… disappeared, Steve. You went from being the person I trusted the most, to someone I couldn’t even reach. And that… that hurt. A lot.”

He looks down at his drink again, fidgeting with the glass. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying so hard to be what I thought my dad wanted, what Tommy and Carol wanted. I was so caught up in my head, I couldn’t see what I was doing to the people who mattered most. What I was doing to you.”

His gaze lifts, locking with yours, and the emotion in his eyes is so raw, so intense, that it’s almost too much to bear. You find it hard to keep looking at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He looks at you, really looks at you, as if silently searching for a way to make you understand.

You pause, trying to process his words, and something clicks in your mind. The way he’s talking, the weight of his regret—it feels like there’s something he’s not saying, something left unsaid but hanging between you like an open wound.

You think back on what he said earlier. Your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "What did you and Nancy talk about that made you rethink things?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. There’s a beat of silence before he responds, his words careful, almost guarded. “We talked about… a lot of things, I guess. Things we never really said to each other when we were together. But mostly… it was about the way I let people in, or didn't. And… you.”

The word hangs in the air, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “Me?” you ask, the uncertainty in your voice betraying how much his admission shakes you. "What do you mean by that?”

He meets your gaze again, his eyes heavy with meaning. “You were… always more than just a friend to me. I think I just didn’t know how to see it, how to understand it, back then. Nancy saw it before I did. But I wasn’t ready to deal with it. I thought it was just me being confused, but… I guess I was confused about more than I realized.”

His confession leaves you breathless. There's a rushing in your ears, a pressure in your chest, as you try to process everything he's just said. The weight of his words settles over you. Suddenly, everything feels different—the way he’d look at you, the small gestures, the things he never said but made you feel—now, it all makes sense.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, your voice barely a whisper. “So, you… you cared about me, as more than just a friend?” The question feels absurd, yet you have to ask it, just to hear him say it, to make sure you’re not imagining it.

Steve exhales sharply, his hand running through his hair, “I’ve always cared about you. More than I ever let myself admit. But after everything, I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to make sense of my feelings. My girlfriend has just broken up with me after telling me our whole relationship was bullshit—said I wasn’t in love with her, but with you, my best friend.” He shakes his head, as if still processing the words. I was struggling to hold it together. I couldn’t think straight, let alone try to talk to you about it.”

The truth finally hits you, and it’s like a light switch flicking on. It’s not something either of you planned, not something either of you expected, but here it is—Steve’s feelings for you were there all along, buried beneath all the confusion, the distance, and everything you both went through. You’re left reeling, trying to figure out what this means for you now. Neither of you are the same people you were back in high school, but you can’t deny the pounding in your chest or the way your body heats when you’re close to him. It's a strange mix of emotions—part relief, part panic—and it leaves you questioning everything.

You don’t know how to feel, or even what you should feel. So many years apart have complicated things beyond recognition. You know you cared about Steve deeply when you were kids, but was it love? You aren’t even sure you know what love is.

But as you sit there in the quiet of the backyard, with the sound of the party just barely audible in the distance, your mind starts to drift.

You remember the way Steve used to look at you, like you were the only person in the room. How he used to make you laugh until your sides ached whenever you were sad, and how he always had your back, no matter what. You remember his confidence, even when it seemed like he was faking it. He was always trying to make everyone happy, and you made sure that he was happy too.

And then you think of how he is now. Not the flashy, show-off King Steve from high school, but a man who knows what he wants and what he believes in. You see the way he stands by his friends, how loyal he is to them—how protective he is of everyone he cares about. You realize that, somewhere along the way, Steve shifted from trying to meet others' expectations to defining his own way forward.

It hits you, slow and steady, as you look over at him—his cheeks flushed from the cold and the weight of his confession. Maybe this warmth you’re feeling has been there all along, quietly waiting beneath the years of silence and distance. Maybe Steve was never just your friend. Maybe, deep down, he’s always been more. He was always the one who mattered most, so perhaps it’s not so surprising that he’s become the one you love, even when you didn’t realize it. The way he’s changed has made you see him in a new light—he’s not the person he used to be, but he’s become someone better, someone you can't help but want to fall for.

You swallow, trying to clear the lump in your throat, before turning to him. “Steve,” you say softly, your voice barely a whisper in the cool night air, “I- I care about you too… as more than a friend."

His eyes widen just a fraction, and it feels like the world pauses. Then, slowly, a soft smile curves on his lips. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice quiet and unsure, like he’s testing the waters.

You nod, feeling warmth spread through your chest as you admit it out loud. “Yeah. Looking back, how could I not? You were my best friend for so long.” You offer him a shaky smile, one that says everything you can’t put into words. It’s not just the way you feel when he’s near, or how he makes you laugh without trying, but something deeper—something that’s been buried for years. When he pushed you away, when everything fell apart between you two, it hurt. But it also made you realize how much you missed him, how much you cared. The space between you now feels like it’s filled with all the lessons time taught you both, the things you learned in the years apart.

And now, here he is. Not the same person he was, but someone who’s been through struggles, someone who’s grown stronger, more sure of who he is and who he wants to be. The fact that you’re finally talking, finally being open with each other, feels like you’ve crossed some invisible line. It’s not just about moving past the past; it’s about being ready to be honest with each other, and with yourselves.

You can’t stop yourself now. The words slip out, raw and true. “You’ve changed, Steve, but so have I. I think we needed that space to grow into the people we are now. We’re better for it. We can be more open now than we ever were back then.”

He exhales a long breath, his eyes softening as he looks at you, like a weight’s been lifted. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, his voice steady now. “Because, honestly, I’ve been hoping you’d feel the same. I’ve just… been waiting for the right moment to say it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and the tension between you both starts to melt away, leaving behind something new. Something neither of you expected, but both of you needed.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the weight of the past few years momentarily lifting. Above, the stars glitter against the deep indigo sky, their light soft and steady. You glance at Steve, noticing the way the faint glow from the house outlines his profile—the curve of his jaw, the softness in his eyes as he gazes upward.

“It’s weird being back. It felt like I didn’t fit in Hawkins anymore,” you admit, your voice quiet.

Steve turns to you, his expression thoughtful, his gaze drifting toward the stars before settling back on you. “Maybe it’s not about fitting back in,” he says softly. “Maybe it’s about finding a way to grow here—making a space that’s yours, where you can keep becoming whoever you’re meant to be.”

The words hang between you, and your breath catches in your throat. Steve leans forward slightly, his hand brushing against yours on the swing’s chain. His fingers are warm, and the small touch sends a jolt through you.

“I can’t believe I ever let you go,” he says softly, his voice raw and vulnerable. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for a moment.

Your heart pounds as his eyes meet yours, filled with something you can’t quite name but feel all the same. “I’ve missed you too, Steve,” you whisper into the quiet night as he closes the space between you.

The kiss is soft, tentative at first, as though he’s testing the waters. Then, as you respond, it deepens, years of unspoken words and lingering emotions pouring into the moment. The world fades away—the stars, the party, the distance you’d both felt—all of it dissolves into the warmth of his lips on yours.

When you finally pull back, Steve’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and his breath comes in soft, uneven bursts. The faint sound of the party drifts through the yard, blending with the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

As you look at him—really look at him—you feel the years of pain and uncertainty begin to loosen their grip. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new. Something worth holding onto.

Sitting together in the quiet, you realize that maybe all those years of silence led you here, to this moment. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what it took to realize you’ve never really let go of Steve—not fully.

[matthewswifeyy]

After awhile you went quiet, and I got mean 4

Summary: Exgirlfriend!reader lives with S4!rafe. She constantly has to watch rafe treat someone better and it finally gets to her

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 part 5

Rafes pov

I was enjoying my drink when I heard footsteps behind me and a voice calling my name. I put glass down and look behind me. I see topper walking up behind me. I roll my eyes and turn back to my drink.

Of course she went to him.

“Yo what the fuck is up with you huh” he said patting my shoulder.

“Nothing” I said shrugging his hand off me.

“Nothing huh. So you’re just kicking Y/n out for no reason.” He said sitting down next to me.

“There was a reason alright” I told him leaning back in my chair.

“I know you two have been arguing rafe but come on. You know she has no where and no one to go to.”

“That’s a lie.” I scoffed.

“Rafe are you kidding me.”

“What topper.” I said turning my head my towards him.

“This is Y/n we are talking about here. Not some random.”

“I know topper.” I said before calling the bartender over. “Get me another one”

“And you don’t care about how she’s doing after that at all.”

“She out of my hands” I said as the bartender placed another full glass of whiskey in front of me.

“I give up at this point. Will you at least try and talk to her about it. Whether you wanna make things right or not.”

“Will it get you to leave me alone about it.” I looked at him.

“Yes”

“Then fine i will talk to her. Tell her to meet me at my place tomorrow at 3.” I said before downing my drink and walking towards my car.

I really did want to talk to her. I just had to seem like I didn’t care to topper because of his big mouth.

I miss what I had with Y/n. I really do. Now I feel like I’m a complete idiot for kicking her out because of Sofia just for me to break up with her not even 10 minutes after she left.

I started my car and drove home.

Readers pov

I was sitting in the guest bed reading my book until there was a knock on the door.

“Come in” I said placing my book on the night stand next to the bed while topper busted into the room.

“He said he will talk to you tomorrow at his place at 3” he said quickly.

“Topper are you serious. I said I wanted to know what was going on with him. I don’t want to make things right with him!” I said to him.

“Oh” he said quietly before leaving.

I groaned and threw my head back into the pillows.

———

I was now getting ready to go on a date with a guy I met at the island club. His name was Jackson. I’ve seen him around before but I’ve never talked to him.

I’m extremely excited to say the least. All these years it been rafe. I’m glad it someone new.

I finished my hair, outfit, and makeup and it was now time for jewelry. I picked out a beautiful pair of small gold hoops. I now looked at my necklace options. I stared at the gold necklace with a small heart pendant that rafe got me many years ago.

I sighed as I picked it up. I bit my lip as I continued to stare at it contemplating putting it on.

Fuck it

I undid the clasp and brought it around my neck. I clasped it and brought my hands down to my side. I looked at myself in the mirror as I continued to chew at my lip.

I turned away from the mirror and grabbed my purse from off the bed. I walked out of the guest room and into the living room.

“Where are you going” topper said from the kitchen.

“A date.”

“With who?” He questioned.

“Jackson Moore.” I said proudly.

“You’re joking right. That douche.” Topper said as he tilted his head at me.

“What he seems nice.” I said as a knocked came from the front door.

I walked towards the door to open it to Jackson.

“Hey”

“Hi” I said with a smile.

“You uh ready to go.”

“Yeah” I say nodding my head.

I walked out the door and closed it behind me. I follow behind Jackson to his car. He opened the door for me and gestured me to get in.

I smiled at him before getting in. He closed the door and walked in front of the car and got in the car.

After about a 5 minute drive we had arrived to the island club. Jackson got out of the car while I gathered my stuff. I waited for the door to open but it never did. I looked out the window and saw Jackson waiting for me.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy

I opened the door and got out. Closing the door before walking over to Jackson.

“Sorry couldn’t find my purse.” I lied to save myself from the embarrassment.

“It’s okay” he said before wrapping his arm around my waist as he lead us toward the entrance.

“Table for Moore.” Jackson told the host.

“Okay right this way.” The host lead us to a table in the back corner of the island club. Jackson pulls my chair out and sits in his seat.

“Thank you” I said quietly.

Our date was going great. We ordered our food and talked. We currently were sitting in a comfortable silence waiting for the bill.

“I have a question Y/n” Jackson said breaking the silence.

“What’s up”

“I know that you and rafe aren’t on the best terms but I was wondering if you would want to go with me to his party tomorrow night.” He asked me.

“Um sure. You won’t have to pick me up though. All of my stuff is at his place still so I’ll probably get ready there if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh that’s okay.” He said as the host dropped the bill of at the table.

As he signed the bill as I grabbed my purse. I took one last sip of my wine before standing up. Jackson came up behind and put his hand on the small of my back.

“Shall we go, my lady.” Jackson joked.

That was something rafe would always say whenever we finished our dates.

“Yeah” I said with a fake laugh.

We walked to the car and saw rafe sitting at the bar. He turned around and locked eyes with mine. I quickly looked away.

Rafes pov

Jackson Moore.

He’s been on my shit list since 8th grade. He always has been going after everything I do.

I’m not surprised he’s with her. He probably only likes her because I dated her.

I was finishing my drink when I heard my phone ping.

Y/n:I’m coming to your place at 8 instead of 3.

Rafe:why

Y/n:I’m going to your party with Jackson. I have to get ready there because all of my stuff is there. We can talk then.

Rafe: k

I sighed and shoved my phone in my pocket before leaving the island club.

————————————————————————

Taglist: @tincanhat @maybankslover @esposamultifandom

[bootsukki]

1.

fic masterlist!

full masterlist

taglist: @adelinesthoights @bellssforyou @halfp4stmidnight @avis-writeshq @carm1lla @sunghoonsgfreal @reirain @cherrypieyourface @aynfp @keldracula @kurroomii @chilichopsticks @shanchiikiss @starstrikeer @yzaelki @just-lilita @chiiibeaa @baby-bunnyxn @zarisluvr @xxpr3ttyk173rxx

Suno’s dining hall was like no other on campus. It was tucket away from the usual hustle and bustle of campus life. It was close to your building and it was the kind of place where people came to work, study or just enjoy a coffee with friends, the hum of muted conversations and clatter of coffee cups providing a comforting background noise. 

As you enter, you find an empty spot for you to sit. Your lat class finished early today with Professor Ukai wanting to end a few minutes early. Professor Ukai was your favourite among all of your professors and even though not everybody like his way of teaching, you always found his honesty and view of the world interesting. 

While waiting for Tsukishima you started to get more nervous and anxious about this lie of yours. There was no way that his friends wouldn’t notice that you were lying to their faces but, for some reason, you didn’t want to step out of his plan. You needed the social interaction, as pathetic as it sounded.

You saw Tsukishima enter the dining hall with a big gym bag on his back and he looked around, waving as soon as he spotted you, making his way towards your table. He left his gym bag on one of the free chairs.

“Sorry, I tried to leave practice a bit early. Have you been here long?”

“No,  just arrived.” You answered, smiling. “I still haven’t picked up a drink.”

“I’ll get it for you, what do you like?”

“Could I get a green tea?”

Tsukishima gave you a thumbs up, making his way towards the beverage table, where he started heating up some water for you as well as filling up his water bottle, taking big glups of it. Tsukishima was attractive, he was tall and had broad shoulders and he seemed to be very well-fit. You coughed, moving your eyes away from him, focusing on the other students that were there enjoying a snack or working on their laptops. 

“Here you go.” Tsukishima placed a steaming mug of tea in front of you and you muttered a quick thank you as he sat down. 

“Alright,” he said, setting his water bottle down. “I feel like we need to set some ground rules if we’re going to pull this off.”

You nodded, the warmth of the cup heating up your hands. “Yes. I don’t want to be caught on the first night.”

Tsukisima smiled. “Okay, I thought that the story could be pretty easy. As I said, we are neighbours, which makes everything easy. We met once, starting talking and just decided to go on a date a few weeks after we met each other.”

“Well, Yamaguchi knows who I am and how long I have been living there, so…” You said. “If we say we went o a date a few weeks after meeting, we would have been together for almost a year, don’t you think?”

“You are right.” Tsukishima nods. “After summer, maybe? They’ll believe me if I say we kept in contact through text. Talked during summer and took you on a date after being back from break. September.”

“That’s okay, it seems normal enough.” You answered. “About physical….?”

Tsukishima clears his throat and nods again. “I… Well… If we are going to act as a couple we should at least be comfortable enough to look… convincing, I guess?” You look at him, sipping on your tea. “I’m not big on PDA at all and my friends should know this by now, so I think the only thing they wouldn’t find weird is hand-holding.”

“That’s fine by me.” You replied. “Something else?”

“Nicknames?”

“Uh….” You think of the last lovey nickname you had and you start tapping your foot nervously. “No, I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, same.Simple is better. Although… All my friends call me Kei or Tsukki so… I think you calling me Tsukishima would be weird.” he said, adjusting his glasses. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll call you Tsukki.”

Tsukishima looks at you for just a second and takes a sip from his water bottle. “I may need to know some basic things about you, just i ncase.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t any of your friends interrogating me about you and literally not knowing anything.” You laugh. “I need to know some things as well, like your birthday, your favourite food, if you play any sport…”

“Volleyball.”

You heart skips a beat at that.

“Volleyball?”

“Yeah, I’ve been playing with my friends since high school. I don’t aim to win things but I enjoy it a lot and I’m a part of the university team.”

“Oh.”

“And you?”

“I…” You think about the times you spent learning that same sport with your friends, all of them teaching you how to jump and hit the ball. You think about the times where he would pick you up and help you hit a ball, the times where he would take you to watch games or when you would hold him after everything in his mind was doubt after doubt about his career and decisions. “I don’t play any sport.” 

“Volleyball is fun.” Kei adds, smiling. “Are you a part of any club?”

“I write for the university paper and the newsletter, which no one reads but I guess it improves my skills for the future.” 

“Well, I’ll start reading it now.”

You smile for a second and finish your tea. Kei looks at you and takes his phone out of his pocket.

“This… It may be weird but I told Yamaguchi about us yesterday and he was really excited that he starting telling the groupchat about you and they… Well, they asked for a picture of you.”

“Oh.” You started to get a bit insecure about your looks for a second, you weren’t wearing the best clothes and you usually went to class without any makeup. “I don’t really good right now.”

“I think you look really nice.” Kei answers quickly and he looks at you. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Maybe I could use one from Instagram or something.”

“No, that’s fine.” You fix your hair for a second and smile. “Take the picture.”

Kei opens his phone camera and snaps a few photos of you and shows them, letting you choose the one you’d prefer people seeing before Kei sends it to his friends’ groupchat.

“I’ll show you a photo of them if you want. That way, you¡ll know something about them before meeting them.”

“When am I…?”

“Tanaka is throwing a small get-together at his apartment tomorrow night if you’d like to come. We usually play boardgames, videogams or watch a movie and drink.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Sounds fun.”

Kei smiles, moving his chair closer to yours. “I’ll pick you tomorrow at seven then.”

You nod, letting Kei sit down next to you, arms brushing together as he shows you a picture of his friends.

“I can’t believe you.” You turn, spoon on your mouth, looking at your roommate Yachi Hitoka, sending you a death glare. Your eyes widen, confused and you close the ice-cream lid. “I can’t believe I have to hear from Yamaguchi that Tsukishima and you are being all lovey-dovey.”

Well, being lovey-dovey isn’t what you would call it, but… You take the spoon out of your mouth and think about what you are going to say. You also need to lie to her, Hitoka is a really baaaaaaad liar and she’s not one to keep secrets. “It’s a new thing, really.”

Her death glare turns into an excited smile and she gets closer to you, moving your shoulders as she laughs. “I can’t believe it! How long?”

“Septemeber, I guess. We were talking a lot during summer so…”

“Girl, I can’t believe you kept this from me.” She says. “I’m really happy for you. You guys make a really cute couple!”

“You think so?” You ask, confused. “We haven’t been together for long…”

“(Y/N), I’ve thought about it for quite some time now. I started thinking about it one time we were all in the elevator and you were giving them their mail. Tsukishima was looking at you really weird. Now I understand that it was all loveeeeee.”

You laugh and shake your head, cleaning the dirty spoon and putting the ice-cream back into the freezer. You feel a bit bad for lying but on the other hand… 

“Do you…” You interrupt her and the petite girls looks at you. “Do you want to help me with an outfit? I’m meeting his friends in like two hours.”

Without answering, Hitoka runs to your room and opens your closet, taking all the majority of your clothes out and putting some music on her phone.

“Sit down, I’m calling reinforcements.”

Tsukishima fixes his hair and picks up his wallet and jacket, but before he can open the door, Yamaguchi runs to the door and closes it.

“We need to talk about two things. First of all, are you nervous? Second of all, were you going to leave without me? We are going to the same place!”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you are introducing all of your friends to the girlfriend we discovered you had literally two days ago. It’s a big step.”

“Well…” The truth was that Tsukishima was indeed nervous. He hated not knowing if he was going to be caught in his lie or if you would be too overwhelmed to continue with the arrangement. “Not really. She’s cool.”

“I know she’s cool but this is the first “girlfriend” you’re introducing.”

“That’s fine. Everything will be fine.” Tsukishima opens the door again. “And I don’t want to leave you alone but I want to spend some time with (Y/N) before we go to Tanaka’s apartment.”

“Oh. Ohhhhhh.” Yamaguchi smirks, pushing Tsukishima out the door. “Enjoy, champ.”

Before Tsukishima can respond, Yamaguchi closes the door on his face and he just sighs. He walks down the hall and knock on the door of your apartment, leaning away from the door as it opens. “Hey, I–” Tsukishima looks at the door number and confused, looks back at the girl in front of him which isn’t Yachi nor you. “Sorry, I–”

“You are in the right apartment, sorry!” The girls leans away from the door and Tsukishima notices, at least, 5 other girls looking in his direction. “We are just having a small gathering while (Y/N) gets ready. You are Tsukishima, right?”

“Right…”

“I’m Yuki Tsumoni.” Tsukishima hesitates, wondering if he should wait for you outside but Yuki pushes right inside and the other girls wave, making their way towards him. They start saying their names but he can't bother to remember them. 

Yuki leads him to the living room–a small place filled up with decorations and trinkets collected by you and Hitoka during this past year, a black coffee table and some bookshelves.

“(Y/N) is almost ready.”

“Okay.”

Just seconds after the girls surround him and start asking him questions (“Oh my God, you’re so tall, how tall are you?” “How long have you guys been dating?” “Where are you from?”), you make your way towards the living room. Tsukishima looks at your outfit, you are wearing a long green sweater and some denim skirt with boots. His eyes move up to your face, noticing the light make-up and your hair up in a ponytail.

“Hi, sorry, I–”

“Not a problem. Shall we go?”

Tsukishima moves away from the girls, who are looking at both of them as if waiting for something. You smile at him and make your way towards the door, saying goodbye and Tsukishima grabs your hand, looking back at the girls, whose eyes are focusing on the way his hand engulfed yours.

You pray he doesn’t notice your gasp of surprise.

[aedesluminis]

Since last month I have been keeping a diary in which I write down my most inner thoughts and feelings.

Now let's say I become a famous person and in 100 years somebody wants to write my biography and that diary is one of the few things left of me. What would this person think or say about me? That I'm a frustrated, clinically depressed person; that everything in my life goes wrong, that I am surrounded by horrible people who treat me poorly and constantly lie to me.

Would that be the truth? Heck, no: I use that diary exclusively to let out all the negative (and wrong) thoughts and beliefs that I have when I'm mentally unstable. Would those lines represent me as a whole? Of course not, they are just a part of me, a rather small one.

But what would the historian tasked to write my biography do without any sort of indication or other direct sources by me? In the best case scenario they would use my diary to speculate about my life and personality; in the worst case one - as it happens more often unfortunately given that sensationalistic books sell more - they would assume certain things from my writings and pass them as truths, ending up spreading an inaccurate if not completely wrong idea of my personality and life.

I wonder about all the possible wrong interpretations we make about our favourite and most hated historical figures when we read secondary or even primary sources. We must never forget that the former are inevitably biased and that the latter can be incomplete or inaccurate for various reasons (the character lying about themselves, their personal writings being manipulated or destroyed either purposefully or by accident etc).

We simply can't perfectly reconstruct the personality of someone from the past; it's hard even with those around us or ourselves and we have the arrogance to do that with people who dies years, century ago?

Beware of scholars, historians, amateurs who think they know the truth, most likely they are projecting their own beliefs or experience on those they write and talk about.

[rekino2114]

So. Uhhh. We've seen genderbended allot of people.... My dirty bisexual head is saying. Fem David Chiem trying to be genuine in her relationship with her S/O? Especially after she reveals her true self?

Fem!David chiem talking with you after the second trial

A/n:I knew someone was gonna request something for fem!David sooner or later. credit to nerico on pinterest for the art.

I'll change David's name to Diana (....see what I did there?)

(Sorry if this sucks)

[Spoilers for drdt]

After the second trial you started walking towards your dorm, you didn't want to talk to anyone......especially your girlfriend. But it seems the universe had another plan because just as you were about to open the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around to see Diana.

"Hey, I wanna talk"

"I'm tired"

"Please, I really need to-"

"You already said enough, I don't need you to lie even more"

"I-"

You opened the door but she gripped your shoulder even tighter

"I'll never lie to you"

Those words touched you, so you sighed and let her enter in the room. She thanked you and sat in the bed, looking awkwardly at you before clearing her throat and speaking

"Listen I'm sorry-"

"Did you ever try to manipulate me?"

"W-what? No I'd never"

"Then don't apologize, of course I'm mad that you hid all......that from me but.....I love you, and I know you do too. All of those moments we spent together, I know they can't be lies, so if you really are like this.....I'll try to love this side of you too"

She looked at you surprised and smiled. A genuine pure smile, you knew she wasn't lying

"....thanks"

"But it will take a while"

"....huh?"

"I mean you did lie to me, for our entire relationship, you seriously think I'm just gonna forgive you like that?"

"It's not like I made any of those stupid speeches to you"

"Yeah but you never showed.....this to me either"

"......sorry I.....I just didn't know what you'd think of me"

".............."

"I mean, I introduce myself as a kind and supportive motivational speaker and reveal that I'm actually a crazy manipulator who lies and uses people to get what she wants. Who would want to date me after that?"

"Me"

"...........really?"

"I already told you, I want you to be yourself when you're with me, that's what any partner would want from their lover, if that's the real you, then I'll love you like this, I just wished you'd told me earlier, that just makes me believe you don't trust me"

"No, of course I trust you.....I just-"

"I know, it must have been hard for you, but I'm hurt too"

She looked down and ran a hand through her messy blue hair

".....I'm truly sorry, if I knew you'd be this supportive, I would have told you my secret immediately"

Seeing her like that made you feel sad too, you knew she truly felt sorry, you knew she loved you......and you loved her too.

You got up from your bed and held her hand

"I get it, but it's alright now, I think we can make this work"

She looked up and smiled slightly

"Thank you, I love you"

"I love you too Diana"

You crouched and gave her a kiss on the cheek, you then sat next to her on then bed and she returned the favor.

"That was so over the top though"

"What?"

"Your transformation, did you seriously have to do that?"

"Hey, if I'm gonna be evil, I'm gonna do it looking cool"

"Fair"

"Plus, don't I look hotter like this?~"

"You just ruffled your hair and opened your shirt a bit. It's not that big of a difference"

"It's still a difference, one that makes me hotter"

She got closer to you and stared at you with a smirk

"Is this what I'm gonna have to deal with from now on?"

"Yep, and you're gonna love it"

She kissed your lips before pulling back and winking at you, you laughed and wrapped her arms around her

"Seriously though, thank you.....a lot"

"It's nothing, I love you, the real you"

She hugged you tightly and whispered to herself

"I promise I'll end this killing game....for you"

[jontaro-kun]

God I love women I wish they were real

[furashuban]

How did Hilda sleep comfortably with a ponytail every night 'cause any time I try to it feels like I'm lying down with a rock pressed behind my head it's just tricky to fall asleep with hair tied back like hers

[lialox]

In the process of 1.5 hours, so much drama was revealed to me that I’m cancelling my next trip back to my hometown next year.

[theokusgallery]

I hate that I have reoccurring themes in everything I make. YES this guy has a complex over the fact that everyone prefers his sibling AGAIN. YES he was ostracized by his peers since he was in primary school and never knew why until years later. URGH

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[porcelain-animatronic]

i love school because i inevitably end up with too many tasks and don't complete any of them!