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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

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kinktober day seventeen: sex pollen kink

>>> god i love me some yuuta he is such a beautiful angel and deserves this! this started out as face-fucking kink but turned into this for storyline purposes LMFAOOO

>>> starring: yuuta okkotsu x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sex pollen theme, pining, jealousy, face-fucking, oral (f!receiving) creampie, swallowing, doggy, headlock! oops!! >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

you two make a dynamic duo. this was evident after he joined the school, drawn to you inexplicably. you were bubbly, funny, beautiful, and immensely talented, and you were the first person to smile at him. you became fast friends, and if he wasn’t sent out with toge, he was sent out on missions with you—where he quickly learned that your technique is beautifully complimentary to his own. you confused him though. you were incredibly pretty—non-sorcerers and classmates from jujutsu tech and her sister school approached you all the time, and you always politely turned them down. all sweet smiles and your caring voice humming out, “oh, thank you—i’m flattered, really, just—focused on working!”

you always were so kind, even if you had a good sense of sarcastic wit. yuuta got a taste of your spirited jokes and only grew more enamored with you, silently thanking the gods above for your gentle crushing of other men’s interests in you. but you never seemed too interested in him, hence why he was so confused when you glared at him and stomped away when he agreed to a date with maki zen’in during your third year. he didn’t realize that he was choosing something bigger at the time, deciding that if you weren’t into him he should try to move on—he should just focus on your friendship instead of all the boys throwing themselves at you and all the nights he spent wondering if you would give him a chance.

but things were never the same after that. you asked toge to take any mission you were sent on with yuuta, and you kept to yourself. panda was disappointed. he thought you would have fought for him, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself going after a man who didn’t want you back. you mostly stick to yourself, mingling with toge and some of your underclassmen when necessary. you run solo missions and spend your time in your room or training, all in an effort to avoid him entirely. you hated how weak the whole thing made you feel. you hated being jealous of maki, someone who had done nothing to you and had been a great friend; you hated being away from yuuta, but you knew it would be worse to stick around and pretend that you’re happy for him.

he didn’t know he’d lose you completely. god knows he wouldn’t have tried this if he thought it meant you would stop sitting next to him in class and start sparring with toge during training instead. he missed you. you used to sneak into his dorm a few nights a week to watch movies and lay your head on his shoulder. you used to hint at your favorite boba until he got it for you on missions in the city. you used to use your curse copying technique to boost his own, paired with the increase in cursed energy output powering his; fights don’t feel like they used to, especially without your arrogant smile as you two dismantle yet another assignment in record time. it was awful, and everyone could tell that he was miserable. that’s why yuuta and maki’s relationship didn’t last much longer after the school year ends. he celebrates his birthday wondering if he should call you—and you spend the day typing and deleting a ‘happy birthday i miss you’ text.

your final year of school starts, and you continue to debate with yourself over approaching him. it’s been months since you spoke, and you’re struggling to find the right words to say after all this time and distance. how could you explain yourself? ‘oh hey, sorry for dropping you, it was actually because you dated someone other than me.’ that’s hardly a convincing apology—and you don’t even know if he wants to see you. it had been a lonely several months without him, due to your own irrationality and instability, but still. you couldn’t bring yourself to stick around and yearn for him while he was in a relationship. now that he isn’t…things could be different. you decide to find him after you get settled into your dorm. you’re almost finished up, so you hurry out to grab the rest of your things.

yuuta can’t stop looking for you. it’s your final move in day, and he has to see you. he wants to make sure everything will be okay between the two of you. he knows what room you’ll claim he just has to make the walk from the boys’ building to the girls’. he’s nervous to see you, but he’s excited, too. it all made sense to him now. you did have feelings for him after all, and he stomped all over them whenever he started dating maki. he understands why you distanced yourself even if it hurt him beyond words. but everything could be fixed now, he could admit the truth with the extra boost of confidence that understanding your absence gave him. he could make the first move with the reassurance, he actually cracks a little smile at the thought of your reconnection and acting on the feelings he’s tried to ignore for so long.

then he sees you, and his smile spreads. he almost calls out your name, until he notices choso next to you, carrying what looks to be the remainder of your stuff towards your dorm. you seemed relaxed and cheerful, smiling softly and talking beside him as he nodded and gave the occasional grin to whatever you were saying. so this is what it felt like for you, then, huh? he supposed it was only a matter of time, every man you came across was charmed by you—and rightfully so. you must have finally decided to move on like he did, but it still feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart with a white hot blade. he’s standing on the sidewalk, rooted in place as choso opens the door for you even with the heavy stuff he’s carrying. you duck under his arm adorably, probably giggling out a thank you as you lead him to your bedroom. yuuta might be sick.

but he has no place to. he did this to you, worse—in front of your face. at least you have no idea that he’s watching you. even as his heart crumbles in his chest and he does an about face back towards the boys’ dorms, he tries to make himself smile. he’ll be happy for you. this is all his fault.

the rest of the day passes without you being able to find yuuta. you did run into choso while you were outside of your building. he and yuji were helping nobara out, but the former noticed you struggling to juggle all your things and offered to assist you too. you’ve worked with him before as well, so you didn’t think anything of it as you led him to your room to set everything down. you catch up with him for a bit and thank him for his help before you dismiss yourself in an effort to find your former best friend before curfew. it was a fruitless search. toge hadn’t seen him since he moved in, and panda still hadn’t arrived. he’d leave everything to the last minute. so with sadness settling in your gut, you return to your dorm and prepare for the first real day tomorrow.

it’s no surprise that the first day means missions for the fourth years. yaga gives a whole spiel on how you all are adults now and all grade one or special grade sorcerers at this point in time. so he partnered toge and maki for a mission in nagoya, panda got a solo mission here in tokyo, and then he sent you and yuuta on a mission in osaka.

his heart sank. there was no way he could get anyone to take his spot. he would be forced to walk alongside you and pretend he isn’t horribly depressed. you would mostly likely try to reconcile, and he missed you so horribly he would take you back in any vicinity. he wanted to fix things, to make things how they were supposed to be, and you’re supposed to be his girl. but what could he even do? maybe he would have you under his arm for this mission if he hadn’t been so brain dead. he can only blame himself, so yuuta extends the olive branch first.

he waits for you at the gates. you can see the hilt of his sword as you round the top of the hill, and you swallow hard. you couldn’t help but think he was still avoiding you after looking for him for the better part of a day yesterday, so what would you say to him now? his grayish blue eyes meet yours, and you smile simply from the warmth that builds in your chest at the sight of him. he mirrors your smile easily, and it turns out you two can pick up right where you left off like nothing had ever happened.

it’s relief. you were both so nervous that too much damage had been done. you wondered if the distance had grown so wide you couldn’t bridge the gap, and he could only think the same, but as soon as you joined his side, conversation flowed freely and laughter followed after. and even as the idea of you and choso nagged at his mind, he knew choso would never know you like he does. he would never fight alongside you so expertly, nor have all the history that the two of you have. if that’s all he’s got, then he can make it through this.

the mission itself was a bit more of a struggle, for once. you blamed it on the fact you hadn’t coordinated attacks in months, but this grade one cursed spirit had way too many abilities and tactics to use against the two of you. you have the ability to copy cursed spirits techniques after they touch you, but it seemed as if this spirit had several different styles. they were spreading what appeared to be a fertilizer of some sort over the ground and walls, you couldn’t get close enough to it to touch, and you weren’t sure that copying this technique was going to be very helpful.

“i’ll just boost your energy—we’ll have to fight the normal way.” you determine through a pant. none of your attacks had worked as planned so far. yuuta unsheaths his sword, chewing on the inside of his lip. he nods, seemingly analyzing the spirit and their dust to decide what he would do next. he surveys the abandoned ward of the hospital you were standing in, locating hiding spots.

“i’m going to sneak around, you try to keep it distracted?” he suggested, and you roll your eyes. it’s hardly a glorious plan, but you relent in it, letting him make the first moves would be more effective and decisive for the rest of the fight. he grins at your signature attitude, and jumps high into the sky. you chuckle at his showmanship, then run at the blob-looking cursed spirit with a whistle. you twirl your spear, watching as yuuta drops down in the dust behind it. his sword stabs through it a moment later, and you’re close enough to get your spear into the mix. at the impact, the spirit starts spitting out that powder, and you get a face full of it.

you sputter and wipe at your face, trying to get it out of your eyes as you stumble back. the spirit laughs, while yuuta digs his sword into their flesh and tries to soothe your worries.

“it’s harmless!” he calls out, yanking his sword out of its back and circling to the front to retrieve your spear. “just get it out—you’re okay!”

the spirit laughs again, the glob-like substance melting into a pile as yuuta stabs it again, this time with the intent to exorcize it. “hardly, little woman!” the beast calls out in an automated croak. “cum is the only cure, female—you will die!” it laughs wildly, turning into a liquid under the pressure of yuuta’s energy. his eyes widen as you make a strangled noise of disbelief.

you’re not sure if you’re blinking in shock or still recovering from its dust in your eyes, but you stumble back as it fully disappears. yuuta rushes to your side as soon as it’s over. you’re going to die? unless you…do something extremely lewd? he’s blushing deeply but it’s clearly out of concern for your life, of course. he’s disappointed in himself for letting you get affected. he imagined it had to get in the bloodstream to be effective since he was fine, but he could tell with one look at you that you were not.

your eyes were heavily lidded, lips parted in a perfect pout as you stood on wobbly legs. you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and he could see your hands pulling at your uniform—and your inner battle to get yourself to stop. he walks towards you, concerned beyond belief. you would die if he didn’t help, and you do look so intoxicating like this…

“don’t come any closer—please.” you choke out, feeling around behind you to find a wall to back yourself against. your entire body coursed with uncontrollable heat and need, your pussy throbbing painfully. everything was intensified, your heaving chest, the smell of the man you’ve wanted for years, and the searing lust he looked at you with. you started to shake, and he knew he couldn’t obey your command. “i can’t control myself right now, please, oh my god–” you whine out as his warm and slightly callused hands cup your hot cheeks.

“you heard it…you’ll die..” he says softly, wide and concerned eyes searching yours. he wasn’t under the same pressure, but his heart was racing and his dick was hurting at the prospect of fucking his crush. his tongue darts out to wet his lips. he looks almost as nervous and needy as you do. “i just got you back—and i’m definitely not letting you die.”

you’re insatiable, the touch only made your brain fuzzy and scream out for more, your hands reach up for his forearms, whining weakly as the connection doesn’t satisfy you at all. “oh yuuta–it hurts so bad.” you pout, the look you give him is so pathetic he almost whines with you. “h-help me, please~”

he nods and smashes his lips on yours. you let out an animalistic grunt in relief, throwing your body at him and taking the kiss from heated to dangerous, your teeth gnashing and tongue poking at his bottom lip to get even closer. he can’t help but contemplate the words of the curse, they simply said cum was the cure. does that mean his or yours? and where? he doesn’t mind trying everywhere.

you pull back, but your arms stay around his neck, hands knitted in his soft locks. “my clothes–god it feels like i’m burning.” he gently pushes you off of him so he could help you find relief, popping the buttons on your top and letting out a shaky sigh at the sight of your breasts spilling over your bra. he snakes his hands around your back, slender fingers working quickly to unlatch the clasps. he does let out a little moan this time—your tits sag when your bra drops, and yuuta pushes all the fabric off your upper half and his hands knead at your chest instantly, causing you to wail and moan. he’s trying to be normal, but this is anything but. he’s spent many a night with his fist wrapped around his dick, thinking about the first time he would have you, but it never went like this. he’s hardly complaining though, you’re so sensitive and your noises are so pornographic he’s trying not to bust in his pants.

“i’m gonna start crying–” you sniffle, none of his touches were satisfying you like you needed, it was getting unbearable. you were burning up and your pretty eyes were filling with tears of needy frustration. he whimpers at the sight and hurriedly peels his own clothes off, shaking his head in worry.

“oh, don’t cry! i’m here—i’ll..i’ll make it better!” he nods, hooking his fingers under your skirt, shoving it to the perfect dip of your waist. he looks at your soaked panties, and his heart stops. he’s really going to do this, you aren’t even in your right mind—he can’t help but feel like he’s taking advantage of you.

“yuuta–please, i want you so bad, need you!” you cry out, crumbling to your knees before him. you paw at his pants, untying his belt and yanking at the sides of his pants hungrily. he gasps at your desire. he was perfectly happy to please you only, wanting to save you more than anything—maybe other than this, you looking up at him with your lip between your teeth as his dick springs free, slapping against his stomach and making you moan out before you grab him. “fuck my mouth, okay–i need your cum, you heard it.” you sigh, eyes hazy with need as you lean in and kitten lick his pink tip.

his hand flies to your head, and he shudders just from that. you admire the sight of him, long and leaning to one side, cutely trimmed and a leaky slit meant just for you. “hope you didn’t let maki touch you—wanna feel all of it down my throat.” you rub your thighs together, fingers blindly playing with yourself to keep you from going insane.

he blinks a bit at your profession of jealousy—and then he remembers choso. “aren’t you dating yuji’s brother?” he confronts, jutting himself forward a bit to see himself splayed along your perfect tongue. you huff at the accusation, brows furrowing as you shake your head.

“never date anyone but you—” you confess, speech starting to slur. you aren’t able to think as clearly, all you can crave is his dick in your mouth, so you swallow him up. your nose tickles the dark patch of hair above his base, pretty teary eyes batting up at him as you moan around his cock. you want him to be rough? okay. he’ll do that for you–your life is on the line after all. he slides his hands to your cheeks as you work your way along him, up and down at such a sensual pace he’s a moaning mess like he’s affected by the technique. his noises only cause more of your own, his weighty tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag each time. he makes it worse when he decides to apply pressure, holding your head still and moving his hips instead. he fucks your face brutally, you didn’t think he had it in him. tears run down your face and gags and moans are all to be heard. he looks so good, brows set forward in focus and his pink lips parted to let his whimpers free. he tastes even better, and you think you cum when he does, his thick ropes hitting the same spot his dick was, but you swallow it all down anyway and lick your lips—waiting for more. he shudders, this was far too much for him to handle, he didn’t know how he could return to normal after this.

“let me see you now.” he blurts out, sitting on his knees like you. he crawls closer to you, easing you to lay back on the floor. you’re not too good for it, especially not if it meant yuuta was going to make you feel better. you were frantic with need, spreading your legs as soon as you felt his touch to them, he sees your soaked panties again, and his semi perks all the way back up again. “can i take them off?”

“fuck–please, yuuta, can’t take it anymore—put your mouth on me!” you call out his name so desperately he can’t help but wonder if you would be so slutty had someone else gone on this mission with you. the thought quickly disappears when he remembers your declaration, that you’d never wanted anyone but him, and he wants to ask if it’s true. surely he has time, you’re starting to look like pure sex and as bad as he wants to destroy you, he has to do so in good faith.

“did you mean it—that you wouldn’t date anyone but me?” he asks, peeling your sloppy underwear away from your drenched cunt. you nod quickly, the cold air making you shiver with anticipation. you buck your hips toward him a little, still nodding.

“why d’you think i stopped talkin’ to you? you chose her over me.” you pout, and he feels the guilt pang at his heart again as he picks your hips up off the floor, hooking his arms around your thighs.

“it was a mistake–i didn’t know you wanted me–”

“i love you—don’t just want you–need you, pleaseee we’ll talk later!” you squirm in his grip and he snaps into it. your words push him to new heights, you love him. you love him and you need him more than anything, and god he would make sure you never regretted it. his tongue parts your lips and he grows ravenous immediately at the taste of you. he sucks at it, wanting as much of you on his taste buds as he could get. you mewl and pant immediately, bucking into his face and moaning at the way his nose collides with your clit. you can’t reach him with the angle he holds your hips at, helpless and only able to play with your own chest as he devours you. he slides his tongue inside you, groaning at how tight you are. he knows you’re going to squeeze his cock like a vice. you cry out his name in response, and it drives him crazy. white hot need flows through his veins and it's not enough to hear you. he needs to feel you cum in his mouth, feel you buck and writhe in his arms just like this–it makes him feel like the man you need. and the more you call his name, the more he believes he is.

he tongue fucks you for a minute or two, just stroking your walls and tasting your insides. it makes you moan lowly, a purr almost, but when he slides his tongue up to your clit, your sounds turn higher, towards screams. it makes him feral, his teeth scrape against your hood and you lurch forward, whining to touch him. he makes out with your cunt, watching your face contort with pleasure.

“i’m gonna cum for you, oh–yuuta!” you warn in a broken wail, and he moans against you, waiting for you to coat him in your juice. your legs clench around his head, shaking and jerking as your release hits you in waves. he works you through it, licking two fingers in preparation to work you open, but you shake your head. “please, please fuck me, can’t wait anymore–.” you press your legs to his face again, the need almost worse now that you’ve cum once.

“it’s gonna hurt–” he winces, though the brain in his dick agrees with you wholeheartedly.

“it already hurts—please, please, if you care about me at all, just..please!” you sigh out, thrashing in his arms as you plead. how could he deny you when you talk like that, especially if it will make you think he doesn’t care about you.

“i care about you—i love you too, i–i’ll help you, i’m here.” he stammers around, lowering your legs to his hips. he angles his leaky cockhead against your hole, and your head falls back at the feeling and his confession. you nod, reaching for his hands that support your weight.

“good—then fuck me like you love me.” you pant, your body so glorious and splayed wide just for him. he’s in heaven, and he can’t fight off his need any longer—especially if this was what you wanted, what you were begging him for. he fits his tip past your tight hole, sinking his length deeper in fluid strokes. you moan wantonly, and the sounds make his body tingle. you’re walking sex, he’s always thought that, but seeing you underneath him only confirmed your perfection. you nod your encouragement, even thrusting your hips up to meet him, and the pressure makes his eyes roll back.

he fills you up like he was made to, squeezing between your walls and kissing your cervix once he’s in to the hilt. his fingers dig into your meaty hips, slamming your body down on him repeatedly until you’re both a mess of moans and sweat and heavy breathing. you squeeze down on him, mumbles of his name bless his ears and cause his dick to jump.

he turns you over, hoping you can still support yourself on all fours. you shake, but hold yourself up, arching your back for him to slip his cock back in without a struggle. he faces no resistance, your juices dribble down your thighs and all around him, gurgling and squelching once he’s nestled inside. you moan at the new angle, only intensified by him laying over your back and catching your neck in his arm, adding support for your pathetic frame. he’s got you in a headlock, his hips driving into your round ass, the sounds of his gentle grunting sing in your ear. you’re so close, backing into him like you’ll never have the chance to fuck again–which he can assure you would not be the case.

“yuuta–’m gonna cum ‘gain, gonna give yours to me?” you whine out, panting and struggling through your smooshed cheeks. he nods like you can see him, sweat dripping on your back. you massage him so well that he’s surprised he made it this long.

“yes, i have to make sure you’ll be okay.” he sighs, stilling as a loud moan rips from his throat as he floods your insides, noting that he would have to buy a pill to make sure this didn’t turn into a lasting problem at your young adult age. it feels so good though, he doesn’t know how he would ever fuck you differently. you shiver, squeezing all the seed out of his cock as you come down from your own high. you slump forward, his arm was the only thing keeping you from face planting on the ground. he rubs gentle circles into your bruising hips as he catches his breath.

“are you alright, does it feel better?” he quizzes, feeling himself go soft after several minutes of keeping you stuffed. “talk to me, i’m worried–”

“i’m great,” you giggle, feeling cum slide down your legs when he slips out of you, “better than ever. as long as that’s not a one time thing.”

he leans over your back again, turning your head for a sweet kiss to your lips. “no, no. definitely not. sneak into my room tonight and i’ll make sure of it.”

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta x you

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lady-ashfade · 2 months ago

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Unpopular class 1A characters and their yandere traits!!

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Characters: Kouji Kouda, Rikidou Satou, Mashirao Ojiro, Yuuga Aoyama, Fumikage Tokoyami, Tooru Hagakure, Mezou Shouji. {Class 1A as a whole yandere group tho}

WARNINGS: Yandere Behaviors, Stalking, Violates, Crazy Behavior, I don’t condone this in real life only fiction, so many spelling errors I’m so sorry.

GENRA: HCS

Rikidou Satou

Equally could be platonic or romantic.

I want him as a yandere so bad. I think he’s perfect, and not just because our quirks would be similar—

He is more of a tame yandere and really just wants to protect you, but respects you so much. So let me explain.

Is the type to wanna baby you, and 100% will when the time is needed but he also loves when you feel confident. So he’s not the type to wanna get your hero license taken away. But doesn’t like you on your own fighting either.

Pocket full or treats for you. Take down a villain? Treat. Get the tests right? Treat. SMILE AT HIM? Treat for you.

He’s not as crazy as his classmates but can be convinced to do anything that is needed.

Satou wants to be noticed by you since he is more in the background, or not in the loud groups that do get your attention. So he tries to be the best at things they aren’t just for you to be around him. Like baking sweets for you anytime you- does guilt trip you and put you on the spot sometimes.

“I know everyone is busy, I just thought you’d be my taste tester- No worries, I’ll just wait until next week.” Stuff like that to get you to feel a bit bad for rejecting him.

Alone, Satou would be a comfortable yandere to deal with but when he’s group up, can be worse. He’s is always going to be the reasonable one.

Doesn’t have a big shrine of you, but does keep a shoebox under his bed with things you have given or lost. He isn’t creepy so nothing is weird in this pile. Literally just takes things you forgot behind in class or in battle.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Still big on the chill side.

When the group/or him kidnapped you, he’s going to just be a friend and try to stick up for you when he can.

WILL FIGHT FOR YOU TO GET SOME SUN! He knows it’s important.

If he or the others need to punish you, tries to get you a light punishment. And really easy to sucker into sneaking you snacks, or just giving.

Tho, he will never be the one giving you any type of punishment. Like locking you in your room or anything else.

If he’s alone yandere, he’s taking away the internet and your game console….Which lasts about two days before your begging gets to him.

Kouji Kouda

More platonic yandere but he’s a cutie so, whatever you want boo.

You know how I feel about quite sunshine characters— let me cook.

He is tame- he’s a sweet yandere to have and much like satou….But he does have some tendency that could be really creep.

Stalker this little guy— has birds or other small animals watching your every move. Outside your window at night, walking to class, training.

He’s not dangerous and would never hurt you. Also respects you as a person, wouldn’t take your hero licenses away, likes when you fight beside him. So you have that going for you.

He’s using cute animals to worm his way to your side and in your life more. If you’re the type to not wanna hang out with anyone, oops- how did that bunny get into you room? So he’s using animals to be near you. And it works most of the time. Because he is quite and pleasant to be around so you let him in your room while you pet the animals. I see you guys study or doing homework together and just chilling in your room in silence.

He wants to baby you but is too shy to do anything, please— would explode if he pets your head even once. He is the type to wanna comfort you but doesn’t say much, just kinda lets you cry on his shoulders if you need it.

“Bunny?” Shoves a bunny in your face while tears stream down your cheeks.

Freaks out if you get hurt. He’s screaming when you got a bloody knee from tripping and is running to get a first aid kit and the others. It’s weird, he sees you get punched and kick, and hates it, but freaks out over the little things.

Has, and will cry again if you get a paper cut.

He’s not Alone. I don’t see him really as a yandere to not work in a group, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be. If he’s alone his tendency are more under the radar and will never act on anything.

Doesn’t have a shrine. Doesn’t really take things from you either. But will place things you give him in a box where they are nice and safe. Also will have a picture of you together on his wall.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

If he were to ever actually become crazy like the others it would be more dangerous.

He has animals, can control any of them. So, he would have poisonous animals or insects. And will cause harm if he’s corrupted.

Like I said, if he’s with a group he’s okay with them kidnapping you- but alone I don’t think he would.

If he’s all by himself, he’s somehow getting you to move in with him.

Doesn’t like you getting punished and I don’t think would ever actually punish you. IF he had to, I think he limited your animal hours down.

Tooru Hagakure

Crazy cult fangirl yandere. Literally she’s crushing on you and fangirl so hard over you just looking at her. So she’s romantic, or if you want platonic. Wouldn’t force you to have feelings for her but he feelings stay the same. (at least in this fic)

What doesn’t this girl do? Stalks you everywhere, she can’t be seen. Steals your stuff all the time when your not looking.

Does baby you. But also hypes you up to be like a god. Thinks everything you do is better then anyone on earth or the galaxy. You could literally sit down and she’s wonder “How can they be so cute?” PLEASE SOMEONE COME GET HER-

She could be one to take your hero license away or not. Depends on your quirk or her level of craziness.

If you have a quirk that’s not getting much better or she thinks isn’t going to keep you safe in the long run- kiss your freedom goodbye. But if you have a overpowered quirk and are in the top five in class. She’s freaking out.

I don’t think she would hurt you. So you don’t have to worry about her doing things really messes up. Her love is just overwhelming to handle, even platonically.

She’s touching you 24/7. Playing with your hair even if you push her away, taking your hand in hers to lead you somewhere, kissing your cheek when you do well.

Love letter yandere anyone? Leaves letters in your locker or bag every few days. How good you look each day, telling you she wants you to kiss her or protect her, to hold your hand for longer then a few minutes, where she wants to get married—

Honestly, she will do anything you ask her to. Because you asked her, only her— you need her! She will run off to do what you want her too. If she’s annoying you, all you have to do is ask her to go get you a snack and she’s out of your room like the flash to get it.

Takes millions of pictures of you— is the class picture dealer. Like image her in the dead of night, hoodie on, making a trade off of your pictures. “What do you want? I got ones of them sleeping, got one fighting a villain” trades for almost anything. Other pictures they took, things of yours, even cash.

Has a shine for sure! It could be in her locked closet, or a really big box that she pulls out and sets up right before bed and prays to it like a god. Has made a you doll and kisses it before bed.

“Please, let them look at me tomorrow— let them touch me in anyway! I’ll take anything”

Mentioned before she steals so she has your clothes, jewelry if you wear it, even your homework you threw out just to see your handwriting. Pictures too…..I wouldn’t put it passed her to have hair.

If you tell her you like the outfit she has on, wears it and similar things from now on. Maybe she was wearing Minas or the other girls clothes. She will burn her own and replace them immediately of things you like.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Doesn’t really get more dangerous because she’s not a “dangerous” yandere. She’s just a stalking/worshipper yandere. Kinda like your own personal cult follower if you will.

Only way she would hurt or kill is with the other girls. And even then it’s a stretch. Unless it’s a female that she or the group doesn’t know, then she would hurt someone.

Wouldn’t kidnap you on her own though, like Kouda she will trick you into living with her. But wouldn’t be mad if the group wanted to kidnap you.

Shocker- wouldn’t punish you and really tries to tell the others not to.

Cult type again, wants to be hurt or have the restrictions that you do just to know what you’re going through- even will let you yell at her to let your frustrations out. She’s there for anything you need!!

Punishment on her own is trying to ignore you for a while, but ends up only lasting five minutes until she’s apologizing with tears.

Fumikage Tokoyami

I think also as equal to romantic or platonic.

Silent watcher type vibes. He stalks a bit, and his behaviors are hidden. Only ones that know about them are his classmates.

Watches you like a hawk- Ha! He really enjoys just watching you from a distance for a while, how you look when it’s quiet and your studying alone. What interests you do alone. And he doesn’t mind watching you hang out with others, he likes to see you smile. (Only with his classmates)

Kinda babies you. He just pushes you out of harms way even if you took down ten villains, “I’ve got you.” So that’s kinda babying. He knows your capable but he just really wants to be your hero. (Hero by skillet) But don’t get him wrong, he finds it cute if you’re powerful and take down villains! Loves the look of justice in your eyes.

Would he take away your hero license? Yes and no. Depends.

Can be easy agreed to it with others and by himself, but if someone makes a good point to keep you in the hero agencies he’s also willing. More Satou a bit when it comes down to it. He just wants you fighting low level villains, nothing high threat and will be there by your side.

When he does get out of the shadows he’s so chill to be around. Just stays by you and does anything you are doing. Studying? He’ll sit with you. Need someone to play a game? He’ll be happy to.

Gets flustered to. Complement this man and he’s hiding in the corner like Tamaki. Pat his shoulder and he’s gone.

He’s kinda just around you, not too chatty but not quite if you want him to be. He really just wants to be someone you want around.

Has a poem journal that he writes in daily and all of them are about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Jiro turn them into songs.

Would never ever hurt you! Who do you think this man is? I feel like he would raise his voice once out of concern once and then beat himself up over it and feel so unworthy of your attention that he wouldn’t speak to you for a month.

Small shrine, like a deity’s. Candle, rocks and other things you might like, about two photos and keeps it hidden in his closet. Lights it and sits at it while reading over his journal, then once again in the morning before going to class.

Dark shadow is kinda different then him and will shoot out of his body to talk to you. It’s so different. Tokoyami is sitting at his desk across the room while dark shadow is talking your ear off. That shadow really loves you and is so annoying, but it’s cute. Is the voice of chaos in Tokoyamis head.

“Steal their jacket, I wanna sleep with it at night.” “I could slap Izuku away from them—” “Did y/n see me while training? Did I look cool?”

Has stolen your jackets mostly, again anything you have left that he can find but isn’t too worried about it. I think the only reason he actually has the jackets is because of darkshadow taking them but likes them to much to give it back.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Dangerous? He could be but normally no, unless he snaps or is under the influence of the group.

Darkshadow on the other hand would be at night, seriously really. Have you seen him when he’s not controlled? Imagine as a yandere.

But alone I don’t think so. They both are kinda chill, even might let you live a normal life as they are your guardian. Like buying a apartment near you, watch you grow old as they do too.

Probably wouldn’t kidnap you. And if romantic, will try and make you fall for him so he doesn’t have to kidnap you! It’s so much better if your willing to love him.

Might hurt someone mildly if they are too close, might also kill somebody if they are trying to hurt you.

If kidnapped by the group he’s trying to make you feel better, get you out into the sun would be nice.

Punishment with him is light, will lock you in your room for a week, with limited screen time thats only tv for two hours a day, but of course feeds you everything you need.

But with the group he’s not going along with anything they say. Hates strong punishments they give you, and has had to be knocked out to get him to stop fighting back.

Yuuga Aoyama

I am mostly writing for platonic but imagine what you want!!

Fanboy Cult and worshiper. He’s strange to describe. Thinks the world of you, thinks you are better then everyone else, but “You could use a better wardrobe.” You know? Might see you as a doll of some sort.

Thinks he can “fix” you imperfections that still make you so much better then the rest. Outfits, your hair, makeup if you wear it, how to make yourself a flashy hero. He has pointers for everything!

He really does love you tho. Will get you a red carpet and have you walk it all day long anywhere you go because you deserve it.

If you have a powerful quirk? He’s jumping behind his savior. You wanna protect him, you’re the most precious on the earth. So he pays you back by being your most loyal follower!

Meets with Hagakure to do trades of your stuff he steals because he’s constantly in your room, even if you try and push him out. Like I mean this man has bags full of stuff from over the year of school and everything.

“I got hair brushes, toothbrushes, earphones” the list goes on and on for dealer Aoyama.

Even if not romantic, he’s laying on you while watching a movie, that’s just him- and giving you cheese! If your lactose intolerance, he found a way to give you fake cheese that’s so expensive.

Does baby you so much as try and guide you like a personal assistant. “Straighten your back” or “use more of your leg power” in training or taking pictures, anything you can think of. “Throws” out your clothes and gets you new ones that make you look better. Like I said, you’re a doll and he’ll pull the strings!

Using so much guilt trip on you, you might be color blinded to a red flag. Hangouts, you said you would? Why are you lying, did you forget you promised?.He is trying to get every ounce of attention from you he can, and if it means making you feel a little insecure he will do it.

But is still a follower so he will try and impress you himself, after all you’re his god! Need something expensive, take his money! Eat his food. He doesn’t really care what you need, just call on him and your wish is his command.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

The exact same if in a group of alone. He’s obsessed over you, and ready to be your follower.

Doesn’t hurt or kill anyone. It’s not his style, might ruin a nail or get blood on his clothes. No he’ll leave that to the others.

Kidnap? Not alone, he’s making you move in with him in a big mansions where you have everything you want. Pays for everything so you can live like a god.

But not against it in a group, still decorates you new home with things you like. He doesn’t care, he’s just going to be with you!

Punishment— Taking away your cards so you can’t shop. For a week, you can’t use his money.

“I’m not cruel,” he whines as he places things he bought for you on the table, “I just said you couldn’t buy anything.” Feels so bad he caved and buys shit for you, only to give you back the cards.

I feel like gift giving and money is his way of showing his love. You need him- you can’t leave him if you need money to survive.

Group punishment: no matter what happens he’s going to buy you shit to make you smile again. Wouldn’t be in the same area if they do something other then locking you in a room.

Mashirao Ojiro

Romantic, but also platonic and wouldn’t force you to like him back.

“Friendly” obsessed protecter yandere. If romantic, he’s the secretly in love with you best friend.

Even if your quirk is more powerful then is, he’ll still stand in the way of danger for you, his darling.

Masks his behaviors well, because he’s just a cool loving best friend. Nothing weird about it. I believe he started out slow, even if he was still obsessed with you. If the class was acting on their tendencies, he pulls back and makes himself look like the most uninterested one there.

So you obviously go for him and befriend him. While the others flock towards you and constantly bicker over you. Ojiro got your back for just being a friend! And he really plays it so well, man manipulated you into thinking he’s normal. 😐

Until he wasn’t, or you were more comfortable now and best friends. He started to touch you more but not as often as the others— and in subtle ways. Like pats on the head, shoulders, then helping you train and pushing your body around. Then comes your head on his shoulders, or his arm around your shoulders. He’s still soft about it and never does it for long.

He doesn’t baby you, but teases you like best friends do. Or helps you when you need to be help. The only time I see him “babying” you is in combat because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. (Boy- you just took down a super villain)

You have access to his tail at anytime of the day, keeps it looking nice just for you and allows you to do anything. Like put bows on it, braid it, you wanna put some semi-permanent dye on it? Go ahead.

Does stalk you sometimes but hardly ever. Or, follows you around. He does have a tracker placed on your phone so he knows exactly where you are.

Hang outs in your room all the time just to play video games and study. He’s always trying to make you laugh.

He does steal. Leaving things in his room? He doesn’t remember you leaving it, maybe check your room! Almost anything you leave in his room is his now, and boy does he gaslight you into thinking your crazy.

Shrine! Shrine! Closet shrine for sure so he doesn’t knock anything over. Pictures, things he stole, flowers, small notes he’s written to you, anything.

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. Can’t tell his tendencies because he hides them, or makes you feel insane for thinking he’s weird. I means, he’s nothing like the rest of them so maybe you are just paranoid.

“Don’t sweat it, I once thought denki would hide in my room to play with my tail,” he just smiles and shrugs off your accusations. Inside his screaming to not mess this up.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Not dangerous alone, not dangerous at all even if he went crazy.

Listen I love this man but he wouldn’t scare me as a yandere. Because he is still sweet and loving, even if he is a little crazy.

But he would beat up people don’t get me wrong, or threaten them anonymously and frighten them so much. Really just threats people to stay away from you. Has giving his fair share of black eyes.

Kidnap? Yeah, I think he would. I feel like this guy would kidnap you if he wanted to. Because you trust him and it’s easy to let you guard down around him, so he slips something in your drink and takes you to your new home!!

So he is okay with the group kidnapping you, and wants to do it in a non traumatic way.

Punishment: might chain you up and lock you in a room, but he’s not cruel. Gives you good meals but no desserts and plays a movie for you every day for entertainment. Only stops when you’re ready to say your sorry for what you did.

Group punishment: doesn’t wanna hear about hard punishment if you get them, so he just visit you when it’s all over or going on. He will try and comfort you like he always did, let you pet his tail and even wants to hold you while you cry!

“I’m sorry pumpkin, but this is all for your own good! Now just cry and eat your dinner.”

Mezou Shouji

Lemme start off by saying this, I don’t write for him a lot- BUT BOY DO I LOVE THIS MAN.

Can be seen as platonic or romantic, kinda going for both.

Protective sneaky watcher yandere. A lot like Tokoyami in so many ways, likes watching from a far. I think he wouldn’t know how to express his feels because he just feels so much and doesn’t wanna scare you off. So when is around you, he’s silent at irst.

Has the main three type of protective behaviors, like pulling up behind him or fighting for you. Doesn’t care if you can snap you fingers and everything is gone. You’re his darling, If you powerful- in his eyes you’re weak and need to be sheltered from the world.

So is all in favor to make you stop being a hero, might even be the type to frame you if it feels necessary. You might be able to convince him to be a sidekick for him or another hero WHO he also follows around. You’re not fighting pro level, help the people who have stolen bicycle or lost their cat in a tree.

Did someone say stealer? HIDE YOUR SHIT! Lost a item? Found your drawer half open and missing a shirt or other things? Shouji breaks into your room, even finds Deku, Shoto, and even bakugo and the girls in there sometimes. Doesn’t care, they snoop together. “This never happened.”

At first he was scared of frightening you, but slowly over time he warmed up to you. So much that you both became friends, or friendly acquaintances. MF would pat your head so much like you’re a pat. From getting a answer right, to eating all the food on your plate, headpat for his darling.

Holds you all the time in his little arm holder thing, like he kept Froppy in, or just wraps all his arms around you. You better hope you can tolerate him because he’s not letting go.

Might baby you a little but not to hard. Mostly pats on the head, candy for being good- wait, let him tie your shoes. Babying without degrading words. (Unlike Bakugo)

Does have shrine- or at least kinda. Just has a pile of your shit and hides it, then at night he smells the clothes and holds them close. No candles or anything. Probably has a photo shrine tho.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

He’s not that dangerous, leaves violents mostly to the others and takes care of you. But alone he’s not doing much.

Would kidnap you. Alone or with a group. The only one on this list that would probably go with the group to take you away.

Alone, it’s nice because he just wanted to cuddle and protect you. Will chain you if you don’t behave and will keep you like that for life, so just be good! Buys you anything you want too. Food, clothes, games. Might let you out of the house but only in private areas.

Grouped, really just wants to be there for you and with you. So, he just stays near you, or watches you from the security cameras while you sleep.

Punishment alone- chained up like I said but not much more, unless no contact with you other then food. Leaves you alone in your room until you’re saying sorry.

Punishment grouped, same as alone. He’s okay with it unless they wanna hurt you, then he draws the line! No one should hurt his precious darling! Will be there with a comfortable hug no matter what happens!!

111 notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 2 years ago

Text

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot.

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool.

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night.

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees.

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora.

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them.

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep.

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him.

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head.

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat.

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.”

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him.

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you.

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?"

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it.

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says.

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say.

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink.

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask.

That turns his cheeks pinker.

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923."

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours.

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile.

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing.

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt."

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge.

"Your hair is wavy," you observe.

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face.

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?"

"Is it poisoned?"

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much.

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks.

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe.

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat.

"Uh, th-thanks," he says.

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change.

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks.

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours.

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says.

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you.

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes.

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly.

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour."

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun.

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks.

"Why would she pick me up?"

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply.

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again.

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade.

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink.

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass.

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts.

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number.

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up.

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers.

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still.

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent.

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing.

"Good penmanship," you say.

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile.

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill.

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through.

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips.

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face.

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother.

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour.

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept.

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world.

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt.

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat.

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk.

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him.

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb.

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly.

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes."

"Undoubtedly," you say.

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks.

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him."

"I believe it," says Max.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks.

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse.

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says.

You wonder if Steve would agree.

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say.

Max acquiesces with a hum.

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block.

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead.

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve.

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee.

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max.

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier.

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you.

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup.

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay."

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what.

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching.

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream.

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says.

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her.

"Robin."

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says.

"We know," Max tells him.

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say.

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you.

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask.

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over.

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley."

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…"

Robin snickers. Max smirks.

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says.

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes.

"Have some class, will you?" she says.

"I'm classy!" Steve insists.

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter."

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say.

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks.

You nod.

“Gummy worms?”

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.”

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed.

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror.

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can.

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin.

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone.

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons.

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze.

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers.

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves.

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy.

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks.

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest.

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?"

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles.

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything.

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet.

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem.

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk.

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees.

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say.

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?”

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile.

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says.

“I’m nervous,” you confess.

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks.

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister.

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important.

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt.

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn.

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates.

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open.

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up.

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately.

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch.

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath.

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then."

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing.

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified.

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck.

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand.

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve.

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?”

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding.

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say.

His cheeks turn pink again.

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek.

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?"

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says.

"Dude," Steve hisses.

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie.

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?"

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate."

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird.

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand."

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers.

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin.

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails.

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat.

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant.

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger."

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids.

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?"

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it.

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle.

"Thank you," you say.

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger.

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt."

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it.

"Your hair has product," you observe.

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks.

"Especially mine."

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting.

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks.

"I like it as well as anybody else."

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile.

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot.

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask.

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come."

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends.

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say.

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath.

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party.

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible.

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love.

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch.

"But you love Brett," you'd said.

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around.

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same.

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later.

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer.

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet.

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand.

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say.

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do.

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else.

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out.

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip.

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol.

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it.

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned.

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded.

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you.

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard.

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny.

"Debbie would've told me," you say.

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe."

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth.

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab.

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria.

"Hello?"

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands.

"Uh, hello? Who is this?"

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks.

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody."

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt.

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small.

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest.

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms.

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall.

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo.

"My knight," you say.

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending."

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly.

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey."

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that."

"Do you really?"

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home."

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark.

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say.

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady.

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks.

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke.

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him.

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing.

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition.

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all.

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out.

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence.

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May.

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate.

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side.

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe.

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves.

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve.

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes.

"Making every man mad."

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair.

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say.

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased."

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you.

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave."

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them."

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt.

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks.

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair.

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says.

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin.

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve.

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue.

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume."

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say.

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again."

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest.

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail.

Steve turns to you and smiles softly.

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law."

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time.

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard.

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not.

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers.

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops.

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?"

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows.

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you."

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair.

“Buttercup?”

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember.

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say.

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper.

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist.

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in.

Dustin shrieks.

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter.

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle.

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things

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le-chevalier-au-lion · 18 days ago

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#FF0000: rosquez [t]

Valentino had been—thinking. He is having fun, really, this season despite Jorge’s general existence a few meters away. And he likes races in the US, its plastic artificiality, people’s way, way, way too white teeth and loud laughs and exaggerated sports passion. Bringing home a podium is always good.

A little less now, sure, because he knows he can win again. Knows he’s going to, eventually; it isn’t like he can do anything else with Yamaha. But Valentino won’t forget Ducati kicking his legs from under him—wishing that the bike would just fucking work for one weekend over two fucking years.

So, he’s happy. Enjoying himself, even if the club is gritty and cheap and stuffed, sweat sticking to his throat and dripping down his back to his underwear, his beer lukewarm.

Until he catches Marc weaving through the crowd, that is.

Getting up is a split-second decision. One moment, Valentino is sitting with his mechanics, ignoring them shouting over the music. The next, he’s prowling, drink abandoned, his crew calling after him.

He ends up catching Marc close to the bar. Grabs him by the wrist. Marc’s skin is fever hot, and he sways in place when he swings around to look at him.

“Honda is being stingy with you. This place is shit,” Valentino says, flashing a smirk.

Marc—honest to God—cackles, and the pulsing lights wash over his face, over the ugly openness of his honking laugh. Like this, Valentino can see him, really see him. The fritz of champagne and beer sizzles in his stomach, heavy out of nowhere.

Marc had been with a girl, is the thing. Maybe more than one. It’s there, on his bottom lip, on his chin—smeared lipstick. Red and very bright. Bit waxy.

Cheap, probably.

“No, no, it is fine,” Marc leans in to shout into his ear. “We’re barhopping!”

He says it in English, clumsy, his accent rolling each r hard, cutting sharp on the ing. It’s, frankly, ridiculous.

And his breath is hot, damp. Reeks with alcohol where it brushes against his cheek. Marc is swinging with the beat of whatever shitty synth pop they’re playing, so Valentino needs to steady him, a hand on the small of his back, fingers hooked on his belt loops. He feels mean, though—suddenly. Not a pleasant sensation.

His smile turns harsh. It’s like holding a knife between his teeth.

“Are you even old enough to drink here?”

Valentino wants Marc wrong-footed, wants to prod at him until he winces or—well. But Marc only shakes his head, beaming, crucially still covered in lipstick. There’s some on his collar too. And another drippy, blurred mark on his throat.

“Nope! But Honda, ah—” He makes an exaggerated gesture for passing money around, almost trips over himself.

Marc ends up knocking into Valentino, all wild-eyed, sloppy with drink. Their chests are brushing. Valentino—it hasn’t moved an inch, that prickly, unkind feeling, thorns going down his throat when he swallows.

This close, he can smell Marc—sweat, champagne, something sticky and too sweet and overly feminine. It’s cloying. Nauseating along the stench of way too many people packed together, writhing or dancing

It grates on Valentino’s nerves for the first time in his life, that there are so many people out on a Sunday night—Monday morning, whatever, it’s even worse if it’s already Monday. He has no idea why.

“Ah, ah, underage drinking, bribery?” Valentino waggles his eyebrows in mock reproach, counting on his fingers. Marc immediately straightens—tries to, at least. Christ, alright. “You’re being bad. Very naughty.”

There’s something about Marc, in his too shiny eyes, in the stubborn way he juts out his jaw. His bottom lip wobbles, though. “It’s my first win.”

“First time going out without your dad too, I guess.”

He mouths along Valentino’s words before they dawn on him. Blinks. Scowls.

Valentino doesn’t give him time to answer. It’s easy now, to try and make him squirm. “Allora, did you sneak out of your hotel room? Told your dad you’d stay with your brother—what’s his name—and play video games?”

Marc ducks his head to the side, lips pressed together. It’s hard to say for sure, but Valentino thinks he’s flustered. Blushing. A nice, girlish pink—a lot more proper than the red on his mouth. Goes along with his tanned skin better.

It needles under Valentino’s skin. Everything does—Marc, and lipstick, and the club, and the girl, maybe girls, and Marc again. He can feel his hands prickling.

“Can’t miss out, hm?” He slides his tongue over his teeth, watches Marc watch him with his usual shamelessness. “When will you get the chance to get sucked off in a dirty restroom again, right? The smell of piss is, ah, an experience.”

Marc warbles in a breath. “It isn’t like that,” he protests weakly.

Valentino raises an eyebrow. It is very much like that—he remembers Donington Park well enough, in 2000, how he’d crawled back to his hotel room at 8 in the morning horribly, horribly smug.

He reaches down between them. Marc jolts, sucks in his stomach on an instinct, his eyes huge, like a baby deer’s. His belt is done all wrong, crooked, too loose, the lip hanging out. The button of his jeans is open. At least, he thinks, less amused than he makes himself look, he remembered to zipper up.

Valentino tsks. “I think it is,” he says, shaking his head, pretending to be oh so disappointed. “You’re being reckless. What will the journalists say when they catch you like this? You don’t want a scandal.”

Marc is frozen in place. Valentino catches his throat bobbing when he plays his button hole, threading his finger into it.

“You’re making fun of me,” he manages to say. It’s a reedy, sullen thing.

He barks out a laugh. “Not too much, you’re still here.”

Maybe it’s the waste of it all getting to him, scratching under his skin. Marc is heavier than him, already more muscular. With the right bra, he might look like he has a nice pair of tits. And there’re his eyes, almost demure, long lashes fanning over his cheeks. And his mouth, too—pretty, insolent. Stained with some random girl’s lipstick.

So Valentino thought about it. Only a bit, in his defense. Hard to not, when you have something so eager one step lower than you on the podium. All that adoration…

The cut of his jaw is too sharp, and his voice too deep, but if you look at him right, or gag him with something, it’s just like fucking a woman in the ass.

Valentino clicks his tongue. Taps low on Marc’s stomach, feeling it jump under his touch. “Am I making too much fun of you?”

He speaks slowly, almost thoughtfully. Whiplash hits Marc like a slap on the face, and he hesitates for a moment, scrambling for words. His gaze keeps sliding down, to where Valentino is touching him. It’s not hard, to figure out what he wants.

“No, it’s—I’m having fun,” he says, almost too quiet to hear.

The words are scorching against the side of Valentino’s face.

“Odd idea of fun.”

Marc laughs again, like Valentino is absolutely hilarious. Or like he’s drunk. Valentino isn’t—drunk, that is—but he isn’t thinking, either.

He licks his thumb, then has do it again—his mouth tastes dry, like something has died inside it. Marc stops laughing. It’s the easiest thing in the world, to brush away the sloppy kiss mark on the hollow of his throat. Straighten his collar. Rub at his chin until it’s clean too.

The lipstick was cheap. It comes off just like that.

“What are you doing?” He asks, breathlessly, in a rattle of Spanish.

Doesn’t move one inch away, of course. Valentino grins.

“You had a little something on your face,” he shrugs, “I’m looking out for you.”

“Thanks,” Marc manages to croak out.

But there’s still—on his mouth proper. He wonders, idly, out of his own body, how easy it would be to wipe that off too. With his tongue, maybe. How easy it would be to go from that to getting his hand inside Marc’s jeans right there.

He doesn’t want to. In this light, now that it isn’t so smudged, Marc could be in makeup. Really. The waxy red glints.

“There.” Marc is trembling in his hold, like a live wire. Valentino trails his finger over his lips, too light. “You don’t want to meet Honda looking like a whore, do you?”

Marc makes a strangled noise—Valentino thinks he does. He can barely hear anything through the pound of blood of in his ears, over the thrumming line of heat between the pad of his thumb and his cock.

“I—”

“You should go. Enjoy your night,” Valentino cuts him off, very magnanimously. “It is your first win, no?”

Marc nods, dazed. Maybe—maybe when he wins again.

#rosquez #marc marquez #valentino rossi #motogp #chev fics #rpf #anyway #uh this is actually a prequel to the piece where vale kinda #goes crazy over feminization in laguna seca #and it's consensual but kinda super toxic because well #but the important part is getting marc to wear lipstick #and have an entirely in-fucking-sane relationship with an older dude that wants him to be a girl and also not #everything while they drink champagne of course #it's laguna seca #anyway pour one for vale he's thinking about the royal ass in lingerie

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icycoldninja · 6 days ago

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FLUFFCEMBER DAY# 17: (Rook x Reader)

FLUFF HEADCANNONS

That smile is contagious

-Despite being a very eccentric, borderline psychopathic person, Rook isn't a bad guy.

-He's actually very sweet and makes an effort to get to know you and all your interests.

-Sometimes you wonder if there's a hidden agenda behind this, but Rook assures you there isn't. This doesn't explain why he has so many detailed journals full of information on you and only you, but you'll take his word for it.

-Loves seeing you wearing his hat and would be glad if you could wear it all the time. Unfortunately, he needs that hat, so he got you a similar looking one, except in your favorite color.

-Since he basically has a map of your entire schedule, he knows when you have free time and uses this knowledge to remind you to do tasks and stick to your Vil-assigned skincare routine. Also, he will know if you have any medications and will remind you to take them every day without fail.

-Will protect you from Vil's wrath if you ever end up neglecting your skincare routine despite everyone's stern warnings.

-Once shot an arrow with a note attached to it through your bedroom window and almost took your head off in the process. Thankfully, your gut instinct told you to duck so the arrow went past you and ended up lodged in the wall. A small hole remains to this day, reminding you of Rook's folly.

-Sneaks into your room at night for cuddles, regardless of what dorm you're in. He does this quietly so no one else knows, and makes sure to cover your mouth so your surprised shouting doesn't alert unwanted attention.

-Is somehow aware of your location at all times, even if you aren't even on NRC's campus. It's like he put a tracker on you or something, there's no other possibility. However, no matter how hard you search, you cannot find anything.

-His smile and laughter are one of the most beautiful things you will ever witness; fear not, you may tell him this freely. Vil will never know.

-It takes a long time for him to build up trust in you, but once he has, you'll find that you know more about him than anyone else in the school. This is how you know he really loves you, he's willing to truly relax when you're around.

-Please play tag with him. Even if it's downright scary because of how animal-like he becomes and how he never makes clear what exactly will happen when he inevitably catches you, play it, and you will make him happy like nothing else ever could.

-After time, Rook decides he wants to train you to be a "hunter" like him and teaches you the art of stalking. A few months later and NRC has not one, but two menaces on the loose. Here's to hoping you don't turn out exactly like him.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #rook hunt #twst rook #rook x reader #twst rook x reader #Headcannons #Fluff #Fluffy #fluffy headcanons #fluffcember 2024 #Fluffcember #icycoldninja writes #Part 17 of 31 #Cute

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jossamology · 2 months ago

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josssam headcanons. (part two)

❝ i thought we had a connection 𓈒　　𓈒　　❞ sam giddings + josh washington this is part 2 of jossam headcannons, enjoy! x

josh pretending he’s not listening to sam’s ramblings, but he could recite every word back to her—her voice has become his favorite sound.

late-night confessions over text, josh sending her random deep thoughts at 3 am because sam is the only one he trusts with the parts of himself that he hides from everyone else.

falling asleep on the phone together, neither wanting to hang up first, so they just listen to each other breathing until they drift off, a silent comfort in the connection.

rainy days spent together indoors, sam curled up with a book and josh quietly sketching in the corner—neither of them needing to speak, the silence filled with unspoken understanding.

late-night gaming sessions where josh lets sam win (but never admits it), just to see the way her face lights up in victory.

josh calling sam his “wolf in sheep’s clothing” because she’s sweet on the outside but tougher than anyone realizes, and that strength is what draws him to her.

josh doodling on sam’s notebooks during class, little sketches of things that remind him of her—stars, wolves, and her favorite flowers.

autumn walks in oversized coats, sam tucked into josh’s side, their breath visible in the crisp air, but the warmth between them enough to keep the chill away.

josh never really liked rom-coms. he'd grumble and complain every time sam picked one, claiming he was more of a horror guy. but deep down, he always caved. he’d sit beside her, arms crossed at first, but slowly he’d relax, sneaking glances at her instead of the screen, watching the way her eyes lit up during her favorite scenes. and even though he pretended not to care, he secretly took mental notes of every movie she loved. later, when she wasn’t around, he’d rewatch them alone—just so he could memorize the parts that made her laugh or the moments that made her smile. it wasn’t about the movies for him; it was about knowing her better.

josh writing unsent letters to sam, pouring out all the things he’s too afraid to say out loud—how she makes him feel grounded in a way no one else can.

coffee shop hangouts, where sam orders something sweet and josh sticks to his bitter brew, always stealing a taste of hers just to make her roll her eyes at him.

camping trips where josh insists on building the fire, even though sam teases him that he’s “a city boy”—he just likes the way she laughs when she catches him struggling.

josh making playlists for sam but never sending them, just listening to the songs that remind him of her on repeat, wondering if she would feel the same if she knew.

josh and sam dancing in the living room was a rare sight. sam wasn’t much of a dancer, but when josh got a little too drunk, it was one of his favorite things to do. he’d stumble toward her, that familiar playful grin on his face, and pull her up from the couch. she’d protest at first, laughing, but she never resisted for long. josh would wrap his arms around her, moving clumsily but with surprising grace, using the slow dancing skills he’d picked up from his sister’s birthday parties. sam would rest her head against his chest, swaying gently to whatever song was playing, not caring about the missed steps or how offbeat they were. in those moments, it didn’t matter—he held her like she was the most important thing in his world, and somehow, despite her awkwardness, it always felt perfect.

josh confiding in sam about his darkest fears, trusting her with the pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else, her reassuring presence grounding him when he feels like he’s losing control.

sometimes, josh quietly feared that one day, sam would find someone better. he did everything he could to keep her close, always going the extra mile, because in his eyes, she belonged with him. he couldn’t imagine her with anyone else—she was his world, and he hoped, with every part of him, that he was hers too

#sam giddings #josh washington #until dawn #until dawn headcanons #jossam #had the biggest smile writing these #sam x josh #josh x sam #samantha giddings #i thought we had a connection #until dawn remaster #until dawn remake #rent free in my head #i ride and die for jossam #supermassive games

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officialdaydreamer00 · 1 year ago

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Good Old-fashioned Lover boy

in which he pines for you in his unique ways

format: song lyrics drabbles

characters: cater, jade, floyd, malleus

content: pining; no thoughts, head empty, only fluff; irene's favourite love languages: singing, dancing, physical touch and quality time; severe brainrot for queen's GOFLB

reader is not yuu, reader is gender neutral

song used:

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things

We can do the tango, just for two"

cater would take you to the light music club room an hour or two before the official meeting time. he would strum his guitar in a more gentle manner than his usual upbeat style, and he would sing songs that he thought you would love, keeping your song preference in mind. there were times he would play songs you both knew by heart, and he would extend his hand to you, as you both dance away in the empty club room. just the two of you.

he might not say it out loud, but he adored those moments. they were short but sweet, and he cherished them with his entire heart so long as it is still beating. because those moments are the ones he shares with you.

"I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings

Be your Valentino, just for you"

jade leech is a busy man. besides his schoolwork, his role as the vice housewarden, and his own club, he barely has much time to be with you. and oh how he hates it.

the next time he sees you, he would invite you to his club room, keeping you close to him as you both take care of the mushrooms. he would even hum the merfolks' entrancing melodies that he learned before his venture on land. oh how he adores that cute little blush you adorn every time his gloved hand brushes yours, or when you sneak glances at him thinking that he wouldn't notice. it puts a silly smile on his face, knowing one day you would sing with him a perfectly harmonised melody of your own.

he doesn't mind waiting for you, he is a patient man after all. he doesn't mind, as long as you choose him in the end.

"Hey, boy, where'd you get it from?

Hey, boy, where did you go?

I learned my passion in the good old-fashioned school of lover boys"

there are many words people would use to describe floyd. spontaneous, unpredictable, bat-shit crazy. but never in his life has he heard someone calling him "passionate", and that dumb brave soul being you.

so naturally, he was intrigued. the little shrimpy wasn't afraid of him? but you were so tiny and fragile and cute, he could just eat you up! he decided to stick with you for a few days, just to make sure :)

you really weren't afraid of him or his infamous squeezes, you even reciprocated most of them! floyd was ecstatic, he ultimately decided to greet you every day with squeezes and hugs reserved just for you shrimpy!

you wouldn't refuse his growing affections for you right, shrimpy? after all, he has binded his heart with yours, he likes you too much to let you go <3

"I'd like for you and I to go romancing

Say the words, your wish is my command"

malleus is THE textbook definition of a good old-fashioned lover boy.

a literal crowned prince, the future ruler of a land, and one of the most powerful mages in all of twisted wonderland. that's who he is. to say you have someone of such status falling for you, people would brush it off as a joke due to how utterly ridiculous that claim sounded.

of course, outsiders wouldn't know the entire details. your late night rendezvous are something malleus looks forward to the most in his years long time being alive. you are the first ever friend he made, and the only friend he had, it is only natural he grew emotionally attached to you. his affections were more and more obvious with each night you spent together, talking and dancing the night away, how his eyes were on you, and you only, and how he gave your hand a tender kiss at the end of each meeting before he (regretfully) had to return to his dorm.

he hoped you could reciprocate his love one day, and he would wait for you, until the end of time.

taglist🏷️ @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @identity-theft-101 @shyhaya @ceruleancattail @dove-da-birb @moonlit-midnight @hisui-dreamer @cecilebutcher @leonistic @ang33333333l @siren-serenity @krenenbaker @twistwonderlanddevotee @axvwriter @minimallyminnie @iseethatimicy @siphoklansan @bun-lapin @red-viewe @thehollowwriter @jaylleoo14 @wordycheeseblob

reblogs are appreciated!

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gene-nine · 3 months ago

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pumpkin chai lattes (r.l. x fem!reader)

i felt the slightest chill in the air so it's officially marauder's girl fall.

pairing: remus lupin x reader

synopsis: your Starbucks order becomes remus' guilty pleasure.

warnings: not proofread (what's new!!!) also, not necessarily a warning but I wrote this in bullet-point format because it made more sense in my brain, hope it doesn't ruin the whole thing!

words: 883 (i've been busy, ok?!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------the first time you brought Remus to a Starbucks, he was confused.

he didn’t even know there were that many ways to make coffee.

to be fair, Hogwarts really only offered black coffee, and the most you could do with it was add cream and sugar if you wanted to. Remus preferred black anyways.

he’d switch it up sometimes, if he wasn’t in the bitter mood. but one cream and one sugar was all.

you on the other hand, you like things sweet.

Remus always teased that there was more sugar and milk in your cup than coffee (he wasn’t far from being wrong).

you didn’t mind the teasing, however, because you truly loved your sweet, sugary drinks.

Remus’ Starbucks order is always the same. medium dark roast, hot. he refuses to abide by the tall, grande, venti system of sizes. he thinks it’s stupid.

but, that doesn’t stop him from standing behind you, a hand on your hip affectionately, as you order your fall classic: a grande iced pumpkin chai.

Remus laughs along when someone calls your drink order basic, but he really finds it endearing. it’s so you.

you stand with a smile on his face as he pays for the drinks and the vanilla cake pop shaped like a raccoon you insisted on getting as well.

“i don’t know how you drink that stuff.” he comments as you sip your slightly orange tinted drink, the dome lid holding whipped cream on top.

“i don’t know how you drink that stuff.” you say in disgust as you nod at his black coffee.

“it’s cheaper and it contains like 80% less sugar.” he defends, taking a long sip just to piss you off.

“but it tastes badddddd,” you draw out, “just try mine this one time.”

he glances sideways at your cup. “i’d rather not.”

“a little sugar won’t kill you, moons.”

“hey, you don’t know that. i could be a secret diabetic.” you can only roll your eyes at his response, plastering a fake pout on your face as you take another sip of your drink.

“don’t make that face.” remus remarks, looking at you with mock sympathy.

“what face?” you feign innocence.

“if i try your pumpkin spice.. whatever, will you stop looking at me like that?”

you pass him your drink excitedly as a big smile replaces your pout.

you watch his face intently as he takes a sip, watching him flinch ever so slightly at the sweetness of it. he shrugs as he hands it back to you.

“it’s sweet.” is all he says before taking your hand and walking you out of the starbucks.

now here’s the thing remus would NEVER admit to anyone, maybe not even you.

he actually liked your drink.

he couldn’t explain it, all his life it’s been black coffee.

and he probably wouldn’t even consider liking the drink if it wasn’t for you.

when he’d surprise you with starbucks when he picked you up, he’d secretly take a sip or two of yours on the drive over.

or when you’d leave the room for something, he’d sneak a sip.

the first time you catch him doing it, you’re shocked.

“remus james lupin!” you startle him as you came back from the bathroom sooner than he had been anticipating. his hands freeze in surrender as you catch him red handed.

“i was just- i was wiping the condensation off- it was going to stick to the coaster and then it would fall off when you picked it up and-” he rambles.

“you actually like my order?!” you accuse.

“like is a strong word.” you shoot him a pointed look.

“you’re a weak man, remus lupin.” you shake your head, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“this stays between us.” remus says, completely serious.

“you’re ridiculous! there’s nothing wrong with liking pumpkin chai.”

“wrong. there’s everything wrong with liking pumpkin chai.”

“is it because you’re a man?” you pout in sarcastic sympathy.

“no it is not because i’m a man, i happen to be very comfortable with my masculinity, thank you very much.” he sasses back. a silence falls over both of you before a giggle escapes your lips.

“what?” remus questions, slightly annoyed but mostly embarrassed.

“you like pumpkin chai.” you say in a sing-song tone, ruffling the hair on remus’ head.

“that’s it, you’re only ever getting black coffee just like me from now on.” he jokes, grabbing your drink and making a break for the kitchen to pour it out. you sprint after him, throwing yourself onto his back to slow him down.

“give it back!” you yell, laughing and reaching desperately for the hand he’s holding your drink in.

“only if you promise to never mention this to James and Sirius.” he deadpans.

“okay fine, deal.” you exclaim as he finally gives in, setting your cup down on the counter unharmed. you let yourself down from his back and stand in front of him.

“i think it’s very manly that you like pumpkin chai lattes.” you say as you wrap your arms around remus’ neck. his hands find a place around your waist.

“not a single word to the boys.” he mutters as he leans in to kiss you.

and to your delight, he tastes like pumpkin chai.

#harry potter #atyd #marauders #the marauders era #dead gay wizards from the 70s #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff

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miss-tc-nova · 3 months ago

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S/O with Sleep Apnea - Trey, Jack, Jamil, Lilia

Okay, so remember THIS? Well someone (@kimdourden) wanted that with Jack and Jamil.

So I almost had that done when someone else (@delsierose) added Trey and Lilia!

So here we are. Sorry this took so long. Trey and Lilia are not my regulars, but working with them was a fun change of pace. PS, still not all that confident with my understanding of sleep apnea and its treatment.

Premise: The boys find out their s/o has sleep apnea

Words:

Trey: 603

Jack: 623

Jamil: 715

Lilia: 747

~~~~~

Trey

Trey accepts your snoring. It’s really a non-issue for him. Sometimes people are restless at night and that’s just how it is. And sure, you can be a moody at times, but he knows first hand that you didn’t get enough sleep.

Except he didn’t expect you to have sleep apnea.

The night is particularly rough as you toss and turn. Poor Trey sits up, a bit concerned by the excessive fidgeting. Sleepy Boi murmurs your name, asking if you’re okay but when he gets no response, he reaches over you for his glasses and the lamp. At last, you hold still but something’s off. He studies you, nearly ready to let it go, until it hits him. It’s silent. You’ve stopped snoring—and breathing. Louder, Trey speaks your name, pulling you up by the arm. This new position clears up your airways. So now leaning against your boyfriend, your snoring once again fills the air.

Perturbed, Trey readjusts and lies down, holding you against his chest. The image of you perfectly still replays in his head for maybe two hours before he falls asleep again.

Trey immediately clocks that you have sleep apnea after that. Someone in his family has it too so he sends a few messages to enquire about treatment alongside some personal research. Knowing you and your habits, the task seems somewhat daunting. Still, he’s not thrilled with what happened and knows it’s detrimental to your health, so he’s going to talk to you about it. The two of you discuss everything from surgery, medical devices, and home treatments. Whatever you decide, there are going to be some lifestyle changes.

He lays down the law—or tires to—about your afternoon snacking habits. However, Trey prefers to use the carrot rather than the stick. You’re rewarded for your craving restraint with…well, sweets. Sometimes. Trey’s reward is his baking. This could be puff pastries for breakfast or cinnamon rolls for desert after lunch. Whatever he’s making, surely it’s better than a store-bought snack after dinner.

This also means that Trey has to either convince Riddle to serve non-caffeinated tea at their parties, or he has to sneak around—which he would loathe, but do anyway.

In addition to bribery, Trey does his best to encourage you to stay awake and avoid naps. For the most part, he tries to get you up and moving, helping him with club activities, food prep, or painting roses. In the event that there actually isn’t something productive to do, well, guess he’s just going to have to kiss you.

Ultimately, Trey isn’t very forceful or mean about his attempts to alter your routines. He actively works with you and encourages you as best he can to change things for the better. It’s not the fastest way. Despite the rewards, it probably takes you several months to actually stick to the routine and start feeling any better. But you inevitably do. Your mood stabilizes as does your sleep schedule. Trey’s particularly happy that you’re reliably getting a full night’s sleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms.

“There you are. Do you want to come help me make the pies for the unbirthday party today. Come on, I’m afraid you might fall asleep otherwise. If you help, I’ll let you decide what we make next. Sure, if that’s what you want. Yes, you can lick the spoon, but only after we’re done. Seven help us if Riddle finds out I served bundt cake with your germs in it. No, I would prefer you didn’t. Okay, because it’s only noon, I’ll set some aside for you. Sound good?”

Jack

Jack doesn’t care that you’re a rough sleeper. Big Boi has siblings that he’s fairly close to, so nighttime fidgeting and snoring is no problem.

The Field and Track team has a competition one day that doesn’t return until late. Yet even as he opens his bedroom door, he’s not surprised to find you there, fast asleep. Finnicky about his own schedule, Jack hastily gets ready for bed, but just before he joins you, he stops. The room is too quiet. His gaze snaps to you, no movement to be seen. Your name on his lips and a firm shake of your shoulder jars your brain into correcting your airways. And the snoring resumes.

Offput by the event, but without answers, Jack climbs into bed, dragging you into his arms in the hopes that he would wake should another incident occur.

This is how Jack finds out you have sleep apnea.

A quick look with his phone tells him all he needs to know and, predictably, the wolf huffs about the challenges ahead of him. Exercise would fix 90% of your problems. Right?

Jack makes a deal with Sam to order two mouth splints in exchange for helping unload the latest delivery of goods. He’s already had to help other students fit theirs, so he’s got yours done pretty soon. Except only one is for sleeping.

Because Jack has little awareness for easing into things, you’re up at 6 AM the very. Next. Day. Not only that, but he has you joining SpellDrive practice with his dorm that morning too. He’s pretty intense about you going all out.

On top of that, you’re not allowed to nap. At all. Jack will wake you up on sight and have you do something with him. If you have nothing to do, now you’re running laps. So, by the time your new bedtime rolls around, you pass out.

After just a few days, everything is worse. You’re more exhausted, the apnea might be worse, and you inevitably snap back at Jack trying to push you to move more. Initially, he retaliates in kind and the two of you have get away from each other to cool off. You, of course, recognize you’re miserable, but Jack also comes to realize this too. He went zero to hundred too fast.

There’s a makeup after which Jack reins in his “help.” You may not wake up at 6 anymore, but he still wants you to come to the dorm’s morning SpellDrive practice. He doesn’t push as hard, but he may reward you if you’re at least walking laps as the dorm plays. But no, there’s still no naps. You still have to do things with him, but think less workout and more makeout.

Of course, at the end of the day, Jack will cuddle and snuggle like nobody’s watching. Because nobody is. He makes certain your comfortable sleeping on your side and that you’ve got your splint. It doesn’t usually take long for you to go to sleep anymore.

Honestly, you probably still hate it. Only Jack really seems to enjoy working out, but you can’t really deny this new routine is helping. With a more stable sleeping pattern, your daily exhaustion is nearly extinct. And the increase in activity is healthy for you in all the ways you hate to admit. Still, only Jack could get you to fix your problems with exercise. Sucker.

“Hey, you’re not nappin’ are you? Good. Don’t gimme that look. You know it’s bad for you. Well if you want something to do, we could go for a walk around the school again. What? Then what do you want me to do? Oh yeah? And how do you expect me to do that? Huh? I’m not blushing! My tail’s not wagging either! Forget it. Take your stupid nap. Grr, fine. C’mere.”

Jamil

Jamil is always prepared. His room was prepared for any issue the first time you shared the bed with him. So to only have to put up with a bit of snoring came as a pleasant surprise. That, he could deal with.

But he wasn’t prepared for sleep apnea.

Kalim wants a party because, of course he does. So Jamil is left to prep the decorations, prep the food, prep everything late into the night. You offered to help, but Jamil could see that you were struggling that day and sent you to bed. And by the time the retainer finally makes it to back to his room, it’s no surprise that you’re already fast asleep. Dead on his feet, Jamil gets ready for bed. A shiver runs down his spine, noting how eerily quiet his room is. His eyes scan the room, eventually falling across your motionless form. The realization hits, causing Jamil to lunge onto the bed, prepared to administer CPR. But the shaking of the bed has you grumbling and rolling over, breathing perfectly fine, snoring and all.

Jamil doesn’t sleep. His paranoid brain won’t let him, forcing him to compulsively search the internet for answers that he quickly finds. The rest of the night is spent researching countermeasures because that brief moment where he thought you were gone will haunt him for years to come.

The next day really sucks for Jamil, but he’s too preoccupied with his anxiety set to overdrive. He’s still attending to his duties to watch over Kalim, but now his brain is formulating a plan to alter your routines, which he so badly wants to implement right this moment. However, Jamil knows that people don’t typically change at the drop of a hat.

So changes begin slowly. He slowly begins weaning your sugar and caffeine addiction with healthier, equally-delicious options that won’t have you wired by the time bedtime comes around. His knowledge of your likes and dislikes makes this an easy task.

He begins keeping track of your sleeping habits, naps included. Your wake-up time slowly gets earlier and earlier and the length of your naps grows shorter until they become non-existent. Bedtime also shifts but Jamil has craftily created a winddown routine, and you’re not his only target.

About an hour before bed, Jamil’s phone, your phone, and Kalim’s phone get the same notification. At that time, only Jamil is allowed to access his phone, but only to monitor the following events, and set the music. The three of you have a stretching regimen to loosen up and relax. After, everyone washes up. Jamil makes a warm, non-caffeinated drink for you to sip while you three make a to-do list for the next day. Once that’s sorted out, Jamil sends Kalim off to bed and whisks you away to his room. Together, you prepare for the following morning: picking outfits, packing school bags, tidying the room, etc. By the time you brush your teeth, you’re very much ready for bed—just as you’ve been conditioned to be.

Jamil would be the one to recommend surgery. It’s up to you whether you do it or not, but he does express that it would make him feel better. And that he would absolutely take care of you if you did go through with it. Will guilt you about your naps and poor eating habits with it. “If you want your caffeine back, you better get that surgery” or “A nap sounds good right about now. Too bad you have sleep apnea.” It’s actually light hearted teasing, but also, he means it.

Whether you get the surgery or not, your symptoms do get better. Jamil’s always going to be somewhat paranoid that another incident will occur, but when he sleeps with his arms wrapped around you, he manages to convince himself it’ll be alright.

“Have you finished packing your bag for tomorrow? What about your potions book. Alright, I’m just checking. Would hate for you to have to run across campus between classes because you forgot it. Again. What? It’s not my fault you’ve got a fuzzy memory. Maybe if you got that surgery you’d get some decent sleep and be able to remember what you had for lunch yesterday. No. Not even close. It was curry.”

Lilia

Lilia thinks the snoring is cute. He’s up well after you every night and so witnesses your chaotic tossing and turning. Of course, he’s also noticed your occasional cantankerous behavior, especially after particularly restless nights. That will not deter him from loving you in the slightest. Or teasing you. He lives to tease and lives for your cuteness.

Admittedly, he didn’t expect sleep apnea to be the cause of your problems.

Courteous enough to use headphones, Lilia stays up gaming one night. Meanwhile, on the bed in the corner, you roll and roll, trying your best to get some sleep. Late into the night, the game ends and Lilia finally prepares for bed. As he’s sliding beneath the covers, he pauses. Silence fills the room, deafening and foreign. Ruby eyes fall on your sleeping form, alarms going off when he realizes you’re not breathing.

Quick to act, Lilia presses his fingers to your neck. Finding a pulse, he pulls you into his arms to relocate to the floor for CPR. But the moment your body shifts, your brain restarts and you resume breathing—and snoring.

He waits for a moment, thoroughly confused, but replaces you on the bed where you curl up happily. Taking surprises in stride as always, Lilia lets the moment go and joins you in bed.

For ages, Lilia doesn’t say anything. The event honestly slips his mind until a particularly grumpy day when you snap at him and he teases you about your attitude and messy sleep habits—especially the not breathing thing. While you grumble about going to take a nap, Silver approaches to question about the “not breathing thing.” That’s not normal. A bit of research reveals to them that you probably have sleep apnea.

Now that there’s an explanation for your moods and exhaustion, Lilia is more interested. He’s not particularly impressed by the suggested treatments but, for once, he’s willing to try them for your sake.

Lilia loves to eat whatever he can; it’s part of living so he’s never given it a second thought how much caffeine and sugar you ingested just trying to make it to the end of the day. And the naps. Lilia enjoys a good afternoon nap, but apparently those aren’t doing you any favors either. You’re not going to enjoy any of this.

But Lilia does his job in true Lilia fashion. That snack you had literally two seconds ago is gone. It was in your hand and now it’s not. It takes a day or two before you realize that Lilia is behind the thievery. Try as you might to sneak a treat, you can’t get one over on him. It’s cold turkey for you and a sheer game for him. Only the non-sugar-loaded sweets and decaf drinks are safe.

Naps aren’t much better. Lilia is a wildcard and will wake you up in whatever manner he deems fun at the time. You might wake up to soft, sweet kisses. You might wake up to having your cheeks pinched. Or you might wake up to a bucket of water. The kisses are nice, but the roulette is not worth it. And again, you can’t hide from Lilia. Even stealing away to Ramshackle doesn’t save you.

The first several weeks are hell and you’re pissed. For a while, you probably don’t even talk to Lilia, but that does not deter him from his mission. Your mood is foul, your sleep apnea is worse, and you might strangle the fae at any given moment.

But it does get better. Being forced into this new routine does improve your overall wellbeing with time. Your sleep schedule begins to stabilize, your fatigue and mood improve, and your need to consume unhealthy food to survive the day has been reduced. In the end, he may have been a massive pain in the ass, but Lilia improved your condition. Good luck living that down.

“Boo! Hehe. Are you behaving? Don’t have any tempting snacks, do you? Pity. I was hoping to play a little. Oh but it’s less fun when you’re in on it. Still, I suppose you have been doing well. I can’t even remember the last time I had to wake you from a nap. Should we celebrate? I’m sure I could commission Trey for a cake. You’re right, that might set us back. Well then what would you like as a reward? I see. Then by all means, come take them. If you can. Hehe.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

#novas requests #gender neutral reader #trey clover #jack howl #jamil viper #lilia vanrouge

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p4ngilz · 1 year ago

Text

★ only you

i lied i went and rewrote another oneshot instead of doing my ocs teehee

wc: 2.4k words

contains: unspecified godly parent and mutual subtle pining

"I swear to the gods, Stoll, if you do that one more time, I'm going to drown you."

"Yeah?" Connor mocked, cocking his head to the side and grinning like he was about to push you underwater again. Both of you tread the seawater, chins just touching the cool surface. "And what are you going to do if I splash black dye on all your clothes?"

"I'm gonna change my style, move to the Hades cabin, and stay there," You replied stubbornly. "I can learn to get along with Nico and Hazel, anyway." You glanced toward the shallower part of the beach, where Percy was trying to get the di Angelo to learn how to swim. He was clinging to him and Jason like a scared cat, pale shaky limbs glistening in the sunlight.

"Have you forgotten that Hazel is Roman? Better get used to Will's sweet-talking!" Connor splashed water in your face, getting it up your nose.

"Shit—stop!" You coughed and swam closer to him, despite strands of hair uncomfortably sticking to your forehead and a dull ache in your nose. "Does he really talk like…like that around Nico?"

"No, but he stares a lot. Like he has a really obvious stare and stops doing everything just to stare." Connor glanced at Will, sitting ankle-deep at the shore, waves lapping at his shins. "Who knows, he might be imagining them swapping spit with each other—"

You hissed and clapped a hand over his mouth. He pushed your hand away and laughed. "He's so far. He can't hear us. RIGHT, WILL?"

The blond looked up and squinted in your direction. "Huh?" His voice was barely audible over the sloshing of the waves.

You shot Connor a glare. Then you felt a leg hook around yours. Before you could retort you were pulled beneath the surface again. You grabbed his shoulder and hauled yourself back up out of the water, grumbling and wiping the saltwater from your eyes.

"Fuck. You." You started to swim towards the shore, wading through the water.

"Hey, come back! I haven't had enough fun with you. Can we at least race?"

You called him over and waved your hand, getting an idea. You stopped after a few feet, looking down at the sea floor as your shirt billowed with the movement of the waves. Connor caught up to you. "What is it?"

"I think there's a watch there."

"A watch?"

"Yeah, there."

"I can't see it."

"Yeah, because you have to look closely, dumbass."

"There?"

"Yes, there."

"Is it a Rolex?"

"I don't know." You hoped he couldn't hear the smile in your voice. Then, while he had his head bent over the surface, trying to see what you were pointing at, you took the chance and shoved his head down, creating splashes as you did.

You laughed with satisfaction at getting him back as he coughed and spluttered. While he caught his bearings, you tried to continue swimming. But when Percy asked you a question, you stood still, letting your guard down. This gave Connor an opportunity to sneak up behind you and push you back down under the water by your shoulders, which of course, he did.

"Y/N, Connor's taking forever in the showers." Travis plopped down on the biggest hammock, the one you had taken the liberty of occupying. He threw you off balance and almost made you drop the pretty rock you had found.

Leo Valdez was splayed on another hammock with Piper McLean, making something with twigs and a soda can. "You think he drowned?"

Travis settled down and caused you to drop your rock. "He's not. He answered me when I called him."

You shook your head at the thought of your crush in the shower and frowned. "Why are you asking me about this?" Crush? Yes. Exactly. You found it a bit funny that you developed feelings for Connor, out of all people in camp, but once you looked past the rocks in your pillows and vinegar in your pancake syrup, he wasn't too bad. Then again, you had to endure the water up your nose to be around him as well.

You stuck your arm through the hammock and picked your rock off the soil. "We don't even have bathtubs at camp."

"You never know."

"What the Hades is that supposed to mean?"

For the next hour or two, your mind alternated between wandering off or going blank (and maybe Connor with wet hair). The others who went swimming joined you as well, either climbing the trees to talk with their friends more or laying on the hammocks. Others went back to their cabins. You lay there, soaking up the sun and feeling too lazy to even adjust yourself. You turned the rock over and over in your hand.

Clovis from the Hypnos cabin yawned. "It would be nice to take a nap. I'm tired..." His head drooped down and he snored.

At that, you felt more tempted to nap more than ever, but your doziness was interrupted by a shout.

"Guys!" Connor called. He ran towards your area at full speed. He could've stopped, but he tripped over a tree root. He straightened up, grinning and pushing curls out of his eyes.

You bit back a smirk, not sure if out of pettiness or endearment. "Did you find a serpent in the drain? Is that why it took you three hours?"

"No. Well, kind of. I was, um, I was taking a shower, obviously, and there was a worm. Anyway, we have a new camper! I couldn't find you guys," He pouted.

"Really? Who?" Travis asked. "Where from?"

"Uhm, California."

"Everyone's from California," Someone up in a nearby tree scoffed.

"She's a legacy from Camp Jupiter! Her parents are Greek, children of Nemesis and Demeter! And they actually got to survive past 25, with a house and all. Do you know how cool that is?!" Connor rambled.

Murmurs erupted. Very few adults were seen around Camp Half-Blood. It was even more rare to even hear of them living long enough to have children. You started wondering what it would be like to be a child of two demigods.

Connor jumped, is if an electric shock went through him. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Austen!"

Will had a half-brother named Austin. You looked at him with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, equally as clueless as you.

Connor disappeared again, but came back pulling a girl's hand along. She had shoulder length blonde hair and freckles sprinkled over her nose bridge, her face had strong features and she was dressed in a blouse with a cartoon character on it and jean shorts.

Leo snickered. "Imagine if this one's named Austen River."

You were too busy thinking about how Connor was acting with her. Or maybe you were a little weird for thinking he might have held her hand for a little too long, who knows?

He glanced shyly at her. "So...you're staying in the Hermes cabin for now, right?" He chuckled. "Sorry. We're sorted by godly parent here. Not sure where you're going to be put."

"Actually," Austen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear— "I was told I'll be staying in the Nemesis cabin." Connor's eager smile faded a little.

You spoke up, trying to ignore that last bit. "What's it like in New Rome?" You hoped your voice didn't sound as stiff as you felt.

Whatever she said about New Rome or Camp Jupiter or California or her demigod parents went into one of your ears and left through the other. Instead you had paid attention to how Connor would glance at her or how he laughed whenever she'd slip in a joke or two. He put his hands in his pockets and hooked his thumbs around the belt loops, which made you frown a bit. That was a nervous habit of his.

You felt a bit guilty for being so jealous. Did you often feel like this? Was it normal?

Sometime later, one of the people in our group jumped and yelped that it was almost time for Capture the Flag.

Austen looked down, mumbling something about how she had heard of it but never played or heard of how exactly to play it. Connor perked up, and offered to teach her, even to show her some tricks and spots.

That's alright. Like you gave a shit. Besides, that didn't hurt much. It only stung like a Hellhound's bite. In the ass. Through a tight pair of crispy scratchy jeans.

As if your day hadn't already turned sour enough, you had turned up with a sunburn from earlier at the beach.

You also would have said some more colorful insults and statements, but you felt like keeping it to yourself today. It was because you had seen Connor laughing with Austen with an arm over her shoulders. Your conscience told you that you shouldn't assume, but you snapped back at it, saying it was different when you had a crush. Besides, you knew Connor, and that boy was never that clingy on the first day of meeting someone. He never put his arm around people much, either.

The Fates must have felt particularly mischievous that day, too, because Connor and you had ended up on the same damn team in Capture the Flag. That might have sounded good, but what if he let Austen's team win?

You were left with him on the defensive, guarding the flag and standing on either side of the pole, facing away from each other.

"What do you think of Austen?" He asked.

You rolled your eyes while he couldn't see your face. Wow. No hi, hello, do you have any strategies in mind or anything. Just straight to Austen. Alright. "She's fine."

"Uh huh. Well, do—"

"Do you like her?" You blurted out. When you realized you said it out loud, you decided, fuck it, and faced him. He turned to you as well, looking surprised from what you could see of his face under his helmet.

"What?"

You looked down, mumbling so you wouldn't seem too upset. "Dude, you had an arm around her earlier. And...I saw you staring at her."

"Does that mean you always look at me as well?"

You immediately scowled, digging the sole of your shoe into the forest ground. "Shut up!" When he wouldn't look away from you, you frowned even deeper. That made a victorious smile start to bloom on his face.

He crossed his arms. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat. Luckily for you, your mind reacted quickly. "I mean, if you like Austen so much I can go with your buddy Isaac. He has been dropping a lot of hints lately. Then you'll know I'm not jealous, right?"

"Isaac? Dropping hints? Wow. You really think he'd treat you better than I would?"

"What?"

You gripped your weapon, feeling your palms get sweaty. Your eyes widened. "You tell me!"

Connor raised his hands in surrender. "Um...You first! Why are you being weird?"

"Why are you so clingy with Austen all of a sudden? Do you like her? It's been, like, 2 hours since she came here, Connor."

Connor took off his helmet. "I don't like her! Chiron told me to give her a tour! I was on my way here when she arrived." He laughed. What was so funny about this? This boy had a strange sense of humor.

"Then what about you going to the Big House with her?"

"Y/N, I twisted my ankle." He glanced down, and you followed his gaze to see some compression gauze around his left ankle peeking out from the collar lining of his dirty shoe. "And besides, I've only liked one person for...um, a long time."

Your expression softened. "Who?"

He took a deep breath, then pressed so hard on the hilt of his sword hanging at his hip, that his hand slipped. He put his thumbs through his pants' belt loops. "Um...please don't get mad..."

Why would you be mad? "It's you, Y/N. Only you. For a year or two." He laughed nervously. "Or more."

"Me?" You asked incredulously, jaw dropping. You felt a shock run through you, not believing what you just heard.

"No, the nymph over there."

A tall, slim girl with braided hair and skin tinted green appeared beside you, scowling. You nearly jumped out of your skin at that. "Don't drag me into your lovers' quarrel!" Then she disappeared into green mist.

You looked back at Connor. "You're serious?"

"No, I'm Connor."

"Connor, please."

"Yes! Yes, of course, you! It's been so damn long, Y/N! I've been scared that you wouldn't like me back, you know, but since you asked, I can't not say it, okay? I haven't crushed on anyone else in years, because of how your eyes look when you talk about something you like, or your smile, or the way you speak, and how clingy you can get without knowing it when you're tired because you want someone to lean on. You're the only one who's on my mind, all the time. Only you." He cleared his throat, then inhaled through his teeth. He looked just as flustered as I felt.

"Oh. Me...me too." You mustered the courage to respond. Your head almost spun from the information, but at the same time your heart was going to break out of your ribcage from joy. "Me too, I-I like you a lot, I like you so much, Con, you keep me awake at night, too."

He sighed, relieved at your response. He then approached you, helmet under his arm. You reached out to take his hand, face breaking out into a grin, but then your thoughts interrupted you two once again, via your mouth. "Hey, Con."

"Yes?" You almost squealed in giddiness with the heart-eyed look he was giving you at that moment.

"What if Austen likes you?"

"Oh, no, I'm gay," Said a third voice. You spun around to see Austen, still in her cartoon design shirt and shorts, a bow slung over her shoulder and a knife in her hand. "...That's okay, right?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Connor shrugged.

Austen relaxed. "Okay." Then she tried darting past you two, but you jumped into position, blocking her way.

You realized a second too late that your efforts were directed at a decoy. "Thank you!" Someone shouted. Annabeth Chase stood at your base, holding your flag, grinning proudly.

#— suguwuu's posts #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #pjo #pjo oneshots #pjo x reader #in the og oneshot austen had an adventure time shirt so that shouldve said enough #lets go lesbians!!

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