#i’m still bitter about that can you tell

[goldsainz]

# F1 GRID — OOPS, WRONG PERSON !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ you decide to pull a prank by “butt-dialing” your boyfriend.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ tiny tiniest bit of angst, barely proofread.

003. NOTE !

✯ i loveddd this request, so much fun to write! hope you all enjoy it because i don’t know if it’s quite as good as i intended. also, this is LONGGG so please let me know if you liked it 🫶

word count : 5,6k

★ CARLOS SAINZ

Carlos is genuinely surprised when he sees your name pop up on his phone, a facetime call incoming. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in answering. Whatever it is you might have to say must be important given the fact that you usually avoid making calls. Texts or face-to-face conversation being more your style.

What he doesn’t know, is you’re trying to keep your giggles to yourself. You have your back-up phone in hand, recording a TikTok trend you saw and decided to attempt with your boyfriend.

When Carlos answers, you pull yourself together and start speaking as if you were in the middle of a conversation. You wonder if the wall can see the idiocy of what you’re doing, if it’s judging you as you sit alone in your room whilst pranking your boyfriend.

“Amor?” Carlos asks, greeting you still slightly confused as to the reason for your call. You grin at his voice, your camera pointing to the ceiling so it seems like an accident.

“Honestly, I think I would tell him no,” you say to nobody in particular, making up a conversation.

“Hello? What’s going on?” He asks again, but you pay him no mind.

You continue your prank as best as you can, “I don’t know… I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment,”

Carlos doesn’t respond instantly, but he gets the feeling that you’ve accidentally called him. He doesn’t hung up, no, he’s too nosy to do that. So, he keeps quiet in hopes that you continue whatever conversation you’re having.

“Do you think he would be mad?” You ask to your wall, “He’s really sweet, but that would anger anyone.”

What? He asks in his mind, trying to fill in the blanks to your conversation. Are you talking about him?

“He asked me the other day if I liked silver or gold better, isn’t that a sign?”

Oh, you so are talking about him.

When the realisation hits, he’s kind of sad. He didn’t ask it with the intentions you are insinuating, but you would really say no if he asked you to marry him? He can’t help but have his feelings hurt.

“I just don’t want to rush things.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. You would think he hung up if you weren’t so intently watching the screen on your phone. You feel slightly bad about the kind of conversation you’re having. A fake conversation, but still, you feel bad.

Deciding he’s had enough, Carlos hungs up. He won’t listen in on your conversation any longer, it’s doing him no good. He’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth, a weight crushing onto his chest as he ponder over your words. He didn’t know you felt that way, and truthfully, he could’ve gone on for longer without knowing.

Immediately, you call him back. He’s tempted to ignore the call but twice can’t be a coincidence.

“What?” He asks quickly after answering, when he sees your face his harsh frown softens but his tone doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say, dragging the y, “It was a prank, mi vida.”

He freezes for a second and then lets out a sigh of relief, “It was?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, showing him your second phone, “Say hello to TikTok.”

“You scared me,” he says with a shake of his head, “I thought you were being serious.”

“Never,” you firmly respond, “Can’t wait to be Mrs. Sainz,”

He smiles at the sudden shyness of your voice, “Well, that’s a relief then,”

You laugh at his words then suddenly stop, “Wait, Carlos, what do you mean?”

He looks at you as best as he can through a camera lens, then laughs and blows you a kiss.

“Carlos! What do you mean?” You ask more desperately, searching for answers but he just laughs and says his goodbyes.

You are left with your mouth agape when he hangs up. The video is certainly funny, and you can’t wait to edit out the more intimate ending and post it. But you’re left with a nervous yet exciting feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Perhaps the prankster ended up being the one pranked. Though you hope it’s not a prank.

★ CHARLES LECLERC

You await Charles’ response to your facetime call, patiently sitting down on your bed and your other phone in hand, ready to record. 

When your incoming call appears on Charles’s screen, he instantly answers. He loves to hear from you, especially when he’s away from you and misses you deeply. 

“Hello, mon chou,” he says, smiling at the camera and then slightly frowning when he notices that your camera is completely black.

“Okay, so I’ll see you at seven, right?” You ask your bear plushie, smiling at the ridiculousness of the prank.

At your words Charles’ mood dips, trying to understand what you;re saying or better yet, who you're speaking to.

“I’m so excited to see you,” Maybe it's cruel to play such games when you're thousands of kilometres apart. 

You know how much Charles misses you, how gruelling being so far away from home is to him. It is to you as well, being separated from your boyfriend tears your heart apart each time, but you decide that maybe spicing things up a little could be just what you need.

"Wait, who are you talking to? Is someone else there?” He asks, fidgeting with his hair and straightening up from where he was sitting. 

You pretend to ignore his voice and continue with the prank, “Yeah, he’s in Canada right now.”

Your boyfriend is now agitated at your words, though he prides himself for his calmness in tense situations he's not sure how to act right now. Should he hang up? Shout so that you perhaps hear him? Or stick around for the call and understand who you're talking to?

“No no, don't even worry about him,” you have to stifle your giggles, looking at the plushy in front of you who has served as your faithful company while Charles is away.

He leans in closer to the camera, tilting his head slightly, trying to understand what’s going on. “Amour, who’s there with you? Is someone else there?” he asks, a little louder this time, but still in that soft, slightly panicked tone.

It takes everything in you not to break character, but you want to see how far you can go. And hey, if you can pull this off maybe an acting career is not so far away. 

“Honestly, it gets so boring around here but you make it better.”

Charles’ lips part as if he’s about to say something, but he hesitates. You can see him wrestling with his emotions. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the confusion and a bit of hurt are written all over his face. He glances away from the screen, clearly feeling awkward. “I mean... if you’re busy, I can call you later?” His voice is soft, polite as always, but there’s a hint of insecurity creeping in.

Finally, you can’t keep up the act anymore, and burst into laughter.

His eyes widen in realisation, and his face immediately softens with relief. “Wait, is this a joke?!” His hand goes to his chest, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Mon dieu, I thought you were serious for a second! I was so confused.” He laughs now, more freely, shaking his head.

You grab your phone, fixing the angle so he can finally see you and just how alone you are in your room. “Yeah, it was just a prank. You should’ve seen your face!”

The giggles you're letting out make Charles smile, finding it endearing how such a simple thing entertained you. 

He groans playfully, clearly relieved but also slightly embarrassed. “You really got me... I didn’t know what to think! I was about to ask if I needed to fly out and speak with you!” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair again, his smile back and wider than ever. “But honestly, don’t do that again, chérie. I was about to lose my mind!”

You laugh, wiping a tear from your eye. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist! You were so confused, it was hilarious!”

He shakes his head with a grin, still amused, but now there’s a more serious note in his eyes. He leans a little closer to the camera, his voice softening. “I’m glad it was a joke, but you had me really worried for a second there. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if it was real...” He trails off, his expression turning thoughtful, like he’s truly imagining what it would feel like if you were talking to someone else.

You smile, feeling a bit guilty for messing with him. “I would never do that to you, Charles. It was just a prank.”

He breathes out a little sigh, then flashes you a tender smile that could melt anyone’s heart. “I know, I know. I trust you... but still, you’re so important to me.” His voice drops to a softer tone, his vulnerability shining through. “You don’t know how much I care about you. When I thought you might be talking to someone else... I don’t think I could’ve handled it.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and your heart swells. Before you can say anything, he smiles again, a little sheepish now. “But anyway, good prank. I’ll give you that.” He points a playful finger at the screen. “Just remember, payback’s coming!” His grin is wide, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be unbothered. “Oh really? What are you going to do?”

Charles smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll see. You’ll never know when it’s coming, but when it does, you’re going to regret pranking me!” He winks, but it’s clear he’s more than happy to let this prank slide for now.

Then, his voice softens again, and he gives you a look that’s pure affection. “But seriously... don’t scare me like that again. I like knowing I’m the only one you’re FaceTiming.” He smiles, his dimples showing, his face a mix of relief and playful charm.

You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay! I promise, no more pranks like that.”

“Good,” he says with a final grin, looking like he’s truly at ease again. Then, he blows you a quick kiss through the screen. “Now, tell me what you were actually doing before you called me. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

★ LANDO NORRIS

It’s late afternoon, and you’re feeling mischievous. You decide to pull a prank you saw earlier on TikTok on Lando. You know he will be caught off guard, and that’s exactly what you’re going for.

You set your phone on the couch, deliberately calling Lando without actually answering the FaceTime. Then, in a casual voice, you start the prank, pretending to have a conversation with someone else.

“Yeah, it was so fun hanging out last night. You’re hilarious!” you say, just loud enough for Lando to hear through the FaceTime call. “I can’t believe we stayed up talking for so long!”

On the other end of the line, Lando picks up immediately. Your contact name makes him smile, wondering what you’re about tell him. But when the call goes through, he’s confused, staring at your screen which faces the ceiling. “Wait… babe? Hello?” he says, glancing around as if trying to figure out what’s happening. He leans in, his brows furrowing when he hears you talking, but not to him.

“Yeah, it was so fun hanging out last night. You’re hilarious!” you say, just loud enough for Lando to hear through the FaceTime call. “I can’t believe we stayed up talking for so long!”

His eyes go wide as he looks closer at the phone, confusion spreading across his face. He shifts in his chair, trying to process what he’s hearing. “What? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” he asks, his voice growing more anxious.

You continue the conversation, making it sound even more flirty. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to have that much fun either. You’re really something else.”

Lando's heart rate definitely spikes. He leans forward, the panic starting to creep into his voice. “Wait, wait, who’s there? Who’s she talking to?” He mutters to himself, wondering why the hell you can't hear his panicked voice but what he's more worried about is who you're talking to. 

“I’ll text you later, okay? Maybe we can hang out again soon?” you say, keeping your tone light and playful. “Yeah, it was really great seeing you. I’ll talk to you later!”

By now, Lando’s freaking out. He’s still staring at the phone screen, but you can see the uncertainty and jealousy building. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous laugh. “Okay, this can’t be real. Am I being punked or something? Who the hell are you talking to?” He leans in closer, almost yelling now. “Babe! Hello! Can you hear me?!”

You pretend not to hear him and keep talking to the imaginary guy. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Can’t wait.”

He finally breaks, face twisting into disbelief, and he throws his hands in the air. “Are you serious right now? Who the hell is this guy?!” His voice cracks, and he’s clearly spiralling at this point. “Babe! BABE! Who are you talking to?! Are you with someone else?!” He’s practically on the edge of his seat, completely panicking.

You can’t hold back anymore and burst out laughing, picking up the phone.

Lando’s eyes are wild as he sees you finally holding the phone properly. “Wait… what? What’s going on? Who are you—” He stops mid-sentence as he realises you’re laughing, and it slowly dawns on him. “Oh my god.” He slumps back in his chair, groaning dramatically. “Noooo, don’t tell me this was a prank!”

Still laughing, you nod. “Yep! You got butt-dialed, babe.”

His face is still frozen in disbelief. “Are you joking right now?” he asks, his voice going up an octave. His hand is over his chest like he’s trying to calm his racing heart. “You seriously just made me think you were talking to another guy?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, barely holding back more laughter.

He leans closer to the screen, his eyes wide. “I’m literally sweating! My heart was in my throat, and you were over here just… casually chatting with some ‘guy.’” His voice cracks a little as he says “guy,” and his dramatic reaction makes you laugh harder.

“Oh, come on, it was just a little prank,” you tease.

Lando shakes his head, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Little prank? I was literally about to start a fight with the air! I’ve never been so confused in my life!” He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in his chair. “I’m in shambles right now. I’ve been emotionally attacked.”

You try to stop giggling, but his over-the-top reaction just keeps it going. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack!”

“Too late,” he says with mock seriousness. “The damage is done. I might need to lie down after this.” He pauses, staring at you with narrowed eyes, a small smirk forming on his lips. “You owe me big time.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling. “Oh, really? And what exactly do I owe you?”

Lando crosses his arms, feigning deep thought. “Well, first off, you owe me a massive apology. And then maybe…” His eyes light up as the thought hits him. “You can take me out for a nice dinner, pay for dessert, and— oh! I’m thinking a full day of pampering.”

You laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Pampering? What do you think this is, a spa?”

He grins, leaning back in his chair and looking more relaxed now. “Hey, I deserve it after what you just put me through. I was about to show up at your place ready to fight some random guy I didn’t even know existed!”

“Alright, alright,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes again. “I’ll pamper you. But just this once!”

Lando’s grin grows wider. “Deal. But I’m definitely getting you back for this, by the way. Just so you know.”

You can’t help but laugh at his scheming. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

He tilts his head, his eyes softening slightly. “But seriously, don’t scare me like that again, okay? My poor heart can’t take it.” His voice drops into a teasing whine, but there’s a touch of genuine relief there too.

You smile, feeling a little guilty now. “I promise, no more butt-dial pranks.”

Lando sighs in mock relief, then grins. “Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m expecting that pampering session to start soon. I’m thinking back rubs and snacks. Lots of snacks.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he says cheekily, winking at you.

★ LEWIS HAMILTON

It’s late in the evening, you’re lounging on the couch, scrolling through social media when a mischievous idea pops into your head: prank Lewis. It’s been a long week for him, and you know he’s probably relaxing after a day full of meetings and training. That makes it the perfect time to catch him off guard.

Picking up your phone, you set it on the couch beside you, face down, so it looks like a genuine mistake. Then, with one quick swipe, you FaceTime him. The phone rings a few times before Lewis picks up. You can see from the tiny preview screen that he’s in the hotel, leaning back in his chair, probably unwinding after the busy day he's had.

At first, he looks confused when he sees the camera pointing at your ceiling. “Babe?” he calls out, his voice soft and curious. “Did you call me?”

You ignore his soft voice, pretending you don’t realise you’ve called him. Instead, you start the staged conversation with your "friend” who really just is an unbothered Roscoe, who's resting by your feet and not paying much attention to anything.

“I don’t know, I just feel like things with Lewis aren’t working anymore,” you say with a sigh, making your voice sound hesitant, like you’re deep in thought.

On the other end, you can hear Lewis pause, his confusion evident as he watches the ceiling of your living room on the screen. “Wait, what? Did I just hear that right?” he mumbles, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

You continue, not responding to him, staying in character, “It’s just been really hard lately. Like, I know he cares about me, but it feels like we’re growing apart, you know?” You make your voice sound vulnerable, as if you’re spilling your deepest thoughts to this imaginary friend.

Lewis sits up straighter, his face showing a mix of confusion and worry now. He leans toward the screen, trying to get your attention. “Babe? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” His voice is still calm, but there’s a note of urgency creeping in.

You keep the fake conversation going, pushing it a little further. “I mean, I love him, but sometimes love isn’t enough. We’re just in different places, and I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen and he rubs a hand over his face, his composure starting to slip as the weight of your words sinks in. “Wait, hold on, what are you talking about? You don’t think we’re gonna make it? Babe, what’s happening?” His voice is louder now, more strained, and you can see the confusion and hurt beginning to cloud his expression.

You almost put a stop to your prank right there, but you decide to push through. So, you ignore him, still talking to your imaginary friend, “I’ve been thinking about ending things for a while, but it’s just so hard. He’s so sweet, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine.”

Lewis blinks, and you can see him processing your words, his heart clearly sinking. His mouth opens slightly, but he’s struggling to find the right thing to say. “No, no, this can’t be real,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head. 

You glance at the screen briefly, seeing the growing panic in his eyes, but you push the prank a bit further. “Yeah, I’m going to talk to him soon. I just hope he understands.” You add a small, fake sigh. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his calm exterior cracking even more. “Babe, talk to me. What’s going on? Is this how you really feel?” He’s practically pleading now, his voice full of emotion. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes as he tries to make sense of everything.

Finally, unable to hold it together any longer, you burst out laughing and grab the phone. “Oh my god, Lewis, it’s a prank!”

For a moment, Lewis just stares at you, blinking in complete disbelief. Then, slowly, realisation dawns, and he lets out a long, exasperated sigh, slumping back in his chair. “No way… are you serious? You were just messing with me?”

You nod, still laughing. “Yeah, there’s no friend. I wasn’t talking about breaking up with you. I’m so sorry, my love!”

He rubs his face with both hands, trying to process everything. “Wow… okay, you really got me.” He exhales sharply, clearly relieved but still a bit shaken. “I thought I was about to lose you here. My heart was racing.”

“I’m sorry!” you say, giggling. “I didn’t mean to freak you out that much, I swear.”

He chuckles softly, though you can see the relief still lingering on his face. “You really had me going, babe. I didn’t know what to think.” He pauses, then looks at you with a mix of amusement and reproach. “I was ready to drop everything and come find you.”

You grin, feeling a little bad now that you can see how worried he really was. “I didn’t mean to push it that far! It was just supposed to be a little prank.”

Lewis shakes his head with a smile, the tension starting to fade. “Alright, alright. It’s all good. You got me. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook so easily.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my punishment?”

He leans back, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m definitely getting you back for this. And trust me, when I do, you’ll never see it coming.” His eyes glint with mischief, though there’s still that hint of vulnerability lingering in his expression.

You laugh, still feeling a bit guilty for putting him through that emotional rollercoaster. “Fair enough, I’ll be ready for whatever you’ve got planned.”

He chuckles, his smile softening. “Just… no more pranks like that, alright? You really freaked me out.” His voice lowers, and you can tell he means it.

You nod, giving him an apologetic smile. “I promise, no more fake breakups.”

Lewis grins, though his eyes are still warm with lingering emotion. “Good. Because if we’re going to have a serious conversation, I’d rather it be in person.” He winks, his usual calm confidence starting to return.

“Deal,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, relieved that he’s taking it so well.

He sighs dramatically, then chuckles. “You’re lucky I love you, babe. Because if anyone else tried that on me…” He trails off with a smirk, but you know he means it.

“I know, I know. You’re the best,” you tease, still smiling.

“Yeah, don’t forget it,” he says, his voice light, but you can tell he’s glad the whole thing was just a joke.

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max’s phone buzzes with a FaceTime call, and he glances at the screen, seeing your name pop up. It’s unusual for you to call directly; you typically prefer texting or face-to-face conversations. So, he’s immediately curious about what might be urgent enough to warrant a call.

You place your phone face down on the couch and dial Max’s number. The phone rings a few times before he picks up, his face appearing on the screen. He’s clearly winding down after a long day, his hair slightly tousled and a relaxed look on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks casually. You can see he’s expecting a normal call.

Instead of responding, you start chatting as if you’re talking to someone else. “Yeah, it was great seeing you tonight. I didn’t expect to have such a good time.” You add a flirty tone to your voice, trying to sound casual.

At first, Max stays silent, his expression shifting from relaxed to puzzled. After a moment, his eyes narrow, and he leans closer to the screen. “Who are you talking to?” His voice is direct, with a calm demeanour that contrasts the intensity in his eyes.

You continue with the prank, keeping up the pretence. “I know, right? It’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to hang out like this.” You give a small, playful laugh.

Max’s face tightens slightly, and he sits up straight, clearly not pleased. “Seriously, who is that? Who are you talking to?” His tone is calm but authoritative.

“I’m glad we could hang out,” you say softly, using the same voice you use when you want to sweeten Max. It’s a tone reserved only for him, and that only makes him more frustrated.

He watches you intently, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not playing games. Are you going to tell me who this is or not?” 

You can see his frustration building as he waits for a response. When you don’t immediately answer, he makes a decisive move. “You know what? I’m ending this call.” He starts to hang up, but then pauses, his eyes narrowing even more. “Actually, I’m coming over. I want to see who you’re talking to.”

Before you can react, he’s already starting to disconnect. Realising the prank might be escalating, you quickly grab the phone and try to calm him down. “Wait, Max, it’s a joke! I was just messing with you!”

Max freezes mid-disconnect, his eyes widening with a mix of relief and disbelief. He straightens up, a sarcastic grin spreading across his face. “Oh, a joke? Perfect timing. I was just about to come over and give your ‘mystery guy’ a piece of my mind. You know, because clearly, he needed a crash course on what it means to mess with my girlfriend.”

You burst out laughing, trying to explain yourself. “I’m really sorry, Max. I didn’t think it would get this intense.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, still grinning. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘I’m just kidding’ like a full-blown emotional crisis. I’m sure your ‘mystery guy’ would’ve been thrilled to meet the real Max Verstappen, all dressed up for a confrontation.”

You giggle, feeling a bit sheepish. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I just thought it would be a harmless prank.”

Max raises an eyebrow, his sarcasm in full swing. “Oh, of course, harmless. I mean, who needs peace of mind when you’ve got surprise pranks, right?”

You laugh, trying to diffuse the situation. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll make sure to keep my pranks a bit less intense next time.”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Unless you want me to come over and give you a live demonstration of what happens when you prank a racing driver. Spoiler alert: It involves a lot of very fast revenge.”

“Noted,” you say with a grin. “I promise, no more surprise drama.”

Max chuckles, his sarcasm giving way to genuine amusement. “Good. Because I was about to start practising my ‘disappointed boyfriend’ speech. And trust me, it’s a work of art.”

You laugh again, feeling relieved that he’s taking it well. “I’ll avoid any more pranks that might warrant a speech.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s talk about something less dramatic— like how you’re going to make it up to me. And I don’t mean another prank.”

You laugh, ready to move on from the prank. “I’ve got just the thing. No more surprises, I promise.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Good. And remember, I’m always keeping an eye out for any more ‘mysterious’ calls.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say with a laugh. 

★ OSCAR PIASTRI

You’re feeling cheeky and decide to pull a prank on your boyfriend by pretending to butt dial him. You carefully set up your phone, ensuring it calls Oscar automatically. You place the phone on a table and begin your act, speaking loudly enough for him to hear clearly through the call. 

You make sure to put on a show, talking loudly enough that Oscar will definitely hear it. As soon as he picks up, you begin your “conversation.”

“Oh hey! So glad you called,” you start, making your voice bright and cheerful as if you’ve been waiting for this call. “I just have to tell you, last night was absolutely amazing!”

Oscar, on the other end of the call, answers with his usual calm demeanour. He sees your name on the screen and answers with a mix of curiosity and amusement. His face remains composed, but you can sense him starting to analyse the situation. He listens intently, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“I’m so glad we got to hang out. It’s not every day you meet someone who can keep me laughing like that,” you say, your tone warm and engaging. You emphasise the casual nature of the conversation, hoping to make your boyfriend think it’s a genuine chat.

Oscar’s gaze is fixed on the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listens. He remains eerily quiet, giving you the sense that he’s deep in thought, piecing together the details of your conversation. His face is a mask of calm curiosity, but there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“Absolutely, we need to do it again soon. How about dinner tomorrow? I’ll text you the details,” you continue, maintaining the pretence. You keep your tone light and breezy, almost as if the conversation is too engaging for you to notice his reaction.

Oscar’s smirk starts to form, his mind piecing together the clues. He leans back slightly in his chair, his composure unshaken. He’s clearly caught on to the prank, but he maintains his cool, waiting for the right moment to reveal his awareness.

“I hope you’re done with your other conversation,” he finally says, his voice smooth and collected. “We can talk later when you’re free from your… other commitments.” His calm tone and subtle smirk indicate he’s caught on, but he’s letting you have your fun for now.

You immediatly start laughing, realising that Oscar has seen right through your prank. “I didn’t expect you to catch on so quickly!”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying the reveal. “I had a feeling something was off, your conversation was a bit too perfect.” He gives you a playful wink. “Nice try, though. I have to admit, you had me intrigued for a moment there.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say, still grinning. “I was hoping to give you a little challenge.”

He leans back in his chair, his smile broadening. “Challenge accepted. You managed to get a rise out of me, which is no easy feat. But now that I’m in on the joke, I’m planning my own comeback.” His tone is light-hearted but filled with a hint of mischief.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say, still grinning. “I was hoping to give you a little challenge.”

His smirk widens into a charming grin. “Challenge accepted,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “But since you managed to prank me, I think it’s only fair that I get to return the favour.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his confident tone. “Oh, really? And what do you have in mind for your comeback?”

Oscar leans in a bit closer, his gaze softening. “Let’s just say that next time we talk, I might have a surprise of my own for you. Something that’ll make your heart race in a way that’s far more thrilling than any prank.” He gives you a knowing look, his voice lowering to a teasing whisper. “I’m all about keeping things exciting.”

Your heart flutters at the flirtatious undertone in his voice. “Is that so? I’ll have to be extra vigilant then. I wouldn’t want you to catch me off guard again.”

His eyes sparkle with affection. “Oh, don’t worry. I love a good challenge, especially when it means I get to see that beautiful smile of yours when you’re surprised.” 

You blush a little at his words, “I might have to prank you every day if I get you this sweet after.”

“I’m alway sweet,” he teases, laughing at your flusteredness.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Anyway, are you getting home later today?” You ask, hoping to see your boyfriend after weeks of him being away.

“Yes, I’m aching to see you,” he confesses, smiling at you.

“Me too.” 

“See you then, my little prankster,” Oscar says with a laugh.

You roll your eyes at the nickname but you’re endeared by it all the same. “See you soon.”

[pretentious-blonde]

insecurity

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after you become closer to a certain metalhead, steve can't stop the insecurities that stem from his previous relationship. when it all becomes too much, you are left to deal with his outrage.

warnings: arguments, angst, steve is mean, panic attack (fluff ending ofc)

a/n: idk, this was supposed to be short and sweet but i got carried away!

The bell above you jingled as you entered Family Video, stopping briefly to glance around the shop for a certain brown-haired boy who had managed to capture your heart a little over six months ago. It didn’t take long to spot him, a grin plastered on his face as he stood behind the counter. With crossed arms, leaning his hip against the wooden edge, nodding along half-heartedly to whatever Robin was saying. She sat cross-legged on the desk, arms moving wildly as she spoke, her face lighting up as she noticed your presence. 

“There she is! Finally, I can’t tolerate this man for much longer,” she says with a huff, kicking her feet off the counter and pointing at Steve who was clearly not as into the conversation as she was. His attention hasn’t strayed from you since you came in. “Your turn.”

“Lucky for you,” he begins, briefly glancing in Robin’s direction, pointing back towards her as you rounded the corner to emphasise his point. “She tolerates me for hours.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as you leaned into him, whispering a hello before smirking in Robin’s direction. “I’d say it’s more than tolerating,” you add.

Steve has a smug look on his face at your comment, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. You can feel the warmth he radiates through his jumper, his fingers finding your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. 

The moment between you both was swiftly interrupted by a loud gagging noise. “Okay. I’m third-wheeling. Gross.” Robin stated as she hopped off her makeshift throne with a huff.

You roll your eyes, still trapped in Steve’s embrace, not ready to let go just yet. “You sure you’re not just jealous Rob?”

“Pssh,” she scoffs as she throws a VHS tape from one hand to the other. “Sure. If I wanted someone who can’t alphabetise for shit, then yes. I’d be all over Harrington.”

“Ouch,” Steve pipes up from your side. “Also I don’t want to hear anything from you after what you did to the returns bin. It’s chaos.”

“Organised chaos, maybe,” she replies as she points the VHS directly at Steve. “My system is far superior.”

You glance over at your boyfriend, a look of disbelief at her previous statement, he was about to interrupt but Robin quickly changed the subject. “I thought you were supposed to come by here yesterday? Or was I making that up?”

“Oh, I was. But Dustin asked me last minute if I was free,” you tell her. “He introduced to to his friend—Eddie? I think he mentioned him before. We all hung out for a bit.”

The words slip out of your mouth naturally and a small smile graces your lips as you remember the day before. What you don’t notice is the way Steve stiffens beside you. His hand, which was fitted perfectly against your shoulder, tensed slightly. Unbeknownst to you. 

“Eddie?” He asks, forcing his voice to stay light and cheerful. He wouldn’t dream of dampening your bright mood. Not when you had gone out of your way to drop by and see him. Although, that fact did nothing to stop the unsettling feeling in his stomach. 

You nod enthusiastically as he pays you his full attention, admiring the way your hair bounces along with your movements. It briefly distracts him from overthinking, that is, until you open your pretty mouth again. “Yeah, you know Dustin—he’s always finding new people to drag into his D&D world. Eddie’s super into it, too.”

His jaw tightens, his smile falters and he hopes to god you don’t notice, masking it with a casual nod. Eddie Munson, he thinks and cannot help the bitterness he feels. Of course, he remembers the metal head from high school, Dustin had been mentioning him more too. He never cared about popularity, the social hierarchy. Just… did his own thing. No matter what others thought of him. 

Steve was all Ralph Lauren polos and Members Only jackets, tender smiles and sickly sweet kisses. Eddie was band patches and ripped jeans, unapologetic and confident. Not like Steve at all. The total opposite in fact.

He glances at you in the corner of his eye, then quickly back to the counter, the knot in his chest growing tighter. He knew, he knew, he was reading too much into it, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Especially after Nancy broke his heart. It was only when he met you that it began to heal again. 

Is that what you’re into? The carefree, rebellious type? While Steve has spent his entire high school career trying to fit the mold, Eddie has smashed it. And what did he have to show for it? A washed-up ex-popular kid working at a video store? Not a lot, clearly.

“So… what did you guys get up to?” He asks, fiddling with the pen on the desk, trying to act as indifferent as possible. 

“Not much. Just hung out, talked about D&D for a bit,” you reply with a shrug. “Dustin thinks he is some kind of genius when it comes to that game.”

Robin chimes into the conversation, unaware of the tension radiating from the brunette next to you. “Well, if you’re into D&D Eddie is the go-to around here,” she tells you. “It sounds like you’re his next recruit.”

Steve’s laugh is forced this time, and you notice it, a small frown appearing on your face. He curses himself internally, quickly leaning over to place a kiss on the side of your head, a reassuring gesture for the both of you. “Sounds fun,” he says softly. “Maybe next time I could tag along.”

Just so he can see what Eddie’s intentions are, see if he is testing his luck with you. He has already lost one girlfriend to another guy so it seemed like a normal thing to investigate. Nothing weird about that… right?

You laugh and shake your head, patting his broad chest playfully. “Trust me, Steve, you don’t have to do that. D&D is certainly not your thing.”

He deflated at your statement, even though it was definitely true. He lets out a chuckle to ease the insecurity he is feeling. “Yeah, I’ll leave the nerd stuff to Dustin and Eddie,” he says, trying to play it off as nothing serious. 

You see the sad look that penetrates his features, mistaking it for him just feeling left out. You grab his hand and give it a small squeeze. “Am I still alright to come over to your tomorrow? Evening sound good?” You ask, hoping he could see how much you still wanted to spend time with him, despite your new friend.

“Of course, angel,” he replies, completely melting at the soft tone of your voice, looking up at him with those gentle eyes of yours. You could probably make him do anything with that expression on your face. He can’t resist stealing another kiss from you when you look like that. You smile up at him as he reluctantly pulls away. 

“Okay, great!” You wave as you make your way to the door, bell ringing as you open it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watches you leave until you are no longer visible, the tightness in his stomach easing ever so slightly at the thought of having you all to himself tomorrow. Just him. His girl. 

As soon as he turns around, Robin is smirking directly at him, arms crossed across her chest. “So, what’s the deal with Eddie?” She asks, her tone teasing. “You gonna join Hellfire now?”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, already dreading the incoming round of quips. “Hell no, I’m not touching that stuff.”

“Aw, c’mon Steve. I think you would make a great dungeon master,” she doesn’t even bother trying to hide the laugh that is bubbling in her throat. “You certainly are dramatic enough for it, you know? ‘King Steve’ and all that.”

“Yeah right,” he mutters, growing more irritated by the second. He usually had all the time in the world for her jabs, but currently? The tapes in his hands were the most interesting thing in the world to him as he tried to brush her off. “I’m retired from the whole ‘king’ thing, remember?”

She grins as she leans across the wooden counter, standing on her tiptoes to get closer to him. “True, true. But at least we know Eddie is pretty chill now, we don’t just have to take Dustin’s word for it.”

There it is, that name again—Eddie. He says nothing as he grabs more tapes off the side. Not that it served any purpose, just anything to keep his hands busy and mind preoccupied. 

“I mean, I have never really spoken to him,” she continued as she paced the shop floor, stopping only to place another VHS in her ‘newly organised’ returns section. “But he’s got that whole ‘rebel without a cause’ thing going on. You know? It’s pretty admirable.”

Yeah, I know, Steve thinks sourly. That’s precisely the problem. He does know. The free spirit who never once cared about fitting in, or pleasing anyone, and now here he was—Dustin’s new best friend and the subsequent new guy in your life. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve forces out another fake laugh, just as badly hidden as the first. “Good for him.”

Robin turns to face him directly, noticing the strain in his voice. “You’re not… jealous, are you?”

Her question catches him off guard, fumbling with the tape in his hand and nearly dropping it. “What? No. Why would I be jealous of Eddie Munson?”

“Alright, alright, no need to get defensive,” she holds her hands up in surrender, her eyes still trained on him. “It’s just… I don’t know. You’re acting weird?”

He didn’t respond right away, focusing on a blank point between two VHS tapes in front of him, he repeated the question in his mind. Weird? He wasn’t being weird. Was he?

Shrugging his shoulders casually, he glances at the clock, suddenly wishing for the small arms to go faster so he could see you again—just the two of you. No Eddie. No distractions. Just you and him alone. Maybe then he could stop himself from spiralling. He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind for the rest of his shift, not when he had seen this story play out once before, with him ending up on the losing side. 

Laughter filled the cramped space of Eddie’s trailer. Dustin had invited you over here a few hours earlier and now here you were, doubled over on his couch, clutching at your sides as Eddie continues his ridiculous story. “And then—then he turned around and slammed right into the closet door! Swear to God, I thought he was gonna be out cold!” He finished, completely in stitches at his own tale. 

Dustin was practically rolling on the floor at this point, teeth on full show as he tried to get his words out cohesively. “How did you find these people, Eddie?!” He gasped between his giggles. 

You were wiping away the tears from your eyes, way past the point of caring if your makeup was smudged. As you came back to reality, you glanced over at the clock, freezing completely as you registered the time. 

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, your stomach dropping. “Guys, I gotta go. Like—like right now.”

You immediately leapt up off the worn-out couch, grabbing your jacket in a hurry and shoving your feet into your shoes. You had about ten minutes to be at Steve’s front door and had completely lost track of the time. “He’s gonna kill me,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached for your bag. Even though it wasn’t true, it was more likely he would be moping around the living room, glancing at the front door every couple of minutes awaiting your arrival. Just sad that he couldn’t get to spend more time with you. Steve didn’t get angry with you. Ever. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his form still draped across the couch. “What’s the rush princess? Hot date with Steve?”

You briefly glanced over in his direction, looking increasingly flustered. “Well, yeah,” you admitted. “I was supposed to be there, uh, now.”

Before you could bolt out the door, you heard a groan coming from across the room. “Don’t sweat it, I’ll drive you.” Eddie rose from his seat and grabbed his keys from the coffee table in front of him, twirling them around his finger. “No way I’m letting you bike all the way there.”

You blinked in surprise at his offer. “Really? Are you sure? You honestly don’t have to—“

Eddie waved his hand in your direction, ignoring your concern. “It’s no problem. Besides, I’m not gonna be responsible for you showing up at Steve’s all sweaty and out of breath. The guy would kill me,” He shot a teasing grin in your direction as he headed to the door, holding it open as both you and Dustin ducked under his arm, heading straight for his van. 

The journey was easy, with Eddie being a surprisingly safe driver, music as loud as his personality. In between the heavy guitar riffs that thumped through the radio, he turned to you with a mischievous expression. “So… you and Steve, huh?”

You felt the blush rise to your cheeks at his comment, not getting a chance to respond as he continued. “I just meant you’re good together, you know? I never really saw him as the ‘settle down with a girlfriend’ type. But hey, they say love changes a person.”

You drew your gaze away from the passing trees, unable to hold the smile that had spread across your face. “Yeah, he’s—he’s really great,” you admitted softly. You could barely put into words how great he was without gushing, so that small line would have to do for now. If Eddie only saw how Steve treated you, both in public and private, all his questions would certainly be answered. 

Steve may not have had the same chaotic energy as Eddie or Dustin, but that didn’t matter one bit. Steve was… solid. Reliable. He made you feel safe. Made you feel cherished. 

The long-haired boy next to you shrugged, his tone still kind. “Hey, if Dustin likes him, well that’s saying something. The kid is picky when it comes to his friends.”

Dustin, now making his presence known from the back seat, spoke up. “Damn right!” 

As Eddie pulled up in front of the large house, he leaned over the centre controls, giving you a playful nudge. “Don’t keep him waiting any longer. I bet he is pacing a hole in the floor.”

You playfully glare at him as you pop the door open. “He’s not that bad.”

“Sure,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Well, tell him Dustin and I said hey.”

“Will do,” you replied as you hopped out of the van. You waved at the two of them as they began to drive away, heavy metal music blaring as they faded into the distance. Your smile from Eddie’s previous comment was still lingering on your lips as you bounded up to the front door, excitedly ringing the bell. 

What you didn’t see was Steve had witnessed the entire interaction from his window—your expression as you laughed with Eddie and Dustin, how you looked so at ease and comfortable around them. You hadn’t even known them for that long. The sight twisted something ugly up inside of him, insecurities that were larger than he knew. He didn’t know how to handle them, the thought of being left behind. 

The door swung open after a few moments, and there stood your Steve, leaning casually against the door frame as he looked you up and down. God, he was whipped. “Hey, there you are,” he said with that classic, easy, Steve smile, relief washing over him the second he laid eyes on you. 

You took a step forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist “Sorry I’m late.”

He chucked as he returned your embrace, sturdy arms enveloping you. “No worries, I’m always happy to wait.” 

The statement was true. Way too true, and that fact started to scare him.

You leaned up to press your lips against his, he was soft, familiar, and for a second, it felt like everything was perfect. He held the door open for you to step inside, the scent of his earthy cologne filled your senses. 

He followed you into the living room, watching you kick off your shoes, holding his arm out just in case you toppled over. He had made that mistake only once in the past, the bruise on your leg was huge. You’re clumsy nature may have been endearing, but he’ll be damned if you hurt yourself on his watch.  

“You didn’t ride your bike?” He asked, subtly trying to figure out exactly why you had gotten out of the familiar van. 

“I was lucky Eddie offered me a lift. I kind of lost track of time,” you said nonchalantly, kicking your shoes into the corner. 

His posture stiffened for the briefest moment at your confirmation. Honestly, he had hoped that what he saw five minutes earlier was just a figment of his imagination. “Oh, cool,” he forced himself to keep his tone light. “That was nice of him.”

You didn’t notice how fake the plastered smile on his face was as you settled onto the couch, already making yourself at home as you reached for the throw blanket. “So, what’s the plan for tonight hm? Movies? Snacks? Oh, did you order pizza?” You rambled, getting more excited with each question. It put his mind at ease a little bit to see you this giddy with excitement. If he let himself believe that he was the cause, maybe he could stop worrying. 

He beamed and moved to join you, resting his head against the pillows as he glanced down at your pure expression. “All of the above, sweetheart. But we are not repeating what you told me a few weeks ago that eating leftover pizza for breakfast was ‘nutritionally balanced’.”

You giggled as you unfurled the blanket, taking extra care to make sure he was fully covered. “It is balanced! Carbs, protein, maybe a vegetable if there’s a stray pepper.”

“Right,” Steve smirked as he drew out the word, trying to get on board with your reasoning. Reaching over for the remote to turn the movie on. 

As the credits for the cheesy rom-com rolled across the screen, you stretched your stiff body out.  You untucked yourself from his side, resulting in a frown from Steve, not quite ready to let you go yet. 

“I still don’t get why we always watch these,” you speak over the ending soundtrack. “All the girl ever does is swoon over the guy, ignoring all the red flags until it’s too late.”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch, placing his chin on top of it to give you his full attention. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his foot with your own. “Such a romantic.”

Steve blushes before turning away, giving you a casual shrug. “I just like them. Who knows, I could always start serenading you under your window, the whole nine yards.”

“Serenade, huh?” You chuckle, angling your head to lean against his arm. “Do you even know how to play an instrument?”

He drew his face towards you, scrunching his nose in your direction. “I can learn. Get some guitar lessons.”

Maybe you like guitar. Eddie plays the guitar. 

You giggle at the mental image of Steve strumming clumsily, tongue poking out in concentration, getting frustrated with the sheet music that would be scattered around him. “Oh, I’d pay to see that.”

He runs his hand through your hair, admiring your soft features illuminated by only the TV screen. “You wouldn’t have to pay. If you wanted it, I’d do it for free.”

He meant every word. If it kept you in his life, he would practise until his fingers bled. 

“Has anyone told you how much of a sap you are?” You ask, but it lacks its usual teasing. 

“Yeah, but I’m your sap,” he replies, words overflowing with tenderness. 

You look at him closely. Really look at him. His loving smile falters slightly under your gaze, eyes flickering downwards to hide his expression more. 

Shifting towards him, you lay a hand across his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart quicken at your touch. “What’s wrong?”

Steve blinks, another smile forced, not quite reaching his eyes. God, why did you have to ask it like that? In a sweet tone, filled with concern. He thought he was good at lying. All those secret parties he held in his parent’s absence, brushing off their questions about various missing decorations that most likely had been broken. Nobody noticed when his heart was broken a few years back. When he could hardly drag himself to work. But somehow, you could pick him apart easily. 

“Nothing,” he lies, trying to brush you off. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?”

He sighs, his fingers tracing an aimless pattern on your shoulder as he avoids looking at you. “Just…us, I guess. Wondering if I’m actually good at this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing or if you’re just humouring me.”

The confession made him feel exposed. He regretted saying anything at all. 

You frown at his admission, “What? Why would you think that?” You can’t hide the shock from your voice. This is the same boy who kept your favourite tea stocked in his cupboard, the same boy who built your entire bookcase when you mentioned you were struggling with the instructions, the same boy who even phoned the doctor’s office for you when you were too scared to talk to the receptionist.  

He ticked every box and more, your heart broke for how he felt. 

“I don’t know…Sometimes I wonder if I’m gonna screw this up. Like, if I’m just temporary.” His eyes are still glued to his lap, unable to look away. If only he didn’t have this much baggage. 

You furrow your brows, reaching up to cup his cheek, tilting his head so he’s forced to meet your eyes. “Steve, you’re not temporary. Okay? You’re not some placeholder to me.”

He leans into your touch, his hand covering yours for a moment. But even though he smiles softly at your words, the doubt still lingers in his eyes.

“I guess we’ll see,” he murmurs, the vulnerability heavy in his voice.

You sigh, realising this is a result of something more going on, but you still give him a gentle look. You have no problem reassuring him. You could tell him one hundred times how cherished he is without complaint. As many times as it took to make the message stick. If that’s what it took, you would gladly do it. 

Steve was buzzing as soon as he got off the phone with Kieth. His presence at the video store was not required today, and he had been planning how to surprise you all morning. Acting as giddy as a high schooler. He hadn’t had the chance to see you since you last hung out at his place and he really wanted to do something sweet. Not out of the lingering insecurity he was feeling, but he wanted to see you happy. Especially when it was because of him. 

He tried to go the extra mile today, waking up early and driving to the nice florist on the other side of town, just to make sure he got the freshest flowers. A little effort from him means a big smile from you—totally worth it in his book. The bouquet was huge, it sat in your usual place, in the passenger seat. He specifically chose your favourite colour as the wrapping paper, and the bow that secured it too. Smiling to himself as he pictured your reaction. 

Climbing the steps to your little apartment, something you were so excited to finally be able to afford with your job, his heart beat with anticipation. He easily fished out the spare key you had given him, smiling as the tiny keychain dangled from it—a tiny VHS tape you had been so proud to find at the flea market, insisting on putting it on yourself because it ‘needed some flair’. It was a thoughtful gesture, it made him feel warm whenever he saw it. 

Holding his breath to not make any noise, he unlocked your door and gently pushed it open, careful not to startle you. His eyes immediately landed on the couch—and his whole world froze. 

There, sprawled out on the couch, was none other than Eddie Munson. Looking the same as he always did, completely relaxed In his worn Metalica t-shirt and scuffed trainers. 

The worst part wasn’t just him. It was you. Your head resting in his lap, and Eddie was absently playing with a strand of your hair. He glanced up at Steve’s entrance and immediately put a finger to his lips, signalling Steve to stay quiet. His blood boiled at the gesture. 

“Shh,” Eddie whispered, gesturing to you. “She’s asleep.”

He was glued to the spot. What the fuck is he doing here?

Eddie carefully lifted your head off his legs, swapping himself out for a pillow, taking extra care not to rouse you. 

“Hey, man,” he greeted casually as he stood, stretching out his arms like this wasn’t the single most infuriating sight Steve had ever seen. “We were just hanging out, watching some trash TV. She was out like a light.”

His voice was still a whisper as he explained what happened, trying to add some humour to the situation. “Probably for the best, I mean. I can watch crappy shit all day, but even this was painful to sit through. No big deal.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. Hard. His grip on the flowers tightened until he could feel a few give way under the pressure. No big deal? You’ve got to be kidding me. He felt a surge of possessiveness course through him, igniting an anger he believed was dormant. His mind began to race, everything he had been trying to ignore had bubbled straight back up to the surface like a ticking time bomb. She is that comfortable to fall asleep on him?!

Eddie, completely oblivious to Steve’s thinly veiled fury, patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry, but I gotta be heading myself. Wayne’ll be wondering where I’ve been.” He said, giving him a small smile as if this was a totally normal situation for the two of you. “Take care, man.” With that, Eddie slipped past him, closing the door silently as he exited. 

The apartment felt eerily quiet as Steve just stood there, staring at the door, trying to wrap his head around what the hell just happened. Unbelievable. He rediverted his attention back to you, still soundly asleep on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside of him. He crossed the room slowly, as if on autopilot, mind a nasty mix of anger and jealousy. You fell asleep on Eddie. Eddie, of all people. How long were you two just... sitting there like that?

He took a seat in the armchair opposite, memories of the two of you trying to squeeze onto it now bitterly replaying in his mind. The flowers were still clutched in his hand, forgotten in his flood of emotions.

He didn’t want to acknowledge what he had just walked in on. His heart beat painfully in his chest. This is how it starts, right? He thought bitterly. Starts all innocent like this. I’ve seen this before. I’ve lived this before. His mind flashed back to that goddamn Halloween party, to the nights he thought things were fine, only to realise too late that he had been left behind—again.

Steve exhaled sharply, frustration gnawing at him. It’s happening. It’s fucking happening again. He was always second best. His parents, Nancy, Dustin, you. 

He glanced down at the flowers in his hand, the stems crushed from his tense grip. They were supposed to be part of a sweet surprise, a way to make you smile, but now... now they just felt like a cruel joke. With him being the punchline. As per usual.

He set them down on the coffee table and leaned backwards, his gaze locked on your peaceful sleeping form, his mind a mess. His foot tapped impatiently against the floor. He was fuming—so mad he could barely think straight.

The room was in complete silence as you began to stir awake, reaching your arms above your head lazily. You blinked a few times as you returned to reality, the soft haze of sleep still lingering. You heard your back pop and you groaned at the sensation, falling asleep on the couch had been a terrible idea. 

You let out a brief yawn and look around for Eddie, but instead, your eyes land on your boyfriend. He sat across from you, arms crossed tensely, his expression neutral. He wasn’t smiling, which was odd for him. In fact, he looked angry. 

“When did you get here?” Your forehead crinkled in confusion, voice still raspy with sleep as you asked. “Where did Eddie go?”

Steve shifted in the chair, leaning back and spreading his legs further apart. “Eddie left a while ago,” he snapped, his tone was sharp and clipped. “I got the day off work.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” your brain still trying to piece the information together. “You should have called.”

He scoffed as he shook his head, a lock of brown hair escaping to rest against his forehead. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t aware you had other plans.”

You sat up straighter on the couch, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach. His tone—he never spoke to you like that. It sounded frustrated, irritated. Like you had done something wrong. You wracked your brain trying to think of anything that would have upset him, eventually coming up short. Eddie’s presence here didn’t even pass through your mind, there is no way Steve would be that possessive. Could he?

“Steve…what’s wrong?” You asked cautiously, concern creeping into your voice. “Why are you mad?”

His brown eyes darkened, his face twisting with an expression you had never seen before. All the insecurity he had been feeling, all the unresolved emotions, came crashing to the surface in a wave of anger. It was frightening. He was frightening you. 

“You wanna know what’s wrong?” He barked out a laugh, one that was filled with no humour. “I come over here, thinking I’m gonna surprise my girlfriend. But instead? I find her asleep on the town freak.”

Your heart sank. He spat the words out as if they tasted vile on his tongue. You never knew that he could be this vicious, the foul name that just spewed from his lips made your throat tighten. “Steve, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice bitter as he continued. “You think I’m stupid? Like I don’t see what’s going on here? You and Eddie. He’s always around, and suddenly, you’re all buddy-buddy with him, falling asleep on his lap like it’s no big deal. I mean—Jesus, sweetheart—how dense do you think I am?”

“Steve, it wasn’t like that,” your voice broke as you struggled to speak. The nickname that had always been filled with such love was now venomous, you struggled to understand what was happening. Why he wasn’t listening? Why wasn’t he trusting you?

“We were just hanging out, watching TV—“

“Oh yeah? Just watching TV? Sure,” Steve spat, getting up to start pacing, the adrenaline coursing through his body was too much. His mind was racing, old memories resurfacing, ones that he would rather not think about only helped fuel his rage. He turned back to you, eyes wild with fury.

“Moved on pretty quick, huh?” He ran a hand over his face, voice dripping with resentment. “I mean, I gotta hand it to you, honey. But you could have tried a little harder before the secret spilt out eventually.”

Tears formed in your waterline as you tried your best not to let them fall. “How could you say that?” You took in a shaky breath. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Oh, don’t do that,” he pointed a finger at you. “Don’t act all innocent here. I’ve seen this shit before, okay? Little things that aren’t that little. Don’t play dumb, it’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not!” You protested, not caring about the tears that now flowed freely down your cheeks. “I love you, Steve. Please. Eddie is just a friend.”

He rolled his eyes, your pleading falling on deaf ears. “Yeah, ‘just a friend’,” he muttered hostilely. “Sure.”

His words cut deep, and you felt yourself crumble under the weight of them. You began to panic as you realised there was no way out of this. Not when he was so dead set on believing what he wanted. You could only stare back at him in disbelief, heart breaking at how trivial this argument is. 

“I thought you left this high school crap behind you,” you whispered, scared and unsure of how he would react. 

“Yeah, well, some things never change.” He shot back, his tongue still as fast as it had been back then. He mentioned how he was in school a few times in the past, but now you could really see it. The petty boy who would say anything in the heat of the moment. The boy who could pick the thing that would hurt the most. 

The room fell into a heavy silence, staring at one another, the distance between you growing more and more with each passing second. You could barely recognise the man standing only a few feet away. You wanted to reach out to him, plead with him to just stop. Go back to being Steve. Your Steve. 

“I can’t believe what you’re saying,” you managed to choke out, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your jumper. “You’re hurting me.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, a brief flash of guilt flickered across his face at the sight of your tears. His beautiful girl was torn apart by what he was insinuating. But he was too far gone. His misplaced anger was the only thing he could feel right now, pushing him further. “Yeah well, now you know how that feels.”

A sob wracked through your body, his statement feeling like a dagger to your chest. He made his way towards the door to leave, his gaze landed on the stack of VHS tapes by the TV. He knew he should walk away, but a petty bitterness surged through him. He could never resist getting one final jab in. 

“Make sure you return those by the weekend. Late fees now apply, sweetheart.” He sneered, lips turning into a snarl. 

With that, he tossed the flowers he’d brought for you onto the table, the delicate petals now scattered across it. You stared at them, your vision blurred by your tears as Steve stormed out of your apartment. He slammed the door sharply as he left, making you flinch. 

As soon as he was gone, you collapsed onto the couch, finally allowing yourself to cry uncontrollably. You didn’t understand how everything had spiralled so fast. How the man who was so sweet, so kind, had turned into this.

On the other side of the door, Steve’s heart was racing, pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He leaned against the wall for a moment and shut his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control as the rage he felt dissipated. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty, not over this. He didn’t jump to conclusions, not when the signs were so clear to him. 

He stumbled down the stairs and got into his car, foot pressing down hard on the accelerator as he drove away. Each mile felt heavier than the last. He couldn’t allow himself to question what he had said, besides, it was too late to take it all back now. What he couldn’t answer was why he felt so much more empty as he pulled up to his house. Alone. 

Steve pushed open the door to Family Video, the small bell above him chiming as he trudged inside. It felt like it was mocking him, only adding to his sour mood. He was fifteen minutes late, something that never went unnoticed by Robin.

His eyes looked and felt drained, dark circles framing his eyes from his obvious lack of sleep. The night before had been hell. All he had done was toss and turn, replaying the argument with you over and over again in his head until he was sick of it. His chest ached from all the emotions that were still swirling inside of him. Anger, sadness, and a terrifying amount of regret that he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

Robin was at the counter, tapping away at the computer when she saw him walk in. Her face lit up, clearly excited to spill something. “There you are! You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you. I saw Vicky at the movies yesterday and—“

“Rob, I’m really not in the mood today.” He interrupted her, rubbing a hand over his brows. 

The girl froze, her face contorting with confusion. Usually, Steve lived for gossip like this. In fact, he almost always begged for it.

“Wait…what? You were off yesterday. Shouldn’t you be, like, all refreshed or something? What, did you party too hard without me?”

He shot her a glare, making it crystal clear that something was wrong. Of course, being ever curious, Robin was not going to let this slide. 

“Oh, no. Spill it, Harrington.” She began, leaving the computer to follow his quick steps. “You come in late, looking like shit, and now you’re all moody? Did something happen yesterday?”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his messy hair he hadn’t even bothered to brush. Not willing to humour her at all today. “Robin, please—”

“Please what? I’m not gonna stop asking. C’mon, let it out. I’m all ears. I’ll even sit down for this one.” She says dramatically as she hops up onto the counter, crossing her legs, glancing at him expectantly as if she had all the time in the world. 

Steve groaned loudly. “Fine, fine. You want to know what happened?” He said, exasperated.  “I walked in yesterday, excited to surprise my girl, and guess what I saw? Eddie. Like, she had her head in his lap and everything. They were all over each other. It was disgusting.”

Robin scrunched her eyebrows as she processed his words. “Eddie? The Eddie Munson?” She squinted, looking even more confused. “Are we talking about the same Eddie here? The one who’s completely obsessed with Chrissy Cunningham? I mean, he’s had it bad for her for years. That Eddie?”

“What? Chrissy?” Steve frowned, pausing as her words sank in. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin tilted her head at him like he was an idiot. Which she would say was most of the time. “Uh, yeah? He’s been pining after her for, like, ever. He never had the guts to ask her out. Everyone knows that.”

She carried on talking as if this was common knowledge, which maybe it was. The knowledge was just not that common to Steve, apparently. “So Eddie’s into your girl now? Are you sure about that?”

He felt his stomach drop, trying to ignore the rising panic in his chest. “I mean… yeah. Pretty sure? He was, like, touching her and they were—“ He stopped halfway through his sentence, doubt now taking over. 

Was that really all he saw? Surely not. He couldn’t have gotten so mad about just that, there had to be more. Only, nothing really came to mind. 

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Touching her, huh? And that exactly happened? No skipping details.”

Steve scratched the back of his head as he tried to recall the events from the evening prior, his anxiety continued to grow as he spoke. “I saw him drop her off at my place the other day. She got out of his van, and they looked all… close. Then, when I went to her apartment earlier, I walk in, and there she is, asleep across his lap.”

Robin took a second to process what he was saying, speaking slowly as she tried to wrap her head around the situation. “So… you’re mad because she fell asleep with him on the couch? While watching TV? That’s what you’re telling me?”

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, immediately getting defensive, trying to prove that he wasn’t just overreacting. “Well, yeah, but it’s the way she was with him. It was just too… cosy.”

She could not believe what she was hearing as she stared at the boy blankly. “Dude, we do that stuff all the time. Like, every movie night.”

Steve's stomach twisted. He felt sick. “Yeah, but…that’s different. This is—” He couldn’t continue. There was no solid ground for him to stand on. The knowledge of that was overwhelming. Fuck. 

Robin narrowed her eyes, still determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. “Okay, I still don’t get it. What did you do?”

He shifted uncomfortably at her questions, his guilt was building inside of him as the true terror set in. “I, uh… I may have been a complete asshole.”

Her eyes widened at the admission. “Define ‘complete asshole.’”

Steve’s hands shook as he brought them up to his forehead, slightly damp from his growing fear. “I called Eddie the ‘town freak’—fuck—and I—“ He paused and took a breath in, the consequences of his insecurities now coming into the light. “I told her we were over basically…she asked me to stop hurting her.”

Robin’s jaw dropped, feeling outraged at the way her best friend had acted. That was not something she could ever stand beside, no matter how close they were. “You what? Steve, that's fucking insane! I can’t believe you drove her to the point of even having to say that!”

The world seemed distorted as Steve became short of breath, he had to rest a hand on the counter to keep himself steady, the tight grip becoming painful. “I don’t know! I just—it all came out. I couldn’t stop myself—shit. What—what do I do?”

Robin started at him, completely stunned and equally irked. “Steve,” she said, the stern tone felt foreign on her tongue. “This is not just ‘I messed up a little’—you blew it, dude.”

He was breathing faster now, mouth barren, limbs turning slightly numb. The panic had now set in fully. “No, no, no. Don’t say that. I can fix it, right? I always fix it. I have to fix it, Robin. Please, help me fix it!” His voice increased as he got the words out, hands trembling in front of him. 

She looked at him, she was no less annoyed, but she couldn’t help but pity her friend. Especially when he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown like this. He was a wreck right now and needed someone. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you,” Steve sighed in relief, however, she wasn’t finished. “But I’m seriously not happy about any of this. If she doesn’t take you back, you have to deal with it, Steve. This is on you.”

Steve nodded frantically, hair flying everywhere as he clung to the small sliver of hope. “Anything. I’ll do anything. I can’t lose her, Robin. I just… I can’t”

She folded her arms, her face remaining stoic to show her displeasure with him. “Alright. We will think of something, and you better pray to God she hears you out. You have got a lot of sucking up to do Harrington.”

He muttered quiet a thank you, his heart not slowing down. He couldn’t afford to lose you, not over this, not because of his own self-doubt. Please, he thought to himself. Please for the love of God don’t let her leave me.

For ten long minutes, Steve had been standing outside your apartment, heart hammering in his chest as he stared at the shut door. Ten agonising minutes of him just waiting, stalling, trying to muster up the courage to raise his hand and just knock. He could have used the spare key that was burning a hole in his back pocket, but that wouldn’t be right. Not after what he did. He had to do this the right way if he had any chance of forgiveness. This wasn’t a situation that could be fixed with flowers or chocolates. He had spoken to Robin for the whole of yesterday, and they both agreed—he needed to own up to everything that transpired, to apologise, even if it was hard. Even if it was terrifying. 

Because losing you? That wasn’t an option. 

With a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against the solid wood. The second he made contact with the door, his stomach flipped. He wanted to run. To turn around and bolt. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He had too much to lose—you. The sweet, kind girl who had always made him feel seen, made him feel held. How could he walk away from that without trying? 

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open, the sight of you nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs. You’d been crying, that much was obvious. Your eyes were red, puffy, and filled with the hurt that he had caused. If that wasn’t enough to crush him, you were clad in one of his old hoodies—one he’d left at your place months ago. Seeing you wrapped up in something of his twisted the knife so deep that he nearly staggered back before he caught himself. 

You immediately moved to shut the door, not willing to let him hurt you more, but Steve panicked. “Please, please, angel don’t,” his voice cracked as he begged to be let in, his hand pushing lightly against the door, so desperate to keep it open. Desperate to not be shut out before he could even try to say sorry. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

You paused, removing your hand and gently taking a step away from the entrance. You crossed your arms as you looked at him, still visibly upset, your voice sharp but exhausted. The tone pulled at his chest. “You’ve got five minutes Steve. Then I want you out of here.”

He nodded eagerly, grateful for a chance, no matter how slim. “Of course, anything…I’ll take anything. Just…please.”

You let him in, both stepping further into the flat, his eyes immediately locked onto the sight of the coffee table. The flowers he picked up yesterday were still sitting there—petals scattered everywhere, beginning to dry up and wilt. 

You couldn’t bear to touch them after he tossed them there the day before, you had hardly left your bedroom due to their presence. A brutal reminder of what happened. He felt sick to his stomach with the knowledge of how badly he hurt you. How you couldn’t even deal with the ruined gift because they were tied to him. To the things he said. 

You fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie, now feeling embarrassed while wearing it, nervous as to what he could possibly say to make this right. If he even wanted to make it right. You honestly didn’t know. 

He turned to you, words catching in his throat as he tried to figure out where to even start with this. He had gone over this with Robin multiple times yesterday, but the sight of you completely threw him. 

“I—I’m sorry, angel,” he stammered, that was a good place to start, his voice as rough as he continued. “I’m so, so sorry. For everything. For not thinking. For not believing you. For… for making you cry. I didn’t mean to—I swear, I didn’t.”

You stood firm, arms not moving from their crossed position. You weren’t giving in easily, not this time. You had every single right to be upset. Steve has frightened you. He was mean and spiteful, lashing out at you instead of listening. His jealousy was ugly. 

He fumbled for more words, his hands beginning to shake. “I…I was an asshole, I hate that I hurt you. I just…I freaked out, okay? I thought—“ He stopped, swallowing thickly as his emotions threatened to choke him fully. “I thought I was going to lose you. Like…like I lost Nancy.”

Your expression shifted slightly, but you remained silent, allowing him to continue. 

His voice grew quieter, more pained. “Halloween, a few years back, Nancy told me I was just…bullshit. Jonathan swept in after that. And when I saw you with Eddie—fuck—I just—” He ran a hand through his brown hair, pulling harder at the ends as his frustration grew. “Eddie’s already got Dustin. He’s…he’s got everything. And I thought he’d take you too. And I just…I panicked. I know it’s stupid, okay? I was just—“

He was rambling now and he knew it, the words were tumbling out faster than he could stop them. He only had five minutes, he needed you to understand. To please understand him. 

“I was so fucking scared, honey. I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realise that I’m bullshit. That you’ll find someone better. Someone who isn’t…who isn’t me.” His voice cracked again at his attempt to hold back the tears that clouded his vision. 

You let out a small sigh, your expression wary. You couldn’t let your guard down, not yet at least. 

“Steve…what happened yesterday was not okay. You hurt me. A lot.”

“I know,” he said in a hushed tone, his voice barely louder than a breath. “I know I did, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I swear, I’ll be better. I’ll be so much better—if you’ll let me. You deserve everything, sweetheart. A-and I’ll give it to you, I promise. Just…please. Please let me prove that.”

Steve’s voice broke as the overwhelming dread overflowed, what had once been a gentle simmering below the surface now coursed through his entire body. No, he thought, It’s not working. It’s not fucking working.

His hands were quivering uncontrollably, his vision blurred as his thoughts spiralled. Everything was crashing down around him—the fear, the memories, the guilt. 

He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t lose you. Not you. 

“I—I can’t,” Steve stammered, his words short as they came out in small gasps. He backed up slightly, he didn’t know if he was scared of your presence or himself at this point. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I’m so—so fucking scared, I—“ 

His hands flew to his face in a weak attempt to hold himself together, his breath coming out in frantic bursts. His whole body shook involuntarily. Nancy, his parents, the same gut-wrenching feeling of being told he wasn’t enough. Wasn’t loved. That he was unimportant. Just temporary. 

You were stuck, rooted to where you stood, watching him unravel. And in that moment, you didn’t know what to do. The Steve you knew so well—the confident, charming, self-assured Steve—was crumbling before your eyes, his fear felt so raw, so overwhelming that it broke your heart to witness it. 

“Steve,” you say softly, moving towards him, but he couldn’t hear you. Not over his own mind. He was too far gone. 

“I can’t—fuck, I—“ His broad chest heaved as he tried to suck in air, but it seemed to do little to help. His hands shook violently, gripping at his tousled hair as he slid down to the floor, his back against the wall. “I’m gonna lose you, angel. I know it, and I can’t—I can’t do that again.”

“Steve,” you repeat, voice more forceful this time as you drop to your knees beside him. You reached out to him slowly, so as to not startle him, taking his unsteady hands in your own. “Breathe. Just…breathe with me, okay?”

He was trembling so much that it scared you, even more than he had yesterday. His breaths were coming out shallow and erratic, your heart ached to see him like this—so broken, so scared. 

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You kept your voice soft, soothing as you held onto him, your thumbs tracing small circles on his skin. You began to understand. “You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

The skin around his eyes was pulled taught as he squeezed them shut, he tried to follow your lead, match your breathing with his own, using it as a guide. “Just breathe, okay?” You repeated, you held your voice steady until his ragged breaths began to slow, becoming deeper and more even. 

It took a few minutes to get his trembling to ease, fingers still tracing gentle patterns, reminding him of your presence. His grip eventually loosened, but never wavered, he clung onto you like a lifeline. His head hung low as he tried to pull himself back together. 

You watched his chest as you knelt beside him, it rose and fell more calmly compared to a few moments ago. His large brown eyes flickered open as they focused on you. Red and glassy, filled with fear as he looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“I’m so so sorry,” he spoke in a muted tone, barely audible as he turned his attention to your intertwined hands. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I—I needed to hurt you before you hurt me.”

Your stomach was in knots at the sight of him so vulnerable. Posture hunched over as if he wanted to disappear into himself. It broke your heart to witness. You squeezed his hands gently as you leaned closer to him. 

“Steve, listen to me,” you tell him. His eyes lifted to meet yours, amber and swirling with uncertainty. “I’m not going anywhere. But you have to talk to me, okay? If something is bothering you. If you’re feeling scared, you have to tell me. You can’t just take it out on me. It’s not fair.”

He shook his head and sniffed, rubbing his hand roughly against his eyes, trying to brush away the tears. “I don’t want to push you away,” he muttered, voice no longer as shakey. He felt his mind settle as the words flowed out of his mouth more comfortably. 

“I just… I don’t know how to do this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I’ve never been good at… at the talking stuff.”

For the first time today, you allowed a smile to play on your lips as you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I kinda got that,” you tell him. “You don’t have to be perfect. I just need you to be able to come to me, talk to me. Get out of your head. I’m always here.”

You tapped his forehead twice for emphasis as he exhaled slowly. The tension in his body had finally been released as he slumped against the wall. He brought both of your hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, swallowing hard as he returned them to his lap. “Don’t deserve you, angel.”

Leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his own, closing your eyes as you speak. “You deserve someone who cares,” you tell him as you pull back, eyes shining with pure honesty which soothes his shot nerves. “And I do. So, just…trust me. Even if it's hard sometimes.”

“I do,” he said quickly. “I do. I’m sorry I didn’t, sweetheart. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, looking at him with the tenderness he never thought he would see again. “You don’t have to apologise anymore.”

He nodded once more, your forgiveness was finally sinking into him, pushing the last bit of panic out of his system. He opened his arms, asking you silently if it was alright to hold you once more. 

You shifted yourself between his legs, allowing his arms to pull you into a tight embrace, bringing you close as if you might disappear again. Slip through his fingers if he let you go. 

You rested your head against his chest, tucked up tightly as his chin rested on your hair. You could feel his heart beat at a more steady pace. You placed your palm over it. It belonged to you after all. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked as he held you against him, anchoring himself to you. 

“I know,” you respond, words slightly muffled by his jumper. “I love you too.”

You pull away slightly, meeting his eyes once more. The heaviness from the previous conversation had lifted, feeling relief flow through you as the warmth returned to Steve’s face. He wasn’t completely at ease, still very much shaken, but he could see a light at the end of the tunnel. The worst was behind him. And he promised it would only be up from here. 

“So tell me,” you began. You knew you needed to steer the conversation in a more light-hearted direction, not just for yourself, but for the boy whose lap you were in. “Was Robin mad?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Steve groaned as his head hit the wall behind him. At least he could walk into work with a smile on his face tomorrow. Tell her that he made it right…but maybe leave out the whole hysterical crying part. “She was ready to rip my head off after I told her what happened.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow and giggled. “Good to know she has my back.”

“Guess I’m outnumbered,” Steve allowed himself to laugh, and God did it feel good to do it with you.

“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t listen.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough,” he winced, but managed to maintain a grin. “I think I’ll survive her wrath…maybe.”

“Maybe,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Gonna have to put in some work there then.”

“I am prepared to do whatever it takes,” he tells you with mock seriousness. “Even offer to be her wingman with Vickie.”

“Wow, generous,” you snorted. It would probably benefit him more, if you were being honest. He had been nagging her to make a move for months, her constant pining and inaction was starting to get to him. He had been giving her the same advice over and over. It was getting ridiculous. His words, not yours. 

“And, hey, maybe I’ll give Munson a chance too,” he tells you, glancing down with a playful expression. “Join Hellfire, see what all the fuss is about.”

The laugh that escaped you was loud, you shook your head at him. “Steve, you would be terrible and D&D.”

“Hey, I’m good at strategy!” He protested, not allowing himself to be insulted in this manner. “I’d make a great…uh, whatever they call the fighter guy.”

“You mean a barbarian?” You say teasingly. “I could see you as more of a chotic bard. Always trying to talk yourself out of trouble.”

“Yeah? You never know, I could surprise you,” he says, leaning down to press his lips against your hairline. “For now though, I think I’ll focus on not screwing things up again.”

Your heart fluttered as you melted into him, securing your arms around his wide shoulders. “You’re on the right track, Harrington”

“Good,” he smiled at the nickname, placing his hand on your arm, the other on your back. “I don’t plan on going anywhere. And neither are you if I can help it.”

“Deal,” you say with a firm nod of your head. “No more freakouts, okay?”

He looked over your face once more, relieved that there were no more visible traces of the pain he had caused. Just his sweet girl smiling at him. Just the way he liked it. 

"I'll try my best," Steve whispered, holding you close. "I promise."

[clueless1995]

growing up autistic + not popular + in a generally out-of-the-loop family in regards to pop culture at the time (for a while the only tv i was allowed to watch was the news and nature documentaries) meant that 90% of the time i didn’t understand slang or if i did i was too scared to use it in case i got it wrong. also there was that time everyone laughed at me in year 8 hpe class for asking what a bong was. i was 12!!!! how did YOU GUYS know what a bong was. also why did the teacher just assume everyone knew what a bong was.

[lockandkeyhyena]

So so sorry if you've answered this before [or if you just didn't wanna talk about this] but I noticed your part is absent from the Primadonna Spottedleaf map? Again sorry if this is overstepping bounds but I'm just curious if you knew about that

all good. got kicked for supporting bi lesbians i think. they just said ‘because of the drama’

[redflannelsheets]

One day I hope I’ll love someone who doesn’t want to hide me in a dark crevice away from their “real” life where I can’t make them look bad to their family and friends. One day I hope I’ll love someone who knows what I want to eat when my tummy feels grumbly or wants to cook me a meal because I’m precious to them and they want to take care of me. One day I hope I’ll love someone who actually wants to cuddle me on cold days instead of wearing jeans and shoes until bedtime and putting all sorts of devices between me and them. One day I hope I’ll love someone who wants to love me back instead of hurling me away like trash. One day I hope I’ll love someone who doesn’t seem to see me as just part of the furniture.

One day.

[vintage-bentley]

Day 100 of being annoyed whenever people talk about how good monster high is about “LGBTQIA+” representation, and they’re talking about 13 years of “it’s just not the right time” supposedly rectified by one Girl In STEM turned they/them (very interesting choice, totally not sexist).

[nicole-kidmans-wigs]

Californians when the east coast breathes in wildfire smoke for days on end: you people are weak, we deal with this all the time. Stop freaking out

Californians when a hurricane bears down: this never happens to us!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I do not like this!!!!!!!!

(The moral of the story is climate change is bad for everyone and people have been saying for years that it will lead to unprecedented extreme weather patterns everywhere and we should all be worried for each other instead of trying to act superior for already having endured said weather patterns they shouldn’t have had to deal with in the first place)

Also as a side note there was an episode of Rocket Power (does anyone else remember this show??) where they had a hurricane and it’s imprinted on my brain for some reason

[hippophobia]

can’t stop thinking about how the trk scenes of ~ blue & gansey at the toga party / adam & ronan in diseased cabeswater / possessed noah attacking blue at 300 fox way / piper killing colin in boston ~ would make a fucking banger ending to an episode of a tv adaptation

[yoohyeon]

My brain need to calm down 😭

[ohblimeygeorge]

So another car parked in the middle of the track (right way up this time!) and it’s a red flag huh

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…���

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, drugging

fem reader

Thinking about a human collector who decides he wants a new pet to add to his collection...

The air of the animal shelter is polluted by whimpers, howls, and growling as he parades past all sorts of rareties locked up in their cages – all for him to pick and choose from. 

The warden is telling him about the new swan hybrid they wrangled a week ago, wings like an angel with the grace of royalty, a true prize jewel of any collection. 

He thinks it sounds promising before strolling past you.

Placed in one of the smaller cages on the floor, seemingly tucked away so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

You’re a sorry sight to behold – all starved and shaking – the collar around your throat too heavy for you to lift your head, having to look up at him through your lashes as he crouches down in front of you.

Your eyes are wide like two moons as he sticks a finger in through the bars.

It’s thick like a carrot, and for a moment, you seem like you’re about to scurry away into the very back of your cage – but instead, you inch closer, sniffing at the digit before suddenly snapping at him.

He backs away with a hiss, drawing the warden's attention – who rushes back and knocks his cain against the cage with a growl in his throat, “Stupid critter.” 

You’ve narrowed your eyes, nose wrinkled in anger – something akin to a snarl forming your lips. It’s a funny expression to see on such a normally docile breed.

“I’m really sorry, sir. Bunnies aren't usually aggressive, but we’ve had issues disciplining this one for weeks.” The warden rushes out the apologetic excuse, expecting to be sued.

But the collector only chuckles – a deep sound that makes your soft fur stiffen. “That’s fine.” 

He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, all movements calm and collected as he wipes the spill of blood trickling from the small bite mark you’d left on his finger.

“It’s only a nibble, after all.” 

You spit the bitter taste left in your tongue out on his shoes with another sneer.

If it angers him, it still doesn’t show through the lofty smile he wears. His leer is just as poised and heavy as he looks down at you.

“Does she talk?”

The warden had turned to lead him towards the more desirable and tamed section but halted at the question.

He had a puzzled look on his face before he answered, almost in a question himself, “We don’t know.”

The collector scoffed out another small laugh, then pulled out his phone. “How much?”

The warden seemed appalled then. “Sir, we have exotic pets more up to your standard in the back. Are you sure-”

“I want this one.”

The warden looked snuffed at his firm tone. But straightened himself out after a moment. All business as usual. “We can’t guarantee she’ll behave. It could be dangerous-”

But he’s cut off yet again, this time with another rumbling chuckle.

“That won’t be an issue.”

And those dark eyes with that deeply dominating look within them were the last thing you remember seeing before becoming a sleepy heap on the floor of your cage – drooling with a blank stare as you’re carried to the trunk and driven off with.

The tranquilizer makes you fall asleep, waking to heat swallowing you as you’re lowered into a bathtub.

“Let’s get you groomed first.” The same man murmurs in a coo. Petting your head with a heavy hand when seeing your weary eyes try blinking off the sleep – but still left too drowsy to thrash.

Instead, you can just moan as he washes you with a tender smile on his face – his big hands coarse against your creamy skin, rubbing your plush limbs with soap and oil.

“My pets have been an awful handful lately…”

He’s talking about something, but you only catch bits and pieces of the words being said. Something about ruts and scratched furniture – someone’s been pissing in the sofa, and all the pillows are ruined.

He messages the lops of your ears, then rinses them gently.

“But it’s my fault. I’ve been neglectful.”

He cups your tits next, lathering them with the warm milky water, circling your nipples with the gritty pads of his thumbs until they perk.  

Then he delves under the water to find your puffy cunt, letting the hot water rush the sensitivity, making it swell with heat as he splits the lips and pets your clit. 

You buck your hips, and he awes with a light chuckle, crooning down at you. “It's okay, little bunny.”

His carrot-sized finger teases your hole before sinking inside you, filling you in slow and tentative pumps. Sitting next to the tub, just as composed as before, while your cunt squeezes his knuckles.

He hums, watching your body fight the tranquilizer as you seize up and ripple with release.

He retracts his hand, patting them both on the fluffy towel placed next to him. A content smile on his face. “You’re gonna do perfect.”

After he’s finished drying you, he fixes a collar around your throat and carries you out to the others.

“Gather ‘round, pets.” He announces, placing you down on the soft carpeted floors beneath.

Your limbs are still heavy, too weak to stand just yet. But that all changes with the adrenaline kick.

“Come say hi to your new rut-puppet.”

The stench in the air coats your skin with sweat.

“She’s a fragile thing, though, so make sure to play nice.”

Your big eyes skitter around. 

On your left, there’s a wolf, fox, and hyena who all lick their teeth at the sight of you.

Next to them lies a bear that wakens from his slumber. He licks his snout with a huff.

Drool drips from the hang in their lips as they start panting. 

And they aren't the only ones.

On your right, there’s a panther and leopard whose eyes all blackout into nothing but a deep pool of darkness.

Their tails slowly meander behind them as they arise from their beds to stalk you.

You whimper, backing up until your back hits the legs of your new owner.

You lift your head to look up at him, only to see him smiling down at you.

“Don’t be shy now. The smell of fear only makes them wilder.”

part 2

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[kayspaceprince]

.

[ghostfacd]

THIN LINE

based on this thought

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, descriptions of killing, they’re like in love ig, ooc!snow (he’s still crazy LMAO), SPOILERS for the ballad of the songbirds & snakes, Snow and reader being disgustingly touchy 💀

summary: in which there is a thin line in between yours and coriolanus’ friendship and something more, leading to a sudden shift in your dynamic

“Coryo! I passed! Coryo!” You shriek in excitement as Casca Highbottom passes one of your papers back. It had taken quite your strength when you were given the task to make new proposals and implements for the new Hunger Games, crying to your best friend Coriolanus about how you’ll never get it done on time.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, looking over at your paper. There was a bright red A+ along with the sloppy cursive writing of Good Job Miss. L/N!

“Good job,” Coriolanus says, snaking his arms over to pull you back into his chest, placing a sloppy but soft kiss on your cheek. “Knew you had it in you.”

The scene makes Arachne Crane let out a moan of disgust, rolling her eyes as she turned to another corner.

“What’s wrong Arachne?” One of her friends asked, and she only points to the two of you, who were too engrossed in each other to notice.

“Snow and L/N, are we even surprised?” Livia let out a huff of irritation.

When Casca Highbottom announced that you all will be meeting in the largest room of the Academy, you thought it was to finally announce the winner of the Plinth prize. The only rightful ones were you and Coriolanus, anyway. And maybe Sejanus, the boy whom you’ve gotten soft for these past few days.

You and Coriolanus entered arm in arm, avoxes had wove through the crowd of students with trays of posca, a concoction of watery wine laced with herbs and honey.

Coriolanus quickly grabbed two goblets, handing one to you and then chugging it quickly down his throat. For a minute, it burned.

“Oh there you two are,” Arachne waves you over, her face gloomy. “Obviously, no amount of bribing would make Sejanus tell me who won the prize. Not like it matters, we all know I deserve it most.”

There was an eye roll from Felix Ravinstill. “Sure Arachne, and I’m the richest man on the planet.”

That earned him a scowl from the girl, who then turned her attention to Sejanus. “He can have as much money as he wants, but he’ll always be district, you know.”

A few of your classmates laugh, nodding in bitter agreement as they watched Sejanus conversing with one of the professors.

“Right.” Coriolanus mumbles, surprising you. He hadn’t ever agreed with Arachne before—calling her a psychopath even—so why was he now?

“Oh please,” the girl snaps back. “You and Y/N are friends with him.”

“We tolerate him,” Coriolanus says, his hand that was holding yours became tighter. “He’s district.”

When Sejanus comes, the murmur of your classmates grows silent, and from the looks of it, he could already tell they weren’t saying much good about him.

“It’s time to assign the tributes.” Is all he says, motioning to Dean Highbottom.

“As you all know, the Plinth prize and money would usually go to the student with the highest mark,” Highbottom begins, clearing his throat. “But this year, we’d like to do something different.”

You can tell Coriolanus has stiffened in his seat. Even though you want to hold his hand and caress it, you know you can’t, so you keep your desire inside.

“Whoever is the best mentor among all of you will be able to win the Plinth prize.”

“Oh that is not fair!” Livia complains. “What if I get some poor weak district girl and she dies 2 minutes in the games?”

“It’s not just about your tribute winning,” Highbottom says, “you will be assessed.”

You and Coriolanus sit through the announcement of which mentor gets which tribute. You had gotten Coral, a girl from District 4 while Coriolanus had gotten the girl from 12. Lucy Gray Baird, apparently.

“Hey, you okay?” You say as you two stepped out from the Academy. “Look at me Coryo.”

He looks up from the ground, his eyebrows furrowed and his face upset.

“He hates me.” He says, referring to Dean Highbottom. “Always has, always will. Gave me the worst district of them all.”

“Hey,” you say, cradling his face as your eyes quickly scanned his. “Don’t say that. We saw Lucy Gray on stage, she can sing and she sure as hell can put on a charismatic personality for the crowd. You’ll be okay, Coryo.”

“I don’t know,”

This was the first time you saw Coriolanus so upset, so lost in his thought. Without a second thought, you pulled his head towards you, giving him a long kiss on his jawline.

“Sleepover tonight?” You ask as you pull away.

“Sure, I just have to tell Tigris first.”

That night, you and Coriolanus talk about your futures under your warm white covers, limbs tangling one another.

“Do you ever want kids, Coryo?” You ask, saying anything that came to your mind.

“Maybe.” He replies. “Only if I find a girl as worthy as you.”

His words make you smile, pulling him closer to your body. “As worthy as me?”

“Mhm. Or else I’d marry out of convenience. For profit. To ensure no one takes advantage of me.”

You shake your head, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I hope that never happens, Coryo.”

“I hope it never does either.”

You turn over to turn off your nightlight, snuggling yourself under the covers as Coriolanus throws an arm around your frame.

“Goodnight Coryo.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

- - -

After Coriolanus’ little involvement in the tribute cage, Highbottom, to say the least, was unimpressed. He claimed Coriolanus was breaking many of the Academy rules, including endangering an Academy student. However, he agreed to let the mentors visit their tributes and offer them water or food.

You were talking to Coral, handling her a glass bottle filled with water. If you couldn’t get her out of here, the least you could do is hydrate and feed her.

You turn to look at Arachne, who was busy swinging water in front of her tribute. Her tribute almost looked pitiful as the bottle always seemed to swing out of her reach.

Coriolanus was talking to Lucy Gray, a little too close for your liking, but you knew it was just to discuss strategies.

“You think you’re gonna make it in the arena?” You ask Coral, who only glared at you, taking small sips of water at a time.

“Hey.” Coriolanus suddenly comes up from behind you, once again wrapping his arms around your shoulders before bringing your face in for a long kiss on the cheek.

“Hi,” you giggle, continuing to hold on him as you turned your entire body to face him.

Coral let out a scowl of disgust, eyeing you and Coriolanus up and down.

“Coral, meet my friend, Coriolanus Snow. He’s Lucy Gray’s mentor.” You say, pointing at the girl who was currently talking to another tribute; Jessup, you think his name is.

Coral doesn’t respond, only continuing to snarl at the two of you.

“They’re like wild animals,” Coriolanus whispers in your ear.

“Hey pretty boy,” she finally speaks, smirking from ear to ear. “You were on the truck earlier.”

“I was,” he replied curtly.

“Maybe I can’t kill you—but I’ll definitely kill your tribute.”

Before you could hold Coriolanus back from jumping at Coral, you all hear a scream.

Arachne’s tribute had somehow managed to grab the bottle of water, smashing it against the metal cage and stabbing Arachne directly in the throat with it.

“Oh my god!” You scream, running over to the girl. Although you and Coriolanus disliked her, she was still your classmate, and someone who you spoke to on a regular basis.

“You two, off.” The peacekeepers say, grabbing ahold of you and Coriolanus; dragging you away from the scene.

- - -

The walk to Coriolanus’s home was quiet, aside from occasional twig snapping and leaves falling.

“I’m scared,” you finally say, staring up at Coriolanus. His icy blue eyes bore into yours before they softened.

“I know,” he says, cupping your head in his hands. “I know you’re scared, that should’ve never happened.”

“But it did,” you say, placing your hands into Coriolanus’s coat to keep them warm. “What if it happens to us next, Coryo?”

“Hey.” Coriolanus’s face is only a meter away from yours, lips almost touching. “I’ll never let that happen to you, do you understand? As long as I’m alive, no one will hurt you.”

You nod, a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Coriolanus wipes away your tears with his thumb, one of his fingers caressed your cheek lightly. “They’ll have to shoot me dead before anything can happen to you.”

And before you could let out another one of your worries, Coriolanus leans in, placing a much awaited kiss on your lips. He pulls away for air after a minute, forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭

post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k

You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table. 

“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back. 

You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply. 

“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.” 

JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you. 

Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested. 

It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest. 

“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before. 

Not that you’d wanted to know. 

When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you. 

It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords. 

They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have. 

“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you. 

“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent. 

“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone. 

“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head. 

You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. 

“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space. 

“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown. 

“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches. 

“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother. 

“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth. 

Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?” 

You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.” 

There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle. 

His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him. 

“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.” 

You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?” 

Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.” 

Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping. 

“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.” 

Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.