#jtmd au

[vampstaubrey]

i'm at work rn so shh,,

but what if beca was john tucker's sister and kate was chloe instead,,? (jtmd girlie pop comfort movie)

john - cheating liar

scott - dork

beca - closed off

(bonus of what if carrie and beth were aubrey (comphet *cough*) and stacie (idk who heather would be mb)..

maybe i'll flesh this out, maybe i won't 🤷‍♀️

[harringtown]

steve harrington must die - pt 1

did it take me an eternity to finish part 1? yes. but we did it pals!!! welcome to the john tucker must die au!!! right now I've got this plotted at four parts & it'll kinda follow along the s3 timeline!!! 

requested by @la-fille-en-aiguilles​

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: three of Steve Harrington’s exes set up their former boyfriend to fall in love with the reader, so they can break his heart (aka introductions, general set up, and a laser tag date) 

word count: 4.6k

-

During June in Indiana, there are only a handful of places to escape from the sweltering heat and near-constant dampness that comes along with it. If you’re committed enough and make it to the pool before the crowds descend, a lawn chair in the shade and a dip in the water. If you’re quiet enough, the library’s AC spends its summers rattling and cranking out cool-but-not-cold air.

The best, though, is Starcourt Mall. With its shiny new fixings and fancy appliances, walking into the mall always feels like stepping onto another planet. One where the sun doesn’t declare war on its people during the summers.

Three days into June, and the heat is already unbearable. As such, you spent most of May in the food court or browsing the stores or simply lying on the benches with your friends to avoid going back outside. June, July, and August are looking the same.

Having a mall is already an oddity. The girls you occupy your time with while you’re at the mall is even more odd.

You’d always heard things changed after graduation. You didn’t believe it until now, sitting around bright white food court tables with three girls you wouldn't have been caught dead with in high school, and vice versa. Social circles ran tight at Hawkins High, and it wasn’t until you were all released that you saw them for what they truly were. Or, more technically, until you got stuck in the Starcourt Mall elevator for two hours with them on your first day of summer vacation and came out fast friends.

“Alright, what are our options today, ladies?” Rebecca asks. In high school, she was class president and head of pretty much every club. Today, she stares intently at the food court signs like they���ll change out of her sheer will.

“Exactly the same as yesterday,” says Theresa-call-me-Thea, kicking her shin-high slouched leather boots up onto the plastic table. To her right, Beth swipes her smoothie out of the way just in time to keep it from going flying and shoots Thea a glare.

“We’ve got hot dogs, pretzels, burger king, and the great cookie. Not a single healthy option,” Beth says. Once a star athlete at Hawkins High, her few months of graduation hadn’t yet shaken its hold. Beth is always dressed like she’s heading to a workout or just came from one.

“Don’t even talk to me about the great cookie,” Thea groans. “If I eat another, I will combust.”

“We could just get ice cream,” you say. In over a month’s worth of rotations, Scoops Ahoy hasn’t been factored in once. The girls practically act like it doesn’t exist and have for so long you forgot to question it. “We never do, and that sundae always looks ridiculously good.”

All three girls protest at once.

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca says.

“Not a goddamn chance,” Thea says.

“No way,” says Beth.

You frown, sneaking a glance at the Scoops Ahoy counter. Apart from a manager you’ve only seen once or twice, the only consistent employees are a girl from the year beneath you, and Steve Harrington, once the alleged King of Hawkins High, who now spends his days scooping cones for tweens. Unless there was some rumor about rats in the kitchen, you don’t see any reason for boycotting what is clearly a popular spot.

“What do you people have against ice cream?” you ask.

One side of Beth’s mouth curls up, but the others aren’t impressed.

“Ice cream? Love the stuff. Can’t get enough of it,” Thea says.

“Steve Harrington, on the other hand?” says Rebecca. She shakes her head.

Thea scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. Her bracelets jangle and clack. “That’s one prom photo I will never get back.”

“Homecoming,” Beth says.

“Spring Fling,” Rebecca says with a snort.

“Wait, all three of you—” You start.

“Three months in ‘82,” Thea says, jabbing a finger at Rebecca. “Four at the beginning of ‘83.” She points to Beth. “And a whopping four and a half after that.” She gestures to herself.

“And still breaking hearts from the looks of it,” Beth says.

At the Scoops Ahoy counter, Steve has an exaggerated grin as he talks to two girls as he rings them up. You may not be able to hear the flirting, but you don’t need to.

“Friggin’ Casanova.” Thea huffs. “I mean, I get it, we all get a little too caught up in a boy with cute hair at some point, but Jesus. You’d think he’d run out of girls to work his act on by now.”

“He’ll get his,” Rebecca says. “Just you wait. One day, a girl is going to come along and rip his heart into pieces, just like he did to us. And he won’t even see it coming.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Thea says.

“Ditto,” says Beth.

A silent second passes, and then, three pairs of eyes slide to you.

A wide, mischievous grin pulls on Thea’s dark-red stained lips. “Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

Beth frowns. “Oh, I don’t know about that—”

“Absolutely I am,” Rebecca says.

“Oh, come on, Beth,” Thea says, reaching over to tap on Beth’s wrist. “You can’t tell me you haven’t secretly wished to see that boy get knocked off his high horse for years.”

Beth frowns. “I mean, yes, but—”

“Yeah, so I’m not thinking what you’re thinking,” you say, “and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it's not possible,” Thea says, leaning over the table to stare at Beth. Beth, with visible irritation, rolls her eyes and turns to Rebecca.

“Do not encourage this,” Beth says.

“Encourage what?” you ask. “Seriously, if someone doesn’t start talking, I’m going up to the Scoops Ahoy counter and telling Steve Harrington you all want a sundae delivered right to the table by him, personally.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Thea says.

Beth leans her forearms into the table, nudging Thea’s boots aside.

“They’re talking about getting even,” Beth says. “Breaking Steve Harrington’s heart and using you to do it.”

“Using is such a negative word,” Thea says.

“We could do it, though,” Rebecca says. “The three of us combined, we know him better than anyone. What he likes, what he doesn’t. We could make the perfect girl. Or, perfect for Steve Harrington.”

“That’s insane,” you say.  “If it were someone else—If I were someone else—maybe, but...”

“You’re pretty much the only one who can do it,” Rebecca says. “You’re our very own trojan horse.”

“Weren’t you the one who was complaining about being bored out of their mind?” Thea asked. “Having nothing to do?” The excitement in her voice is persuasive in itself. It’s one of the things you like best about Thea. To her, anything is an adventure to embark on or a mystery to solve. “Think about it. You’d go down in Hawkins history.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Beth says. She purses her lips. “But she’s not wrong.”

“Aha!” Thea claps once. “And we’ve swayed the jury, ladies and germs.”

“It’s not up to me,” Beth says. “It’s up to you.” Beth nods at you.

“So?” Thea asks. She props her elbows on the table and leans her chin into her hands, waggling her dark brows. “Are you in? Tell me you’re in.”

You look between them.

Without a mission, albeit stupid, ridiculous, and destined to fail, the rest of the summer will be just like it has been. Every day as boring and uneventful as the last.

And maybe breaking Steve Harrington’s heart won’t put you in the history books. But it is something, and clearly, it’s important to the girls.

“I’m in,” you say.

-

And so, after three days of surprisingly intense preparation by Thea, Beth, and Rebecca, you don’t head to the usual spot to meet up with the girls. Instead, you make your way through the crowded food court—the lunch rush is in full swing, and you swear half the town is in line for shriveled corn dogs or oily pizza.

Steve Harrington stands at the ice cream counter, just like he does every day.

Back in school, your familiarity with him was more of a know-of-him type. The first two and a half years, his name carried through the halls daily. Then Billy Hargrove moved to town. One day the boys came to school with bright bruises and fresh cuts, and in an instant Billy’s name climbed above Steve’s.

After that, you didn’t hear much about Steve Harrington.

Only a few customers are waiting at the ice cream counter, and within two minutes, it’s your turn at the front.

“Be with you in a sec!” Steve calls, momentarily busy wiping up the melted sample someone spilled on the ice cream case.

He is immediately not what you expected, though the uniform doesn’t help. The bright blue sailors uniform and clunky white hat aren’t exactly doing him any favors in upholding his reputation. He looks more like the boy next door than the king of Hawkins High.

He doesn’t look as perfect as he once did, either. His nose has clearly been broken, probably more than once, and a handful of little scars catch in the fluorescent lights.

“Sorry about that,” Steve says, tossing the blue-stained napkins into the trash and turning to face you. “I swear, some of these kids were raised by actual wolves—” He stops as his eyes catch yours, mouth open mid-sentence like someone reached in and plucked the words out. He clears his throat, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he might be blushing. “What can I get ya?”

Your heart races, and not for the first time, you wonder if you’re even capable of this. If you’re the right choice for this little mission. But you’re at the counter, so there’s no turning back now.

“Can I get a scoop of the U.S.S. Butterscotch?” you ask, willing your voice not to waver. “Apparently it’s the best ice cream in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s out of this world,” Steve says.

Steve isn’t the only one surprised when you laugh—you’re surprised, too. Surprised that he made such a dorky joke, and surprised that it’s actually kind of funny.

“Don’t hype it up too much,” you say. “Your tip depends on it.”

Steve snorts a laugh. A line forms between his brows. He tugs an ice cream scooper out of his pocket and flips it over his wrist—a mindless action that, weirdly, grabs your attention and holds it. Holds it tight enough you don’t hear what he says next, and ask, “What?” far too loud.

A lopsided grin forms on his lips. “I know you,” he repeats.

You frown. Shit. It figures. Three minutes into the con, and your cover is already broken.

“Miss Harrison’s class. Senior year.”

Relief pushes a breath out of you, and you force a nervous smile—the nerves don’t need to be faked.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” you say.

He shifts back a bit, still smiling, like he’s shocked you’re even asking.

“Of course, I remember you. You sat right in front of me. I spent a year staring at the back of your head.”

“So, if I’d have walked up backwards, you’d have recognized me immediately?”

“Oh, no doubt,” Steve says.

You laugh, and though you know you’re supposed to, you don’t have to fake it. Steve laughs, too, and when the laughter fades, the pair of you just smile at each other for a little too long.

“Hey! Harrington! We have ice cream needs back here!” A young girl with her friends sidles up beside you, apparently familiar with Steve or just confident, or both.

Steve takes a breath and gives you an expression that makes it seem like you’re both in on some inside joke. It’s almost impressive how quickly he managed to turn you from strangers into allies.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sinclair. You’ll get your ice cream. Hold your damn horses,” Steve calls. He gives you an apologetic smile. “That’ll be $1.25.”

You nod, digging a bill and a quarter out of your pocket and handing it over. Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the money, and it feels like a moment right out of those cheesy films Rebecca is obsessed with, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

Steve tucks the money into the register and holds out a receipt.

Before you lose your nerve, you ask, “Do you have a pen?”

Steve frowns but digs a pen out of his pocket and passes it to you. He says nothing, but as you scrawl the digits onto the paper, his eyes go wide.

“What is—” He starts.

“My number,” you say, shoving the receipt back across the counter. You flash a smile. “You should use it.”

His frown deepens, and then, in an instant, transforms into a smile that even manages to convince you, at least for a moment, of its genuineness. Before you do something stupid, like fall for it, you turn and walk away, heart still pounding against your ribs.

-

“Well, well, well, Popeye,” Robin announces as she shoves open the flimsy divider between the front and back of the shop. She slaps her whiteboard on the counter, uncapping her pen. “I think you just earned yourself the first tally for this side of the board.”

Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing the receipt—your receipt—from the counter and tucking it gently in his pocket.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” he says, and hopes Robin can’t tell he’s blushing.

To his infinite relief, Robin only teases him about it for a few minutes, and the lunch rush saves him. He spends the rest of his shift thinking about the two minutes you stood at the counter.

It feels different. It feels like, maybe, finally, it might be real.  

-

“Steve Harrington has officially taken the bait, ” Thea says, throwing herself onto Beth’s bed. Beth, sitting against the headboard, draws her legs out of the way just in time to prevent Thea slamming into them. She purses her lips but doesn’t chide Thea.

Rebecca slides across the floor on the rolling desk chair, leaning her arms over the back of it. “Where’s he taking you?”

You take the open spot at the end of Beth’s bed, pulling your legs up under you. “No clue. He said it was a surprise.” You cock a brow. “What are the chances he’s taking me somewhere to murder me?”

Thea snorts. “He may be a lady-killer, but he’s not an actual killer.”

“Never say lady-killer again,” Rebecca says.

“Lady-killer.” Thea grins. “Lady—”

Beth reaches down to swat at Thea’s shoulder. Thea laughs, craning away.

“Focus,” Beth says. “Y/N is going into the lion’s den tonight.”

You frown. So far, Steve Harrington isn’t the playboy he’s been made out to be. To be fair, you’ve only had two interactions with the boy since high school. And the girls actually knew him.

“He’s just a guy,” you say.

“A guy who probably doesn’t know how to do his own laundry,” Rebecca says.

Thea lets out a dramatic sigh. “Those are always the most dangerous ones.”

-

Steve doesn’t take you into the lion’s den. He still won't tell you exactly where you’re going, but when he pulls into the parking lot of a decent restaurant, some of your fear dissipates.

“Italian food?” you ask, as he puts the car in park.

He flashes you a grin, and says, “Someone’s impatient.”

“More like, making sure you’re not kidnapping me.”

He snorts. “I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you’re 18.” He arches a brow at you. “And do you really think I’m organized enough to pull something like that off?” He shakes his head. “Besides, my trunk is way too small.”

“I mean, no, I don’t think you are—“

Steve feigns offense, a hand flying to his chest, and he gasps.

“But I’d be stupid to put it past you.”

To your surprise, Steve just smiles.

“For the record,” he says, popping open the driver’s side door, “we’re not getting Italian food. And I’m not kidnapping you.” He slides out of the car and shuts his door, but before you’ve even undone your seatbelt, Steve is opening the passenger side door for you.

You know it’s all part of the act, but there’s nothing in his eyes that justifies that. All you can see is a bouncy, nervous boy opening the door for his date.

He’s more dangerous than you realized, because he doesn’t appear to be.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you climb out of the car, Steve nudging the door shut after you.

“So, if we’re not getting Italian food, what exactly are we doing here?” you ask.

A mischievous grin pulls on his lips.

“We,” he says, “are playing laser tag.”

And against your better judgment, against everything you told yourself before going into this, you smile back.

-

The laser tag place, appropriately named Laser Tron, is busier than one might expect on a random Thursday night, and apart from you and Steve, no one is older than fourteen.

And though the teams are split evenly before heading into the room, the second you pass through the door, it becomes two on everyone else, with the younger kids splitting off to one side of the dark, neon-splashed room, and you and Steve heading for the other side.

The room has two stories, with dozens of walls and objects to hide behind, and green, pink, and blue paint scattered across the walls and floors. You’re sporting a bulky, worn vest, and a massive plastic gun, and once again, despite all your preparations, you’re surprised to find you’re already having fun. Steve helps you into your vest, and his fingers linger at the top of the zipper, thumbs grazing the hollow of your throat, and you try and convince yourself it’s adrenaline, not him, that makes your pulse leap.

With one minute until the game begins, you and Steve find a spot in the far corner, back to back.

“You ready for this?” Steve asks, his shoulders bumping yours. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think I’d prefer Italian food,” you say.

Steve snorts a laugh, and says, “Too late for that now.”

“You do realize we’re, like, the oldest people here, right?”

“Which means we’ve got the advantage,” Steve says.

“Us against fifteen pre-teens? I don’t know about that.” You raise your laser gun in preparation. “I think we’re screwed.”

Steve laughs again, and it’s an infectious sound. His energy, the shifting weight and fast breaths, is infectious, and again, you forget the whole reason you’re here.

“We’ll see about that,” he says.

Then the buzzer starts, a dozen children scream with delight, and the game begins.

-

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, his gun in one hand, your fingers held tight in the other. You race up the stairs with him, twisting to fire a laser shot toward the trio of twelve year old’s pursuing you.

An OUT buzzer rings, and one of the kids curses just as you and Steve reach the top of the stairs. He pulls you sideways, down the neon walkway, firing as he goes.

“Behind you!” You say, ducking under Steve’s raised arm to fire at the teen coming down the hall. His buzzer rings, and he groans, his gun smacking his side.

Steve drags you behind a wall, and you skid, falling into him, pinning him against the wood. The only thing between you is the thick fabric of the vests, but you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Time slows. His eyes find yours, and his irises are blown, and the crown of his hair shines with sweat, and his gaze darts down to your lips, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you. For a moment, you want him to.

Then his eyes dart over your shoulder, and in one swift motion, he slips an arm around your waist, spins you around, presses you against the wall, and raises his gun to fire at someone around the corner. A buzzer rings, and Steve catches your gaze again, grinning lopsidedly.

You let out a harsh breath, and push out of his arms, pretending you’re adjusting your vest.

“How many are left?” you ask.

Steve leans to each side, scanning the aisles and the floor below, his brows furrowed.

“I wanna say… six? Maybe seven?”

“God, it’s like they’re multiplying,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up,” he says.

“Not a chance.”

“Good,” Steve says. “Because we’ve got three pre-teen girls headed our way, and they look pretty pissed.”

“Guess we should do something about that,” you say.

Steve grins, and takes your hand, and you let him. And for a little while, you forget why you’re not supposed to.

-

The game lasts another twenty minutes, and to your utter shock, you and Steve’s duo comes out on top. And you know you should probably feel bad about kicking a bunch of thirteen year old’s asses, but as you and Steve head out into the warm night, all you feel is giddy. Like you’re drunk, but you haven’t had a touch of alcohol.

Steve has an arm around your shoulder, and he smells like sandalwood and aftershave, and in the moonlight, he doesn’t look like everything you’ve been told he is. The last hour, and he’s been nothing like you’ve been told he is.

He only lets you go to open the passenger door for you, and though you tell yourself this is only part of the game, you still blush as he shuts it after you. Blush until he comes around the front and climbs into the driver’s seat.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him until he frowns, and asks, “What?”

You shake your head. “How the hell are you so good at that?”

An almost sheepish smile flashes across his lips.

“I mean, they were a bunch of kids. We got lucky.”

“Oh, no, we absolutely did not,” you say. “That was… incredible. Like, you have no right to be as good at laser tag as you are.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he says. And when you roll your eyes, he continues, “Seriously. You kicked ass in there.”

“You did most of the work. What, were you a soldier in some past life?”

An indecipherable emotion flickers across his face, and you can’t begin to read it, but it makes your insides ache, opens some unknown door in your chest. It feels like seeing behind some big curtain, but before you can identify what you see, Steve is smiling again, and turning on the engine.

It’s a clear and unofficial end of conversation, but you don’t mind. With each foot the car pulls away from the plaza, your friends' voices pop back into your head. The stories they told of the weeks or months it took to get over him.

Shame coils in your gut, hot and sharp.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you’re the wrong person to do this. Maybe you have no goddamn clue what you’re doing, and you’re just going to get hurt.

But as Steve pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road, tossing a soft smile your way, you realize that maybe none of that matters. Because maybe it’s too late.

-

Steve makes conversation as he drives you home, asking questions about your summer and your family and your pets and your future plans, and he seems to actually want to know the answers.

And you surprise yourself by asking questions back. About how he ended up working at Scoops (his dad is an asshole, and Steve didn’t get into college) and about the girl, Robin, he’s always with (from the way he talks about her, you don’t think there’s anything romantic there, but you’re not sure) and about what he wants to do with his life (he has no clue, which is an odd relief, because you have no clue, either).

It’s all painfully and beautifully normal until Steve turns into your neighborhood, and the car slides past the Holland house. It’s been two years since Barbara Holland disappeared from Steve’s backyard. Two years since the cops started looking, and a year since they stopped.

The car slows down just enough for you to notice, and when you look over, Steve has the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. His gaze is locked on the house.

Your brain rifles through everything it has regarding Barbara Holland in relation to Steve Harrington. Barbara and Nancy Wheeler were attached at the hip for most of high school, and when Nancy and Steve started dating, that didn’t change.

“You were friends with her, right?” you ask, knowing you’re poking the bear, and unable to stop yourself.

“What?” His response comes a little too fast, and his voice is a little too high.

“With Barb. Before she…” You clear your throat.

“No,” Steve says. “I wasn’t.” And his tone is harsh, a clear ending to the conversation before it even starts.

“But I thought—”

“I said no,” Steve snaps. “Just… drop it.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and his entropy changes. He is rigid and cold. He’s not the boy from the laser tag place, the one who opened your door for you.

The spell that’s been broken doesn’t rise again, and the last two minutes of the drive to your house are silent and awkward. By the time Steve pulls into your driveway, the tension in the car is so thick, you could slice through it.

Steve kills the engine and is out of the car and opening your door before you have your seatbelt undone, once again. But he doesn’t meet your eyes, and his jaw is clenched, and he doesn’t put his arm around you again. He walks to your door, and when you turn to face him, his smile is so plastic, you think it would crinkle if he moved.

“That was fun,” you say, because you’re not sure what to do with the silence, because you’re desperate to fill the seconds until you can get inside the door.

“Yeah, it was,” Steve says. You don’t have to know him that well to see he’s distracted. He glances over his shoulder as if he expects to find something running up behind him. He catches your eye again, clearing his throat. “Have a good night, y/n.”

And then he’s turning, heading back down the drive, climbing into his car. He’s gone so fast, you can do nothing but stand on the porch and watch as his car grows smaller and smaller, until it turns down the street and disappears.

Your stomach churns and lurches as you unlock your front door and slip into the dark house. To your eternal relief, your family is already in bed, and you don’t have to suffer the third degree. You’re already guaranteed it from the girls at the mall tomorrow.

You had fun with Steve tonight. A lot of fun. More fun than you’ll ever admit to Beth, Thea, and Rebecca.

But the Steve that dropped you off is different from the one you spent the night with, and he is the whole reason you’re here in the first place. The cruel, cold tone. The refusal to meet your eyes, like he’s too good to do so. The flippancy with which he left, like he hadn’t just taken you on the best date of your life.

You’re here to break Steve Harrington’s heart.

No, not to break it. You’re here to shatter it. Pulverize it. Break it beyond repair, the way he’s done to so many girls.

Game on, Harrington.

[t-anyasen]

THEY SAY��that girls, much like dogs can smell fear. if that is true, then she must be sending out a smoke signal the size of mount everest to every girl at this college in a five mile radius. maybe she should be less scared. smile more, the advice her father gave her this morning comes to mind, and so she does try. except she’s sure that she looks like a deranged chesire cat - and that cat had been already quite insane to begin with.

MAYBE SHE should dial back the smile, tanya decides and she tones it to a smiling grimace. it’s an effort, and she really is trying. she is trying to act as if she’s happy to be in delhi. even if she feels uprooted at the fact that her father has moved her here from kolkata after the death of tanya’s mother. the memory still stings but tanya washes it down. she can’t think about this.

IT’S A NEW BEGINNING, one which tanya aims to use; if not for her, then for her father. she pulls the books tighter to her chest, almost as if she’s trying to cave into herself, to disappear into the ground. perhaps that is why she doesn’t notice the boy whose been watching her, the boy who she crashes into moments later.

“ oh i’m ... ” she breathes out, looking up at him; she has no idea that perhaps he’s created this chance encounter. “ i’m so sorry ! ”

[damndaehyung]

Lying is the most fun...

Tyler Lee can have without taking his clothes off. JTMD AU Included : Tyler, Minah, Sungjae Mentioned: Daniel, Jaehyun 

Tyler Lee was many things. Depending on who you asked, he could be a legend or piece of crap. But there is one thing that he is not and that is a quitter. Admittedly Daniel Choi was proving to trickier than he expected, he assumed that like most of the girls Tyler had charmed all he had to do was showing him so attention to get him under his spell but Daniel Choi seemed to be immune to him, he thought coming out of a breakup Daniel would be easy pickings but if anything it seemed to make even harder to get, Tyler even showed his abs and there was nothing but jibe about them painted on. He had spent so much time with the guy that he should, in theory, be proclaiming his love for Tyler but all he got was a text saying congratulations you reached friendship level 8 you can now message me memes. It was frustrating to say the very least, he was Tyler Lee after all. What annoyed him even more though was this leaking tap of emotions, the tiny drip telling him what he was doing wrong. He had theorized it was because in another time and place they, Daniel and himself, could actually be real friends, a hopeful voice seemed to suggest they still could, Daniel doesn’t have to know about the bet and he would eventually get over him. It would take time, Tyler was not exactly easy to get over but perhaps in time.

“Are you finished?” he was bought out his thoughts but a very annoyed barista staring down at him.

“Excuse you,” Tyler snorted rolling his eyes. “Didn’t they teach you at busboy training not to be rude to a customer,” he snapped. “But since you are here, I need a refill,” he said, tapping his mug condescendingly. This boy should know his place, coming up to him like that and bugging him, if he was finished he would have left and had he left? No.

“Or you can just leave and never come back,” the boy said. Tyler opened his mouth to respond only to be cut off. “Look this cafe is busy enough to survive without Tyler Lee’s money,” he said. Tyler snorted, that is what that idiot though if Tyler blacklisted this stupid little cafe it would be done for.

“Listen here,” he said looking at the guy’s name tag. “Sungjae-” he said, eyes widening as a thought ran through his head. This was Daniel’s ex, how the hell did this guy manage to pull Daniel? Wait no that didn’t matter but it certainly explained a lot no wonder Daniel wasn’t falling for him, he probably figured a guy like Tyler was so far out of his league that he had no chance. “Wait do you know Daniel Choi?”

Sungjae blinked, thrown by the change in topic. “Not that it’s any of your business but yes,” he said looking at Tyler curiously. “Don’t mess with him,” he said, curiosity turning into anger. Tyler rolled his eyes, he was one of those exes, dumps you but still acts as though they care. How annoying. No wonder Daniel was having trouble getting over him, he was just confused, probably thought he still had a chance.

“Look i get he is your ex -”

“What are you talk-” Sungjae started to speak only to be cut off by Minah Delacroix coming over wrapping an arm around Sungjae.

“Hey Babe,” she said to Sungjae who looked surprised. Tyler raised his eyebrow at Minah’s obvious and desperate attempt at making him jealous. “M needs you out back,” she said to Sungjae, the boy just nodded walking away with a frown on his face.

“What was that?” Tyler said with a laugh. “If that is your rebound, Minah, love, you can do a lot better,” Tyler smirked.

“Shut up Lee,” Minah snapped. “Sungjae isn’t a rebound,” she said. “He is my boyfriend.” Tyler chuckled a yeah okay slipping out of his lips. Did she really expect him to believe that? “Look I know it’s hard for you to understand but sometimes people have a real connection and that is what we have, it’s nice to have a boyfriend who actually appreciates me and not just when i’m riding him in the back of the locker room,” she snapped.

“You done?” Tyler smirked. “And bold of you to assume I appreciated you then,” he said with a wink. Minah's eyes narrowed as she purposely stomped on his toes. Tyler let out a yelp moving his foot away as it throbbed, glaring at a smirking Minah as she retreaded back to the counter and her ‘boyfriend’.

Tyler watched knowing that this relationship was fake, but as he thought it over he knew he could use it. The girlfriend that dumped him dating Daniel’s beloved ex. Oh, this was perfect, he just needed to get some proof. It would all be so easy for him now, the concerned friend being the bearer of bad news telling, no showing him proof that his ex had moved on. As cool as Daniel pretended to be if he was crying in a restaurant over this guy then this would be a killing blow and Tyler would be his rock, helping him move forward. He would be at his most supportive, his most charming, most loveable.

That emotion leak started dripping as he thought of purposely hurting Daniel only to build him up and then break him again. It was cruel even by his standards.

text from jaehuh :

‘looks like you are losing touch. can’t wait to win this bet.’

But Tyler Lee was an overachiever after all.

With a smirk, he stood up walking deliberately to the counter where Minah stood having a heated exchange with Sungjae. God, they were so obvious, he hoped Minah was petty enough to pull off what he needed otherwise he would need a plan B. “I am finished now since someone didn’t want to give me my refill, you know Min you should talk to your boyfriend about his customer service because it's not up to par,” Tyler said pointedly,

“Did you really come over here just to say that?” Sungjae said, looking far from impressed. “Don’t you have another whore to hook up with?”

“I do,” Tyler nodded a laugh escaping his lips. “Maybe I’ll hook up with your ex, you know since you are having my sloppy seconds,” he said with a smirk enjoying the way Minah bristled at his words.

“Stop trying to upset my boyfriend,” Minah snapped. “Bringing up his ex isn’t going to ruin our relationship. In fact, I feel sorry for Daniel if he has to deal with your and the community bicycle you call a penis,” she said with a huff.

“Minah can you please stop pretending you are dating this loser, it’s unbecoming of you,” he said, pretending to be disappointed. “You could have at least picked a better actor. This guy looks like he is completely lost,” he said nudging his chin towards Sungjae. “Hey idiot, as you can tell the only way you could ever girls like that,” he said pointing to Minah, “is when guys like me dump her and she has to pretend she has moved on,” he said chuckling. “It’s pathetic,”

“Don’t call him a loser,” “Do you really talk to women like that? What’s your problem?” The loser ‘couple’ said at the same time.

“Fine prove me wrong guys, kiss each other like you mean it,” He said, throwing the challenge down.

“We don’t have hmph,” Sungjae started to speak until Minah pulled him into a kiss. Tyler rolled his eyes as he pulled his camera filming the couple. To his surprise, it seemed like the couple forget they were pretending because the next thing he knew Sungjae was pressing Minah against the counter, her leg wrapping around his waist. This was even better than he expected, he figured it would be an awkward kiss but he knew Minah loved to put on a show, with a chuckle he threw a fifty on the counter as a thank you for their show and their participation in Tyler Lee’s seduction of Daniel Choi. Turning his camera off and walking away from the pair.

“Hey Daniel,” Tyler said as he walked out of the cafe, he made sure he sounded troubled. “Are you busy?” he asked, nodding along to Daniel’s speech on how Salvador Dali was overrated. “Yeah no i really need to talk to you, i have some bad news -” he said. “No no nothing like that,” oddly touched that Daniel was worried something happened to him. “Look can we meet up? Do you know Ridleys? Meet me there in half an hour,” Tyler said with a smirk. There was nothing that went with a heartbreak quite like alcohol. “See you soon,” he said hanging up and replaying the video, a wide grin on his face. Oh, this bet was over but it wouldn’t be Jaehyun winning.

[dinosaursmate]

WIP folder meme

The Rules: List the names and a short description of all the files in your WIP folder, then tag some fellow writers to do the same.

I was tagged by @lululawrence​ and @fullonlarrie​. 

Now... first I will list my ACTIVE wips, as in, ones that I’m hoping to put out in the semi-near future.

Sabrina the Teenage Witch AU - the next fic you will see from me! It’s my big bang and it’s very nearly completely complete

Cheating fic aka Into You AU - I randomly got the idea for this one whilst watching the video for Into You by Ariana Grande and although it went off track a lot it turned into quite the beast. I was blocked whilst writing my big bang and I took a break from it and hammered out a baffling 35k of this fic lol not too much else to say except the obvious, but it’s not a cheating on the other type scenario. I think as far as cheating fics goes this one’s tame

Space AU - This one WILL come out this year! lol. Louis leaves earth to move to another planet and help set up a new settlement there. He’s in charge of recruiting civilians and he recruits Harry. 

Delirium AU - Some of y’all who have followed me for a long time are probably sick of hearing about this fic BUT I am determined to get it out this year (unless I struggle with it then I may save it for next year’s big bang). It’s an AU of a YA book trilogy about a dystopian society where love is illegal and seen as a disease.

Camboy Louis - Ugh I KEEP forgetting about this fic! It’s a f/nf where Louis is a camboy and Harry is a famousish viewer

Other WIPs that are basically rotting are:

Bebe fic - Ugh I had so much passion for this one when I started writing it lol but it’s a fic that’s vaguely along the lines of John Tucker Must Die but not quite. Bebe is an exchange student living with Harry’s family and she and Louis find out they’re dating the same guy. It wasn’t actually inspired by the JTMD film, it was inspired by the BTY video haha I HOPE to pick this one up, it’s not a complete lost cause unlike the following fics lol...

Disneyland fic - This fic just kind of stalled but this one was inspired by my trip to Disneyland where Abu kept harrassing me and so I began to write a fic where Louis is at Disneyland and Harry is a character who keeps harrassing him lol

Big Brother AU - Not much to say about this one. I’ll probably not write this cos there’s too much complexity to it (it might not seem like it but it’s complicated and requires METICULOUS planning lol)

Bus fic - This was supposed to be my choose your own adventure fic. Harry and Louis meet on a bus, and I won’t tell you much else in case I ever get the urge to pick it back up haha

Cloudbusting - omg I forgot this one existed! I mean, it doesn’t really. I have a doc which has a few lines of what is basically mind vomit that I had after rewatching the video for Cloudbusting by Kate Bush (hey, did y’all know the Dad in that video is DONALD SUTHERLAND?!) basically, the dad creates a machine that can control the weather, and some point in life I decided that would make a good AU?

Plane Crash AU/Deserted Island AU - I have always wanted to write a plane crash au, then I decided I wanted to write a deserted island AU. Idk. so I thought i’d combine them, but didn’t really come up with much.

Pole Dancing AU - Oh yes this has a few Ks but I got bored with it. It was basically Harry taking pole dancing classes and Louis is the teacher

Boyband fic - ohhh BOY. Okay I spent a lot of time on this fic when I first got into the fandom and it’s.... LONG. But it’s badly written and probably problematic and I just don’t have the courage or inclination to sort it out. It’s a boyband AU basically, the boys are in a band together but it’s... not the same

Kid fic - I actually sometimes think about writing this one. Basically Gemma has a little girl and gets offered an amazing job abroad for like... a LOT of money and can’t afford not to take it but she doesn’t wanna uproot her daughter so she leaves her with Harry and Louis is her teacher

Personal Shopper AU - This was gonna be another Friends AU based on the Rachel/Joshua storyline 

Heavy on my Mind sequel - Exactly what it says. But I’m not confident about that fic as it is and I really just don’t like the sequel LOL it’s actually finished (bar betaing and editing) but I just. No...)

Music Video AU - I wrote this and got it betad but then me and Jacky both agreed that it didn’t feel finished so I wrote a fair amount of a second half but I just never finished it. I should since there’s so much written but, meh. I posted the first half on my Ko-Fi page before I deleted it. It was basically a famous/famous where H&L were solo artists and they collab and only meet when they film the music video.

Blackpool fic - I almost didn’t include this but again it was an early fic that I wrote beginning to end but it’s... problematic lmao I do still have a craving to write a fic set in Blackpool but I’m setting the Delirium AU in Blackpool so hopefully that’ll get it out my system haha this fic was Harry thinking he was straight and going on holiday to Blackpool and meeting Louis blah blah blah

And last but not least...

Labyrinth AU - Okay.... idk why I left this to the end, because I’ve always said I can NOT leave this fandom without writing this fic. I had written ONE unpublished fic in this fandom when I decided to write a Labyrinth AU back in 2015 and I messaged @mommotommo on Christmas Day and was like omg I just got a good idea.... basically it’s kind of borderline crack fic? And I have a lot of it HAND WRITTEN. Harry is the son of the Goblin King and now rules the kingdom but he’s not very good at being evil? Anyway he kidnaps one of Louis’ siblings and Louis goes into the Labyrinth to get them back. Featuring: Liam as his companion along the way. Harry kidnapped Liam’s puppy and poor Liam didn’t get to the centre in time so the puppy got turned into a goblin and Liam was trapped there forever.

[harringtown]

steve harrington must die - pt 2

a/n: wow it took much too long to update this, sorry loves!! this month has been v busy w book revisions and medication switches but im trying to get back into consistent writing!! ty for the patience as always <3 this is gonna be a four parter so we’re halfway!!

read the first part here

summary: three of Steve Harrington’s exes set up their former boyfriend to fall in love with the reader, so they can break his heart (aka russians can't design elevators)

word count: 4.3k

-

June is. Too perfect. More technically, Steve is too perfect.

A string of dates, all of them fun, in which you weave the web of a beautiful, perfect girl for Steve Harrington to fall in love with, and he plays the part of prince charming equally well.

There’s the mini golf adventure: Steve is really bad, you’re really good. The county fair: he holds your hand on the ferris wheel, and you gorge yourselves on carb-loaded fair food. A couple of movie dates. An attempted picnic that is sabotaged by a colony of ants.

With the help of Thea, Becca, and Beth behind the scenes, you’re pretty sure you’re actually pulling this thing off. And within another month, you might even have Steve wrapped entirely around your finger.  

Except, underneath all the niceties and flirting are the questions he doesn’t answer. The odd look he gets in his eyes sometimes and the way he’s always looking around the room like he’s categorizing the exits.

And though every hour you spend with him fractures the image you’ve always been presented with—a cold, cruel king—there is no denying that he’s hiding something. He’s not doing that great a job of it, either.

Then the end of June comes around, and the occasional skittishness becomes full blown avoidance.

You haven’t heard from him in over a day, a record after the last few weeks. Not even the girls know about the almost nightly phone calls between you and Steve.

The asshole actually stands you up. Leaves you waiting on your front porch like some lovestruck child. For the thirty minutes it takes to finally admit he’s not coming, you twiddle your thumbs, angrily trying to convince yourself you’re just angry. Angry that he had the audacity to not even call.

Angry, instead of sad or hurt. Anger is safer, bigger, sturdier.  

After thirty five minutes, you force yourself back inside, endlessly grateful your family is out tonight and doesn’t have to witness the walk of shame. Instantly, you head to the phone, drag over a chair, and dial Thea.

“He what?” Thea hisses through the phone, her voice crackling over the line.

“It’s only been a month,” Rebecca says. “He doesn’t usually ghost until at least month three. What the hell is he on?” She, Beth, and Thea always hang out while you’re with Steve, and when the date ends, you meet up with them to debrief—to talk you out of whatever falsities he inevitably uses on you.

Tonight is only proving that.

“He could be busy,” Beth adds, her voice lower, like she’s standing behind the other girls. You can picture them, gathered around the phone, twisted expressions on their faces.

“Oh, yeah, he’s accepting the key to the city, and that’s why he didn’t pick her up,” Thea says. “C’mon, B. This is Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah, but we’re not in high school anymore,” Beth says. “You aren’t the girl you were in high school. Maybe he’s changed.”

“What, for the better?” Rebecca asks. “I kind of doubt that.”

“Nobody said for the better,” Beth says. “But… maybe just different.”

“Whatever. Different year, same asshole is how I see it,” Thea says.

The girls go round and round, trying to decide why Steve didn’t show, trying to decide what to do next. And as they do, you bite back every instinct to defend the boy you’ve spent the last month with.

Because this is much harder than you ever imagined. Because if this is really a game, like the girls have said—like Steve’s occasional weirdness makes you believe—Steve is the MVP. He’s the pro, and you’re a rookie scrambling for the ball.

You tune back into the conversation as Thea says, “Well, he’s not getting away with it. Y/N, tomorrow, you march up to that counter and give him a piece of your mind—”

“I’m sorry, you want me to what now?” you ask, winding the phone cord once, twice, three times around your wrist.

“He pulls this little routine time and time again, and we let him. But you’re not going to,” Rebecca says.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. For a month, you’ve taken every line they fed you and spit it back at Steve, and though at first, each smile or each time you caught him sneaking a glance, it felt like a victory, each time is a little less triumphant.

And now there’s this tiny, little pit in the center of your belly that grows every day. It wonders whether you’re doing the right thing—whether Steve isn’t such a bad guy, after all.

“I don’t know, guys. Maybe we should just take the out. I mean, is it really worth it?” You ask. “Steve Harrington isn’t… the king of Hawkins High, anymore. He hasn’t been in a long time. He lost everything already. What are we even taking from him?”

“Boys like him don’t ever really lose anything. Nothing that matters. This is how we hit him where it hurts.”

“Right in the gonads,” Thea says. “The heart gonads.”

“Gross, Thea,” Beth says.

The girls giggle, and their energy is still as infectious as it was the day they convinced you to walk up to the Scoops Ahoy county. Four years at Hawkins High, and you never had friends like this. And if you back out, who knows if they’ll stick around.

Plus, you can’t say this whole thing hasn’t had its advantages. You haven't paid for dinner in a month. Or ice cream. You’ve been on some really fun dates, even if they were half lies.

Soon enough, this will be over, and summer will bleed into fall, and fall to winter, and maybe this summer of shenanigans will just be a story. And Steve Harrington won’t matter anymore.

So, you agree to stay in the game. You let yourself linger on all of Steve’s unexplainable qualities; his secrets and his lies and that cocky confidence that is so obviously a facade. Maybe, if you stare at them hard enough, you’ll forget all the good things.

You’ll forget that you’re no longer sure if you can break Steve Harrington’s heart without breaking your own.

-

A BACK IN TEN MINUTES sign sits on the Scoops Ahoy counter as you approach it. Despite the sign, noise—voices—filter from the back room.

You figure you’re already snooping, and may as well just take it up a few notches. Besides, it won’t be the first time you’ve crossed the counter. Silently, you lift up the partition and step into the booth, easing the red plastic back down behind you. You stop just beyond the thin door.

“Whatever’s in that room, whatever’s in those boxes, they really don’t want anybody finding it.” The voice is young, but you’ve spent enough time with Steve the last month to recognize the kids that materialize around him for ice cream or free movie access. This one is unfamiliar.

“But there’s gotta be a way in.” This one, at least, you recognize. Robin Buckley. The closest thing Steve has to a best friend, according to him. But hearing her voice, after he’s stood you up, makes something green and poisonous curdle in your chest.

And then, Steve’s voice. “Well, you know…”

And all your plans for casualness and playing it cool fly out the window. You tug open the thin sliding door between the front counter and the back room, stomping in to find Steve, Robin, and a boy no more than fourteen sitting around a faded folding table.

All eyes land on you, and you’re suddenly regretting every choice that led you here, but there’s no going back now. You fix your attention on Steve, narrowing your eyes.

“y/n?” Steve asks.

“Steven,” you say thinly.

“Oof,” Robin says, crinkling her nose.

Steve ignores her, asking, “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” You scoff. “You know, I figured, when you stood me up and didn’t even bother to call, that maybe you were, like, deathly ill, or something, but I guess not, huh?” You ask, gesturing around. “You’re just an asshole.”

Steve’s brows furrow, and he’s already pushing to his feet as you start backing up, but you don’t wait around to catch whatever bullshit excuse he’s cooking up.

Staying isn’t part of the plan. Getting him to chase you is.

So, you don’t turn back, storming past the front counter and into the bustling food court.

Three seconds later, a voice calls, “Wait!”

You slow down, just a bit, but don’t stop.

“Wait—Jesus, dude, watch where you’re—y/n, wait!”

Then a hand grazes your elbow, and you yank it away, whirling to face a frazzled and out of breath Steve Harrington.

“Just—wait.” He swallows. Rips off his goofy sailor’s hat and rakes a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I should have called.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

Steve winces, though he hardly has the grounds for any offense. He sweeps a look around—you’re in the center of the food court, and drawing plenty of attention—before taking your arm gently and guiding you to an empty table with two rickety chairs. He pulls one out for you, and you ignore it, going to the other side and sinking into it.

Steve scoffs, but sits down across from you, leaning into the table and folding his arms.

“You deserve an explanation,” Steve says. And then he doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah, I do,” you say. “But it doesn’t really look like you’re going to give me one.”

Steve presses his lips together. He glances around the food court again, like he’s looking for something or someone. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

“It’s—Look, it’s kind of complicated.”

You snort and push your chair back, standing up.

“If you want to go out with Robin, go out with Robin. Just don’t—don’t string me along and leave me waiting on my porch like an idiot.”

Steve stands up, rushing around to stop you from leaving, his brows furrowed.

“Robin? What?” he shakes his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t want to go out with Robin. I want to go out with you.”

And even though this is the way this is supposed to go—he’s taking the bait just like the girls said he would—you can’t help the little flip of your stomach. The flutter in your chest.

Not real. Not real.

“Really? Because it’s pretty obvious you’re hiding something. And it’s also pretty obvious that Robin knows about it. And that kid, the one with the dorky shirt,” you say. You inhale, and try to convince yourself that you don’t mean the words as you say, “I like you, Steve, but I can’t be with someone who lies or disappears without any warning. So, if you can’t be honest with me, this is over.”

Steve presses his lips together. He reminds you of a sprinter on the starting blocks of a track, waiting for the signal to bolt.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he says. “I do.”

“So, tell me. It’s pretty simple.”

“It’s not that simple.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s dangerous, and the less you know, the better.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You’re kind of melodramatic, you know that?”

“God, you’re impossible,” Steve says.

You cock your brows.

“Okay. Alright.” Steve rakes a hand through his hair. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything,” he says. “But when it comes back to bite you in the ass, remember I tried to keep you out of this.” His tone awakens something ancient and cautious deep in your chest, like a warning bell, like your body senses a danger you don’t. “And don’t get pissed when I say I told you so.”

-

“You can’t actually expect me to believe this,” you exclaim.

“I know it sounds crazy.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy. It is crazy,” you say.

Steve gives an exasperated sigh, watching you pace and sinking back into the rusted bunch in the mall’s back alley. A popular spot for smokers on their break and right now, for the most ridiculous things you’ve ever heard in your life. Monsters and telepathic pre-teens and gates between worlds—except they’re not actually gates, they’re more like, fleshy, gooey holes.

You’d been told Steve Harrington was many things, but delusional wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I know. I told you it would be.” He folds his arms over his chest and inclines his head. “I also told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You were right. I don’t.”

Steve throws up his hands, as if to say, what can you do?

Like he doesn’t care if you believe. Doesn’t care enough to try and convince you.

And you don’t believe him, obviously, because how could you, but you’re not exactly in this for innocent purposes, and a bunch of lies only make things easier for you.

“It’s probably better this way. It's better if you just turn around and walk away and curse my name, because at least you'll be safe,” he says, but he doesn’t sound bitter or angry. He just sounds sad. “So if you want to go, I won’t stop you. I can’t.”

The truth. It rings clear and strong against all of his lies and half-truths. This, what he’s saying, is something he believes. Really believes.

It’s not just that, though. It’s the look in his eyes. For all his facades, all the cockiness and the easy-going smiles, there is fear like you’ve never seen before. It pokes at something ancient and instinctual, deep inside you.

It’s real. The realest thing about him.

So you don’t walk away. You drop down beside Steve on the bench, and place your hand over his. He flips up his palm. Threads your fingers together. Gives your hand a squeeze, and you an inquisitive look.

“If you’re trying to scare me away, Harrington, you’re going to have to try a little harder,” you say.

Steve laughs. He slips his arm around your shoulder, keeping your hand in his. You tell yourself the flutter in your belly is anything but what it actually is.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he says.

-

In your defense, you didn’t walk into the mall today with the intent of trespassing, breaking and entering, or whatever the hell you’re doing now, standing beside Robin Buckley and two children as Steve holds up a tube of thick, bright green liquid.

“What the hell?” Steve muses, and you’re wondering the same thing.

Mostly, you’re wondering why the hell you came here.

Confronting him was one thing. Agreeing to tag along as he and the others set off to explore a shady elevator is another. And you keep telling yourself it’s about keeping your enemies close, or whatever, but that’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is that Steve Harrington, whatever he truly is, asshole or not, opened a can of worms, and you want to see what’s inside it.

Or, you wanted to. But now, you’re standing in the aforementioned can of worms, and you’re realizing the walls are too tall to scale.

“Did the elevator just move?” Dustin asks.

“Booby traps,” Erica whispers.

“You know what? Lets just grab that and go,” Robin says. You’re inclined to agree with her, already moving for the door as Dustin and Steve reach it.

But the buttons aren’t responding, no matter how many times they’re punched, or by how many people. A thick metal slat slides down over the door.

You catch Steve’s gaze long enough to watch his eyes widen.

And then you’re falling.

-

The elevator stops with a crash, throwing you, the others, and half the boxes onto the floor. You slam hard into the ground on your knees and elbows, and duck out of the way just in time to avoid kissing the corner of a massive box as it comes flying down.

A pair of hands wrap around your arms and haul you up, and Steve is there, gaze darting up and down as he asks, “Are you okay?”

You’re pretty sure you’re in shock, because all you can do is nod and say, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” You grab onto him long enough to steady yourself, then pull away.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin asks, pushing to her feet in the other corner. She, Dustin, and Erica seem relatively unharmed, if not battered and frazzled. You probably don’t look much better.

“Yeah, I'm great now that I know Russians can’t design elevators!” Steve exclaims, marching over to the elevator panel, though it has already proven itself worthless. Right now, you can’t exactly blame him for beating a dead horse. There aren't any live horses in sight as an alternative.

“I think we’ve clearly established that those buttons don’t work,” says Robin.

“They’re buttons,” Steve, who seems about five seconds from a full mental breakdown, emphasizes. “They have to do something.“

“Yeah, if we had a keycard.”

“A what?”

“It's an electronic lock,” she says. “Same as the loading dock door. If we don't have a keycard, it won't operate, meaning…”

“We're stuck in here,” Dustin says.

“Yeah.” Robin huffs a sigh.

“Just so you nerds are aware,” Erica announces, “I'm supposed to be spending the night at Tina's, and Tina always covers for me. But if I'm not home for Uncle Jack's party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she's gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

Robin meets your eyes and arches her brows. You stifle a giggle.

“I don't care about Tina! Or Uncle Jack's party!” Steve says. “Your mom's not gonna be able to find us if we're dead in a Russian elevator!”

It’s all so ridiculous, so insane, so fucking impossible, you want to drop to the floor and laugh until you throw up or pass out.

You cross the elevator in two steps, a hand closing around his arm, the other rising to his chest as you say, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re not dying in here.”

Steve holds your gaze, and the look in his eyes isn’t one you’ve seen before. It’s like shock and concern and… admiration, all rolled into one.

Steve exhales and reaches up to flick the stray hair off your forehead. He gives you a reassuring smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, so you’re an optimist, then? Good to know,” he says, easily stowing the fearful expression he’s worn since the elevator stopped moving. This, at least, you know what to do with. The jokes and the bravado.

“For now,” you say. “Give me another twenty minutes in this hellhole, and I’ll get back to you.”

Steve laughs, and it isn’t entirely happy—it’s a little mangled, a little too tense. But despite that, despite everything, there is a little voice in your head that won’t quit whispering. And it says if you had to get stuck in a terrible situation, at least Steve is by your side.

You have no idea if that voice is true. You sure as hell don’t know what it means if it is.

All you know is that you’re in way, way over your head. And there might not be a way back out.

-

After an hour, all attempts at escape have died down. In one corner, Dustin and Erica have nodded off, and curl against one another like sleeping kittens—in another scenario, it might be heartwarming to see. Now, though, it’s just painful. Like even the kids have given up.

Robin is in the other corner, her head tipped back and her arms looped around her drawn knees. You’re not sure if she’s still awake, but she hasn’t moved in minutes.

You’re in the third corner, sandwiched between fallen boxes and watching as Steve paces back and forth in front of the locked elevator door.

It feels like a lifetime ago that you were standing on your front porch waiting for him. Longer since you and the girls came up with your asinine plan in the first place.

Break Steve Harrington’s heart. Right now, it feels like a fantasy. Or a joke. Certainly meaningless.  

“Steve,” you say softly.

He pauses. Tosses you a glance.

“Sit down. You’re going to wear a hole through the floor.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh. He comes to squeeze down beside you. The space is small enough that his leg is pressed firm against yours. Once again, there’s more comfort in his presence than there should be.

You bump his shoulder lightly.

“So,” you say. “Is this the part where you say I told you so?”

Steve lets out a laugh that also sounds a bit like he’s choking. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

“God.” He sighs again. “I’m so sorry. I never should have dragged you into this. This is all my fault—”

“Hey.” You shift sideways, drawing a leg up, but there’s so little room, your knee ends up against his chest. “Stop. You didn’t drag me into anything. I walked into this cursed elevator of my own volition, thank you very much.”

Steve smiles again, a tiny, sad smile. He closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them, he says, “Look, there’s something I didn’t tell you yesterday.” And that familiar flush of nausea threatens to overwhelm you—the moment of the girls were right and this is all a lie for him, too. But then, that cavern of grief you’ve only seen glimpses of breaks open in his eyes, and you think, for the first time, you’re really seeing Steve Harrington.

And he isn’t a king. He’s just a sad, broken boy.

“What?” you ask, even if you’re not certain you’re ready for whatever he says.

He turns his gaze toward the other corners of the elevator, and doesn’t look at you as he says, in a low voice, “I told you that I was there when Barbara Holland died. Me and Nancy.”

Your heart beats like a kickdrum, booming against your ribs. You nod.

Steve exhales sharply. “Yeah, well, that’s not exactly the whole story. The truth is, I left her alone, bleeding, like damn monster bait. I was so obsessed with getting Nancy’s attention, saying and doing all the right shit, that I didn’t stop for a second to look out the window. I could have stopped it.” He sits back against the metal-plated walls. Only then do you realize one of his hands is resting on your knee. “She’s dead because of me.” A muscle clicks in his jaw. “I can’t let that happen again. And if—” He stops. A shiver rolls through him. “I just can’t let anyone else get hurt.”

You pause for a long second before you speak.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Barb,” you say. “I mean, say you had looked out the window and seen…” You gesture at nothing. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I believe your whole monster thing, but I do know there’s nothing you could have done.” You press your lips together. Lay a hand on his shoulder. “And as for us, it’s mighty noble and all, but no one here asked you to save them. I didn’t. So if you’re carrying that around, you can put it down. All of this shit you’re carrying, you can put it down.”

Steve swallows visibly and turns to look at you. This, too, is a new Steve. Open and unarmed.

He places his hand on top of yours, and when you flip up your palm, he twines his fingers with yours. He lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a long kiss to your knuckles.

Steve’s gaze flicks to yours, and the tiny space between boxes seems infinitely smaller. His face is only a few inches from yours.

His eyes dart down and back up, and you know he’s going to kiss you. More than that, you know you want him to. And you know you shouldn’t.

But you don’t stop him. You lean toward him, and he bends toward you, and he presses his lips to yours, and god, you’re kissing Steve Harrington.

It isn’t what you thought it’d be like, which, if you’re being honest, is something you’ve considered. A few times. Maybe more than a few.

It—he—is gentle. Careful. His hands weave behind your head to draw you closer, and his lips are soft and warm, and despite the very real and pressing concerns around you, he kisses you like you have all the time in the world. And for a second, you forget where you are. Who you are, if you’re being more honest.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. He dips his forehead against yours, and his breath is warm on your chin.

Eventually, he says softly, “You know, for the record, if I had to be stuck in some cursed Russian elevator with anybody, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Me, plus your coworker, and two children, you mean?” You ask, leaning back.

Steve laughs, ducking to press another quick kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, obviously, that’s exactly what I meant.”

You smile, and say, “Me too,” but the warm, fluttery feeling in your chest subsides by the second. Shame, hot and sharp, replaces it.

Because the plan is working. Everything you and the girls set out to do is coming to fruition, but it’s all wrong, cracked and wreathed in rot.

Steve Harrington might be falling for you, but you’re falling for him, too. And somehow, that isn’t even your biggest problem. There is still this elevator and whatever waits beyond the doors.

You’re screwed. Royally, entirely, wholly screwed.

You’ve spent the last month living a lie, and now, it’s looking like you might die in one, too.

-

taglist: @dutifullyspookyrebel @le-who-zer-her 

[harringtown]

steve harrington must die - pt 3

a/n: hello im alive!! i know its been far too long but ive got some very very Very big writing things going on that i should be able to talk about in the next few weeks so I've been very very busy but for now!!! have the next part!! the last part will be up sooner i swear! ty for the patience <3

catch up here

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: Russian interrogation, truth serum, and secrets coming out (aka shit is hitting the metaphorical and physical fan)

wc: 3.9k

warnings: violence

-

Contrary to popular belief, the space beneath Starcourt Mall is not occupied by a dark, dingy basement. Or, technically, it is. Partially. But beneath that single level, hidden behind massive chunks of concrete, is something else entirely.

A military base. A Russian one, just to make things interesting.

Which means Steve was right. He and his friends were right. He wasn’t lying or screwing with you or weaving tall tales with the intention of scaring you off.

There is more to Hawkins than you ever knew, and now, you’re getting a front row seat to the chaos under the surface. And you’re seriously regretting ever looking Steve Harrington’s way.

Break Steve Harrington’s heart. It seems silly now. Silly and pointless and small and cruel.

Shame and regret only elevate the anxiety racing through your veins. You only want to talk to one person about it, but you can’t, because the one person is the reason you’re in this mess.

And you realize that the only thing scarier than not getting out of here is losing Steve on the way.

-

Robin, Dustin, and Erica are okay. They’re okay. They have to be okay. If they’re not okay, then you and Steve’s sacrifice isn’t a sacrifice at all. It was just fucking stupid.

If they’re not okay, it means they’re not coming to get you out. It means you and Steve and all of them are stuck down here with no way out.

God, let them be okay. And let you and Steve be okay, too, while you’re making wishes.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Steve asks. He’s been gearing up to the question for the last five minutes, sitting and stewing so loud it's like his thoughts are bouncing around the room like a ping pong ball.

“Don’t you dare,” you say. “You know that door wouldn’t have held.”

The door. Steve ran to hold it when the Russians started pushing on it, and without thinking, without even breathing, you went to help him. You were the first down the hatch that may have led to safety, and the only one who climbed out of it. You didn’t even consider the consequences. You just saw Steve, alone, struggling.

“You don’t know that—”

“Yeah, I do,” you snap. “If I hadn’t come back, all five of us would be sitting here right now.” You test your binds, pulling up until pain sparks along your wrists, and you give up with a sigh. “And you know it.”

Steve goes quiet.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did have a choice—” he says.

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone, Steve, so, no, there actually wasn’t a choice.”

He goes quiet again.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” he repeats. “You could have saved yourself. Probably could have made it out. You were the first down that hole, y/n. But you came back. Why?”

That’s the real question, isn’t it? It’s also the one you don’t have an answer to.

“Because I—because—”

“What?”

You shake your head though he can’t see it.

“Look, we can talk about all the reasons my idiot self decided to come back for you, or, we can find a way out of here..”

Steve hesitates before asking, “Got any bright ideas?”

“No.”

“Cool.” Steve huffs. “Me neither.” He rolls his shoulders, shoulder blades grazing your back, and oddly, each brush of his skin is a wave of comfort.

At least you’re not alone. At least Steve is here to make crappy jokes. At least, at least.

-

Nothing scared you more than the Russian soldiers themselves, in their uniforms and with their clipped words you couldn’t understand.

Then they dragged a thrashing, yelling Steve out of his chair and through the door, and you realized there are scarier things than soldiers in this base. The most dangerous thing, it seems, is you. You and all the feelings you don’t understand.

Time drags and claws by, and you’re powerless to do anything but fight against your binds and listen. Every few seconds, a crack echoes through the vents, like a fist hitting bone.

Every few seconds, Steve screams. Every few seconds, another piece of your sanity breaks off.

You don’t think you’ll ever get that sound out of your head. His pain on loop until the end of time.

And when the door finally opens again, the Russians haul a limp, bloody boy in a sailors uniform inside, dropping him unceremoniously into the chair tied to yours. He slumps against your back, unconscious, as they rebind his wrists and ankles.

It takes everything in you not to cry or scream curses or thrash pointlessly in your own chair. None of that will help Steve.

Nothing you can do will help him. He’s passed out, bloody and bruised and definitely concussed, and all you can do is sit with your back to his and hope he wakes up. Hope you both don’t die down here.

Panic courses through your veins like a lit flame, building up like explosive gas. To keep from screaming your head off for help that isn’t coming, you settle for a decade old coping mechanism that never really did much in the first place. Pick a song, hum or sing the words, give your brain something to focus on apart from the

And by the time you’ve made it through three rounds of Total Eclipse of the Heart, you’re less inclined to jump out of your skin.

“The hell is this, karaoke night?” A rough, raw voice croaks at your back.

“Steve?” you ask. “Holy shit, Steve—“

“Are you singing… Bonnie Tyler right now?”

You let out a laugh that’s half sob, and say, “I was—it helps me calm down.” You crane your neck in a useless effort to catch a glimpse of him. You can feel the twitch of the muscles in his back as he winces with each breath, and you can smell sweat and that sharp rusty sting of blood wafting off him, but you can’t see him. “Are you… I mean, I know asking if you’re okay is a shitty question, but, are you okay?”

Steve lets out a rattling breath. “No, not really. But what’re ya gonna do?” He clears his throat, and ends up on a coughing fit that ends with him spitting something you hope isn’t blood onto the ground.  “What about you?”

“Better than you,” you say.

“Yeah, well, that’s pretty much a given,” Steve says.

You scoff, twisting to scan the room. It’s bare—only an operating table you pray remains unused, a pile of tools, and the chairs you’re strapped to.

“We gotta get the hell out of here,” you say.

“Yeah, that would be fantastic,” Steve says. “But unless you’ve come up with anything in the last half hour, we’re shit out of luck.”

“Don’t say that.”

He wheezes out a breath. Waits a beat, then says, “You know, for the record, this isn’t really the romantic evening I had planned for us.”

You can’t help but snort a laugh, though it dies out quickly. Shame coils and snaps like a whip at your insides, but you push past it to say, “Romantic evening, yeah?”

Steve goes to speak, but a wave of coughs rolls through him, and he shakes against your back. Your tied hands ache to yank free, to comfort him, though there’s nothing you can do except be there—be there, facing him, instead of close enough but too far to matter.

“C’mon,” you urge, suddenly terrified wondering just how hard he was hit, and whether his lethargy is more than just low morale. He could be hurt. Really, seriously hurt, and you can’t do a damn thing about it. But you can keep him awake. “Tell me what you had in mind.”

Steve wheezes another breath, and his voice is strained as he says, “Picnic. On top of the water shower. I figure, who cares how shitty the takeout is when you’ve got one of the best views of the fireworks in town.”

Your stomach churns. “You never know. We could still make it.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs a dark laugh.

“And shitty takeout and the water tower will still be there tomorrow.”

He huffs again.

“It sounds nice,” you say. “Really nice.”

He remains quiet.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “maybe tomorrow,” and it’s so obvious he doesn’t believe it. He lapses into silence, and it bothers you more than anything how easily he gives up. How quickly he’s gone from the head of the escape pack to the back of it.

And something about his sudden apathy is a kickstart to your faltering motivation to find a way out of this horrible place.

Your gaze lands on the rolling table stacked with medical tools: scalpels, long syringes, and an assortment of other horrifying objects.

“Steve. Do you see that tray?”

Steve tries to hide a groan as he twists in his chair. “You mean, the one with the terrifying sharp tools on it?”

“Exactly. Maybe we can shimmy our way over—“

“Y/N—” Steve tries.

“And then we knock the tray over, and—”

“It won’t work.”

“It will work.”

He says your name again, and again, you urge, it’ll work. You don’t say the next part, the because it has to, but Steve must understand, because he just acquiesces with a, “Okay, okay. What do we do?”

You rake in a few breaths. “Okay, so, on the count of three, we both hop.”

“Okay, good, hop on three. Gotcha.” Steve nods his head a few times, and his hair tickles the back of your neck.

“Good.”

“Wait, on three, or after three?”

“After three, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Steve says, and you can hear the smile on his lips. It sends a flutter of warmth through your icy frame. “Just checking.”

“Alright.” You suck in a breath. “One, two, three.”

The chairs scrape a few inches across the floor, and though yours threatens to tip for a half second, it holds.

“Holy shit, that actually worked,” Steve exclaims.

You swallow a grin and say, “Don’t act so surprised, Harrington.”

“Let's go again.”

“Okay.” You steel yourself, fingers curling around the edges of your seat. “One, two, three.”

The two of you skid at least a foot across the floor with this leap. It’s more solid, too.

But the third jump does you in. One or both of you gets too confident, tries to move too far, and before you can let out the curse waiting on your tongue, you and Steve are crashing to the floor. You smash hard against one shoulder, and the angle of your bound limbs makes the impact rattle through your bones like a heavy bass.

Pain ignites every inch of you, but when you open your mouth, it isn’t a sob that comes out. It’s something between a cry and a giggle. And another giggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Steve says, back bumping yours as he twists against you. “Don’t cry, we’re—”

The hysterical laughter bubbles up and out of you, like a blocked pipe breaking open. Steve stops, makes a noise that’s somewhere between shocked and horrified.

“Are you… laughing?” he asks.

“I’m sorry—It’s just—this really isn’t how I thought this day was going to go. This isn’t how I thought I was going to die. Strapped to Steve Harrington’s back, two hundred feet under the mall, tortured to death by literal Russian soldiers.”

“Hey,” Steve says forcefully. “We’re not gonna die.”

You ignore that, because Steve has no clue whether it’s true, and you don’t want to call his bluff.

“I just need a minute to think. To—to figure something out,” he says.

“There’s nothing to figure out, Steve,” you say. “Unless you can pull a miracle out of your ass. Which, you can’t even reach, by the way.”

“I’m not letting you die,” he says, and you can tell that this, at least, he believes.

“I don’t think you’ve got a say in that.” You don’t have the energy to try anymore; to be the perfect person you crafted this last month. There’s no room left to impress.

He just sighs, and his head bumps the back of yours before he lets it hit the concrete with a light tap.

And for some reason, that little action sends your resolve over the edge.

Stupid. This whole plan was so incredibly stupid, more than you ever could have imagined. Because apart from the circumstances you’re currently in—being held captive, interrogated, probably headed to your graves—you made an even larger mistake. You failed.

You fell for Steve Harrington, and now, you’re going to die with him, and it will all have been a lie. The realest thing you’ve ever had, and it’s a lie.

There’s one part of this whole thing you refused to touch with a ten foot pole. The after. What happens when Steve finds out what you’ve done.

It didn’t really matter in the beginning, when he was still just an asshole ex-jock with no more depth to him than a kiddie pool.

But that isn’t what he is. Not anymore, at least. And you may not know whether you’re going to survive the day, but you know one thing: he’s going to hate you when he finds out.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say softly.

“Shoot,” Steve says.

You inhale. “It’s not, like, a secret that you had a reputation back in school. For being…”

“An asshole?” he asks.

You’re grateful he can’t see your blush as you say, “I mean, yeah—but I… I meant…” You clear your throat. “Nevermind. Just forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Steve says.

A smile ghosts your lips, but quickly disappears.

“You were like Hawkins' very own casanova,” you say, “and then, all of a sudden, you just… weren’t. After you and…”

“That’s not a question,” he says. When he realizes you’re not planning on asking it, he sighs, and says, “You want to know about Nancy.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

You feel him roll his shoulders, shift his weight as best he can. He’s quiet for a long time, so long you’re sure he isn’t going to speak at all. Then, softly, he says, “It’s not like it was some big tragedy. It just…” He stops. “You know, it’s like…. We all grow up being told about this perfect person, and how when you find them, everything just makes sense. That, like, you’ll run into them, and everything will just work out. Nobody tells you that it doesn’t work like that. That sometimes, you think you found the right person, this perfect person that’s everything you want, and they just… don’t want you back. Or they do, and then they don’t. Or, they do, and it still goes to shit.” He exhales softly. “I spent my whole life looking. But after Nancy, I don’t know, I guess I figured, maybe not everyone gets a person.” He falls quiet. “And then I met you.”

The shame and guilt that have been growing inside you burst out of their cage, spreading through your limbs like poison. If you had anything in your stomach, you think you’d retch it onto the concrete floor.

How did you get it so wrong? How did you dig yourself so deep into this hole without realizing there was nothing at the bottom?

Tears well in your eyes, burning as they fall down your cheeks and hit the floor.

“Steve,” you say. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” he asks, hesitant.

Your lips part, but before the words can breach, the loud buzzer over the door blares, and the door whines open. The Russian guards from before filter in, followed by Dr. Ozerov and a man in a white coat, carrying a briefcase.

Ozerov comes to stand before your overturned chairs, a smug grin playing on his lips.

“Where were you two going?” he asks. He jerks a chin at the younger guards. Three men haul you and Steve up, righting the chairs, as the white-coated man pops open his briefcase and pulls out a vial of bright blue liquid. Everything about it screams danger, and you squirm against your binds.

“Try telling the truth this time, yes?” Ozerov asks. “It will make your visit with Dr Zharkov less painful.” He bends toward Steve, and you can’t see much in your periphery, but Steve grunts in pain, and a fire ignites inside you.

“Don’t touch him,” you snarl.

The white-coated man, Dr Zharkov, walks past you and around to Steve, holding a massive syringe with the blue vial loaded into it.

“Wait a second. Wait. Hold on,” Steve exclaims, shifting against your back. “Wait, wait, wait! What is that thing?”

Nausea coils and snaps in your gut.

“It will help you talk,” Ozerov says.

Dr Zharkov plunges the needle into Steve’s neck, and his scream pierces your skin, your muscle, down to your very bones. You don’t think anything hurts more than that sound, than being so helpless while he’s in so much pain.

Then the doctor brings the syringe to your skin, and you realize you were very, very wrong.

-

Truth serum. It’s supposed to be a movie myth, reserved for spy films and cautionary tales. It isn’t supposed to actually exist.

So, when Zharkov injected you with whatever was in that vial, you didn’t think it could possibly be the real thing.

Twenty minutes later, and you’re a believer.

“Honestly, I don’t really feel anything,” Steve says.

You do. You really do. The last month of secrets are lined up behind your teeth, and everything in you wants to let them out.

“Yeah, me neither,” you say. “Just… kind of good.”

Steve snorts a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I kind of like it, too.”

A giggle spills out of you, and you’re lucky that’s all it is.

Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet.

“Hey, what was it you were going to tell me earlier?” Steve asks after a moment.

Shit. Shit, shit—

“Oh, it was nothing,” you force.

“No, c’mon. What was it?”

“Steve,” you say. “Please drop it.”

He stops. The next time he speaks, his tone is rigid, tense.

“Y/N,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“Steve—”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Granted, you hadn’t put thought into how it should go down, but a little part of you had been hoping, hopelessly, that somehow, this conversation never needed to happen. That somehow you could peel yourself out of his life like a fallen bandaid, forgotten on the concrete.

And maybe there is a way to tell him that is better than the rest—still shitty, because the thing itself is shitty, but slightly less shitty—but with the drugs swirling in your veins, you can’t find it. Your limbs are warm and heavy, but your mind whirs a hundred miles an hour, collecting truths on your tongue. Every breath they get closer to spilling out.

Steve says your name again, and it’s like you’re not in control anymore; the warm feeling snaking through you is. And it wants out.

“I’ve been pretending. This whole time, I’ve been pretending, and I’ve been lying to you,” you say, and once you start, you can’t stop. “I’m not—I’m not who you think I am. This girl you spent the last month with, she doesn’t exist.” You roll your head as far as you can, and stare up at the exposed pipes above you. “We made her up so that you’d fall for her—for me—and then…” You can’t twist the words into something less harsh. You stop trying. “We were going to break your heart, the way you’ve broken so many girls.”

A long, agonizing second passes before Steve asks, in a clipped tone, “We?”

“Me. Theresa Hart. Bethany Goldwater. Rebecca McMann.”

Steve doesn’t speak, and though you should take this as a cue to keep your own damn mouth shut, now that it’s open, you can’t clamp it closed.

“It was before I knew you. Before I realized that you’d changed. And I would take it back if I could. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He huffs a soft breath, but he doesn't say anything else. Doesn't do anything else.

The silence wraps around you like vines, closing around your airpipe with each passing moment.

“Steve.”

He acts like he hasn’t heard you, which is an easy bluff to call considering you’re tied to his back.

“Steve.” Your stomach churns. “Please say something.”

“What the hell do you want me to say?” he asks, and you’ve never heard his voice so cruel, so hard. But it’s nowhere near as painful as the next words that come out of his mouth. Sad, hollow, and wavering.

“Congratulations,” he says. “You win.”

–

Five minutes, or maybe an eternity, later, the buzzer over the door lets out a shrill shriek. You and Steve tense, his back and arms pressed into yours, skin hot where it touches your own.

But instead of the Russian’s returning for more interrogation or intimidation, it’s Robin, Dustin, and Erica. Alive and breathing and uncuffed, there to rescue you like Steve said they would be. You hadn’t believed him.

Mark it down as another thing you were wrong about.

Most of you is just plain relieved to see them, even if you are a little concerned about a deadly weapon in the hands of a trigger-happy fourteen year old, but a small part of you is disappointed it isn’t the Russians that come through the door.

Because with an enemy to escape, you and Steve were reluctant teammates, even if he refused to speak a word to you after his cutting you win. Even if he hated you, you knew that he wouldn’t leave you behind. That he’d fight to get out alongside you.

But Robin, Dustin, and Erica’s entrance shatters whatever was left hanging between you, as rotted and gnarled as it was to begin with. A divide slides down between you as the others free you from your chairs.

It isn’t just Steve you’re losing—have already lost. It’s them, too. Robin, who always greeted you with a grin and exchanged genuine pleasantries at the Scoops counter. Dustin and Erica, who you got to know surprisingly well in your time plotting and executing this failed invasion.

It’s this life you’ve created. It was only a month, but it could have been so much more. You can see that now. That it could have been more, and now, it never will be.

There’s too much chaos to try and get a word in during the escape from the labyrinth that is the base, not that Steve would listen. He keeps as far from you as he can, even in the small elevator as it soars back up to the ground.

He won’t look at you. You’re starting to think he’ll never look at you again. And you should be happy you pulled this off—you shouldn’t want him to look at you the way he does, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

But you’re not, and you do. Maybe you always did.

[harringtown]

i have the steve harrington/john tucker must die au fully plotted and the first part is almost done someone bully me into finishing it

[harringtown]

hi, will you be writing steve harrington must die pt 2 or is the pt 1 just it?? i looooove the movie and im so glad that i found your fic but i was so sad bc there were no pt 2 :(

hi yes i promise im still writing it!!! ty for ur patience i swear i have the next part half finished!!!

[harringtown]

I am loving your "Steve Harrington must die" series, I'm so so excited for it, there's so much potential for angst, for Steve to get hurt, and I hope you use it skjdhdkdk With a happy ending of course

thank u so much!!!! and dont u worry, yall know me, i will never pass up the opportunity to hurt steve (and eventually fix him but yk) and with the combo of the au drama and the general ‘so we’ve been captured by russians and now we’re being interrogated’ *rubs hands together* its gonna be painful <3

[harringtown]

I've come here to humbly beg on my knees for a part two for Steve Harrington must die :')

No seriously, take your time, it's just that I've just read it and let me tell you I am IN LOVE with the concept and your writing for it 💘

ugh ur so kind anon thank u!!!! im so glad u like it!!! i swear part 2 is coming soon, ive been weirdly unable to write all week so im hoping this weird funk ends and i can get some writing done this weekend <3

[harringtown]

Ok I love “Steve Harrington must die” and I’m alll for angst and him getting hurt but will they end up together because my heart couldn’t handle it if they don’t. Also how many parts will it be?

thank you!!! omg dont worry at all, as much pain as ill put him through itll have a happy ending. im like physically incapable of not writing happy endings. and itll be 4 parts!!

[harringtown]

why not try to ruin his life while also having monsters and feelings? so like they think more on ruining than on heartbreak? dunno btw the story seems great, good luck :)

also that it wasnt noticeable that harrington was like the superstar athlete or similar, it surprised me (yeah im the same one from last ask)

i definitely considered it! the main reasons i didnt are cuz steves reputation has already pretty much in tatters by s3 so there isnt much to ruin left? and also just for my own sanitys sake because it would seriously elongate the fic and as much as id love to do a 10 parter like i used to, i am getting a book ready for submission so i just dont have the time :( and as for his character its definitely a deviation from the actual john tucker character especially since steve isnt in hs anymore/playing sports but one of the nice things about fic is that a lot of character aspects are already established by the show so its kind of an assumption thing!!!

[harringtown]

wasnt harrington supposed to be the superstar athlete or something like that? would he be sabotaged in the must die au?

yeah he was! i was originally gonna start the au with the girls just trying to screw with his life but i wanted to tie it more into the 3rd st season so instead of following the ‘publicly expose + heartbreak’ plot thats more central to the movie its gonna be more of a ‘the plan is to break his heart but now there are monsters and also feelings involved’ thing!!

[damndaehyung]

Level 7 Friendship

JTMD AU Includes: Daniel, Tyler

“Tyler Lee, just the man I was looking for,” Daniel greeted Tyler as he spotted walking across campus alone. Tyler spun around with an unimpressed look on his face, an eyebrow cocked up as he looked over at Daniel. Daniel smiled sheepishly pretending to fix his beret but really it was to turn on the stupid camera the girls had insisted he wear.

“Really because i had the distinct feeling that you were avoiding me?” Tyler said, his posture radiating annoyance. “What happened to okay we will try to be friends? You know I was going out of my way to make an effort,” he continued, his hand going to his waist making Daniel feel like was definitely getting scolded.

“Oh,” Daniel said softly, looking down. “So Tara didn’t tell you?” he asked looking up with wet eyes. Caleb had always told Daniel that his acting classes would come in handy, Daniel never imagined it would be like this.

“Tell me what?” Tyler asked with a frown.

“Oh my god this is so embarrassing,” Daniel whined dramatically. “Forget it,” he said, turning around, counting down in his three, two, one.

  “Hey no,” Tyler said, grabbing his wrist. Daniel smirked inwardly, this was going easier then he thought it would be. “You can tell me, whatever it is, I promise I won't judge,” Tyler said softly, Daniel knew he was trying to be a supportive friend but there was the tiniest hint of hopefulness to his tone which threw Daniel for a loop.

“Oh no you got it wrong, it’s not embarrassing for me it’s embarrassing for you,” Daniel said pulling out of Tyler’s grasp. “Look your girlfriend-” he said, watching as Tyler’s brows furrowed. Maybe he was wondering which one Daniel was referring to it must be hard to keep your stories straight when you are dating several people all at once. “She told me to stay away from you in a more colourful way,” he admitted with a frown.

“Also she is kinda homophobic, implying that only reason i would even want to know you is because i want to get in your pants like gay men can never have actual male friends, also now that i think about it it’s kinda insulting to you because she is implying that only noteworthy thing about you is your body,” he paused him ‘ramble’ to look Tyler up and down. “Which i am sure is a very lovely body but it's kinda mean,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you had a bad break up and who am i to judge your rebound,” he said.

“My girlfriend said that to you?” Tyler asked with a frown. “I don’t have a girlfriend -” he explained.

“Well someone better tell Maurice that because she told me you two were destined to get married and if i get in the way of that -” he said, making a throat-slitting motion.

“Do you mean Maude?” he asked, if he looked annoyed before then he was straight up angry now. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were narrowed and his hands were balled up into fists.

“Is she a brunette, brown eyes, about ye high?” Daniel said, gesturing for how high he believed Maude to be. Tyler nodded a grimace on his face.

“Look, Daniel,” he statred, “She isn’t my girlfriend, she is my ex,” he explained.

“I thought you said her name was Minah,” Daniel pointed out.

“Yes, that was my most recent ex, Maude is a little while ago,” Tyler said. “Look our break up was kinda messy, i admit i was - it was just bad but Maude had always been a good friend to me before we were together so we agreed to be friends but she is-”

‘“Kinda you know-” he said making a crazy gesture with his hand.

“No,” Tyler shoved him playfully, “I think she keeps hoping for something that won’t happen,” he said. “I am really sorry though she had no right to say any of that to you,” he said once again reaching out and grabbing Daniel’s hands. Daniel smiled stepping back and effectively freeing his hands once more

“Yeah it’s not your fault,” Daniel said. “Don’t worry about it,” he said waving dismissively

“So you said you were looking for me?” Tyler asked curiously.

“Yes, so firstly are you free on Thursday?” Daniel asked.

“Depends on the time?” Tyler said

“Morning, around 10-ish?”

“Yeah I should be,” Tyler said. “What do you have in mind?” he asked,

“Crossfit,” Daniel said. “My friend has roped me into going to a class? Is it a class? With her and her boyfriend and you look pretty fit,” he said as Tyler smirked. “Oh stop smirking I meant like healthy,” Daniel said with an eye roll. “So hopefully you can distract them when I surely collapse by actually being good at you know… gym stuff,” he said.

“Awww,” Tyler cooed. “Sweetie, I think you need to work on your stamina,” he said with a teasing grin. “You want to come to practice this week? I can help you get ready for it, you know make you last longer than a minute?” He smirked, the double innuendo was not lost on Daniel.

“I don’t know why I would go to you if I wanted someone who could last-“ Daniel rolled his eyes. “Anyway is that a yes?” he continued.

“Don’t worry I got your back” Tyler said. “And I always last,” he grinned.

————

“So you want to explain to me why you bought Tyler Lee along?” Mia asked as they found seats at the cafe just near her boyfriend's gym for a ‘light lunch’. Daniel let out a groan making vague hand gestures, he didn’t want to talk, talking hurt, everything hurt. Why his supposed friend wanted and successfully tortured him was beyond him. “Are you friends?” she continued to ask Daniel let out a noise that he hoped sounded like a well. “Okay are you fucking?” she asked as Daniel flopped in a chair wincing as his body ached, glaring at her, he shook his head. So said friend not only tortures him but insults him. “Okay okay,” she held her hands up in defence.

“What are we talking about?” Mia’s boyfriend Topher said as he and Tyler sat down placing the table number down.

“My funeral,” Daniel whined. “I’m dead, maybe not literally yet -it’s coming though, - but figuratively,” he said resting his head against his palms. The table laughed at his pain, did he expect from the two traitors and some who choose to go by the worst half of a Christopher.

“Aww dude you didn’t even do that bad,” Topher said, his name is Topher and he says the word dude. Daniel would hate him if he didn’t look like he could bench press him and have the personality of a large golden retriever, bigger than necessary but oddly lovable.

“Yeah so what if you didn’t finish the workout,” Mia said biting back a giggle as Tyler patted his back humming in mock sympathy.

“You lasted longer than I expected,” Tyler commented. Their supposed support and praise was nothing but sugar-coated arsenic. Daniel looked up glaring at the pair causing them to both laugh even more.

“The first time is awkward for everyone,” Topher said as sincerely as possible, despite his well-meaning attempts to defend him, Tyler and Mia, like the filthy-minded fools they were, burst out laughing. “No seriously most first-timers don't do well, at least he didn’t pull a muscle,” he continued.

“Aww babe never change,” Mia said beaming at him, interlocking their hands. Daniel’s nose scrunched up, ah couples - disgusting. “At the very least Daniel had three guys offering to give him CPR if he really needed it,” she said with a grin. Daniel grinned, that was true, the only good thing about gyms was the guys.

“I am the only one who got any numbers,” Daniel nodded. “Even after Tyler's little striptease he still got no numbers,” he grinned, nudging the boy beside him. “Oh it's so hot let me just take my top off,” he said mockingly.

“Topher and several other guys had their shirts off,” Tyler pointed out. “Seems the only one who noticed was you,” he smirked.

“You wish, I was in too much pain to even look at you,” Daniel sighed. “But i am sure it was a great show even if you didn’t get any numbers, maybe you should show some leg next time,” he teased. Daniel was saved from whatever witty comeback Tyler was going to throw his way by a waitress showing up and putting their drinks down, her eyes staying on Tyler the whole time.

“Maybe i will get that number after all,” Tyler smirked.

“Is this foreplay for you guys?” Topher asked, causing Daniel to spit out his drink, grabbing napkins he quickly wiped up his drinks. “I am sorry was that too blunt? I just don’t get why you would be okay with your boyfriend getting other people’s numbers,” he said. Mia once again started to giggle.

“Oh no- “ Daniel said, shaking his head a little too quickly if the ache in his neck was anything to go by, “We aren’t a couple,’ he said pointedly. “We are just friends - Ty is straight like Captain of the baseball team, head frat boy, has multiple crazy ex-girlfriends type of straight,” Daniel said.

“Basketball and no crazy ex-girlfriends but the sentiment is right,” Tyler explained. “But if we were, I would win clearly,” he said.

“Firstly who cares they all have a ball involved, two at the very least ONE crazy girlfriend and three if we were a couple i’d be the hot one who gets all the numbers,” Daniel said taking a sip of his juice, smiling as he nibbled on the straw.

“If i was your boyfriend other guys wouldn’t be brave enough to give you their numbers,” Tyler said. Daniel rolled his eyes, having a boyfriend had never stopped someone from giving him their numbers before. He couldn’t see how Tyler Lee would be able to stop them.

“Are you sure you two aren’t -” Topher said, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely sure,” Daniel cut him off as the waitress came back with their food, as expected her number was tucked in Tyler’s napkin. “I am still winning,” Daniel said in a sing-song voice as Tyler rolled his eyes scrunching the number up and tossing it onto the street once the waitress had turned around and started walking back inside the cafe. Daniel’s brows furrowed leaning across to whisper what he is doing. If he was going to play the game, he had to act like he believed Tyler was heartbroken .” She could have been a good rebound,” he whispered.

“Eat your food,” Tyler whispered back. Daniel rolled his eyes shaking his head, turning his attention to his food.

The rest of their brunch continued on pretty pleasantly. Topher and Tyler continued to talk sport, something Daniel couldn’t care less about. Mia told them all about her production of Much To Do About Nothing was going and how her sorority was having problems with some of the freshman, Tyler decided to offer his expertise on the subject. It was easy to forget the pain he was going through when they were having a good time but once lunch was over and it was time to head back to his apartment he was reminded.

“Tyler since you are my friend I have a favour to ask you,” Daniel said seriously stopping in the middle of the footpath, Tyler turned around looking at him curiously.

“What does this favour entail?” he said, sounding unsure.

“A mercy killing, specifically killing me,” Daniel whined, “Why did you let me do this to myself, is it revenge for avoiding you after Mindy told me off,” he asked, noticing the way Tyler reacted to Daniel’s purposely wrong name for Maude. Daniel raised an eyebrow was Mindy another ex? Geez, how many of these girls did this guy actually date, not every girl he fucked had to turn into a girlfriend, he could just hook up with them and then throw them away like used tissues.

Whatever ‘Mindy’ inspired in Tyler was over quickly because the next thing he knew Tyler was chuckling. “One I am not killing you why should I be merciful to you?” he asked with a teasing grin. “Two, you asked me to come and three her name is Maude and i explained that situation to you and now that i think about it you owe me after how cruelly you treated me over something that wasn’t my fault,”

“It was so, she is your ex, so therefore she is your fault,” Daniel huffed. “And fine, to make it up to you I'll use my AMM login to hook you up with a model,” he offered as Tyler’s nose scrunched up. “What? you don’t want to date a model?”

“Why are you pushing for me to hook up with someone?” Tyler asked, raising an eyebrow.

“To help you get over your ex?” Daniel offered. “That is what our friendship is for right? To help each other with our broken hearts?” he pointed out.

“So you are just trying to get rid of me bypassing me off to another girl?” Tyler asked with a frown. “I don’t know-” he started before Daniel cut him off.

“Hey i didn’t mean it like that, I was just trying to help,” He said holding his hands up. “I just figured you’d be into dating a very pretty girl,” he said. “Sorry,” he offered.

“It’s fine,” Tyler huffed. “I just feel like you don’t actually want to -” he trailed off, “I mean you haven’t even given me your phone number, normal friends give each other phone numbers,” he pointed out.

“Fine,” Daniel said, “I guess we have reached friendship level 7,” Daniel admitted. “I mean you did come to the hell on earth known as Crossfit with me so,” he said with a nudge as Tyler held his phone out. Daniel rolled his eyes typing his number in. “There you are now one of the few people that actually have my number, don’t give it to anyone without my permission,” he said with narrowed eyes after Minah somehow managed to get his number he was even more careful.

“Who would i give it to?” Tyler snorted texting him so he had his number.

“I don’t know who would you give it to?” Daniel asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Tyler. Tyler rolled his eyes, shoving him.

“Come on let's get you home before your legs give out,” Tyler said. “Do you think you can walk or do i have to carry you?” he teased.

“I can walk, you’ll just have to listen to me complain,” he said. “And you aren’t coming to my house, you need to be at friendship level 15 for that, so you know get to work.”

[damndaehyung]

Rocky Rides

Daniel Choi JTMD AU Included : Daniel, Maude, Tara, Jane, Minah Mentioned : Tyler 

Daniel’s day was going reasonably well, which he quickly come to realize would mean it was bound to be ruined by Tyler Lee or his numerous enemies. He had managed to dodge the revenge squad, jumping into a bush to avoid Jane as she walked by campus, running into the men's bathroom to avoid Minah and hiding out amongst Emily’s friends at one point to avoid Tara Lee and what surely would be a lecture about not breaking her older brother’s heart. Tyler Lee himself was trickier to avoid which surprised him, apparently, he was like a missile when he latched onto something and apparently he had the campus grapevine in grasp because the number of times Daniel had thought he was well hidden only for Tyler Lee to pop up out of nowhere was getting a bit ridiculous but today he was sure Tyler would be busy, he had training - a fact Daniel hate’s that he knows, so Daniel was free.

“Are you Daniel Choi?” Someone said grabbing him and spinning him around. Daniel scowled as he came eye to eye to the other brunette, the one that wasn’t in on the plane. Mauve or something.

“Look i don’t autographs or photos”,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Sorry,” he said turning back around only for her to step around of him back into his line of view. “Is there a problem here?” he asked tapping his foot in annoyance. “Because I have a lecture to go and no offence but I’d rather listen to a seventy-year-old rave on about Cubism then what i am sure will be a real brain cell killing conversation,” he said looking at this girl pointedly.

“Look, I don’t know who you are -” she started.

“You just said my full name,” Daniel huffed. “Which is very strange might i add,” he said. He was sick of Tyler and his exes knowing too much information about me.

“Or what you up to but leave Tyler alone,” she continued on. “If this is some plan to get popular just stop,” she said with her hand on hips. “And if you are delusional enough to believe you stand a shot with him don’t bother, he isn’t gay and even if he was he wouldn’t slum it with you,” she said haughty, smiling proudly, oh she really thinks she did something. Daniel couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips.

“Sorry,” he said between chuckles. “That was a great speech i feel very threatened,” he continued shaking his head. “But Monroe was it i am just going to have pointed a few things out to you - I am not doing anything with Tyler, in fact i am trying to avoid him so maybe if you actually learned how to give some good head I’d be so much happier, two I am popular even though i don’t hide my disdain for anyone in this university somehow i am liked and lastly, I am a signed to one of the best modelling agencies in the world, unlike you, i don’t just read Vogue i am in it so next time you try imply i am slumming it look in the mirror because if i wanted Tyler i would have him can you say the same? I mean he had three other girlfriends because you weren’t cutting it,” he said smirking. “Now get your hands off me, didn’t anyone tell you not to touch what you can’t afford,” he sneered turning to go in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going asshole, you were walking in the other way,” Maude called out,

“Your EX boyfriend invited me to watch his practice, said to meet him in the locker and you know i had this revelation while talking to you that maybe i should be a better friend to him,” he said turning to look at her. “Ta Ta Melaine,” he said waving mockingly turning on his heels.

Of course Tyler hadn’t invited him to practice and even if he did Daniel would not attend. He had no interest in Basketball and never would.

“You seem happy,” Tara said leaning against the wall. In his victory over Maude, he had forgotten about the not so golden trio. “Come on, we have to talk,” she said linking arms with him and leading him to one of the on-campus apartment buildings.

“You know kidnapping is illegal,” he said. “And no offence Tara but i don’t think you are cut out for prison life,” he continued as Tara ignored him pushing him into the elevator. “If you wanted me alone in an elevator that bad all you had to do is ask,” he said with a cheeky wink. “ I mean i am not interested but f it comes to helping a broken heart i will surfer,” he said as Tara scowled.

“Good go make out with my brother like you are supposed to,” she said sarcastically. “What happened to if you manage to get him interested I’ll play along,” she ranted.

“Haven’t you heard of treat them mean keep them keen?” Daniel said with an eye roll. “How did you even have a boyfriend,” he said shaking his head. “Where are we going?” he asked. “Are you going to kill me because you don’t know anything about how to play games - is this some sort of weird girl mafia thing here?” he asked.

“Yes Daniel, I am the godfather,” Tara said with an eye-roll. “No you fool we are meeting up with Minah and Jane,” she huffed.

“I’d rather the horse head at the end of my bed,” Daniel muttered under his breath.

“That can be arranged,” Tara said happily.

“Please tell me there will be alcohol at this little meetup? I’ve already dealt with one of your brother’s exes and now Minah and Jane, i deserve a whole bottle,” he said leaning against the elevator wall. “How far up is Miss Durand? Does she live on the roof?” he asked wondering why this elevator trip was taking so long.

“Pretty close, she is the penthouse,” Tara commented. Daniel nodded, of course, she was. Why would he expect anything else? The rest of the elevator ride was filled by a completely uncomfortable silence, Daniel supposed it could be worse it could be filled with awkward chit chat.

Daniel let out a sigh of relief when they finally reached Jane’s floor. “Hello, look who i found,” Tara called out as she walked down the hallway. Daniel looked back at the elevator wondering if he could leg it and escape but given how slow that elevator was they’d probably be down before he even got out of the elevator.

“Is it Harry Styles?” Jane called out as Daniel walked into her apartment. “Oh it's just him,” she said, sounding genuinely disappointed. “Well come on in, do you like red wine?” she asked, Daniel opened his mouth to respond but before he could Jane laughed,” too bad if you don’t,” she snorted walking back to the living area where Daniel could spy Minah sitting rather stiffly on the couch, a stark contrast to the view of the busy campus behind her.

“So is there a reason we are having group meetings now?” he asked sitting on the loveseat. “I say this in the nicest way possible I can’t stand any of you and i am pretty sure you all feel the same so why am i here waiting for my bottle of red wine?” he asked sending a pointed look Jane’s way.

“I am not giving you one of my bottles,” Jane said hugging the bottle of wine currently in her hand. “And wrong i can tolerate you for small amounts of time, I can’t stand Minah,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual,” Minah snapped. “To both of you,” she said with an eye roll. “And you are here because you are wasting our time by doing nothing,” she said with a scowl.

“I am playing hard to get,” Daniel shrugged. “Look whatever you did to get Tyler to pursue me won’t last long if he thinks he can just get me,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing. Jane came over handing him a glass. “I need to make him work for it otherwise it won’t hurt enough,” he said taking a sip of the wine.

“I get it,” Jane commented. “You don’t want to seem keen,” she said.

“Please you’ve never been hard to get,” Minah sneered.

“Stop,” Tara warned looking between the two girls with an exhausted look on her face. “We are going off-topic,”

“No no, let them continue,” Daniel commented leaning forward. “So Jane, Minah just said you were easy do you have any response? Or Minah would you like to tell the group about why you think that?” he said with a wide grin. “If we are going to be a successful team everything should be in the open -”

“Don’t make me tip this glass over your head,” Tara said pointing to her glass, Daniel nose wrinkled in disgust as he eyed the glass curiously. Was she drinking water? How silly of her, in the current company she needs something stronger. “Look i know it’s tense but can we focus here? Operation break Tyler’s heart? Does anyone else remember it?”

“That’s a terrible name,” Jane commented as Minah chimed out in agreement making Daniel frown, he was close to getting them to fight and Tara just had to ruin it. “But yes back to the plan, while your hard to get is great you need to throw him a little bone or he is going to get bored,” she sighed.

“So the whole avoiding him because people grossly overestimated your appeal and now you can’t actually do it thing isn’t going to work for much longer,” Minah commented. In his head Daniel repeated Minah said mockingly, his face twitching as he did so. Overestimated his appeal - not bloody likely.

“So thanks to Jane’s new friend,” Tara said. “We have this,” Daniel strained his eyes to look at what seemed to be a little square chip. “Before you ask it’s a camera and its linked to our phones,” she said. Daniel frowned at the thought of them watching his every move. “Don’t worry we aren’t going to be watching you all the time, only when you are with Tyler,” she said happily.

“And how would you know when i am around Tyler?” Daniel asked. “Because no offence this seems a little,” he trailed off not sure it would be safe to say creepy.

“We just will,” Minah said ominously. Well, that didn’t make anything less creepy.

“Look, we just want some insurance that our plan is working, plus we can give you some tips,” Tara said as the other girls turned to her, shaking their heads. “I know Tyler better than anyone and those two dated him so they must know something about his… preferences,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.

Daniel held himself back, he could have pointed out that if Tara knew her brother so well then none of this would be happening and if the other two knew so much about Tyler and his preferences well they wouldn’t have got dumped by text but he knew the number advantage was not on his side.

“It’s easy to work, all you have to do is press it once to turn it on and twice to turn it off,” Tara continued. “We won’t see anything else,” she explained. Well, that was slightly better Daniel guesses.

“Fine,” Daniel sighed. “But you need to calm down a little it’s been like four days,” Daniel pointed out. “I said i was going to do it and i will,” he shrugged.

“And if you fail?” Minah asked.

“Well then i can i join you in the dumped by Tyler Lee club, do we have a meeting as well, I am usually free on Thursday if that is good with you two?” he said looking at Jane and Minah.

“Hey don’t drag me into this. I am not being the pessimist here,” Jane said. “I welcomed you into my house and gave you wine, don’t lump in with her,” she pouted.

‘Anyway -” Tara said, interrupting.

“How did you get Tyler to be interested in the first place, like no offence but he is just so…. straight.” He said with a shudder. “It’s gross and exhausting,” he said sipping on his wine.

“We have our ways,” Jane said. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over,” Jane commented. “All you have to focus on is charming our boy over,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Exactly, anyway i got to go,” Tara said looking at her phone, “Dinner with Adela,” she commented. Daniel wracked his brain to try and figure out if that was the one Tyler had hooked up with. It did start with A.

‘Well since this is over,” Minah said standing up walking straight past everyone and straight into the elevator effectively stopping everyone else from leaving but someone how she managed to get it to work instantaneously for her.

“Well that is great,” Tara frowned, “She could have at least held it for me,” she said with a huff leaning against the counter.

“It’s Minah,” Jane said simply.

“So i guess I’ll take the stairs,” Daniel said standing up and walking over to the counter grabbing one of the opened glasses before filling his cup up. “I am just hydrating for my trip,” he said as the girls looked at him. He downed the entire glass in one gulp, pulling a face it when down. “So should i put this in the dishwater,” he said holding his cup up. “And Tara i need that little chip,” he said looking at the younger one who was scowling at her phone. “Or we can just leave it for now if you got something on,” he said slowly as he eyed her curiously.

.” Yeah yeah whatever,” Tara answered absentmindedly, eyes never leaving her phone.

“Is everything okay Tara?” Jane asked standing up and coming over to her friend, a frown gracing her lips as she saw whatever it was Tara was looking at. “Don’t worry about her, you know better to trust anything that comes out of her mouth,” she said rubbing her back. Daniel looked away uncomfortable at the sight of friendship, it felt like he was intruding on their moment.

Daniel snuck out of the apartment, sighing at the sight of the staircase as he tried to remember just how floors this apartment actually was. It could be worse, he could have to walk up the stairs instead of down them. “Hey, where do you think you are going?” Tara called as Daniel was halfway down the first flight of stairs.

“Down the stairs, i figured you wouldn’t want to be stuck with me in confide spaces again,” he called back. “Plus i’ll get to have my The Rock moment,” he joked.

“Don’t you mean Rocky? Tara called out, Daniel gave her a tired look because honestly who cares, he was sure The Rock had run upstairs at least once in his life so he wasn’t wrong.. “And come on, don’t be silly,” Daniel sighed as started to trudge up the stairs. So much for not walking upstairs today, on the positive side hiis legs would get a workout.

“I am beginning to think you like my company,” Daniel said as he reached Tara, the elevator dinging just as he arrived.

“I am beginning to think you like being wrong,” She said back. “Anyway here,” she said reaching out and handing him the tiny camera. “You’ll be needing this,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah i asked about it before but you were kinda zoned out,” he shrugged. “Not that i care but are you good?” he asked. Tara shifted uncomfortably, a tight-lipped on her face as she nodded quickly a mumbled it’s nothing escaping.

Daniel nodded, “So -” he continued. “Should we do the whole awkward chit chat or go for uncomfortable silence?” he asked as Tara snorted with a shake of her head. “Silence it is,” he said.