#reference season long performance

[cecoeur]

Yuki “out qualifying” Daniel today is case in point why that head to head stat is such a bullshit measure of teammate performance. The context of each qualifying matters so much and yet people look at it as such a black and white stat.

[comradecowplant]

LMAO after all the backlash, the Pretty Little Liars reboot retconned Imogen giving her baby to Aria & Groomer 🤣 #bullyingworks

[ohproserpine]

vi. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)

˚୨୧₊♱

You never really liked cars.

The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.

It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.

As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.

Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.

Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.

Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.

Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.

After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.

"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.

"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"

He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.

Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.

"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."

His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.

"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."

With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.

Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.

Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.

Oh, how you wished you could do the same.

Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.

Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.

Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.

"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.

Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.

"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."

"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.

You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.

"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.

"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."

With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.

As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.

Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.

With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.

"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.

"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.

To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.

"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?

"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."

"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.

Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."

You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.

"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"

Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.

"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."

With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.

Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.

Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.

As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.

Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.

The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.

He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.

Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?

With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.

As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.

˚୨୧₊♱

Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.

Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"

You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.

"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.

With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.

Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.

As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.

Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.

"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.

Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.

Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.

Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.

"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."

You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"

You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Words, cher. Use your words."

"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.

Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.

Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.

Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.

Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.

In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.

"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.

Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.

All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.

More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.

Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.

With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.

And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.

You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.

With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.

Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.

As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.

Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.

There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.

The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.

You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.

You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.

What have you done?

˚୨୧₊♱

"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!

That's right, folks, he's dead!

Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"

You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.

Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.

"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."

The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.

Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.

As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.

The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.

Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.

You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.

Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.

The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.

˚୨୧₊♱

There was screaming.

Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.

You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.

Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.

Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.

The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.

Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.

Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.

Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.

Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.

As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.

"Well, look who it is."

The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.

"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.

"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"

"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"

"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"

"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"

"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.

Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~

"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"

You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong

"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.

We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when

"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.

Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."

Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.

"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"

"Dolly'll never go away again~"

You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.

"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.

"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.

"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.

"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.

Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."

"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."

"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."

The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"

Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.

"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"

"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.

Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"

"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."

With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.

'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'

"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.

With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.

"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"

You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.

"You shot him?"

"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"

At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.

"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"

"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.

After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.

"I know something you don't know~" she sings.

"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.

"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."

Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"

"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.

"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."

You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.

"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."

You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"

Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."

"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.

Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.

A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."

Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."

With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.

"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"

"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."

With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"

You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.

"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.

Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"

"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.

Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."

"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.

"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"

Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.

"It's a deal."

[bunnys-kisses]

kink-o-ween - day eighteen

carlos sainz jr - roleplay

cw: smut/pwp, roleplay, "team prinicipal"!carlos, "driver"!reader, desk sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, married life, aftercare, reference to kids

kink-o-ween masterlist

you knew being a driver for ferrari would be one of the hardest things you could ever do. it was a job that only the best could perform. this wasn't some small fry team. you raced there best therefore you were the best. at least the best for the racing stallion. but you're team principal, carlos sainz jr, had high expectations for you.

he thought being tougher on his racing star would make you stronger. given his methods were a little unorthodox.

"hello, sir." you said as you walked into carlos' home office. he had invited you over for a swim and some drinks. while you denied the alcohol, you were open to talk business. carlos liked that about you, you took the job seriously. you were a promising driver with a long future ahead of you.

you had your eyes on an extension to your contract. you thought your current season with ferrari had been going well. but you didn't want to be shifted around midway through the season. you liked the team, you liked your teammate and you liked your team principal. so to secure your spot, you put on your nicest sundress and went to sit across from your team principal in his office. you were happy to take one of the lollipops from the bowl on his desk and unwrap it.

you said, "hmm, cherry." before you placed it in your mouth. you eyed your boss' shift in his seat as he rested his forearms on the desk. he looked so strong. masculine in a way that dampened your core.

he asked, "how was the backyard, princesa." that was carlos' little nickname for you, you were ferrari's princess and to carlos you were the crown jewel of the team.

"lovely as always, sir." you beamed, "i actually wished i had brought my swimsuit." your lips touched the sucker again.

soft lips against the candy made you look like a dream. carlos replied, "maybe you should've. i wouldn't mind if you wished to swim naked. no one else would see you."

you giggled, "except you, sir. and i think if you stared a little too long, it would cause a scandal." the candy was in your mouth once more, "i doo't want somone to think you're playing favourites." you moved a little in your seat and pressed your breasts a little closer together, to show off more to your boss.

carlos smiled and looked at what you were trying to show him, "you'd be worth every scandal."

"you flatter me, sir!" then you rubbed your thighs together with a certain want. formula one meant having determination and you had that in spades.

"you look like you wish to ask me something." he said as he relaxed in his seat. he looked hungry, but not for wine or food. but for what was between your legs. he wanted to gorge on your cunt with a feverish want.

you replied, "oh nothing that interesting, sir." you licked the lollipop then said, "just admiring my stunning team principal."

carlos leaned back a little further in his seat and laughed, "stunning? you're the one who is stunning. why don't you come closer so i can admire you, princesa."

you got up and went to him. you perched yourself on his lap and smiled at him. you reached for his face and held onto him, "how do i look?"

he held you by the waist and said, "as beautiful as the day i met you. when i saw you on the track for the first time." there was affection in his tone that made you shiver. he sighed dreamily, "princesa." and you giggled.

"mister sainz." you said before he placed a hot kiss on your lips, the lollipop in your hands. his hand trailed up your thigh and under your dress. you shifted a little in his lap and the kisses grew hungrier.

"you're worth every scandal, if that means i can have you." he started to rub your cunt with his knuckle over your panties and it made you shiver with want. you whined and crushed the candy in your mouth, you quickly at it before carlos took the stick out of your mouth.

you moaned against his lips as he touched you with his strong fingers. it made you feel like you were in heaven. you tried to argue that you weren't worth anything, but he silenced you with kisses.

"to me you're worth everything. you win for me and i want to kiss you." carlos said as with heat in his tone and it only turned you on further. you felt your pulse leap as you squirmed against him, "i want you, princesa. even when you kiss me, i want more." he got in closer to you, "even when you try to bargain for a higher contract."

you pouted, "how did you know that?"

"i know everything." he replied before he tossed the stick in the nearby waste bun. soon you were on the desk with carlos taking your dress off of you. his strong hands on your body which made you feel heated all over you. you could feel his hungry gaze on you as he stripped you bare, "you look better without all of this on you. all naked for me."

you smiled at him, "don't make me blush, sir."

"you looked better with heat in your face." he got you out of your bra and underwear. he felt on cloud nine at the sight of you. whatever higher power was up there made sure that you were beautiful. it put extra attention to create someone so beautiful.

carlos got his button up shirt off and cock out of his slacks. and then his large hands were on you more. you whined a little as he pressed his cock up against you. he asked, "do you want that contract, my princess?"

you nodded,, soon after you were against him as he pushed his cock into you. your put your legs around his waist and felt the blush reach further down your neck.

he sank into you with ease like he had done it a million times before. his lips were on yours and he could taste the candy on you. he was hungry for you, to feel you around him. he was you were for him and only for him.

"you're so fucking beautiful." he said as he moved against you.

"so give me the contract." you said cheekily and he laughed.

"of course, princess. anything for you. anything you want." he replied as he kissed you once more. his pace got quicker and his kisses more aggressive. you drove him crazy and he yearned for you in a certain way.

your bottom rubbed against the wood of the desk while you kept your legs around him. you held onto his shoulders while he moved against you. he fucked you heavily and his noises became a little louder with each of his movements. it wasn't like you two could be quiet, no one else lived in the house.

"fuck, the best boss ever." you moaned.

carlos chuckled, while this little toleplay was your idea. he was greatly enjoying himself too. to play a little pretend wasn't a bad thing.

"only for you. keep winning and you'll have a long career with me." he smirked.

you held onto his strong shoulders tightly and arched your back with need. it felt so good.

"mmm, sir." you said as your tone reached a little higher.

carlos kissed at your neck as he thrusted against you, "keep calling me that. as much as i love when you say my name. the way you say 'sir' turns me on."

your nails scraped the back of his neck as you arched your back further. you moaned, "fuck, carlos." which only spurred him on to keep going. to feel every inch of you that he could possibly get.

you continued to fuck, the heat between you two are high in your body. it settled mostly in your cheeks as he thrusted against you. it felt like heaven. like angel choirs and open skies. you knew this was all a little fun, but deep down it left you excited.

you were his wife, not his driver. but, to be mrs. sainz was a higher honour than any title with ferrari. you were loved by your husband.

"my number one driver, my superstar." he groaned. his thrusts became sloppier. his kisses were more aggressive. he needed with him, his whole body craved for him. the thump of his heart as you felt the rush of pleasure through you.

it was a wash of want as he laid kisses across your heated flesh.

"please, sir." you moaned.

"anything you want, princess. anything you want is yours."

his words excited you as the two of you fucked against one another. you captured his lips once more before you felt over come with the need to finish. your nails dug deeper into his shoulders.

he groaned against you, he felt your wet cunt around him. he panted heavily when he pulled away from your lips and started to fuck you quicker.

"you're heaven." he admired as the pace grew. you were both painfully close. his cock hit against all the right areas and he made you yearn for him.

after a few more heavy thrusts, he came inside of you. you continued to hold onto him while he fucked you. his movements picked up as the lust rushed in his blood. it wasn't long before you came as well, you held onto him tightly as you did so. you could feel the throb of your heartbeat in your head.

you both eventually slowed down to a stop and panted heavily at one another. you pushed hair out of your hair to get the cool air on your skin, "so, mister sainz. how about that multi-million dollar contract/"

carlos laughed, "actually i was thinking about a multi-million dollar ring." which in turn made you laugh. he kissed you, this time a lot sweeter as you both cooled down from your love making.

you held his face and looked at him for a moment as you said, "thank you for playing that fantasy with me."

carlos replied, "of course, my love. but, next time we do this, can we use the bed, my legs are starting to hurt."

you nodded before you got off the desk to go find your clothes, "of course, of course." you giggled, the idea of doing this again excited you. you yelped when carlos slapped your ass as you were bent over to pick up your panties.

"how about we talk about upgrades to your car in the bedroom later?" he asked.

you looked over, still bent over as you replied, "well, of course, mister sainz." <3

[chaoticace2005]

List of why the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years:

1. His fight with Vox ended really badly and he needed to recover.

2. He went somewhere to acquire more power.

3. He had a mission to do because of his deal.

4. Vox confessed his love for Alastor. Alastor had no idea how to respond to this so he ghosted Vox for seven years. But Vox had access to cameras everywhere so the best way to ghost Vox is to ghost the city.

5. Met a wise old man who taught him the secrets to life, he had a training montage.

6. Took a gap year(s) to “find himself”

7. Extended tea party at Rosie’s

8. His shadow got pissed at him and decided to swallow him, sending him to a shadow dimension that he drifted in for seven years.

9. His friends from the other side finally caught up to him and he had to repay his debt

10. His tailor went on sabbatical and he couldn’t leave his place without the proper amount of drip so he had to wait for him to return.

11. There was a shortage of red hair dye, he had to wait for them to restock.

12. Someone took a photo of him with his tail out. He went on a mission to hunt them down and DESTROY them.

13. He went to the Hellmart to cause $50,000 in TV damages (Tomota vid reference)

14. He was busy making diss tracks for everyone he knows and lost track of time.

15. Susan beat him in a bake sale and he had to hide out of shame.

16. Honeymoon with his cane.

17. Fell into a coma

18. Found out about the Alastor-Body Pillow Vox had and then had to ensure they were never manufactured again.

19. He accidentally saw part of one of Angel’s pornos and was traumatized. He had to leave Pentagram City because everyone he went he saw his face.

20. Hung out with Lilith who dished tea about Lucifer.

21. Was told he was “outdated” so he took the time to educate himself on modern slang.

22. Tried to find an obedience trainer for cats.

23. He time traveled seven years into the future and just decided to run with it.

24. Alastor was killed. That’s not Alastor. That’s a shadow acting as him.

25. That’s not Alastor, that’s his twin brother.

26. Walked in on a role play session between a Vox and Valentino-Dressed-Up-Like-Alastor and needed to find a way to erase the memory.

27. Bonked his head. Woke up and thought his name was Bob, he lived a nice, happy life until he bonked his head again.

28. Fell through a portal and woke up in a dimension where his name was a bird named Crane who was a janitor in a world of King Fu and pandas.

29. Got access to the season 1 script so he could mentally prepare. He’s been rehearsing his lines and doing his best to make his performance as disturbing as possible.

30. Went to the dentist. When they tried to help him he ate them, so he had to find another dentist, who he also ate. This went on for a while.

31. Was run out of town by his dentist who got annoyed he kept dodging his appointments

32. Got relationship counseling for him and his shadow.

33. Was just out having a good time, partying, and consuming souls.

34. Went on a seven year long bender.

35. Rosie told him he was an “arrow” so he went to archery classes. Turns out she was wrong and archery really isn’t his forte.

[radiosteve]

I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain. 

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat. 

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up. 

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life. 

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it. 

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad. 

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike. 

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing. 

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again. 

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone. 

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends. 

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school. 

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you. 

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right? 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. 

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point. 

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you. 

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door. 

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks. 

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie. 

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you. 

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances. 

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so. 

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest. 

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin. 

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice. 

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass. 

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.    

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin. 

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words. 

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you. 

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn. 

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy. 

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room. 

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin. 

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink. 

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him. 

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you. 

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again. 

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk. 

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too. 

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler. 

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t. 

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car. 

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion. 

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place. 

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest. 

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours. 

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin. 

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you. 

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door. 

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine. 

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck. 

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more. 

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

           The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned. 

           The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

           Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered. 

           “Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor. 

           “I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes. 

           “Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too. 

           “Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process. 

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie. 

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out. 

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you. 

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life. 

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door. 

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy. 

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation. 

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected. 

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs. 

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none 

           Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement. 

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate. 

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy. 

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap. 

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin. 

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice. 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below. 

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

           Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you. 

           Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile. 

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed. 

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts. 

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say. 

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war. 

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts. 

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before. 

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs. 

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked. 

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won. 

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams. 

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it. 

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word. 

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

           The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself. 

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room. 

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his. 

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt. 

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you. 

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head. 

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full. 

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. 

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume. 

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out. 

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare. 

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did. 

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving. 

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame. 

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away. 

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

[strawberrystepmom]

cw children, cw families. gojo and f!reader were idiots in love and they are now married and have a baby. my effortlessly good painter gojo hc won out over being normal in my brain today so yeah. reader is referred to as mom/mama/mother and princess, satoru makes a joke about readers breasts. wc 1.1k

Your morning has started far quieter than they usually do.

The day is overcast, no sunshine through your floor to ceiling bedroom windows, but you don’t mind. It feels good to embrace the cloudy days that have come with the changing of seasons, no harsh light to shock you awake. That job will be for your identical menaces in the coming months, the gummy smile of your morning person nine month old and her unabashedly obsessed father Satoru always eager to be your twin alarm clocks with their giggling and playful babbling at each other.

There’s nothing they love more than giving you the gift of four identical blue eyes blinking at you while you come to your senses every morning. You can almost admit aloud that you’ve become a morning person since becoming a parent, the delightful giggles of your daughter giving you the motivation to conquer anything and everything you can.

For today though, you wake gently, softly rolling from your side to flat on your back but something feels off. There are no hushed giggles, no silly songs being recited with children’s show host precision.

Your bed is empty and quiet and you feel…sad. Perhaps in the past you would’ve found this to be a luxury - no freakishly long limbs of your husband starfished across the bed to keep you pinned to it, no baby to tug at the earrings you forgot to take out last night, but instead it just feels like a less welcome start to the day.

Lingering in bed doesn’t feel good so you roll again, dropping your legs over the edge and sliding your feet into your waiting slippers. Scuffing across the floor, you yawn and stop in your tracks hearing voices from inside Satoru’s closet.

Well, a voice and some baby giggles, anyway.

“Can you say mama?”

Leaning against the door frame of the walk in, you stifle a laugh listening to your husband babble at his little girl who babbles back excitedly. Peeking around the corner, you see him standing in front of the portrait of you that he painted on your 24th birthday, little babe held to his chest and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“That’s her, that’s right. Your perfect mom.”

He sighs and your heart squeezes watching the two of them sway side to side, your baby who is growing into an independent toddler every day reaching out as if she recognizes your face. You’re sure she does, actually; the painting is an impeccable likeness and it still frustrates you 6 years later that he managed to become so good at a craft you’ve spent your life working on in less than a month.

Someday you’ll tell her the entire story, your version of it anyway. For now you’re content to let her father tell his side considering it was one of the most grand and romantic gestures he had performed at the time in an effort to show you how serious he was about your relationship.

“Listen, little girl,” he starts, unknowing that he has captured both of your attention. “I know I’m going to have to tell you this again eventually but do not ever bring a man or woman or anyone else into this house that loves you less than I love your mother.”

She coos at the sound of his voice and he chuckles down at her, kissing the downy white hair atop her head.

“I mean it. If they won’t stay up for four nights straight to get a start on painting your nose from memory, leave ‘em behind.”

With this, you giggle and the attention of both of your menaces is captured. Your daughter squeals from over Satoru’s shoulder, holding one little hand out and making a grabbing motion and he copies her excited babbling with his own.

“My little tricksters snuck out of bed this morning!”

Grinning, you cradle your little girl against your chest and kiss her temple, inhaling the clean smell of her shampoo and skin. She’s been bathed and everything.

“You’re the best.”

You feel the need to remind Satoru at this moment and he grins, bending to give you a good morning kiss.

“Duh.”

Giggling, you let your wiggly daughter settle herself and the three of you stand in front of the painting. You recognize the younger woman permanently captured in it, the soft lovesick look in her eyes, and it amuses you to know he took extra time to capture you exactly like that. Hopelessly in love.

He could capture you using the same medium and you’d look identical to how you did back then - utterly stricken.

“Did you really stay up practicing for four nights?”

“Princess, I stayed up practicing for four weeks.”

You snort, looking up at him from the corner of your eye.

“There’s no need to embellish now, you’ve already won me over.”

He shrugs, pulling the two of you close to his chest. He leans over his little family, cheek resting against the top of your head.

��But what if I never want to stop winning you?”

You reach up and brush his hair off of his forehead affectionately. Every touch you give him is full of love and every glance carries tenderness.

There will come a time when your daughter will be old enough to gawk at the love the two of you have for one another. Maybe she’ll stick her tongue out and roll her eyes just as you remember her father doing more than once or perhaps she’ll simply smile and hide her face in the collar of her shirt, dreaming of a love like what’s in front of her someday.

“I mean, I could paint you again. You are coming up on the big three oh and I have to say that a few things have grown since back then if you know what I mean.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and drops his voice suggestively low. You flick him on the forehead and laugh about it, your daughter joining in on your giggles as a nine month old is apt to do.

The thing you hope she’ll understand the most is that sometimes love isn’t just big paintings and grand gestures and sweet looks. It’s being grounded enough to give each other a hard time when things are good and a good time when things are hard.

You are fortunate enough to have the best of everything with her father.

“Let’s go make breakfast, Monet.”

You turn on your heel and your husband follows closely behind, small steps to match your own. He looks over his shoulder one final time to look at the painting of you on his closet wall and he smiles, soft and warm.

“Whatever you say, my muse.”

[sebscore]

rubyyy i have an idea for your gen-z driver series! when you are free, maybe you can write about when lil miss just got into f1 and had many people doubted her just for her to nail her rookie season like the goat sir Lewis Hamilton did in his. feel free to tweak it however you want. I just thought it would be cool to see more off the racing side of gen-z driver. :))))

and i really enjoy your writings, keep them coming but also don't stress out too much about them as well :)

WELCOME TO THE STRANGE WORLD

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: sexism. swearing. based this one on the 2018 grid, cause I imagine her joining the grid that year. christian horner & helmut marko. 

author's note: this got me immediately inspired!! It's also the first time I tackle the racing aspect of the series so I hope it's a bit accurate and that it is enjoyable x

• • • • • • •

''Do you feel the pressure going into this week's race?'' The reporter asked her, a polite smile on his face. 

Y/N carefully adjusted the mic attached to her cheek. ''Uh, definitely,'' she nervously chuckled as it was her first F1 press conference, ''there have been a lot of reactions, both negative and positive, so I do feel a lot of eyes on me at the moment.'' 

To say that there had been a lot of reactions was an understatement. The announcement of the female race car driver joining the F1 grid had become the #1 topic on several social media platforms and even international news channels had broadcasted about the ''controversial'' arrival of the young woman. 

Various notable figures in the motorsport world had also voiced their opinion on the new face on the grid. There were many positive reactions, for example, Mercedes Team Principal Toto Wolff saying: ''It's a step in the right direction. Many young girls will see her race and get more interested in the sport, which will hopefully motivate them to start karting.'' 

Susie Wolff, former development driver for Williams, also showed her enthusiasm. ''I think Y/N is the perfect role model for all the young girls who watch F1 at home. We've been following her closely the last few years and she's proved that she can compete with the big guys, I'm very proud and I can't wait for her performances this season.'' 

Unfortunately, there had also been less positive feedback. Red Bull Motorsport advisor, Helmut Marko, had questioned whether she would be able to handle the ''physicalities'' the sport asked of a driver. ''I hope I'm wrong, but I wouldn't be surprised if she would be replaced by the second race.'' 

His Red Bull colleague, Christian Horner, had also made some sensitive comments about the young woman. He recalled his first meeting with her, stating he thought she was one of the grid girls and that it would be tough as she's ''entering a man's sport''. 

Y/N had been upset with key figures of the sport making such statements about her, but she had heard worse throughout her racing career. Men like Horner were stuck in old times. 

''Sebastian, how do you feel about a female joining F1?'' Both Y/N and Sebastian internally cringed at the rookie being referred to as a 'female', trying to not let it show on their faces. 

The German collected the right words before answering. ''I'm very happy that Y/N is sitting here next to us,'' he smiled at her, ''I think her being on the grid and competing alongside us, is going to bring a lot of positive changes that should've been happening a long time ago. I've known her for some years now, so maybe I'm biased, but I couldn't think of a better person joining the line-up.'' 

''Thank you.'' Y/N mumbled, grown shy by Sebastian's praises. He had been involved in her career since her humble karting beginnings, wanting to guide her as he knew a lot of people would try to stop her from flourishing in the sport. 

The journalist then put his focus on the other world champion sitting at the panel. ''Lewis, you share the same opinion as Sebastian?'' 

''I agree with Seb, it's nice to see that progress is being made in diversing the sport and she's here, because she deserves to be here.'' Lewis' answer showed his disagreement with the people who were convinced that the woman's arrival to F1 was nothing more than a statement to the FIA. 

Y/N wasn't ignorant and knew her claiming an F1 seat would bring a lot of publicity, not only to her, but her team as well. However, they wouldn't risk losing millions of euros, because they simply wanted to make a point that women can competitively drive as well. 

''I've seen her drive, we've all seen her drive and you can't deny that she has a huge talent.'' Lewis concluded his answer, sending a soft smile her way. 

The reporter who asked the question directed his attention back to the young woman. ''Y/N, it must be great to hear those positive words from such seasoned drivers.'' He said to her, his hands pointing towards the two World Champions. 

She shyly nodded her head, feeling the gazes of everyone in the room on her. ''Yeah, it's, uh,  very nice of them.'' 

''It's the truth.'' Sebastian chuckled. 

''That's P11 tomorrow, Y/N! Good job, we're proud of you over here.'' Her engineer announced over the radio, letting the driver know her qualifying session was over. 

She pressed her radio button. ''Thank you so much, guys! A good start!'' She enthusiastically exclaimed, delighted about her team being happy with quali. 

They had greeted her back into the garage with an applause and many headpats, congratulating her on her first ever F1 qualifier. ''Let's discuss now.'' Her coach put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to the team's briefing room. 

It hadn't lasted long. The team was overall very satisfied with how the qualifying session had gone and didn't have much feedback for the rookie. 

''Of course it would be great to score points, but finishing P11 is the realistic standing tomorrow.'' Her team principal's words had taken her by surprise, expecting them to want to score as many points as possible at the race tomorrow. 

Y/N wasn't too sure if that was the genuine opinion her team had about the next day or if they thought that she wouldn't be able to make any overtakes. Whatever it was, the dilemma clouded her mind as she walked through the paddock, ready to go back to her hotel and unwind. 

However, an arm pulled her out of her thoughts, making the rookie flinch at the sudden touch. ''What the heck,'' she hastily turned towards the person, ''Seb, don't scare me like that.'' Y/N calmed down seeing the German man grinning at her, Britta standing next to him. 

''You looked like you were overthinking.'' He had seen the frown on her face as she passed the Ferrari hospitality, immediately knowing something was on her mind. ''Starting P11 is good for your first race, the best of the rookies.'' Sebastian figured it was related to the qualifying session. 

''No, I'm happy with my starting position.'' She assured him, shaking her head. 

The Ferrari driver furrowed his eyebrows, being confused. ''Then what is it? Did someone say something to you?'' 

Y/N glanced around the paddock, making sure no one of her team or a reporter was standing near them. ''I just, uh, well- during the briefing, they basically said that they don't expect me to make any overtakes and that I just need to try to keep my position.'' She explained to the duo, both listening attentively. 

''They're already underestimating you?'' Britta commented, shocked they wouldn't encourage her to at least try to overtake as many cars as she can. 

Sebastian agreed with his friend. ''A team telling their driver to not score points is the weirdest thing I've heard in years.'' He said to Britta, a frown gracing his face. 

He turned towards the young woman. ''Don't listen to them, okay? You pass as many fucking cars as you can, alright?'' It almost looked like he was scolding her. 

The girl nodded her head, an appreciative smile on her face. ''You know I will.'' 

''I love the confidence.'' Britta laughed, patting her back. 

''Don't think about it too much, Y/N. You're gonna do great tomorrow, I'm sure of it.'' Sebastian ruffled her hair, a sincere tone in his voice. 

Y/N simply smiled at both of them, and thanked them for their support. ''I'm gonna go back to my hotel now, but I'll see you tomorrow then.'' She bid them goodbye, waving as she walked through the exit gates. 

She could see and feel the condescending stares as she waited on the grid before the start of the race, some people didn't know how to be subtle. She had her headphones on, blasting music through them so she could drown out all of the negative thoughts. 

A tap on her shoulder brought her eyes from the ground to the face of a semi-looking concerned Kimi. She paused her song and took the headphones off, ready to listen to what the older man had to say. ''Yeah?'' 

''I can hear your song.'' Kimi pointed at his own ears, visualizing his words. 

Y/N's eyes widened, her worried expression altering into one of embarrassment. ''Oh, sorry, I'll turn it down.'' She apologized, immediately grabbing her phone to change the volume. 

''No, uh, is okay,'' he told her, ''you good?'' 

She was stunned by his question, awkwardly staring at him for a few seconds before answering. ''Yes, I'm good.'' Kimi always kept it short, she figured she should do the same. 

''Don't be nervous,'' the Finnish driver continued, looking into her eyes, ''people want to see you do bad, prove them wrong.'' 

She had met the man a handful of times before, but they had never talked this much with each other. Kimi kept to himself and she wanted to be respectful of that, not wanting to accidentally cross one of his boundaries. 

He wasn't a man of many words (at least sober) so she appreciated his advice very much, knowing he wouldn't tell her this if he didn't think she could actually prove them wrong. 

''Thanks.'' 

''No worry.'' A small assuring smile was found on his face, making the grimaces of her critics seem like nothing. 

''Y/L easily passes the Renault, moving up to P10.'' The commentary of David Croft sounded as she overtook Sainz, going from P11 to P10. 

Her team's pit crew cheered in the garage, watching the spectacle on the screen. ''Keep pushing, Y/N! We're in the points.'' Her engineer told her over the radio. 

''Hehe, understood.'' She chuckled, proud of her smooth overtake. 

She managed to pass the Mclaren of Vandoorne in the same lap, falling behind the Mercedes of Bottas and the Renault of Hulkenberg who was doing his best to keep his seventh position in the race. 

The pair was too busy challenging each other that they didn't see the car of the female driver coming through, passing both of them when they left a gap. ''Y/L jumps ahead of both of them! She jumped Bottas and Hulkenberg, moving up to P7! What a stellar performance of the rookie driver!'' 

People couldn't believe their eyes as she passed the Mercedes, undoubtedly one of the fastest cars on the grid compared to her team's midfield one. 

''Bloody amazing, Y/N! The Red Bull is too far up to catch, but defend for your life now!'' P6 wasn't possible anymore as she went into the last lap, Max's car being quicker and having fresher tyres than her. 

The last lap almost went by in a haze, the young woman scared something would ruin the beautiful moment for her, but that never came. ''Y/N Y/L comes across the line to celebrate her dream debut and she becomes the first woman in over 40 years to score points in a Grand Prix!'' 

She parked her car behind Max's, her hands on her helmet as if it were her head. Y/N sat in disbelief as reality dawned on her. You scored points in your first F1 race, the sentence played on a loop in her head. 

''Oi! Little Miss scoring points on her debut!'' An Australian accent pulled her out of her thoughts, several pats on her helmet making her look up. ''You passed the Mercedes? Fucking amazing!'' He exclaimed as he saw the silver car parked behind her. 

''Daniel, can you help me get out? My body is in shock, I think.'' Y/N awkwardly chuckled, a bit embarrassed about not being able to get out of her car on her own at the moment. 

Fortunately, the Red Bull driver didn't see the big problem and helped her stand up, supporting her underarms. 

The support turned into a congratulating hug, the Australian swaying her side-to-side. ''Welcome to Formula One, baby!'' He loudly exclaimed. 

Y/N laughed at his antics, touched by his excitement for her good result. ''Thanks, Ricciardo.'' 

''Good overtake there.'' Valtteri patted her helmet with his hand, complimenting her. She bowed her head in appreciation. ''Thank you.'' 

Her and Daniel followed the Mercedes driver into the cooldown room, the latter handing her an ice-cold water bottle from the table. ''What place did you get?'' Y/N asked Daniel, turning to him. 

''P4,'' he sighed, ''but I got fastest lap, so a little redemption.'' The Red Bull driver laughed it off, at least happy he got an extra point for the championship standings. 

A pat on her back made her look back, being met with a sweaty Charles. ''Hey, man.'' She greeted him with a side-hug.

''Saw you got P7, congrats.'' The pair had been teammates the year before at Prema Racing so they have a good friendship with each other. ''Thanks, how did it go for you?'' Y/N was curious about her fellow rookie's debut race. 

He shrugged his shoulders. ''P13, but only because 5 people retired.'' Charles downplayed it, glimpsing at the ground. 

''Cheer up, Charlito! It's only the first one of the season.'' She tried comforting him, not wanting him to be down about his result. 

Charles just smiled and moved on, ready to go back to his team and discuss everything. The rest of the drivers, except the top 3, followed swiftly. Y/N received a grand welcome back in her garage, it almost seemed like she had won the World Championship. She had a brief discussion about the race and her team prepared her for the post-race interviews. 

Surprisingly, the interviews had gone well and not one discriminating question was asked. She mainly received a lot of congratulations and one female reporter even thanked her for her race performance as it would inspire many young girls watching it. Y/N had almost teared up during the specific interview, not expecting anyone to do that. 

The rookie was walking to her driver's room when a call of her name stopped her in her tracks. Lewis jogged up to her, greeting her with a big embrace. ''Good job, you did so well!'' He told her with a huge smile on his face. 

''Thank you, Lewis.'' Her head felt warm, the older man making her a little flustered. 

''And this is only the beginning, you know? You showed everyone today that you deserve to be here, truly amazing!'' He continued praising her. 

Y/N grinned at him. ''Thank you so much, that means a lot to me.'' 

''The three of us were watching it back in the cooldown room, like waiting to see in which position you came in.'' Him, Sebastian and Kimi had attentively observed the screen that replayed the race, interested in knowing how the young woman had performed. 

She was touched by Lewis' words, honored that three World Champions had looked out for her and wanted to know her result. ''Oh my god, that's- wow, that's really cool.'' Y/N awkwardly laughed, not knowing how to give a proper response all of a sudden. 

''Anyway, congrats and celebrate it well,'' he made a move to leave before visibly remembering something, ''oh, yeah, Seb asked me to tell you that he'd come by your driver's room.'' Lewis conveyed Sebastian's message. 

''Oh, great, I'll, uh, see you in two weeks then.'' She bid him goodbye and she was on her way again, hoping the German wasn't already waiting for her there. 

Fortunately for her, Sebastian wasn't there yet and she had the time to change into her casual wear so she could leave the circuit and go straight to the airport afterwards to go back home. 

Three knocks on her door stopped her scroll through social media and she called for her guest to come in, not having the energy to get up from her couch. 

She watched an energetic Sebastian walk into her driver's room, practically running to give her a hug. ''I told you that you could do it! P fucking 7!'' He exclaimed, excitedly. 

''Congrats to you for winning!'' She retorted back, not having had the chance yet to congratulate him on his GP win. 

''Thank you, honey.'' He sat down next to her on the couch. 

''I would have loved to see the faces of everyone on your team the moment you passed Carlos, it must have been priceless.'' Sebastian smirked, thinking of what she had told him the day before. ''And the double overtake? You couldn't have had a better race.'' 

''Oh my god, I couldn't believe it, Seb! Like I finished in front of a Mercedes? Wow, just wow!'' Sebastian laughed at her enthusiasm, imagining how great she must feel now. 

The winner of the day scratched his voice. ''Kimi said how nervous you looked before the race and I'm not gonna lie, I was a bit worried about you,'' he had lowered his voice, different from his loudness of before, ''but you dealt with the pressure perfectly and you didn't let it affect your race. I'm very proud of you.'' His sincerity and expression of pride almost brought tears to her eyes, the words of her idol and mentor meaning a lot to her. 

''Thank you, Seb,'' a shy smile graced her face, ''that means a lot to me, I couldn't have done it without you.'' She thanked him. 

''No, it was your hard work that got you here.'' He argued, not wanting to take any sort of credit for her accomplishments. ''And maybe a little of my money, but you know.'' Sebastian jokingly added, not able to help himself from teasing the younger one. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at the comment. ''Always so humble! Red Bull Seb made an appearance for a second there.'' 

''He's still in here, I just need to keep him in check.'' 

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[thefirstlioveyou]

mike's gay subtext runs so deep and i love it so much. i love any analysis about mike, but his gay coding is something so special to me and will always be tbh. he is obviously so much more than his sexuality. however, there's no way he gets all this subtext just for his sexuality to only be brought up briefly next season and his main plotline just be about "ok i finally broke up with el!! time to get with will! i am so confident in my sexuality! it's not like my reagan supporting family has any effect on me whatsoever! i just wanna kiss will this whole season and be glued to him!"

mike has to process his relationship with el and where it went wrong first. he has to come to a better understanding with why he stayed so long with her, why he feels the need to keep on a normal path. sure he wants to be needed and feels as if he's not (in the way el is, who he deems as a hero), but why? what is it about himself that he believes isn't worthy of being that traditional hero he wishes he could be? what is it about himself that keeps him from being the boy society expects of him? one, it's being into dnd. the town is out for blood for the hellfire club now. his parents never took his interest seriously as he did and only mocked him for it. they pushed him to grow up. but it obviously doesn't end there. he's not just insecure with his interests. there's a reason why they're hiding that mike is gay with all effort possible. it is a plot point - an important one. written literally in the show's story bible, mike's insecurities lie in not having kissed a girl. sounds like sexuality issues to me. sounds like something that still needs to be brought to light. why is he insecure about it?

also, in his first s5 bts, he's literally staring at the one way sign pointed at his closet (assuming it's still there) possibly hinting at what could be on Mike's mind this season.

they've barely discussed mike at all this whole time in interviews, which catches my attention a lot. finn gets very vague about him and immediately shifts conversation. we've received more about el and will. the most we've heard about mike is the fact he's on "his own journey" in regards to his dynamic with will, and it sounds like something we weren't meant to even hear.

mike's been on a journey to accepting several parts of himself throughout the whole show, and the final thing he'll have to accept is his sexuality this season.

s2 - his parents tell him to get rid of toys, mocking the fact he has emotional value to them. he's watching his friends crush on max, while he doesn't understand it one bit and feels left out. he's annoyed by it. by the end of the season, he's watching all his friends dance with a girl at the snowball while he sits alone, not even waiting/looking for el. just waiting for them to be done.

s3- he finally dates el, and his attention is completely taken by her. this is his attempt to be normal in the exact same way his friends were doing the previous season. this is his attempt to keep on a normal path the way everyone else is. but now he's realizing he messed up. this confuses him, because he genuinely believed this was the right thing to do - that's what he's observing from everyone else. if his friends do it, then he should too. will calls him out on not wanting to play dnd anymore and instead wanting to go out with el all the time. mike implies they have to grow up and move on (internalized behavior from his parents' attitude toward his interests)

s4- he finally learns to be himself and take pride in the fact he's part of the "nerds and freaks" of school. he's now embracing it by attending a dnd club and wearing his club shirt proudly - definitely something s3 him wouldn't do. but according to finn, mike is still trying to keep on a normal path this season. he wants to be normal. this is obviously referring to him being gay and his performative behavior with el - this is something that he hasn't yet overcame because of his lie in the monologue. mike decided to lie and stay in this loveless relationship for the sake of el's life. in the end, he still continues to keep on the normal path. (and in a way... is the reason why they lost.)

s5- so mike's accepted his nerdy self and is embracing it but now has yet to accept one last thing according to finn, and that's implied to be his sexuality. he must face the truth that he doesn't love el and never has (in that way). he has to be truthful to himself entirely this season in order for them to win. he has to realize his worth despite not matching society's expectations of him. his heart has to fully be in it!

[thesummerestsolstice]

A Birdwatcher's Guide to Rivendell - Expected Sightings

(Exerpt from Bilbo Baggins' A Hobbit's Traveling Companion)

Many species of singing finches, some of the color and kind of the Shire, but some of bright hues– dusty pinks, deep purples, and gentle greens– that I have yet to see anywhere else.

A great number of sweet-singing nightingales.

Ducks. For the avid birders among you I would recommend visiting in the spring and early summer to ensure you see the duckling season.

An exceedingly small type of shimmering bird which does the work of a bee and which the elves refer to as "hummingbirds." Feeders are set up for them around the valley and, with much patience and time, they can be convinced to eat out of one's hand.

A number of swans, both black and white. Very elegant, though best witnessed at some distance. One of these has silver feathers and often seems to be "laughing." This one you will find on certain days only, usually following Lord Elrond.

A small population of chickens. Apparently they were a gift to Lord Elrond, and intended to be eaten, but instead have become the collective pets of the valley. They are dark-feathered and, apparently, dark-fleshed, though I can't be sure of that last bit.

Addendum to the previous note about nightingales: there is one in particular, which sings much better than the rest, though much more sadly. It is easy to recognize, as unlike all the others, it is pure white.

Owls. The natural kind in Rivendell are the horned ones, though you will occasionally also spot barn owls, which are apparently messengers from the witch of Lothlorien. They are given time to rest and eat before being sent back, and enjoy perching on any in the valley who will let them.

Doves and pigeons, of all shapes and colors, taken as both messengers and as pets by various inhabitants. Lord Elrond is occasionally numbered amongst these, though I can always pick him out.

Eagles, which are magnificent to behold. One particularly large bird– which can speak in elvish tongue– occasionally joins the household for dinner. I am told his name is Thorondor, and that he has a long-standing friendship with the Lord Glorfindel. He has also obliged my of my questions about the history of the First Age.

Pheasants and quails of many varieties. They appear to gather in the valley because hunting is forbidden there, and enjoy mostly peaceful lives because of it.

One magpie. Initially I thought there was a small population, but after careful observation, there really is just the one. He's a fiend about shiny objects, and difficult to spot, but has a rather remarkable singing voice, especially for such a bird. I have found him often in concert with the white nightingale– a behavior I have not observed amongst any other birds. It is a marvelous performance, and I wouldn't miss it.

Lindir, who has the most birdish mannerisms of any elf I've ever met, and who therefore counts as one, by my reckoning. He does also sing very nicely.

[merrybloomwrites]

In Front of Me

Summary: Louis being away for festivals means more time spent apart than either of you are happy with. Louis surprises you with a visit, helping you both reconnect.

AN: Title from "Habit" by Louis Tomlinson

CW: smut, p-in-v sex, oral (f receiving)

Word Count: 1.6K

Requested by: @lillisummers

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dating a global superstar comes with a fair amount of perks. But one major downside is the amount of time that needs to be spent apart. 

You and Louis had a plan for his tour. Your schedule was flexible, and that allowed you to visit him for a number of stops. Never did you go more than two weeks apart. It wasn’t perfect, you still missed each other on occasion, but it worked. And the two of you were happy. 

And then Louis lined up a summer full of festivals. When he approached you about doing these types of shows you were elated for him. He loves performing, and truthfully it makes you happy to see him up there thriving. Every time you see a show in person or watch a video from his performances, you’re filled with pride. Seeing the crowd there for him, singing his songs, cheering him on, it warms your heart. 

But that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him. 

What started as just a couple shows has turned into him being away for almost the entire summer. 

This is the busiest season for your work so it’s not as easy for you to adjust your schedule to get time off. For the first time in recent history, you haven’t seen Louis in more than three weeks.  

And you miss him. Miss him so much that your heart hurts. And it’s not just a physical separation. It’s emotional as well. Due to time zones and rehearsals, you find that there’s barely any time to speak on the phone either. 

The two of you scheduled a time to speak today. And then something came up and that call was canceled. It left you feeling despondent, so alone in the home you’re meant to be sharing with your boyfriend. Your home that he hasn’t slept at in weeks. 

Later, while Louis is on stage, you lay in bed and send him a simple text: “I miss you.”

You don’t expect to hear back for a while, so you roll over and go to sleep. 

The next morning you jolt awake to the sound of the front door opening. You’re on high alert, not knowing why someone would be entering your home. Your mind runs through the list of people with keys, but really, who would come without a heads up?

And then you hear a familiar voice, and begin to wonder if you’re still dreaming. Because there’s no way that voice should be in this house. The person it belongs to isn’t meant to be home for at least ten more days. 

“There you are, love,” Louis says when he enters your bedroom. 

“Louis!” You exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your text,” he says. 

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I wanted to answer in person. I miss you too baby. So much. I actually got this ticket to fly back a couple days ago. I couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.”

You smile at his words, moved by the fact that he was missing you just as much. 

And then you realize something else. 

“What happened to your face?” You ask bluntly. Obviously you don’t have a filter this quickly after waking up. 

“What happened to my face? What does that mean?” Louis says, his voice offended, but in a joking manner. He knows you’re referring to the fact that he’s clean shaven, something you haven’t seen in quite a long time. 

“I had a bit of a mishap with a razor,” he explains. 

“Seriously?”

“Yea, went a little too short in one spot and there was no saving it. So baby face it is.”

“I like it,” you say, bringing your hand up to slide against the smooth skin. He leans into your touch, and you can tell he’s been craving this reunion as much as you have, maybe more. 

“Lou?”

“Yea?”

“Kiss me?”

“Always, love.”

He quickly makes good on his word, leaning on the edge of the bed to kiss you. It starts so gentle, so sweet that it almost brings tears to your eyes. The love you have for this man can’t be described in words, but you try anyway. “I love you, Lou. So much. I missed you so much, but I am so, so proud of all you’ve accomplished,” you say, making sure he knows just how you feel about him. 

“I love you too. And I love doing these shows, but it hurts being away from you.”

“Well you’re here now. That’s what matters. Let’s make the most of it, okay?”

“That, I can definitely do,” he replied before leaning in again to kiss you. This one is more intense, more passionate, his tongue immediately sliding between your lips to explore your mouth. 

He pulls back to undress, kicking off his shoes before removing his clothes until he’s left only in his boxers. He lifts the duvet and is pleased to see that your sleep attire consists of a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts. 

Louis settles his body on top of yours. He kisses up your neck, to your chin, then back to your mouth. You make out lazily, tongues languidly caressing. Neither of you knows how much time passes, too lost in one another to worry about something so menial. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is that you’re together. 

Your hands move along his bare torso, pausing only when Louis starts lifting the bottom of your shirt. Once that’s removed, you both begin to explore each other's bodies, as though relearning every detail of each other. 

Louis starts to press kisses down your torso, until he gets to the boxers you’re wearing. He looks up, silently asking permission, which you quickly grant him. He slowly takes off the boxers, leaving you naked beneath him. 

His kisses continue, trailing lower until suddenly, his tongue darts out to lick through your folds. You gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure that rolls through you. Louis begins eating you out in earnest. It’s different than usual, no scruff burning your thighs, and part of you misses that, just a little. And then he flicks his tongue just right and all thoughts leave your mind. 

Your orgasm hits suddenly, and you cry out as he works you through it, elongating the pleasure until you’re pushing him away. 

He gives you a few minutes to catch his breath before he slips his boxers off, adding them to the clothing scattered in the room. You reach out, pumping his hard length for a moment before he gently moves your hand away. 

“Need to be inside you,” he says, voice verging on desperation. You love when he gets so worked up, so needy for you. 

You shuffle slightly before your hand goes back to him, guiding his hard cock to your dripping entrance. He slides in easily until he’s completely nestled inside of you, causing both of you to moan in pleasure. 

He breathes deeply for a moment, and you know him well enough that this is more for him than you. While he always gives you a second to adjust, he also sometimes needs time as well to ensure he doesn’t finish too quickly, especially when you’ve been apart for a while. 

Once he has himself under control he pulls out before quickly pushing back in. He starts off hard and fast, before slowing down, pounding in and letting you feel every inch of him. He alternates between these two speeds, his fingers eventually moving to rub circles on your clit. 

You can’t help the noises you make, the moans and whimpers that he pushes out of you with each thrust. And when you do come, you’re grateful not to have neighbors, since there’s no way you can stay quiet. Not when you’re overwhelmed by one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

“Fucking hell!” Louis shouts, his hips becoming more erratic as he chases his own high. It hits a moment later, and you sigh in bliss as his warm cum fills you. 

“Holy shit,” he says. “That was the hottest thing ever, babe. I can’t believe you did that?”

“Did what?” You ask, confused about what happened. 

“You squirted. Never seen you do that before.”

“I did? No way! No wonder that felt so intense.”

“Can’t wait to make you do that again,” he says, a cheeky smile on his face. “Though maybe we should change these sheets.”

“Why change them if we’re just going to get them messy again?” You ask suggestively. 

“You do have a point there.” He replies.  

An hour later the two of you finally leave the bed, only to have one more round in the shower. Finally, you head down to the kitchen for breakfast. The first thing you notice is a vase full of your favorite flowers on the table. Your heart swells again at the gesture, and you’re reminded that even though it may be hard dating someone who travels so much, you wouldn’t trade Louis for the world. 

You spend a couple days with Louis before he needs to leave again. 

“I hate saying goodbye,” you say. 

“I know, baby. I do too. But only two more weeks of festivals and then I’m home for good,” he says. 

You try not to smile too big, not wanting to give away that you have a secret. He’s not the only one capable of planning a surprise. And his look of pure joy and excitement when you arrive at his show just five days later is definitely worth it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thanks for reading! I have another Larry x reader coming up soon, and I'm working on a Harry x reader series as well!

[verycoolusername1]

So American

Summary: Your boyfriend Nico had made time to see one of your concerts and you made sure to make it one to remember.

Nico Hischier x Singer!reader

Genre: Fluff!!

Warning: Contains romantic themes and mostly my terrible writing.

A/N: I LOVE THIS SONG so so much, and I hope I did Nico justice - this is my first time writing him, so I hope I did well! And I'm sorry for making them pop girlies, it's for the sake of this fic(and I'm extremely sorry for writing them all badly - I'm still learning. Once hockey season starts, I'll try to watch some games(if my attention span allows it))😭

And if you catch my stranger things and Dandelions(song by Ruth B) reference, I thrown in there, then I'll love you a lot.

If there are any grammatical errors, please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!!

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You have done performances before. You were on tour, after all. But something was different, your boyfriend Nico was here. And you didn't want to mess up, not even the slightest bit.

You tried to steady your breathing, and that was when the man of the hour appeared right in front of you. He greeted you instantly with a hug and a kiss on your temple, not wanting to anger your manager if he ruined your makeup even a tiny bit.

"Hi baby." He mumbled in your ear. "You look beautiful."

You chuckled in the hug and looked at him. A huge smile was plastered on his face. "Thanks, honey." You smiled. "It's nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Nico laughed. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, Aphrodite could not compare."

"Nico." You dragged his name. "Stop it."

"No way!" Nico shook his head. "Not until you believe it."

"Nico, don't," you warned him. He looked back at you with a not so sorry look. He instantly started ticking your sides, making you laugh. "Babe stop!"

"I'll stop once you believe me." Nico looked at you with a stern look.

You continued to laugh even more before finally giving in to his demands. "Alright, I believe you." You panted. Nico planted his hands at your waist as if by memory.

"You're gonna do amazing." He whispered in your ear.

You smiled softly before asking. "Who else is here?"

"Just Luke, Jack, and Dougie. Everyone else is knocked out." He answered. "Jack wanted to come backstage with me. I told him no."

"And why did you do that, Mr. Hischeir?" You said playfully.

"Well, soon-to-be Y/N Hischeir, I wanted to see my partner before anyone else could." He answered honestly and in a serious tone.

You laid your head in his chest to ignore the giddy feeling you would get whenever he called you 'his partner.' Your stomach was doing flips, and he knew it. Before you could come up with a reply, your manager called your name telling you it was time. You gave Nico a warm smile, one that he had grown to adore as he dropped his hands from your waist.

"I'll see you later." You promised.

"Can't wait." He smiles as he makes his way back to the vip section.

You appeared on stage minutes later with a huge smile on your face. Your fans cheered loudly as they saw you and sang along to all the songs, making you laugh at how good they were. "I swear you guys are better at remembering my lyrics than me." You had joked.

The fans cheered in response, and you took a quick glance at the vip section, something you have been doing all night. When you caught Nico's eyes, he gave you a wave, and you smiled in response. Fans noticed this interaction began to cheer even louder. They haven't seen you this happy in a long time. But that all changed when you met Nico, now all you can ever really do is smile.

"Alright, uh, I know this is sudden, but I wanna try something." You picked up your guitar. "The next song is something that I wrote but never released." Your fans cheered in surprise of about to be hearing an unreleased song. "I like to think I wrote it too soon, and then I just forgot about it." You laughed.

"But tonight there is someone I really wanna dedicate this song to. I mean, I wrote it about you!" Your fans laughed as you shook your head with them.

"But yeah, you're special to me, and I love I have for you will only expand and as one in lyrics 'I see forever in your eyes' and that's completely true. I love you, and I know you know that, but I'll always be telling you that. Sometimes, you're like a poem I wish I wrote. Weird comparison, I know sue me!" You chuckled to yourself and made eye contact with Nico, who mouthed the three words back to you.

"Sorry for rambling. uh, this song is called 'So American', and I hope you like it." You began to play the familiar melody on your guitar and put your mouth near the microphone. "Drivin' on the right side road, he says I'm pretty wearing his clothes."

Your fans erupted with cheer as they realized it was a love song.

"He's like a poem I wish I wrote, I wish I wrote." You looked at Nico, smiling big as you sang your way into the chorus.

The fans cheered even louder, all having smiles on their faces.

"And he laughs at all my jokes, and he says I'm so american," You sang. "Oh, god, it's just not fair to him to make me feel this much."

Nico looked at you like you hung the moon with a huge smile on his face, a smile that he had recently gotten from you. Jack had only noticed a week ago when he said a bad(like really bad) joke, and the two of you held identical smiles while Nico pushed him in annoyance.

"They said they're gonna marry you, dude." Luke pushed Nico's shoulder playfully while Nico's face began to flush.

You began to sing the second verse which Nico didn't like as much. He could never find you annoying or rude, his fellow teammates laughed at his reaction.

"Dude, relax. They're just in love." Jack teased.

"I really love my bed, but man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me." You began to jump up and down. "When he's with me!"

You sang the chorus as Nico looked at you in adoration, and of course, his teammates singing the lyrics terribly wrong but tried their best even if they didn't know the song till a couple of minutes ago.

Dougie sang off key(like very off key). "I have no idea where he goes, and he says I'm so american."

Nico gave him a look, and he immediately shut his mouth. Jack tried to stifle his laugh but failed, Luke joining him as you sang the bridge.

"But ain't it love? Cause I'm in love." You smiled big as you sang the chorus one last time.

The crowd screamed at the top of their lungs as you sung the last bit of the song, you strung on your guitar more than what needed. Before officially ending the song and the concert.

"Thanks, New Jersey. You guys were so loud tonight, I love you all. Good night!" You yelled, the fans cheered and clapped in response.

You ran backstage, and after they took your mic pack off of you. You quickly went to your dressing room and changed into some comfortable clothes, removed your makeup, and undid your hair. Minutes later, there was knock at the door alongside hushed whispers.

"Come in!" You called. The door opened, revealing Nico and the guys. "Hey guys,"

Jack ran to you, shoving Nico aside and giving you a big hug. "You were amazing! Like the dancing, the songs, the puns, and the new song. It was so amazing!" He gushed.

"Thanks, Jack," you hugged him. "Seems like somebody missed me." You looked at Nico with a stern look.

"Of course I did, I was gonna come backstage, but then Nico was all like," Jack cleared his throat before doing the impression. "No, Jack, go back. You'll see them after the show, I get to see them first because I'm their -"

"Alright, I think they get it." Nico cut him off abruptly.

"Somebody's jealous." Dougie snickered.

"You sure it ain't you?" Luke asked.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Dougie looked at him with a questioning glare.

"Isn't it time you died?" Luke retorted. "You already hit 30."

"Alright, you two cut it out." You told them.

"Yeah, guys, cut it out." Jack rolls his eyes.

"Jack." Nico warned.

"Okay, bye, guys! It was nice seeing you Y/N." Jack pushed the two other adults out of the room, despite their protests of only seeing you for five minutes.

"I think we're alone now-" You were cut off by Nico caressing your face and kissing you with the most upmost passion. Nico then pulled you in a hug and held you tight perhaps even tighter than Jack.

"I love you so so much." Nico muttered in your ear.

"I love you too." You broke the hug to look at him.

"The song was so beautiful I mean wow." Nico gushed. "I honestly have no words."

"My eyes must be deceiving me, did I just make new jersey devils captain Nico Hischier speechless?" You taunted.

"Shut up." Nico kissed you again, with even more love than before.

[seeingivy]

daylight

eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: someone on ao3 requested so lowkey I had to do it again

--

“Hey? Are you going to wear the blue or the green?” 

Eren’s voice is distant, but out of extra precaution, you still slam the lid of the toilet shut, shaky hands pulling the lever as you push up off your knees. You close the door shut behind you, quick to spray the room with the closest perfume as Eren walks in, his hair still damp from his shower, the drops glistening on his bare neck. 

“Green, Eren. Why?” 

“I was going to iron it for you. Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?” Eren asks, as he sniffs the air. 

You shake your head, washing your hands in the sink as Eren loops his arms around your waist, leaning down as he rests his cheek against yours. You try to swallow down the disgusting taste of bile and give him a smile in the mirror, trying to focus on the sweet smell of his shampoo instead. 

“No.” you respond. 

“Are you trying to hide that fact that you threw up, again, by spraying a bunch of my perfume?” Eren asks. 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” you respond. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t know what I should be more offended about. That you feel like you can’t tell me you’re not feeling well or that you think I care more about the perfume than you.” Eren responds. 

You look at Eren in the mirror, turning to the side to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m sorry. I just want to make sure that you go to the party and have fun. I don’t want you to worry about me.” you respond. 

You take a beat. 

“And I mean, Sukuna would take ten years off of my life if I didn’t come to Grace’s birthday party, so I’m going to go anyway. I know that she’s been looking forward to this.” you respond. 

It had been two weeks since Grace realized. And three since you saw her, because you were in New York attending Falco’s Madison Square Garden shows. 

Since Grace was born, she always had a penchant for theatrics. Doing little fashion shows for Sukuna and Lana, making choreographed dances with Teddy, and most of all – performing all of her favorite songs for everyone at dinner. 

And it was all well and good, because Grace had yet to realize that her Auntie Y/N was the same person as her favorite singer-songwriter Y/N L/N. She had only ever heard them all refer to you by your first name and she preferred all of your older songs – which let it basically slide under the radar, since those were so long ago. 

You all decided it would be for the best to let her figure it out on her own. Which she did, when she watched an old performance of you and Eren singing New Year’s Day and was able to recognize Eren right away. Almost every day for the past three weeks, you’d get three phone calls – two from Sukuna and one from Lana – begging you to come back as fast as you could, because she was getting antsy. 

“I mean, that’s true. She even prepared a little dance for you. But if you don’t feel well, I don’t want you to push through it just to go to the party. You can always see her when you’re feeling better.” Eren adds. 

“No, no. It’s fine.” 

Eren reaches for the bottom drawer, pulling out one of the boxes at the bottom, and places it in front of you. He’s quick with it – digging through the box for one of the white, lacy ribbons – and sets it out. 

It had been years since you even wore one. 

“Eren.” 

“You know she’s going to want to see you wear it.” he responds. 

You sigh, giving Eren a nod, as he gives you a smile. You turn around, Eren’s hands soft through the strands of your hair as he brushes through the knots. He laces the ribbon in through your hair, a well seasoned professional at this point, as you slide the stacks of rings on your fingers. 

“Can you believe Grace’s turning four?” Eren whispers. 

Eren gives your head a little tap, signaling for you to turn around, as you reach up and wrap your fingers together behind his neck. 

This would be the perfect time to mention it. The perfect segway into telling him that you’ve thrown up three times in a row, that you’re craving weird things, and that your period is two weeks late. 

“No. I can’t even believe that Teddy’s almost eleven. I feel like all the kids are growing up.” you respond. 

You choke. 

Eren gives you a bright smile, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Doesn’t that make you nervous?” Eren asks. 

You pause. 

“Make me nervous?” 

“I mean, about Teddy. Being eleven. He’s obviously not our kid, but…” 

“He’s your godson. And you were there when he was growing up. You do know it’s fine if you feel that way right?” 

Eren sighs. 

“He’s going to go to middle school. Aren’t kids in middle school like…evil?” 

You glare at him. 

“You didn’t even go to middle school. How would you know?” you deadpan. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“But you did. And you hated it, so.” Eren responds. 

You shake your head, reaching forward to push through the ends of his hair. Eren was letting it get close to the longer side, for an upcoming role that he had. 

“I didn’t hate it. Sometimes, I get really nostalgic about all that stuff. Like the first day of school  was always exciting and eating breakfast with Falco and Colt every morning was fun. We used to take a picture with one of those corny chalkboards every year.” you murmur. 

Eren sighs. 

“I know, I’ve seen the pictures. But I guess it’s just weird to think about him getting older and…and all the stuff that comes with that. What if he gets a girlfriend? What if she breaks his heart or something?” Eren whispers. 

“You don’t have to be so cynical. They could just have a whole like twenty year love story or something. I don’t know, I think that type of stuff is cool.” you respond. 

Eren smiles. 

“Give me a second to iron and then you can get dressed. I’m just glad we don’t have to worry about that thing right now.” Eren responds, giving you one kiss on the cheek, before pacing out of the room. 

You reach for the closest drawer, pulling open the pack of your birth control, and counting backwards again, for the fifth time. 

You were still two weeks late. 

And that was something Eren’s glad he didn’t have to worry about. 

--

Grace’s birthday party is in full flesh by the time that the two of you arrive, with Sukuna very aggressively managing a pinata with a group of children around him, and Lana refilling drinks at the table. 

Though at the sight of the two of you, they both drop everything they’re doing, both stalking over to where the two of you are standing at the door. Eren squeezes your hand as they walk up, excited smiles on both of their faces. 

You already know what this is about. 

“Don’t look too excited, Sukuna. I might get confused and think you’re happy to see me.” you joke. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, as Lana leans forward, giving you a kiss on the cheek. Her hands are soft on your cheeks, giving you a little pinch as she leans forward. 

“You’re like glowing. What gives?” 

“What?” 

“You look amazing. All full in the face, it’s adorable.” Lana responds. 

That’s what you thought about her when she was pregnant with Grace. Eren looks down, eyes almost curious, as you shake your head. 

“Oh. No, I’m actually like…like really nauseous. Super bloated. It’s kind of disgusting.” 

Lana frowns. 

“Oh, ew. Okay, well, are you feeling up to seeing Grace? She’s really excited.” Lana responds. 

“You can’t say no.” Sukuna adds. 

You smile. 

“I’ll always feel up to that. Where is she?” 

“She was just using the bathroom. I think she’s inside.” 

Lana and Eren walk in step in front of you, Sukuna trailing at your side, as you walk into the cold air conditioned room of the house. Sukuna gives you a nudge in the side, eyes narrowed as he looks at you. You shake him off as you speed up to Eren and Lana. 

You knew that Sukuna would one, be able to figure out that you were hiding something, and two, get it out of you. 

And he would want you to tell Eren right away, make up some whole long winded story about how you needed to be honest with him, that no one’s ever really ready for kids, that you had been married for so long and such. 

You catch sight of Grace immediately, pink hair sticking out of the crowd as she tries to reach lemonade out of her grasp on the counter. Eren beats her to it, lifting the glass off the ledge and crouching down to hand it to her, which almost distracts her completely. 

“Eren!” 

You watch as Grace all but jumps up into Eren’s arms, tiny little arms curled around his neck as he returns the gesture – one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen on his face as he lifts her up. Lana’s quick to join his side, her head nestled on his shoulder, as she reaches forward and fixes Gracie’s almost matted bangs. 

“That’s Uncle Eren.” Lana deadpans. 

Eren shakes his head. 

“You can call me Eren. But it’ll be our secret, so don’t tell…” 

Lana turns to you, rolling her eyes, as you walk up to the two of them, an almost nervous warmth in your throat as you tap her on the shoulder and muster your best smile for her. 

“Hi Gracie. Happy birthday, pretty girl.” 

At the sight of you she seems to get a little shy you suppose, because her cheeks turn bright red and she hides her face in Eren’s shoulder. Eren looks at you, his face nearly melting at the gesture, as he leans down, whispering in her ear. 

“Gracie. Aren’t you so excited to see, Y/N? Isn’t she so pretty?” 

She doesn’t respond, instead nodding against his shoulder, as he fights the urge to laugh. 

“You know that Y/N has a surprise for you?”

“She does?”

It’s enough to pique Grace’s curiosity, and maybe more importantly, enough to temper her nervousness – despite the fact that you’ve seen her almost every Friday since she was born, that she’s slept in her bed next to you multiple times – as she peeks her head out, bright brown eyes staring at yours as she expectantly waits for an answer. 

“Two things. First, I have this for you.” you start. 

You take the little gift-wrapped box out of your purse and hand it to Grace, who wastes no time in handing it right back to Lana to open. Lana’s gentle with the box, pulling out the little set of purple ribbons, and holding them out to her. Sukuna gives you a smile, almost entirely thankful, as you shake your head at him. 

It’s nothing. 

“These were mine. But I’m going to give them to you, to keep safe for me, okay?” 

Lana hands the bows over to Grace, who almost excitedly holds them close to her chest, as you lean forward and pinch at her cheek. That earns you a kiss on the cheek from Eren, who gestures for you to give her the next one. 

“The second thing.” 

You pause. 

“I know you like to listen to my music and sing it sometimes, so I was wondering if you wanted to sing a song with me? We can pick any song that you like.” 

Grace’s eyes go wide. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Any song you want, okay?” 

Grace ponders the thought, taking almost a minute of silence before she comes up with an answer. 

“I want to sing Death of a Bachelor.” 

“What?” Eren asks. 

You feel your throat dry and watch Eren’s face drop, in instant irritation. 

Of course she wanted to sing the one song that you wrote about Ricky. Or fake wrote about Ricky. 

You look up at Eren, who’s already shooting bullets into your face with his eyes. 

You can’t sing that, he mouths. 

You glare at him. 

It’s her birthday, you mouth back. 

You turn back to Grace, her eyes expectant as she waits, and you give her a peachy smile. 

“Sure thing. Do you want to sing it on the piano, Gracie?” 

Gracie pauses, before lifting one of her hands and beckoning you to come closer. You give Eren a weird look but oblige, the three of your heads almost pressed together in a circle – intentionally leaving Lana and Sukuna out – as she whispers. 

“Daddy told me to suggest that in front of Eren. But can we sing something else instead? I don’t really like that song.” 

You watch Eren’s eye twitch, as he all but hands you Grace, and stalks over to Sukuna. You watch Eren shove him once – and Sukuna laughing very gleefully – as you roll your eyes and focus back on Grace. 

“Did you find that funny?” you ask. 

“No. But Daddy’s never really funny. Mommy told us we should all pretend to laugh so we don’t hurt his feelings.” 

You watch as Sukuna’s face drops – and maybe more importantly, that Eren smiles and shoves Sukuna again. You turn to Eren, giving him a wink, before Gracie taps on your shoulder, and whispers in your ear. 

You give her a nod, as Lana, Eren, and Sukuna turn to you, waiting for an answer. 

“What are you singing?” Lana asks. 

You turn to Gracie, who shrugs. 

“You have to wait till we perform it, Mommy. That’s a secret.” 

--

Almost three hours later – and one very weird craving for peanut butter and spicy popcorn – the party died down to the very last of you all. You can see them all lingering downstairs from the guest bedrooms upstairs, Connie and Grace having a very animated conversation near the fireplace as he braids her hair and Eren and Teddy eating the leftover candy from the pinata. 

You can see Lana all the way on the right, getting ready to surprise Grace with a new baby acoustic guitar, as you press your forehead against the glass. And it takes all but three seconds before you hear quiet footsteps behind you. 

“What’s your problem?” Sukuna asks. 

You groan. 

“I’ve been sick for a few days. I was just taking a breather before I have to sing my little song with Gracie.” 

Sukuna hums in response and you watch the slow smile spread across his face at your side as he eyes Connie and Grace, before turning back to you. 

“Right. But besides your weird stomach bug. What’s your problem?” Sukuna asks. 

“I don’t have a problem.” 

“You keep staring at both of my kids with weird bug eyes. And you’re starting to kind of freak Teddy out.” 

“Really?” 

“No, but stop looking at him like that. You’re weirding me out.” 

You sigh, before turning over to him, and placing your hands flat on his shoulders. You squeeze as hard as you can – which Sukuna seems irritated at – as you lean closer to him. 

He would be the right person to tell. Maybe the only person who would ever give it to you straight. 

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?” 

Sukuna gives you a theatrical nod, irritated, as he gestures for you to continue. 

“I think I’m pregnant. And I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been throwing up for three days, my period is two weeks late, and I just ate the Takis in your pantry with peanut butter.” you state. 

Sukuna frowns. 

“You ate my food?”

You smack him. 

“Be serious. What am I supposed to do, Sukuna?” you whisper. 

“Are you a dipshit? Have the baby?” 

“I mean, yeah. Obviously, I’d have the baby, but like…it’s a whole thing. I don’t think Eren wants it.” 

Sukuna pauses. 

“I know we always joke that we’re like brother and sister, but I really wish we actually were right now so I could slap you without feeling bad about it.” 

You glare. 

“You really think Eren doesn’t want a baby? That he doesn’t want to have a baby with you?” Sukuna asks. 

“I mean, obviously he does. I’m his wife and all but that doesn’t mean he wants one right now.”

Sukuna glares.

“Earlier today, we were talking about how old Gracie is getting and how Teddy’s going to middle school. And he was saying that he was all nervous that Teddy was going to middle school and getting his heart broken and he was just…glad that we don’t have to worry about that right now. Having kids and worrying about getting their feelings hurt. That we don’t have that responsibility.”  

Sukuna sighs. 

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to have kids with you. Or that he won’t be excited when you tell him.” 

You frown. 

“Doesn’t it? He’s scared. He’s glad that Teddy isn’t his son, since he’s not responsible for all that. And…I just…” 

Sukuna leans forward, placing both of his hands on your cheeks, before he squeezes so hard that you can barely get a word out. 

It was something that he did often. Obstruct you from talking so he didn’t have to hear your nonsense, in his very succinct words. 

“Did it ever occur to you that you’re projecting onto one small thing that Eren said because you’re scared to have a baby? He may have said that today, but you’ve clearly been having suspicions for at least a week. There was obviously a reason that you didn’t tell him the first second you realized.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Did you even take a test?” 

“No.” 

“Is it because you’re scared that it’s going to be positive? That you’ll really have to consider what to do after that?” 

You don’t respond. And that's enough of an answer for Sukuna. 

“Are you that really scared that you’re going to be a bad mom?” Sukuna asks. 

You pause. And maybe it’s hearing your exact fear being said out loud – from someone you love so much – that it sends tears sprouting into your eyes, and has him pulling you close, his hands rubbing up and down your back. 

“Eren’s just so good with kids. They all fucking adore him and…and I know they love me too, but it’s not the same. He’s going to be a natural. Teddy doesn’t love him for no reason and…and Olivia literally calls Eren almost every night.”

“Kids love you too. You know you’re like…my daughter’s idol, right?” 

You frown. 

“That doesn’t mean I’ll be a good mom. That doesn’t mean that I’ll be able to keep up with Eren. That I won’t let him…and my kids down.” 

Sukuna takes a beat, almost like he’s thinking, before he responds. 

“There’s nothing I can say to you that’ll convince you that Eren’s on board with this thing.” 

You frown. 

“I know.” 

“But you know those letters that Eren used to write? To the Institute about the triple threat thing?” 

You pause. 

“Yeah?” 

“Look for one from New Year’s Eve, maybe your twenty-second or twenty-third birthday. It should be one of those.” 

“What?” 

“Your answer to your stupid questions will be there. There’s no one better to tell you what you need to hear than him. And luckily enough for you, your dumbass doesn’t even have to ask him.” 

You reach up, wiping the snot from your nose, before looking up at him. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“How do you know?” 

Sukuna pauses. 

“Lana told me what he wrote once. When we were talking about how sad he was. How much he loved you. Your answer will be right there, trust me.” 

Sukuna pauses. 

“And we used to make fun of him after the fact for how serious all of those letters was. He was fully unloading all of his feelings onto some poor intern.” 

You laugh, as Sukuna reaches forward, wiping the last of the wetness away from your cheeks, as he gives you one last tap on the head. 

“Now tell me what song you’re singing with my daughter. You’re both pissing me off.” 

You smile. 

“She wants me to sing Daylight. It’s her favorite because she knows it’s about her Mommy and Daddy.” 

Sukuna glares. 

“You didn’t even write that song. Eren did.” 

You shrug. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” 

Sukuna sends you home with a gift in your purse – a box of pregnancy tests – and gives you a very unserious ultimatum to tell him by Friday. 

--

When you get home, you all but bolt to the closet, digging out the little box of the letters that Eren had written, as he slowly trails behind, distracted as he washes his face in the sink nearby. You almost topple over trying to get the box, which catches Eren’s attention, as you try to hide it in the dark of the closet. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Nothing, Eren. Just looking for…something.” 

Eren pauses. 

“You’re looking for something? What is it?” 

You bite your cheek, ignoring the question as you file quickly through the letters, counting backwards to your twenty-second birthday. You quickly open up the letter, pulling it out of it’s envelope, as you glance over Eren’s messy handwriting in the dim light. 

Dear The Institute,  (Please tell me the name of your intern.)  You guys know those stupid posts that you guys make on your Twitter? Wishing happy birthday to all the past triple threats?  You should already be making one for Y/N. You’re years behind at this point, because she’s well and enough proved herself time and time again.  See: happiness  See: Attack on Titan Seasons 1-3 See: New Year’s Day See: any song she’s ever written, any show she’s ever acted in, any dance that she’s ever done  fsalfjdsklajfldafdsfs Plus, it’ll be a cool marketing thing in the future, when one of her children in the future is a triple threat. It’ll be a whole generation of triple threats.  Anyways, it’s her birthday. You will hear from me again next year.  Best,  Eren Jaeger 

Eren switches the light of the closet on, hovering over you before he joins you on the carpeted floor, as you look over at him, and hold out the paper to him. 

“Why are you reading these?” Eren asks. 

“What’s the part that you crossed out?” 

“Huh?” Eren asks. 

“There’s a part that you crossed out. What was it?” 

That had to be what Sukuna was talking about, because the line following right after was about children. 

Eren takes the letter from your hands, hiking his knees close to his chest as he reads it, and nods. 

“Oh, yeah. I wrote the part underneath basically, but I wrote something like it’ll be cool when our child becomes a triple threat, since at that point, we were both already Institute affiliated actors. And the statement insinuates that you would be a triple threat, so our kid and you being a triple threat would be cool. Since it would be generational or whatever.” Eren responds, handing it back to you. 

You pause. 

This was your time to ask. But you still don’t. 

“I erased it. It’s insane to say that you’re going to have a kid with your ex-girlfriend who hates you, obviously.” 

You laugh. 

“You used to think about that? I mean…do you still?” you ask. 

“I mean, I doubt they’re ever going to give you a triple threat now since they blacklisted you, but you know, who gives a fuck? Our kids don’t need a stupid fucking trophy to know that they’ll be talented or make something worthwhile. They’ll be great on their own.” 

You swallow hard. 

“You think about kids? Like…our kids?” 

Eren looks over at you. 

The premise itself sends a two dimpled smile on Eren's face as he leans against the drawers, gesturing for you to scoot closer to him in the cramped closet. 

“Are you crazy? Of course, I do. All the time, sweetheart.” 

“So you want kids? Because I think we might be having one right now and well, I’m not sure, but I was scared that you didn’t want it because things were good and all that stuff, but I wasn’t really I was just projection because I thought I was going to be a bad mom so I just figured that…” 

Eren cuts you off. 

“You think we’re having one right now?” 

You shrug. 

“You think we’re having a baby? Right now?” Eren asks again, waiting for clarification. 

“I haven’t had my period in two weeks.” you whisper. 

Eren’s eyes widen. 

“Y/N.” 

“I have a test. Sukuna gave it to me, I just have to do it.” 

Eren shoots up, almost yanking you up off the ground, as you reach for your purse, pulling out the little pink box. Eren parrots the instructions to you and you follow dutifully – peeing on the stick, pulling open the plastic – and placing it face down on the counter when you’re done. 

“We have to wait two minutes.” Eren whispers. 

Eren sets a timer and you both stand there in silence – staring down at the stick. Eren seems almost more nervous than you, hands itching as he keeps readjusting the way it’s sitting on the counter. 

“We should both turn around.” you murmur. 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” 

You and Eren turn your backs to the counter, nearly teetering on your heels as you interlock your fingers together, the two of you both shaking on the side. 

Eren squeezes your hand three times. And you do it back. 

“Should we call my mom?” 

“No. We shouldn’t call, Carla. She’s going to be sad if it’s not real.” 

“Falco? Gabi? Connie?” 

You squeeze his hand. 

“Eren. Falco and Gabi are sleeping. And Connie’s probably tired, you know he’s not feeling well lately.” 

Eren pauses. 

“Should I kiss you?” Eren asks. 

“What?” 

“I don’t know! I feel like my entire life is about to change and…and yours is too and I just want to kiss you.” 

You laugh. 

“You’re so weird. If you want to kiss me, just kiss me.” 

Eren leans over, placing a very quick kiss to your forehead. You can’t help but turn over and glare. 

“That was anti-climactic.” 

“I kissed you!” 

“I was expecting some big life changing kiss. You’re over here just kissing me on the forehead.” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Just kissing you on the forehead? You love that.” 

You turn over to him, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Okay, okay fine. I do love that. And I do love you, that’s….that’s my big climactic moment before we check.” 

Eren smiles. 

“You love me?” he asks. 

You shove him. 

“Obviously I love you.” 

Eren grins. 

“I love you too. Is it time?” Eren asks. 

“Ten seconds.” you respond. 

Eren’s impatient – so impatient that he doesn’t wait for the last ten as he picks up the stick – looking down at the result. And he’s just as fast, dropping it onto the floor, and cupping the sides of your face as he leans forward, nearly throwing you off your balance as he presses his lips to yours. 

That can only mean one thing. 

Eren pulls back, voice shaking as he whispers against your lips, reaching forward to press three kisses to your face. 

“I’m having a baby.” Eren whispers. 

You can’t help but laugh as he leans his forehead against yours, noting the glisten in his eyes as you reach up, and place both of your hands on his cheek. 

That was your more than anti-climactic kiss – the one that Eren had to be referencing. You lean back, reaching forward to brush your thumbs over his dimples. 

“You mean, I’m having a baby.” you respond. 

“Yes. You, me, we…we’re having a baby.” 

You laugh, leaning forward as you return his first gesture of pulling him close, before wrapping your arms around him, and nestling yourself into the sweet smell of his soap and cologne mixed together. And you stand that way for some time, as you think about it all. 

Baby clothes. Names. Telling everyone. Fixing up the room at the end of the hall. Actually being pregnant with a baby inside your stomach. 

A baby that was already there right now. You look down, pressing your hand to your stomach, and nearly shivering. 

“When you were rambling earlier, about…about the baby, you said that you thought you were going to be a bad mom. Was that pregnancy nervousness or do you mean it?” Eren whispers. 

You forgot you even said that. 

“Maybe both. I was just scared to tell you. Or anyone, because…I don’t know. It kind of came out of nowhere.” 

“But do you think that? That you were going to be a bad mom?” 

You lean back, looking up at Eren, as you sigh. 

“Be honest.” Eren warns. 

“You’re just so good with kids. You, like objectively, have nothing to worry about.” you whisper. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“You think I don’t worry about this type of stuff? You know I’m scared shitless for this too, right?” 

You glare. 

“You’re scared that your kids are going to adore you like every other child in our life adores you?” 

Eren sighs. 

“Not that. I’m just…” 

You note that Eren’s face almost falls. And you reach forward, trying to sooth the smile lines back into his face. 

“I’m scared our kids will come out all…anxious and sad. That they’ll be all weird and twisty because I was like that as a kid. I used to cry all the time and I…I hated going out. I had panic attacks before I even knew what that meant.” 

You lean forward, placing your hand on his cheek. 

You almost forgot about that. 

“First of all, that wouldn’t be your fault. If that happened. It’s normal. We’d help them. It’s not something you…you just give to people, Eren. And you’re being silly. They could get that from me too. We were both like that at one point and…and it’s just a part of us. Us alone. Not them.” 

Eren sighs. 

“You know I’d die happy if our kids were like you?” Eren whispers. 

You laugh. 

“What?” 

“Maybe they won’t get that from you. Or from me. The sad twisty thing? But I hope they get everything else from you.” 

You lean forward and kiss the side of his cheek. 

“Your hair, your pretty eyes. Your laugh, your smile. God, I can’t even tell you how excited I am that there’s going to be a little you running around. With your horrible sense of humor, bad cooking skills probably, and...” 

You shove him. And Eren reaches forward, grabbing your hands as he lifts them up and places a kiss on the inside of both of your wrists. 

“Can you be a little gentle? You’re pregnant, you know?” 

“Gentle with what?” 

“Your wrists. You just pushed me and that was kind of hard.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“And what does that have to do with the baby? Or being pregnant?” 

Eren shrugs. 

“I don’t know. Take it easy. You could hurt her.” 

You pause. 

“Her?” 

“It’s a girl.” Eren responds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Is not. It’s going to be a boy.” 

“You’ve been pregnant for three seconds. How do you even know?” Eren asks. 

You shove him again. Eren shoots you a warning glance, fingers soft on your wrists, as you fight from smiling at him fully. 

“I’m carrying our baby. Have been for a while now. I would know. It’s a boy.” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t insult Maya by calling her a boy.” 

You smile, remembering the names you and Eren had picked out almost ages ago, as Eren lifts your wrists and presses a kiss to them again. 

“Don’t insult Marco by calling her a girl.” you parrot back. 

“Stop shoving, sweetheart. That could have felt like an earthquake to her or something.” 

“Are you crazy? He probably isn’t even that big, right now. Or sentient, Eren.” you deadpan. 

Eren lifts his hand up, signaling for you to wait, as he reaches for his phone. You try to peer over but Eren leans it closer to his chest, giving you an antagonizing glare. 

“If your period is two weeks late, that means your last one was like…what…five weeks ago? Six? That means you're six weeks pregnant. And if you’re six weeks pregnant, that means the baby is as big as a pea.” 

“So?” 

“So our little sweet pea Maya could have felt that. You should take it easy. Let’s go lie down in bed. Do you want a massage?” 

You laugh as Eren all but places his hands on your waist, almost dragging you over to the bed. 

“Our little sweet pea?” 

“Y’know, like peas in a pod?” Eren asks. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Pea in a pod, Eren. It’s one baby, not two.” 

The statement ended up being insanely ironic when you looked back on it. And maybe a little sweet – because you and Eren both ended up being right. 

Marco and Maya were there with you the entire time.

--

an: anyways shits and giggles. eren totally calls maya his sweet pea btw. and calls marco and maya two peas in a pod. eren also writes never grow up about maya anyways..

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @ilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar r @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[itsabouttimex2]

“You need to do better.”

(This gets vitriolic, and is a full-blown criticism of Macaque’s portrayal in Season Four and Five. If criticism of a character/franchise you like upsets you, I do not recommend reading.)

Wow. I had no faith in his character writing, and I’m STILL disappointed.

And it only took one episode! How impressive!

Macaque, who has put in ZERO on-screen effort to become a better person or make amends to his victims, is criticizing Wukong for being a bad mentor! And does Wukong criticize him back? NOPE!

After getting screamed at and berated, does Wukong defend himself? NOPE!

Ooh, but there was a second long reference in a dual yelling match that mentioned that Macaque was a genuinely bad person who took glee in hurting innocent people! Oh, fucking delightful! Ooh, Wukong even points out in one episode that Macaque goes without consequences!

Pointing out a flaw in your writing does not make it less of a flaw.

Macaque will always be allowed to do whatever he wants to anyone he wants- power theft, attempted murder, insults, deceit, assault-

And the narrative and characters will never hold him accountable or force Macaque to look inwards or become a better person.

Macaque will always fall upwards into redemption without any obstacles or pushback.

There will never be a struggle to goodness with a satisfying conclusion. There will never be a moment where falters in his newfound goodness and questions going back to his old ways. There will never be explicit remorse or regret. He will never have deep introspections on his crimes and atrocities that provide a reason for him to want to change.

The sum of his “arc” will always be “you were a good guy all along”, and that lack of depth is where it will stay.

RIP Seasons 1-3 Macaque. You were fun and interesting and cool and lovable.

But the man they replaced you with was destined to be a boring and brooding “anti-hero” who has no real connection to the actions you selfishly and violently performed with your own two hands-

And you will always be a less interesting character for it.

The execution of the actual arc boils down to a single heroic (but ultimately self-serving) moment and then Macaque is immediately forgiven for all the crimes he’s committed and is a magically better person without any effort and nothing he’s done is ever brought up again.

It severely weakens any character’s arc to cut them off from their past actions. If MK forgot his traumas every season instead of carrying them forward- we’d all agree that doing so was a case of poor writing.

It was the reason that people disliked Mei’s portrayal in Season Four- she immediately moved on from the Samadhi Fire arc and “no longer wielded it” after spending a whole season gathering and learning to use it.

Why can’t we agree that it’s bad for Macaque, too?

You can’t “develop” a character by dropping an entire plotline and writing it off with one line.

You can’t “redeem” a character by pretending that they were a good person right from the start.

Sorry, bud.

I really did like you. I just wish I could like your writing.

——————

And, what is more clear to me now than ever?

People only defended Macaque’s shitty writing because they think he’s hot.

I know this now, because I’ve seen white-hot Li Jing arc hatred from fervent Macaque arc defenders.

So we all agree that an “I didn’t really mean it!” isn’t an excuse to abuse the people around you? That you don’t get to mistreat innocent people just because you’re stressed and upset?

Hmmm.

Hmmmmmmm.

I wonder why people despise Jing for his dogshit “one nice thing redeems all your bad actions” arc but love Macaque for his??

(Because they think the monkey is hot.)

The funny thing, though?

Li Jing apologizes to at least one of the victims of his actions. He expresses regret and remorse.

Macaque doesn’t even have that.

——————

Anyways here’s a line that I hate because Macaque has in no way developed enough to have the right to deliver it-

AND NO, SUDDENLY HAVING AN AFFINITY FOR PERFORMING KIND OR SACRIFICIAL ACTS IS NOT GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

HIM MAGICALLY OFFSCREEN BECOMING A GOOD PERSON WHO CARES ABOUT INNOCENT LIFE IS NOT GOOD CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

IF ALL IT TAKES TO “BE BETTER” IS ACTING LIKE A HERO, WUKONG IS LITERALLY A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER OF A PERSON THAN HE IS

THIS LINE IS DOGSHIT

“You need to do better.”

Really, Macaque? Maybe you should take your own damn advice- try apologizing to one of the people you tried to hurt and tried to murder in cold blood!

Like when you trapped MK under his staff after stealing his powers and tried to murder him when he was helpless?

Or when you kidnapped MK’s friends and tortured the kid by forcing him to fight them?

Or you led a violent assault against a palace full of innocent people?

Or violently beat his dear friends until they were screaming in pain?

Or assaulted Tang, who posed no threat to you?

Or threatened to murder an innocent girl if you didn’t get your way, then ran away (and encouraged MK to abandon her) first thing when it put her into a life-threatening meltdown of raw power?

(Isn’t it cool how NONE of these people have interesting or varied reactions to him doing this and ALL immediately are cool with him like a gelatinous hivemind.)

(Oooh ONE mildly questioning line from Pigsy but no anger over his adoptive son nearly being killed multiple times over)

(Isn’t it cool that no one has complex or interesting thoughts on this.)

(Isn’t it cool that by robbing them of unique feelings on the matter they robbed Macaque and the Monkie Kids of compelling and interesting interactions that could’ve helped flesh out their personalities and strengthen their characterization.)

(Isn’t it cool that Macaque and the Monkie Kids are actively denied intriguing character dynamics so Macaque’s shitty “redemption arc” can happen faster.)

(Isn’t that cool.)

Why don’t YOU do better, Macaque?

(In a way that is more satisfying than “one kind-hearted speech from a kid that I tried to murder changed my mind and now I am a better person but all my character development happened offscreen and without personal introspection”, at least.)

Also what the fuck do you mean by “do better”?

Be heroic and put your life in danger? He already does that! He’s done it more than you have!

Just tell MK that he’s not alone? YOU COULD DO THAT YOURSELF, MACAQUE!

Help MK with his traumas and fears? MK doesn’t tell anyone about those! He keeps them bottled up, lock and key, and actively refuses attempts to help!

Wukong TRIED to reach out to him, and MK PUSHED HIM AWAY! Was he supposed to tie the fucking kid down and torture the information out of him?

He respected MK’s boundaries by not pushing any further and letting him leave!!

WHY IS THAT A BAD THING??

What the fuck, man

[ktjislove1119]

what being pharmony's seventh (favorite) member would be like⁷ㅤ

-> p1harmony x seventh member! male reader -> can be read as platonic or romantic, i tried keeping it ambiguous and balanced in this aspect

warning : some members refer to you with honorifics (hyung) so if that makes you uncomfortable then ... scadattle idk + i made you in between the hyung line and maknae line (so younger than keeho, theo, and jiung, but older than intak, soul, and jongseob) + not proof read !! i will edit in the morning, im knocking out rnnnn

rating : mushy fluff, some get sentimental but for the most part it's really just

a/n: ive been cooking this one for a long time guys !! also the reader is said to speak english well, but i don't think...that's a huge concern bc...but wanted to make note of that before you read on lol (even though its only mentioned a handful of times) + i want to lowkey make this a series !!! not a continous storyline-esque series, but installments of the same reader with piwon, if that makes sense...

wc : 14k+...idk i guess that each members individual headcanons are ??? 2-3k+ long...anyway....

yoon keeho — the relationship you’d have with keeho would be a mix of how he treats soul and intak. you guys had trained together for a very long, long time, but he still is always looking out for you and has you in the forefront of his mind. he worries about you a lot because you have been putting a lot of pressure on yourself since pre-debut and he’s really perceptive when it comes to you. he doesn’t baby you, though, because you guys aren’t that different in age, but he does check in with you in his own special ways.

the season of work that was preparing for overseas schedules and tours was always the most gruelling. it was much more demanding than simply promoting domestically since it involved remembering new things like choreography, positioning, and cues, which almost always changed slightly with each stop.

it was late now and there were barely any people left in the building to practice, but you were still working hard in trying to keep up with all the changes. just as you were about to start the music to one of the tracks, the door behind you had opened up and keeho was standing there with a not surprised look on his face.

“i knew you’d be here,” he said simply, “why aren’t you back to the dorm already?”

“i still need to practice some more, the tour starts soon,” is the simple explanation and keeho hums in understanding, closing the door behind him and pulling out a chair that was nearby. “what are you doing here?”

“keeping you company,” he says quickly, moving over to plug his phone into the wall and then watching you with his arms crossed over his chest, “after you’re done, we can walk back together too,”

“how did you know i was in this room?”

“[name], you’re the only one still here it was very easy to find you,” he chuckles, spreading his legs and rubbing his eyes as he got more comfortable in his chair. “why do you always have to overdo it when tour is about to start?”

“i just want to make sure i have it down,” you sigh, already knowing the direction this conversation was going.

“okay, then practice for only a couple more minutes and then let’s go home,” he proposes, pointing to the clock in the corner, “it’s way too late and if you really want to make your performance the best, getting good rest is the most important.”

“fine, fine,” you wave him off, going back into positioning and getting ready for the music to start.

you run through the choreography a couple more times without keeho inserting himself, simply watching with tired eyes as you worked. the practicing came to an end about half an hour later and he looked thankful you were finally calling it wraps.

as he waited before, he was scrolling through his phone aimlessly, occasionally filming you without you being aware, and when you stood in front of him to leave, he excitedly locked his phone and cheered.

an arm came around your sweaty neck and shoulders, as well as his hand rubbing your stomach, “our [name] always working so hard,” he compliments, making you fight against his hold — out of uncomfortableness of how the sensation of his skin against your sweaty one felt. but his grip was tight and he even smooshed your cheeks together in his excitement.

“let’s eat some good food at the dorm, for you to recharge,” he comments, turning off the lights on your way out and shutting the door behind you two.

“what good food? the leftovers from last week?”

“if that’s what we have, then that’s what we have,” he sighs, trying to remember what was in the fridge.

“i can also just make a protein drink for dinner, we can share it,”

he looks at you disgusted before saying, “we are not having a protein shake for dinner — minus the fact that’s just not healthy, they’re disgusting so, no. we will eat the leftovers,”

you laugh at his definitive tone and facial expressions, accepting his proposal and walking out of the building side by side.

— keeho is really sweet and understanding with you, but does tend to put his foot down and become more stern when it regards you and your health habits. he is always the first one to remind you when to take breaks and go easy on yourself, but won’t force you to do anything that he says. if he suggests you take a break, but you don’t want to, he’ll wait on the sidelines for you to tire out and then guide you back to the dorm. his method of doing this actually proves to be really effective as it leads you to take more breaks because no one is actively forcing them on you which makes them more appealing (if that makes sense).

— he’s also really touchy with you, as he is with all the members. the thing with you is that you really welcome it. you’ve understood since you were trainees that one of keeho’s biggest habits is that he loves being in physical contact and close with those he cares about most. and he cares about you very deeply. back when you were still trainees, he’d often find himself sharing your bed with you since he didn’t want to be alone and wanted someone to be near. even now after debut, it’s still the same sentiment of: wanting to always have someone in his corner that he can express outward affection with as a means of self-comfort.

“[name], come here,” keeho calls, waving his hand to you in a hither motion with his phone propped up in his other. the entire group was waiting in the green room for their next direction of the music show. but seeing as it was just a waiting time, everyone was doing their own thing. keeho was watching a video on youtube, but wanted someone near as he did so, which is why he called you.

approaching with your own phone in hand, you didn’t even look up as you sat beside him and let his arm fall on your shoulders.

“what are you watching?”

“i forgot how to get the hidden move, so i have to watch a youtube tutorial,” you complain, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips.

“wah, gamer boy,” he says in english, making you weakly slap his stomach. he doesn’t even flinch, merely laughing as he continues to watch whatever was on his own screen. the hand on your shoulder stays in position, occasionally squeezing you for no apparent reason.

simple touches and actions like this summarize the way keeho shows affection with you. sometimes it’s grand actions like a kiss on the cheek (something especially grand when he does it in public settings) or big, tight hugs in private, but either way: keeho is going to be showing affection to you one way or another, public or private.

the setting doesn’t really deter him because he feels like, if he wants to show affection with you the place doesn’t really matter. even if you’re standing at a fanmeeting and he’s feeling more expressive at that time, he will go over to you and just absolutely smother you. the fans can coo and “aw” all they want, some will probably think it’s purposeful fanservice, but to keeho it’s just him wanting to show you affection.

keeho leans into your ear from his position on your back (he was hugging you from the back) and whispers, “do you want to go to the cafe afterwards?” making you smile and nod, turning to look at him as you answer.

considering how close he was to you, this made your face inches apart and something that was worthy of fans screaming over. but it didn’t faze you two as you casually carried on, “the one near the dorm? will you buy me the cheese danish?”

keeho chuckles, squeezing your cheeks together and bumping his forehead with yours. he stands upright and slightly backs away from you, “yeah, let’s go,” since that phrase wasn’t whispered, the fans were going crazy over the part of the conversation they could hear and their curiousity was high.

“where? go where?”

“keeho, where are you taking [name]?”

“we’re running away together,” keeho jokes, sticking his tongue out as he pretends to drag you away.

”where are you going?”

“nowhere!” you say in a sing song voice, obviously teasing the crowd.

the playful banter riles them up, making everyone hyperfocus on you two until one of the other members does something that steals all their attention.

lucky fans that had seen you two at the cafe had went onto social media and teased: “this is where keeho meant when he said they were running away together, so adorable” with a picture of you two standing in line, standing close to one another. there was then a selca the fan had taken with the two of you attached beside it, making other p1ece envious of how lucky the girl was.

“were they are seriously that close the whole time? they’re so clingy with each other T.T” to which the original poster responded, “they really were — their chemistry is real, guys. the whole reason i recognized them was because i saw them standing in line and thought, wow, keeho also holds onto [name] as tight as this man does. keeho really doesn’t want him going anywhere, it’s cute!”

the affection-ridden and patient relationship that keeho and you share is one of the favorite dynamics for p1ece to see since it’s a refreshing one. seeing the two of you be most comfortable with each other, no matter where you are, makes them feel happy to witness such a pure form of trust and adoration.

choi taeyang — theo is a guy that’s super big on teasing, he makes a lot of jokes based off of teasing and they usually end up with everyone in the room laughing. what’s something interesting that has been noticed by some staff as well as p1ece is that, taeyang tries especially hard in making people laugh and uplifting the mood when you are there or nearby. there have been many instances of people editing theo’s eyes watching you the moment he makes a joke, an expecting look on his face that gets washed with relief and achievement when he sees that you do end up laughing. taeyang finds that his relationship with you is really, really fun and full of laughter, which he intends to keep that way for as long as possible.

you guys were filming for another installment of your variety show; saessak harmony and you and theo were placed to be on the same team for the “guess the kpop song” challenge. towels were wrapped around your heads as you continued on playing and eating, at the same time.

theo, keeho, soul, and you were all placed on the same team against jiung, intak, and jongseob. thankfully, keeho was very good at the game and was scoring the majority of your points, allowing the rest of the team to be more relaxed. you were sitting in between soul and theo, watching with a grin as keeho scored another point for your team.

“yah, [name], look,” theo whispers, showing you the egg that was in his hand. you watch in interest, then burst out laughing at his sudden action. it caught the attention of the rest of the group, but you were too busy falling into theo’s neck to even properly notice. he put his arm around you as you laughed together, almost completely collapsing backwards in your laughing fit.

“what? what? what?” jiung asked, wanting to know what was so hilarious, as well as everyone else in the group too.

theo was too busy holding onto your body to stop it from hitting the ground to properly answer while you were too occupied with laughing.

”these two are always interrupting filming,” intak accused, “please spray them with water as punishment,” he cheekily requested, everyone bursting out in laughter as they saw that the staff had actually sprayed the two of you with the water gun.

now you and theo were a mess on the floor, holding onto each other as you were relentlessly attacked with water from the staff.

“what even was so funny?” keeho asked once everyone had settled down more, making you wave off his question and insist on moving on to continue on the challenge.

— taeyang really values spending free time with you, he likes to just be in your presence. even if you guys aren’t doing anything particularly interesting, just being with you is enough for him. he doesn’t really enjoy going out the most, but he won’t deny going out with you — unless he really isn’t up for it. but most of the time, for convenience sake, you two are staying indoors. you two will rest in the same bed together, but not speak a work to one another. and it’s comfortable that way, which he can appreciate. he doesn’t always need high energy level atmospheres surrounding him and you really do help calm him down, just by being near so he likes monopolizing on that.

— one of the things that theo has picked up nowadays is learning the guitar. and he has proper lessons with his teacher very often, but the person he wants to show off his newly acquired skills to the most is you. when it comes to things that taeyang is proud of, he likes to show them off to you first. because he knows it’s always a judgement free zone (not that it wouldn’t be with the other members, it’s just having you be the only one watching and complimenting him is what he desires most). he loves hearing all the impressed sounds you make and curious questions you ask him, even if he himself is a pretty beginner level player. he’ll pretend as if he has all the answers to impress you further.

“play me your favorite song on the guitar,” you request, sinking into the mini couch that was in the studio.

“i don’t know how to yet,” he truthfully admits, plugging the guitar into the amp and rolling the chair closer to you, “i’ll play you a snippet of what i’m learning now though, for our solo performance. it sounds pretty,” he comments, looking at you and smiling at the way your eyes lit up at the mention of his solo song.

the strings are strummed lightly and taeyang is depending on no one but himself to not mess up and embarrass himself in front of you. there are a couple of times he mistakes a string for another and strikes it by accident, but each time that happens you don’t seem to notice or you ignore it on purpose. he smiles at your amazed expression, finishing the song with a sigh and awaiting your feedback.

“that was amazing, taeyang,” you compliment, smiling so brightly and genuinely at him that he feels a blush crawl onto his face.

“it wasn’t much, but i’ve been working hard on it to make it sound perfect,” he admits, making you even more eager in complimenting him.

“it was so good, you’ll be in perfect shape by the time the tour starts,” you add in, making him put his hood up as a weak attempt in hiding his face from you. you tease him, putting your hand beneath the hood and affectionately rub the top of his hair. “a true rockstar, huh?”

he weakly swats your hand away, grabbing your wrist after you try evading him and putting it down to rest on his leg.

”i can teach you? it’s really simple, you’ll get the hang of it really fast,” he offers, keeping your wrist enclosed in his hand as he rubs the skin gently, “c’mon, let me teach you,”

making the easy decision of accepting, you welcome the guitar into your lap and theo into the seat next to you. for longer than you two realized, you were in the studio by yourselves learning the chords to the song “until i found you.” occasionally, he would tease you for your below beginner level guitar skills, but for the most part he wsas genuinely teaching you and hoping you’d learnt his song.

“maybe we can do a duet on stage,” you joke, but theo doesn’t actually seem to mind it. he brushes your hair out of your face and behind your ear, a kind smile on his lips as he nods in agreement.

— theo is really gentle and caring with you, in the physical sense. he doesn’t show as much affection as keeho (that’d be hard), but he does show that he cares and is always looking out for you in other ways. there have been compilations made online of all the subtle things theo does to look out for you and p1ece gush over it constantly. neither of you know of these videos existence, but if theo ever did become aware of it, he’d definitely blush in embarrassment of being found out + seeing his actions be made aware to everyone.

“did you see the way theo covers the corner of the table? something tells me that if it were anyone else he would’ve loved to see the member lightly hit their head lollol”

→ “he always has had a soft spot for [name]”

“here theo goes again protecting his [name]! so cute”

→ “the arm that never leaves [name]’s waist! an infamous and familiar sight”

“anyone else notice how theo always is closest to [name] when they go anywhere public? like the airport or in overseas schedules, he’s always right next to [name] T.T so cute”

— taeyang wants to make you laugh, wants your hardest laughs to be with him and wants to always make you feel the most safe and secure. maybe it’s because you were the first one to truly welcome him to the company when he first became a trainee or for another reason. but in the end, he’s always having his eye on you. he’s very aware and keen when it comes to you, coming first to your defense in any situation as well as being the person to make you laugh the most too. he’s a real sweetheart and gentleman when it comes to you and it’s painfully obvious.

choi jiung — he is someone who is very explicitly proud of you and shows it in all sorts of ways. he’s always grinning so wide whenever you are speaking at public events because he’s that proud, whenever you have a highlight point in a performance, he’s watching you with a giant grin. at their concerts and shows, he’s always hovering around you with a smile and fond look in his eyes. a lot of people have pointed this out too because of how often jiung is caught cheesing at you, but the man cannot and will not ever stop. you two have trained together for a really long time so whenever you stand on your own, he just can’t help but think of all those times when you were trainees working hard together and smile at how far everyone has come, but especially you.

the two of you were on a weverse live, sitting down and eating some food the staff had prepared for you. the other members were either occupied or doing their own activities, meaning you and jiung were the only ones that p1ece were going to be seeing today. your seats were close to each other, your thighs underneath the table and out of vision from the camera, were touching and rocking against the other.

“here, here,” jiung says, bringing a piece of dessert up from the plate and ready to spoon feed it to you. obeying, eyes zeroed in on the treat, you dropped your jaw and closed in around his fork. “it’s good, right?”

you hummed in confirmation, jiung already getting another forkful to feed you again.

“i’m not sure what this is,” you answered, reading the chat and trying to get to as many comments as possible, “but it’s super yummy,”

“very light,” jiung adds in, turning to face the camera after feeding you the second piece. he puts his fork down and also commits to reading more comments, “so cute? well, it’s only cute because [name] is cute,” he pinches your cheek, which you allow while staring deadpan at the camera, “our cute [name],” he coos, laughing at the unimpressed expression on your face.

“he doesn’t like being called cute then,” jiung finalizes, dropping his hand from your cheek and holding yours underneath the table.

“being called cute is fine, just don’t rip my cheeks off while you do,” you scold, pinching his thigh lightly.

“alright, alright,” he appeases, leaning forward and reading more comments, “what are you two doing now? just talking and eating, very calm,” he then turns to you, “do you want to go to the studio?”

you nod, “it’s more comfortable to be set up there,” jiung grabs the stand that the camera was on and hoists it up while you clean up as much as possible before abandoning the room to go to jiung’s private studio.

”p1ece, what have you guys been up to lately? i feel like we haven’t talk in a long time,” jiung makes small talk with the fans, who eagerly respond and hope to be noticed by him. he waits by the door for you to join his side, standing sideways as he watches you. “me and [name] have been working hard for you all, there is a lot that we have planned for you all. [name] has been working so hard on his vocals and we honestly will probably work more after we end the live.” he reads the flying comments, before turning to you and smiling to see that you were done cleaning up.

“it’s always fun to work with [name] because he has such a good voice,” jiung compliments, making you wave your hand in dismission. he pets your head rather aggressively, making your head bop up and down as you walk to the studio, “everyone should compliment [name] right now,”

“that’s too much!” you exclaim, slapping his hand away and pretending to glare at him.

jiung only grins and moves the camera closer to your face, “isn’t he just so cute when he makes that face?”

— jiung values his alone time sooooo much, whenever there is a chance to be alone, he will take it and is content in knowing that all the members respect that precious time for him. but once he has enough of being alone and feels energized, the first person he will look for, is you. it’s cute, how he’ll return to the dorms after spending the whole day by himself on his own little adventures, and the first thing that leaves his lips is your name. when you finally do reunite, he will grin so wide his eyes turn into crescents.

jiung looked down at his phone, a small pout on his lips as he typed back.

“do you need anything while youre in the studio jiji?”

the affectionate nickname warmed his heart and he quickly typed back, not wanting to leave you waiting long.

“no, it’s okay, i’ll see u back at the dorm later :)”

“okkk <3 get back safe”

and that was the end of the conversation.

jiung was so relieved that you were understanding of him and his alone time, it was really something he craved and needed. especially with how hectic the schedules have been, it’s been nothing but work on top of work. and he needed to take personal breathers more often than not. everyone had known each other long enough to not feel offended by his need for personal space, too, which was another big relief.

he spent a couple more hours at the studio, jumping in between personal work and anything regarding their next release. when he was done, he stopped by the 24 hour convenience store and got both him and you a bag of your favorite snacks. he chuckled, walking out of the store knowing that the other members were going to say something about it when they’d find out. right now, they were definitely already sleeping. you were always the only one awake to greet him when he’d come back, as well as any other member that would come home later than usual.

he stopped to his dorm first, changing into comfortable clothes and freshening up before walking down to yours. it was only a couple of doors down and he entered the pin, trying to keep quiet to not interrupt anyone else’s sleep. the moment he walked in, he saw you sitting on the couch and watching a random youtube video.

“[name],” he called out to you, his signature toothy grin on his face. seeing you also in your comfortable pajamas made him smile, enjoying the sight of you all cozied up and relaxed.

”welcome home,” you jokingly greeted, bounding over to him with a smile.

“thank you,” he said quietly, walking over to the kitchen table and putting the snacks down.

“ah, you should’ve told me you were bringing some over, i already brushed my teeth,” you whined, seeing your favorite snack waiting for you. he apologized with a smile on his face, but you weren’t seriously annoyed with him so you just waved him off.

”are you sleeping over tonight?” you ask, walking back to the couch with a bottle of water and tapping the empty space near you, “or are you just stopping by?”

“probably just stopping by,” he shrugs, taking the seat next to you. you hum in response, scratching your eye and fighting back a yawn.

silence soon filled the living room as you kept watching the tv and he mindlessly scrolled on his phone. when he heard you lightly snoring, though, he looked up and smiled at your sleeping form. he set his phone down and carefully got up from the couch to get you more comfortable. he wasn’t going to try carrying you to bed, in fear of waking you up. instead, he scooted your torso down to properly rest on the cushions, so you wouldn’t wake up with back pain. he adjusted the pillow you were using, as well as the blanket covering you. he tucked it in neatly, brushing your hair aside a couple of times as he was smiling softly at you.

“goodnight, [name],” he whispered, patting your head before backing away. he picked up his phone from the table and pocketed it, about to be let himself out and go back to his own dorm. he grabbed the remote, ready to turn off the tv, but stopped when he saw what was playing. he almost laughed too loud, covering his mouth as he watched the otters on the screen play in the water.

were you seriously watching otter videos this entire time?

he lowered the volume, deciding to take a seat and understand what the appeal was. he moved your legs to be on top of his lap, gently moving his hand up and down as he was now completely focused on the television.

the next morning, jongseob woke up to jiung resting his head on your hip and practically cuddling your legs as his feet hung off the end of the couch. he just shook his head and walked over to the kitchen, not too unfamiliar with the habit jiung has of sleeping over. he sees the snacks on the kitchen counter, purposely dodges yours and takes what would have been jiungs’.

other than that, he leaves the two of you to be alone, going back to his own room to rest in bed for a little longer.

— whenever you go out overseas for tour or any other activities, he prefers to spend the free time with you. unfortunately, everyone else also wants to spend time with you, so the compromise is late nights are reserved for the two of you. whether it’s just a quick walk around the block or standing out on the balcony together, jiung likes to explore new places with you, and talk about them. he doesn’t like getting overtly sentimental, so the conversations are usually mindless and comfortable. but internally, he thinks about how grateful he is to have you as such a close companion. as his journey as a trainee, you have probably known him the longest, with intak as a close runner up. he thinks that getting to see new sights and places with you is a true blessing and he hopes the two of you never let this tradition of exploring together go away. it’s something he really looks forward to every time you’re overseas.

— jiung tends to get really competitive when it comes to playing games or anything else remotely team based, usually as seen on their variety shows. but if you’re on the same team as him or the one guilty of ruining his chances of winning, he tries to keep that part of himself in check. the reason is because he’s worried of possibly scaring you or just turning you off from his behavior. now, you’ve seen him get competitive — duh, you’ve known each other for so long and it’s honestly funny to see him get so invested in a simple, childish game. but never has this behavior been targeted to you. and that’s purposeful. he doesn’t want to yell at you, ever, even if it’s just in a game setting where everyone is laughing and having a good time. it just rubs him off the wrong way. every time he thinks of the possibility of him yelling at or raising his voice at you, it leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

“what?! wait! wait! wait! wait! he’s blocking me from getting the cards!” jiung shouts, unsure of who’s hand was in his way — so focused in on the game that he was tunnel visioning on what he needed to do in order to win. the game was intense, everyone was huddled around in a circle and trying their best to empty their hands out into each individual pile. but jiung had run into an obstacle when he was almost done and it was someone else’s hand getting in his way and leaving him behind in a two second time difference.

“blitz! i have no cards left!” keeho announces, doing a victory dance where he sat as he leaves the rest of you in sour moods at losing the round.

”c’mon! who was blocking me?! seriously! i was so close to getting blitz!” jiung shouts, scanning his eyes over everyone with a fiery look in his eyes as he tries to fish out who it was. but then you shoot your hand up and bashfully smile.

“sorry, jiji, i didn’t mean to…” your voice is trailing off, sensing how angry he was and awkwardly trying to save face.

but the moment he saw how meek you had gotten, he took a couple seconds to just breathe and calm down. everyone was waiting for him to explode, which he usually does and then quickly gets over a couple seconds after, but to their surprise, he just waved his hand.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, let’s keep going,” he says, collecting his cards and already getting set up, “but if it happens again, i’ll seriously-”

“it won’t, it won’t,” sensing his teasing tone, you don’t take his threat that serious and only smile and laugh it off as you also get ready for the next round.

everyone else just watches with confused and semi-annoyed looks on their face as you prove immune to jiung’s competitive rage. what a lucky guy you were, they all thought, remembering their own individual instances of jiung’s anger. at least once, everyone has experienced it. and it really isn’t that terrifying, but it was always a hassle of defending ones self against jiung’s stubbornness and bitterness.

but as the two of you just casually talked and smiled about the game, they just sigh and move on, not wanting to complain and ruin the atmosphere.

— jiung, who smiles the widest when you’re nearby. seeing you is enough to get him grinning, but there are certain things you do that he absolutely loves. when you’re focused on dance practice and you just tunnel vision on the instructor and show pure determination, he’s smiling to himself and whispering something to another member or idle camera about your hard efforts and how amazing you were. when you guys are filming for variety content for p1ece, and you spend time talking to the camera — giving special attention to the viewers, he smiles at how mindful and thoughtful you are. at concerts, when you’re free to interact with the crowd as much as you want and not have to worry about choreo, he’ll sometimes catch you doing something slightly embarrassing just to entertain p1ece and that leaves him with the biggest grin known to man. fully “:D” with his eyes crinkling and turning into crescents. next thing you know, you have jiung running over to you with his loud laughter and slapping your back repeatedly. when you’re in the studio, recording, and he’s in charge of directing you, he’s always smiling each time you look at him for feedback while you’re in the booth. no matter what he says, whether it be constructive criticism or words of affirmation, he’s delivering them with a kind, patient smile and loving look in his eyes.

— jiung just naturally sees the best in you. he always thinks highly of you and wishes everyone to do the same, treasuring you so much. it’s a mix of him verbally telling you this and him conveying his thoughts through emotions. he’s not the most affectionate, but he still has his own special ways of making you understand right where his heart lies with you (cough completely enamored by you cough). he is a happy guy as long as you’re near and he hopes that you also see him the same way, eager to make you joyful as well as comfortable. sometimes he’s obnoxiously annoying in singing praises your way, but he can’t help it! he just wants everyone to see you the way he sees you! aka the best.

hwang intak — the first member that is younger than you!! you’re the defining member that is smack dab in the middle of p1harmony in terms of age. one year younger than jiung, theo, and keeho, and one year older than intak, and three years older than soul and jongseob. but a one year difference isn’t the biggest deal in the world, which intak agrees with on most days, but on others, he completely flips opinions and its obvious. what that means is that: some days, intak will be eager to have casual conversation with you, craving that relationship that’s foundation is based on seeing one another equally, instead of a strict, formal type of dynamic. while on some other days, intak succumbs to wanting to completely rely on you as his hyung and, not baby him, but pay special attention to him.

— intak likes to involve you in every aspect of his life. there isn’t a secret that he can keep from you, not that he would want to. but he just has a habit of letting you into every detail, routine, and habit of his. it’s basically the definition of sharing is caring — but with everything. he truly does think it’s only right for him to share everything with you :’( he’s so sweet ill cry.

“hyung, do you need a pair of underwear? these just came out of the wash, they’re still warm!”

“no, thank you, tak, i have enough…?”

he asked the question out of nowhere and was completely unprompted in asking if you wanted a pair of his underwear.

—

“wait, can you tell me what you think of this choreo? let’s go after lunch?”

“sure, make sure you eat well if you’re going to be dancing a lot later, too,”

“yes, hyung,” he says with the cutest smile on his face, taking a huge bite of his food.

—

the whole group was waiting backstage for directions on when to go up on stage with the staff all bustling around them. they were doing last minute checks on everything to make sure it was working well, while the members were all trying to calm down and not get too nervous.

intak’s form of doing this is scrolling on his phone, before a staff member has to take it away for when they go up on stage, and watching any funny video that pops up on his feed. when he finds a particularly funny one, the first person he thinks of showing is you. he walks over to where you were talking with one of the stage managers, waiting (im)patiently with a smile on his face.

��what’s up, tak?” you ask, smiling at him, knowing that he probably had something on his phone to show you.

“watch this, please,” he says, trying to hold in his laughter as he thinks of the video he was showing you. he shoves the phone screen closer to your face and in a couple of seconds, you both are breaking out in laughter at the video.

“[name]! intak! come on, we’re gonna huddle,” keeho calls out to you, an unimpressed look on his face as he sees you two semi-goofing off.

a staff comes by swiftly and takes intak’s phone, allowing you two to join the rest of the group in the circle.

— intak always!!! matching your energy. he’ll always always always be there to match you and whatever mood you’re in, especially if he notices that no one else is keeping up with you. he always loves to do this because it makes you end up laughing so hard and/or having the most fun. he likes having those special moments with you because they feel like it’s just the two of you in the room.

it was a gruelling day of practice. everyone was scattered around the room, whether it be on the floor sprawled out like a star or on the chairs lining the corner, slumped over trying to catch their breath. everyone was tired and it was even more tiresome knowing that there was still a couple more hours of practice you all needed to commit to before being allowed to go home.

you were taking in the sight of everyone’s exhaustion, breathing heavily as you tried to think of ideas on how to boost their energy. it was currently that ten minute period where everyone could rest and catch their breath before the choreographers would get back to strict practice. and knowing that the time was almost up, you connected your phone to the surround speakers and played an energetic song.

“c’mon guys! only a couple more hours of practice!” you cheered, trying to get them optimistic, but the “couple more hours” part easily killed any type of optimism that could be in the room. you jumped to the beat of the music, trying to infect them with the same feeling, but they were all just looking at you unimpressed.

“[name], don’t strain yourself too much, we still have to dance more!” jiung tiredly said, waving his hand as if to bring you towards him, to hopefully calm you down. but you just shook your head, belting out the song lyrics that were playing and continuing to jump around.

in a couple of seconds, intak was joining you, head banging to the music and running around the room with you. he appreciates you trying to uplift everyone and didn’t want your efforts to go completely ignored and to waste. he starts joining in on your singing, purposefully off key, and laughing as you do when you hear how awful he sounded.

“how do they have so much energy…” theo sighs, looking at the two of you and just feeling even more exhausted.

the members are all silent as they watch you two goof off for the next couple of minutes, wishing they could join in on your guys’ fun, but feeling way too tired physically.

meanwhile, you and intak are running around the room and laughing your hearts off as the song continues on blaring through the room. the only reason you guys stop is due to the instructor cutting off the music and calling for practice to resume.

you two are panting and you appreciatively pinch his cheeks with how he kept up with you and your antics.

— another funny, unique thing intak likes to do with you is always interacting with p1ece with you. whether it be through weverse lives, at fansigns where he milks fanservice with you for them, or in any other form, he just likes displaying the close relationship you guys have with each other to p1ece. it’s almost as if he’s flexing — how comfortable and in-sync the two of you are with each other, how easily he understands you without you even having to say anything. they love it, anyway, and he loves to do it, so it really doesn’t hurt anyone.

intak walks over to you as you try putting on a costume that someone had gifted you. it was a simple outfit that you think was supposed to mimic turtwig, which p1ece knew as your favorite pokemon. there was a headband with a sprout, which was your representative emoji, and cute cloth shell that mimicked the pokemon’s that was supposed to be worn around your shoulders.

“this is cute,” intak comments, smiling at the costume with a fond look in his eyes. then suddenly, his eyes lit up and he reached further into the box and brought out a pokeball with a proud smile on his face, “hurry up and put it on so i can catch you,”

you laugh at his childish demand, but obey to play along with him. p1ece were watching and aweing at the scene, finding it to be wholesome with how excited intak was to act as a pokemon trainer and you as a turtwig.

when you were just finished putting on the costume, intak suddenly threw the ball in your direction — nailing you right in the face, and causing you to stumble backwards at the sudden impact. p1ece all gasped in shock while the other members began laughing, jiung and theo falling to their knees as you rubbed your cheek.

“what pokemon is gonna let such a rough trainer catch them?!” you joke, smacking intak’s hand away as he tried helping you up — the man himself laughing at the way he had unintentionally injured you.

“i’m sorry, sorry,” he says, but with how hard he was laughing it didn’t seem as though he was that sorry, “please, hyung, it was an accident, it was supposed to hit your chest! i swear!”

“whatever, whatever,” you rub your cheek, that wasn’t even hurting honetly, and shoot him a joking glare.

then, once again — out of nowhere, he grabs the other side of your cheek and pulls you towards him, planting a wet and sloppy kiss on your cheek. instantly, the flashes of the cameras are going off to capture the impromptu moment. you recoil simply because of the wet sensation and rub your cheek, a grimace on your face.

the others break out into another fit of laughter while intak childishly pouts at you, using terrible aegyo to beg for forgiveness. it’s obviously all an act, as well as an excuse to make you laugh, and it works because you’re both forgiving him and laughing with him in the next couple seconds.

”you’re such a bad trainer,” you comment into the microphone, looking to p1ece with an incredulous look on your face, “he’s the only one that can pull something like that off, seriously. because i know intak just wanted to make everyone laugh, so i’ll let it slide. the others don’t have good intentions like that!”

“what?!” keeho exclaims, exaggerating his offense at your comment while everyone in the room breaks out in laughter.

“you’re saying we don’t have good intentions or something?!” theo joins in, crossing his arms over his chest, “c’mere, let me throw the pokeball at your face too, to prove my good intentions!”

“see! that’s what i’m talking about guys!” you shout, running around the small stage to dodge theo’s reeled back arm that was now holding the same pokeball that had hit you in the face earlier.

all the while, intak is grinning ear to ear so hard his cheeks almost hurt, watching you with an obvious content look on his face.

—

“it’s only…” intak checks his phone that was on the table, then looks back up at the camera, “10PM, not that late,”

he’s by himself in the dance practice room, stretching in front of the camera as he watches the comments all roll in.

“’intak, what’s your lockscreen?’ how did you guys even see my lockscreen?” he laughs at the random question, playing with his phone in his lap, “oh, you just want to know?” he looks at the screen, deciding that it wasn’t even that bad to show. and the photo itself made him smile anyway, so he wanted to share it with p1ece for that reason as well.

“it’s a photo of me and [name]-hyung,” he says, turning the phone around and showing it to the camera, “i change it a lot, though, but this was from when we went out recently, late at night. there was a cool mirror, so we took a photo. and i liked it, so i use it as my lockscreen and homescreen,”

it was the type of “fish-eye” mirrors that were in conveinces stores so that the owner can see the entire store. the photo was a simple mirror selfie with you squeezing intak’s cheeks together as he took the photo, a smile on each of your faces.

“’so cute’, yes, we are, hyung is,” he laughs, turning his phone off and setting it aside, “’what’s his lockscreen?’ i don’t know…i don’t really look at it, but i think it’s just a picture of all of us, i think of our hands? i’m not sure, i’ll ask him when i see him and then let you guys know,” he smiles as he sees the comments affectionately talking about you two, mainly about how cute the photo was.

“’what’s your contact name for [name]?’ ah, didn’t he make the tiktok about it recently? it’s still the same as it was then, just ‘best hyung.’…what? why? why’s everyone saying that i should change it? change it to what?” he opens his phone and opens the messager app, scrolling up and down your contact information, “i think it’s cute though? he likes it too,”

he waits to see what people suggest, making an ‘o’ with his mouth as he continued reading, “oh, make it cuter or add an emoji? that’s what you guys meant! that’s not that bad of an idea, but i don’t know what i’d put…not a sprout, jongseobie already has that for him. how about…”

intak spends the next couple minutes rambling about you as well as answering any questions p1ece had about you, such as your whereabouts and what you were up to nowadays. intak is definitely the guy that would air out all your business to everyone, but in a fond, respectable way. obviously, he doesn’t tell them overly personal information or things he knows you wouldn’t want anyone knowing, it’s more-so, just the silly little things that he tells them.

— quick to take your side if there is ever a disagreement or fight that breaks out in the group. fights are common, but for little trivial things (you guys are bound to squabble every now and then, it’s inevitable). and intak doesn’t really mean to take your side, to show bias and favoritism, it’s just he has a really strong sense of loyalty and he always feels that same feeling from you, so he just reciprocates it. that loyalty of his makes him one of your reliable support systems and a trustworthy person to have if time ever get rough.

it was a pretty small thing to fight about, but everyone’s emotions were amped up because of recently stressful times. nothing harmful was exchanged between you and keeho when you were fighting, but you two did need some space to recollect and approach the situation with clearer minds.

you stormed out of the dorm, keeho staying behind and locking himself in his room. the members watched with wide eyes, sighing as they left the matter alone to not get too involved. besides, you and keeho were grown men that could talk this out when you were ready to, you didn’t need to be forced to apologize to each other, like you were kids or something.

and intak agrees with that. but he is concerned on where you would storm off to so late at night. which is why he ran after you, grabbing yours and his coat on his way out. thankfully, you didn’t get too far before he caught up with you. the walk to an empty park nearby was silent, intak knowing that he shouldn’t pester you for small chat as you were definitely not in the mood for it right now.

instead, he took a silent stance next to you as you gently swung back and forth on the swing seat.

“it’s just!” you suddenly exclaim, “we are all high strung right now, we’re all tired! i wish i had more control of how i handled the situation, but i just can’t always be so hyper aware of everything going on around me.” you sighed, hanging your head low as intak lent you an ear to listen to all of your worries. “i should go back and apologize,”

“hold on, let’s just stay here a little while longer. the both of you might need some space, even if it’s just for a couple more minutes,” intak says, speaking softly and gently. you understand where he’s coming from and, thankfully, agree, settling back onto the swing set.

“thanks for coming after me intak, you didn’t have to, i would’ve been fine,” you say quietly, reaching out and squeezing his hand in yours.

“it’s alright, i was just worried something might have happened if you were alone,” he explains, crouching down to take a seat on the mulch beside you, “are you feeling better?”

“yeah, i think i feel even better knowing that you were here, though. seriously, you didn’t have to,”

”i wanted to, though,” he shrugs, not finding it a big deal and thinking about how he would 100% run after you again if a similar situation ever arises in the future, “i’ll always be here, okay? so will everyone else,”

that makes you fondly pet his hair down as a soft thank you escapes your lips, again. intak’s heart is the kindest and his approach of tending to you and the members makes that obvious.

— intak who is extremely sensitive to your mood and energy because he’s known you for so long, the shifts of mood don’t catch him off guard. he’s rather in tune with them, as if they’re his own. and he likes to brag about this special connection that you two have, calling it the utmost unique one in the entire group. he makes it obvious to p1ece that he feels this way too, not shy in staking “claim” of being the person who knows you the best in the group. intak who would easily follow you to the ends of the earth because he trusts you that much and knows that if you two are in it together, it won’t be that bad. he just needs you and some good energy and he’ll be content for the rest of his life.

haku shota — (okay prefacing i have an extremely soft spot for seobsoul as the youngests in piwon and it will most definitely show in these hcs so please beware!!!) now that’s out of the way, you’re someone that soul can trust completely. he has the most trust and faith and abundance of love for you, he will easily follow whatever you say because he believes that you’d never lead him “astray.” he trusts you that much. is always looking at you for some sort of approval or confirmation before doing anything, especially when you guys first debuted. you were like a guiding light to him, and continue to be, when he was literally dropped into a foreign country with no guardian type of figure.

“they’re free?” shota asks intak, who was standing beside him. they were waiting at the front desk of the restaurant, waiting for the other members to come back from the bathroom. and as they were waiting, they noticed that there was a small basket of what seemed to be mints, as well as a sign above them. but since it was written in english, shota couldn’t properly decipher what it said. “where’s hyung?”

“still in the bathroom,” intak pouts, looking at the mints longingly.

“is there anything i can help you with?” the hostess asks, noticing their gazes set on the basket, smiling softly at them.

to not embarrass themselves, intak and shota simply shake their heads and step away, offering her a weak smile.

“you guys look so awkward,” your voice calls out to them, offering the lady a smile as you pass by before joining intak and shota, “what’s up with those looks on your faces?”

you find it comical how they’re standing like lost school boys, but your laughter is cut off when shota suddenly grabs ahold of your hand and squeezes tight. “huh? what is it?”

“are those candies for us to take?” he asks quietly, and although he’s speaking korean, it’s as if he’s scared the hostess is secretly bilingual and can understand what he’s saying. you read the mini sign and nod you head in confirmation.

“it’s say, please take one — so yeah, they’re free and for the guests after eating. you want one?” you ask politely, smiling as he nods immediately, intak speaking up behind him and wanting one for himself too. you walk up to the woman, smile at her again and try to not make it a big deal that you’re taking a handful of mints.

the other members would probably want ones for themselves too, was your logic. when you walked back to intak and shota, their eyes were sparkling as they saw the many mints in your palm. intak took it immediately and popped one in his mouth while shota just hummed in delight and sucked on it.

“thank you, hyung,” soul says, smiling as he grabs your free hand and swings it back and forth.

“of course, shota,” you say, ruffling his hair and then stepping off to the side to not be in anyone’s way as you wait for the other members.

—

“is it okay?” is a line shota says often with his eyes marked on you, making it obvious he’s seeking your approval for something. it was something that started when he was first a trainee with you guys, when he needed someone to guide him through a lot of things, and it has become a harmless habit ever since.

you’d never scold him for relying on you, in fact shota thinks you welcomed that part of his behavior with open arms, which he appreciates. you’re a really big comfort to him, your mere presence next to him helps calm him down.

— he will be really affectionate with you, similiar to keeho. just think about this man’s relationship with keeho, too!! like they’re attached to the hip. he claims the affection he shows you has a different intention when compared to keeho, but you don’t notice because: to you, affection is affection and it’s always welcome !! shota sometimes can’t express in words how much love and appreciation he has for you, or he is too lazy to or it just isn’t appropriate, so instead he’ll show it through actions.

“so, today, i’m working in the studio — as you can obviously see!” you’re on weverse live and it just started a couple minutes ago, so you were giving p1ece the update on what you were doing, “i don’t know what the other members are doing, but i think—”

your cut off when the door behind you opens out of nowhere and it’s a shota staring at you. he’s grinning ear to ear, but you wouldn’t know since he’s wearing a mask on his face. he steps forward, not paying attention to the camera propped up on your desk and only focusing in on you.

“ah, shota, say hi to p1ece,” he hums in response, making a random grunting noise as he stops by your side, making you laugh at his odd behavior. he grabs your cheeks with both his hands, smooshing your face together which only prompted more laughter from you. then he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead, the sensation odd due to the mask in between you two.

but you receive it nonetheless, thanking him loudly with laughter as he pulls away. he smiles, moving close once more to kiss scarily close to your mouth, right on the corner of your lips, but once again the barrier of the mask acts as the last resort safe guard.

”wow, that was close, shota,” you say, surprised at his bold behavior, “shota is extra confident today,” you say to the camera this time, laughing as you read the comments that were freaking out about the surprise kiss, “’did he kiss me?’ yeah, riiight here,” you point to the corner of your mouth, which is now stretched into a smile, “plus, he was wearing a mask,”

shota stands behind you, now playing with the ends of your hair and listening to what you were saying every now and then.

“’[name] wasn’t even surprised lollol’ no, because he does this all the time. sho is very affectionate, guys, really touchy,” he smiles under his mask and decide that he’s going to leave, to not intrude too much on your own live.

you look behind and see him pointing to the door, nodding in understanding, “you’re going straight to the dorm or to practice?” he grunts, making hand gestures which you interpret as him saying he was going to practice.

“okay, don’t stay out for too long, it’s already late, too,” you advise, shooting him a pointed look.

he nods vigorously, saluting to you as well. you laugh and mimic him, but in a less enthusiastic way.

before he leaves, he throws a peace sign to the camera and plants one more kiss onto your cheek, then forcing your hood on top of your head and slamming the door behind him. the live chat is saying how hectic those past three seconds were, but you just fondly smile and agree.

“but he’s always like that, so it’s not that surprising, everyone. that’s just regular soul,” you say, a genuine smile on your face as you pay attention to each comment.

— silently shares a lot of his interests with you. you already have a huge common one: pokemon, but other things that interest him are also made aware to you through gift giving. for some reason, shota loves buying you gifts of things that you don’t even know the reference to?? well, most of them are popular, so you know at least something about them, but other times, it’s just random figurines of characters you don’t recognize littered around your dorm. he makes them blend in with the already existing decor on purpose, smiling as he sets them up as he thinks of the expression you make each time you discover one. it’s like a fun game; what will soul leave behind each time he visits your room? each time, he’s guaranteed to leave something, it’s just a matter of if you find it or not.

— he does not like sharing his clothes with anyone!! it’s just not his style, he doesn’t like sharing with others and he doesn’t want people sharing their clothe with him. what’s his is his and what’s yours is yours, respectfully. one thing that soul doesn’t mind sharing with you, and only you, though, is some of his rings…not all of them!! just select ones! he’s very protective of his belongings, especially his rings, so it was a genuine surprise the first day he put it on your finger, but you came to realize it was only a select few he was comfortable sharing. but the fact he was sharing them with you in the first place was already fascinating and left you with a warm feeling in your chest because you knew how special they were to him.

“this one,” soul gently whispers as you two stand in his room. you’re crowding his desk, where he’s sitting and you’re standing. you watch him go through his jewelry boxes before your outing together. he made a comment on how you were missing essential accessories and then before you knew it, he was dragging you to his room to showcase all the jewelry he had for you to wear for the day.

the one he was holding now was a simple thick, silver band, and he tried it on each of your fingers, gently sliding it on and off to see where it fit best. when he finally saw that it was a perfect fit for your ring finger, he smiled up at you in pride. just when you thought that was enough, he turned back to his collection and began choosing another one.

“one more, it looks silly if you’re only wearing one,” he says in a matter fact tone, and since he was definitely more experienced with accessorizing, you just trusted him. even if it was a matter of opinion, you didn’t need to know that…

he pulls out a more special looking one, a dragon themed ring that has an edgy feel to it. this one goes on your middle finger pretty snug and he smiles wide, happy to see you wearing his jewelry.

“we’re matching,” he says, showing his heavily adorned fingers. the rings themselves weren’t matching, but you suppose he meant in general.

“we are, you have the coolest things, sho,” you say, looking at your fingers with a grin on your face. your hand goes up to ruffle his hair, then resting on the base of his neck as you guide him out of his room, “now, what should our first stop be?”

“food,” he says, happily walking beside you as you go out for your “date.”

— the other member often complain about how you give jongseob and soul the easiest time when it comes to the rigorous training, but they eventually stop bringing it up when one time you went particularly hard on them for their criticism. since that day, they’ve stopped talking about it and just silently wallow in their discovery as they watch you tend to jongseob and soul more than the rest. sometimes, though, their frustration about your difference in behavior does slip out — but no one actually walks away from it with their feelings hurt, so shota will silently continue to take advantage of it…

“i’m tired,” soul huffs, hands on his knees as he watches the reflection of the group in the mirror. he looks to you, pouting as he asks in a light tone, “can we take a quick break?”

“no, we already took one earlier, we have to practice for longer before taking a break,” jiung denies, shaking his head excessively to show that the idea wasn’t going to slide.

“but-”

“we can take a five minute break, or you can shota, it’s alright,” you defend immediately, waving your hand for him to take that as his signal to rest for a little bit.

”c’mon, [name], don’t go so easy on him,”

“yah, he’s the one that’s working the hardest, he has the dance break in the middle of the already hard choreo! don’t you feel some sypathy?”

“we all are working hard, thou-”

“i know, and i’m tired too, but imagine how shota feels, he’s the one that has to use the most energy out of all of us!”

“…i guess you’re right,”

there’s a heavy sigh as they realize you won’t back down, standing firm as shota’s defender. he’s grateful because he really was almost completely worn out at this point and it was seriously getting to him.

“only a couple minutes, okay?” you gently, but sternly check with him to which he nods in understanding. he smiles at your way of caring for him, holding your hand and planting a kiss on the back before releasing it and flopping to the wood floor of the practice room.

— always wants to be in contact with you. kind of going hand in hand with that other point i made, but to really drive it home, he always wants to be in arms reach of you. he’s holding your hand whenever he has the chance, if you guys are sitting, he’s practically resting in your lap and shamelessly hugging you close. he likes to monopolize on affection because he knows you’re also comfortable giving it. he’s selfish in this sense, not really wanting to share you with others when he’s feeling particularly needy. he’ll slot himself into your arms and stay there for as long as possible, no matter the setting.

you guys were all watching the scenes that you had just filmed back, intent on catching if something was wrong. you were on set to film a music video and it was nearing the end of the day, so everyone was rather mellowed out and tired.

shota took his place standing beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched the clip back. you gently run your hand up and down his back to comfort him of his tiredness, but it only makes him wish to slip into sleep.

“okay, soul, jongseob, theo, and [name], you’re done filming for the day, keeho, jiung, and intak, there is just one more scene we need to run through with you guys,” the three respond with as much enthusiasm as possible, stepping forward to follow the director’s instructions.

one of your managers comes forward and guides the rest of you to get unready in the dressing rooms, commenting on how after the three were done filming and getitng unready as well, they were going to be sending everyone home. that made the rest of you cheer in relief, taking a seat into the chair to let the makeup staff do their work.

soul had to fight the urge to fall asleep in his seat, watching his reflection and yours in the mirror to try and keep his eyes open. you were out of the makeup chair faster than the others, changing back into your regular clothes, and then collapsing onto the couch and sighing in relief to finally lay down. soul was next to be free, changing as fast as possible, and then falling right on top of you on the couch.

“sho, there’s so many other open spots,” you groan, turning over so that you were now laying on your back and holding soul directly to your person.

”you’re more comfortable,” he explains easily, placing a peck on your cheek and then resting his face into your neck and breathing in your scent.

you try ignoring the staff that was filming you with their camera, getting content for who knows what, and follow suit to shota closing his eyes. it seemed the two of you were the only ones that knocked out for a quick nap because when you were woken up by keeho, everyone else was already ready to go.

on the ride back to the dorms, shota was still clinging to your side and resting his head on your shoulder the entire car ride back. he rested your intertwined hands in his lap, too, playing with them until he fell back asleep.

— relying on you if he has trouble communicating something. ever since you were trainees, you made it clear that you were there to support him if he ever had trouble vocalizing something due to the language barrier. frustratingly, he had trouble with that a lot — especially early on when he was training with everyone. but you proved to be a reliable pillar for him to lean on when he had hit a roadblock in terms of what to say in korean. you try your best and even attempting to learn some japanese for him. nowadays, it isn’t nearly as often as it was before, but he still looks to you first for some assistance if he ever needs it. he realizes how he’s in an incredibly vulnerable position, to be asking you for help on something as important as clarifying or completely translating something to him, but he trusts you completely and knows there’s no malicious intent that you could have towards him (you’ve proven that to him many times).

— shota who feels the most comfortable with you, in all aspects. in showing affection, in sharing his opinion, in being himself, he can do it all if you’re right there by his side. this trust and faith definitely stems from how your relationship was formed in your trainee days, but shota doesn’t mind and instead takes advantage of your deep bond with one another. he often talks about taking you back to japan with him for a return visit (you had already went with him a couple other times, he just wants to bring you back so you can spend more time with him in his home country), speaking of how you need to spend more time with his dogs, too. he wants to keep you as close as possible, both physically and figuratively — in terms of your emotional connection and he will do anything to ensure that.

kim jongseob — maknae timeeee!!!!! despite being the youngest, jongsoeb by far has the most experience on the process of becoming and being a kpop idol. he was a trainee since he was practically 11 years old, so he was more versed in the industry than anyone else. unfortunately, due to his young age, people often don’t take him seriously. well, the members definitely do because they were pretty intimidated by him the first time they all met, but other people that work with don’t often show him the respect he deserves. but since your guys’ first meeting, you were always courteous and respectful to him, showing through your actions and words that you took him seriously and genuinely saw him to be the artist he worked so hard in becoming. because of this, he holds a special place for you in his heart — incredibly special. to be respected so quickly by someone older, even though you yourself were talented, was a huge honor and pleasant surprise to him.

“[name]! jongseobie is looking for you!” keeho announces, walking into one of the public spaces of the building and tapping your shoulder, “he’s in his studio, so i think it has to do with whatever he’s making,”

you tap intak off of your shoulder, standing up and grabbing your phone from your table. you frown slightly seeing several missed calls and texts from the man himself, pocketing the device and thanking keeho for telling you. the walk is short, going up to the designated floor where the private studios were and making a beeline for jongseob’s.

you knocked a couple times before he opened the door for you, smiling softly when he saw that it was you.

“why weren’t you answering my texts?” he asks with a drawl in his voice, an in between of teasing and whining. you chuckle softly at it, taking your seat next to him and explaining that your phone was just in do not disturb mode for the evening. “do not disturb? can’t you make it where there are exceptions? i should be on that list,”

“i didn’t even know that was a thing,” you defend yourself, but he just clicks his tongue and types away at his keyboard. then, he hands you the mic stand. “huh?”

“just do runs over the melody,” he says quickly, hitting his space bar and pushing his chair back so that he could carefully watch you, “i think it would sound like this,” he then weakly vocalizes a unique melody you’d never heard before, “but i wanted to hear you do it, it’d sound better and help me more than if i did it myself,”

“okayy,” you mimic the sound he made, earning a smile from him as he nods along, egging you on in continuing and letting you choose how the rest of it would sound.

jongseob likes involving you in a lot of his creative processes, similar to jiung. but you’re definitely invited to the studio more with jongseob than you are jiung. this is partly due to the fact that jongseob finds a lot of inspiration in you, as well you naturally helping in unblocking whatever creative dilemma he’s in.

he just always remembers when you two were still trainees and how much respect you had given him. it’s a thought that crosses his mind at least once a day, feeling grateful to have had you there to believe in him wholeheartedly since the beginning.

— briefly mentioned in jiung’s section, but whenever you guys go overseas, who you spend the most of your time with outside of the hotel room is supposed to be evenly split…supposed to. but the reality is that jongseob is the first to invite you out and — first come, first serve, right? he’s always eager to see the sights with you because he claims you make the perfect center piece for his photography and he likes how you two often share similar interests. when you two go out, his camera is strapped to his torso and you’re both eagerly taking in the foreign sights.

“wait, where did [name] go?” intak asks, coming out of the shower with his hair still damp and towel hanging off of his shoulders, “we were gonna go to the dining hall for lunch,”

“i think jongseob and him went out,” soul mindlessly answers, scrolling on his phone as he lounges on the couch, “me and [name] hyung are going out for dinner, though, so…”

“what?!”

meanwhile, you and jongseob were already a couple of blocks away from the hotel and popping in and out of stores that had caught your eye. occasionally, you’d hear the click of his film camera, but by the time you turn around to look at him with a playful glare, he’s already setting it back onto his hip with an innocent smile on his face.

— jongseob is probably the most vocal in talking about how much admiration and love he has for you. but it’s subtle slips into a conversation vocal, not the kind that is just “screamed” at the top of his lungs. there’s two different ways of speaking about someone, ykwim? there’s explicitly saying how you feel about them and then there’s talking fondly of them softly, but in every passing sentence. jongseob is definitely the latter. he isn’t the type to lay out all his emotions for others to perceive, instead he’ll calmly, but lovingly compliment you and your personality (constantly, at that). he makes it obvious how much he appreciates you, just not super “loudly” if that makes sense.

the group was getting interviewed individually for a behind the scenes video for the killin it album. jongseob sat in front of the cameras with a confident smile on his lips, waiting for the next comment the directors had to make.

“when you’re writing lyrics, is there anything else that you keep in mind besides the obvious meaning behind the words?”

he hummed, thinking about his answer for a couple of seconds before coming to a concrete answer, “i think about a couple of things, but at the forefront of my mind is how it will sound and how well each member can execute it. for example, for soul, i purposely choose easier to pronounce words to not make it incredibly difficult. and when i am making the general beat or melody, i tend to think about how [name] hyung would execute it. to me, he has the most raw voice that i really love working with and he is also enthusiastic about helping me create the vision before sending the draft to whoever needs to hear it next. his voice alone can inspire a lot of things from me, too, so i tend to just think about him when i compose things or come up with lyrics.”

there isn’t an ounce of embarrassment evident on his face as he speaks so truthfully and passionately about you.

the next question the director asked was, “do the members have a strong say in who gets which line?”

“well, me and intak just write our own raps, and come together occasionally if we get stuck — but dividing our parts up is easy, it’s just a matter of where in the song the verses are going to be. as for the vocals, i have a strong preference to [name] hyung’s voice, so the others have learned to tune me out of the discussion when it comes to the vocal department. i just end up saying he should get all the parts. but as far as i know, it’s mainly through civil discussion on how they divide the lines,” he laughs after confessing that, making viewers wonder how serious he was about what he just said. but he really drives it home, saying, “everyone in p1harmony has a unique voice, but i just really gravitate towards [name] hyung’s, i don’t know why because it’s been like this since we were trainees.”

“do you often get writing slumps or are unable to create something that suits your taste? was it especially challenging this time because you knew you were preparing for a full length album?”

jongseob hummed again, finding these questions fun to answer, “i mean, of course, everyone gets writer’s block. i just try getting over it as soon as possible by listening to music that i like and thinking of that as inspiration. but if it gets really bad, i just distance myself and try relaxing,”

“how do you relax then?”

“just sleeping, or spending time with the members, but mainly sleeping. i don’t like to over exert myself with dancing or vocal exercise too much, so i rely on sleep and [name] hyung to recharge my personal battery,” he laughs at how silly it sounds, but nods to himself knowing that he told the truth.

after the behind the scenes video dropped, p1ece were quick to point out how often jongseob had mentioned you in any question regarding his creative process. and it was heartwarming to see that every mention of you was done with a smile and positive feeling.

“that’s how you know he really loves [name], he basically called him his muse”

“[name] has been supporting him since they debut so its no surprise jongseob is so open in involving in his song writing and stuff, it’s really nice to see that nothing has changed between these two <333”

→ “i hope they can be together for the longest time, they really compliment each other so well”

“when i’m in an appreciating [name] contest and my opponent is kim jongseob.”

“the fact that he thinks about how to the song will sound with [name]’s voice in mind, this lil boy from p1harmony really does love [name]”

“the vitamin’s vitamin is [name] lollol”

— opposite to shota, doesn’t mind sharing his clothes with you. he finds it cute that sometimes he randomly picks a shirt from his dresser and it’s one of yours. and he loves when you two are seeing each other for the first time in the morning and he instantly recognizes the shirt that you’re wearing as his. jongseob’s style is very comfortable, baggy clothes, so it’s mainly sweatpants, hoodies, and oversized t-shirts that end up being co-owned by you. he genuinely doesn’t mind. in exchange, he takes some of your clothes too! so it’s basically a fair trade off (not underwear though, he’s no a #nasty gal like intak — who definitely doesn’t mind sharing underwear with you lmao). loves when they’re on the more oversized end because that’s just his style. loves absolutely drowning in whatever garment he’s wearing that is actually yours. playing with the strings of the sweatpants or snapping the waist band against his skin several times, making his hands drown in the hoodie sleeves, he just finds it so fun to play with clothes if they’re yours. welcomes you to do the same with his too.

— has a really sentimental photo of the two of you at his work desk. it’s in a simple, but nice, frame and was from your trainee days together. you’re both so much younger, obviously too, but you’re both smiling so wide it’s infectious to him each time he sees it and he smiles too. he thinks it was intak or keeho that took the photo, he can’t remember anymore.

it was when everyone was in the practice room for much later than they should’ve been. he remembers being exhausted and just wanting to go home, but with some encouragement and energy from you, he was determined to get through the entire practice. and when it was announced they were finally done, the two of you collapsed onto the hardwood floor and were just panting in fatigue. the reason you were laughing was just the synchronicity of the action, making you turn to face each other and burst out into a fit of laughs.

whoever had snapped the photo took it in a the fraction of a second, showing it to you two with a proud look on his face. you requested for it to be printed out while jongseob only felt as though it was just a silly photo. when he saw it printed out, though, he suddenly felt sentimental about the memory and wanted his own copy.

he’s recently taken up photography nowadays and it’s usually film, sometimes digital. but with each picture he takes of you, he always tells himself that he’ll end up adding that photo to the one existing on his desk. but he can’t bring himself to choose one out of the stack of printed photos he has of you, so he usually just keeps them safe in his dorm room, occasionally hanging one up there. but never in his studio. he finds that the singular one there is a strong enough memory for him to use as inspiration to keep trying harder and harder each time he works. he doesn’t want to disappoint the you and him of the past, the ones that worked so hard to get to where you were now.

— jongseob being an extremely sentimental guy, but in private. and if not in private, quietly in public. no one really notices this about him, but it’s especially obvious whenever the conversation regards you. he knows he owes so much to you, for what you provided for him during their pre-debut days, and he doesn’t want to let you down now. he continues to push himself in excelling for that reason, as well as a multitude of others (such as, wanting to see the group truly succeed and get what they deserve). an incredibly emotional mature person for his age and it’s made obvious to others with how he carries himself and articulates his feelings. that’s another thing he accredits to you, for properly guiding him. another reason he can’t let you down.

┆ if u made it this far omg i applaud u...this shit is so long, i hope u enjoyed reading about seventh member piwon endeavors!!! i had fun writing them and imagining them. i tried to make it non-repetitive as possible too, and i think (?) i did a relatively good job with that because each members felt unique in some way :3 okay bye thank u sm for reading - if u got this far !!

[oozedninjas]

Ghost Bridal

Summary: Rumor has it that the mystical jungle spirit will only resurface if a sacrifice is presented. However, Leo is taken aback. A sacrifice bridal wasn't something he would've expected from the people he vowed to protect. But with his mind clouded by the heat of his mating season, he resolves to accept you as oblation.

WARNINGS: NSFW/ 18+ / MDNI/10 years after the 2007 movie, so Leo 27-29/use of the word slut once/light dirty talk/mention of sexual toys/dry humping /oral (fem receiving) /Xenobiology (knot mentions)/somnophilia (if you read between the lines, squinting) / penetrative sex/chafing, bleeding and bruising/ aftercare/mating cycles/ The reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and possesses female anatomy/ Leo being the best boy despite the situation :')

Word count: 4,522

A/N: I now have an Ao3 account! This, along with other pieces, will be there by tomorrow!

—-------

"Quick, it's about to start!" Mikey exclaimed, gesturing with his arm, urging them closer.

Donatello arrived first, arranging the cushions on the couch for Splinter. Just as he finished, Leo assisted him in sitting down, and Raphael placed a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

"I'm glad my sons make time to watch dramas with their father," Splinter commented.

Observing them all seated, his expression softened. Despite their age, they would always be his boys.

"We'll always have time for you, Dad," Mikey returned the smile.

The drama began. Donnie dimmed the lights with a small wrist device. The room fell quiet, illuminated only by the old television. Leo leaned his back on the sofa with a gentle expression before an itch of incompleteness stinged him again, rough, and stomach-twisting.

“There she is,” Splinter voiced, “I bet she will confess her love for Ma-”

The channel changed. On the screen, the afternoon news.

"Michelangelo!" 

Mikey jumped, searching for the remote long lost between the cushions on his side of the couch. Leo got up to help, removing the pillows while vaguely listening to the fast-paced voice of the reporter.

"The inhabitants are desperately sending smoke signals and performing spiritual rituals to summon back the ghost of the jungle, a vigilante spirit who guarded the village ten years ago."

Leo's eyes snapped back to the screen.

"The situation is unsustainable. The factory is damaging the ecosystem. Losing it would signify the beginning of a collapse for humanity," said a doctor with exasperation. He pulled the mic from the news reporter as he approached the camera.

"If somehow you're listening, please come back. The jungle needs you. We need-"

The channel changed back to the drama.

"Found it," Mickey said, waving the remote. 

No one cared anymore. Every pair of eyes was fixated upon Leo, whose heart pounded within his chest, echoing throughout his shell.

"You must go," said Splinter.

He tensed, sensing Raph’s gaze over him.

"We must go,” he said, turning to his brothers. “All of us." 

Donatello sighed. "I'm allergic to mosquito bites."

Mikey grimaced. "Since when?"

"Since now." 

Raphael gave Leo a barely noticeable melancholic smile.

"We aren’t kids anymore. It ain't the end of the world if ya gotta disappear for a bit," he said teasingly.

"Oh, I get it. It's a solo trip," Mikey said, lowering his gaze.

"I won't be far for too long," Leo remarked as if it were a promise.

Donatello scoffed. "We'll survive without you for quite a while. Don't rush to commitment. We know."

At that moment, all he could offer Donnie was a smile. However, as Leo descended from the cargo ship and stepped into the border of the jungle, he finally understood what his brother meant. Taking a deep breath of the fresh, humid air of the greenery, his gaze danced along the flora surrounding him. This was it—the missing piece: nature. The sensation of embracing a certain aspect of himself that could not find fulfillment in the heart of a bustling city.

— – -

It took Leo no more than two months to gradually dismantle the construction site. An appearance here, a couple of blows there, a few noises at night, and a town full of people who convinced the businessmen responsible for the project that the jungle ghost was as tangible as the machinery stripping the trees. And that was it. He could go back after completing the mission.

However, akin to the first time, he stayed. This time not out of fear of not meeting his father’s expectations, but because adulthood had taught him it was okay to take breaks. It was okay for him not to be a leader, an elder brother, or a ninja all the time. It was more than okay to just be Leo.

After another couple of months, plants had claimed the machinery's remains. Some metal pieces still exposed to the sun sparkled, giving it an almost magical touch. The town's inhabitants built a statue resembling an anthropomorphic monk. It wasn't exactly cute, but Leo supposed it was better than revealing his true identity.

Living in the wild brought a new adventure every second, and Leo couldn't stay still. During the day, he collected food and brought it to his old underground hideout, a sort of cenote reflecting sunlight by day and stars at night, with enough space to exist in peace.

With the moon as his guide, he took care of various issues entrusted to him by the community. More than anything, moving heavy objects or patrolling certain areas. Given that most people were elderly, it was understandable.

Feeling free was satisfying. It was nice having a personal sense of purpose, liberated from the weight of carrying a team, and away from the possible repercussions of his decisions. There were no external pressures, no responsibilities beyond those self-imposed, and although there were nights when he missed his brothers, video calls were more than enough, as Donnie had gifted him a high-tech device before he left. Things were far better than alright… until winter wore off.

On the first morning of spring, Leo awoke to a familiar heat rising in his lower belly, prompting a strong urge to relieve the discomfort. He groaned. It only worsened with time. Regardless of the hour of day, he found himself suddenly lost in thoughts about his sexual toys, and all the ways he could be using them. The more he tried to distract himself, the more the memory of the relief they provided infiltrated his every waking moment. 

Leo hummed, pressing a hand down his plastron, over the area that ached the most. It was beginning to get pretty sensitive. Bad sign. 

Perhaps the villagers wouldn't be alarmed if he missed work for just one night, but as the next night came, and the next, and the next, things showed no sign of improvement. Leo began to feel more than just anxious. To make matters worse, at this point, not even fucking his fist was enough. It helped get his mind clear for the day, but the underskin burning never quite faded.

Leo turned over his leaf-makeshift bed, which now seemed ten times more unpleasant, and tried in vain to suppress the urge to go out and figure out how to make it more comfortable for himself and his ma– Leo snorted at the thought. It was horrible to endure instincts conflicting with rational thought. There had never been such a thing as a 'mate' in his life. A couple of partners, sure, but nothing close to someone who saw him like this. The mere thought of being unable to hold back or keep composure twisted his stomach.

“Fuck—” he sighed under his breath.

His hand closed around his shaft, gripping it deliciously as he moved it fast-paced. Small whimpers fell from his lips, heat spreading through his body. The peak of the season was the worst part of it. 

His head fell back as he hissed, hooded eyes locked in the sky as he chased his release. His voice rose more than he'd like as he came loud and long, spilling hot loads all over his plastron.

Leo coughed before catching his breath. He cleansed himself with a rag dampened in cold water, the sensation leaving him slightly dizzy. Every inch of his body ached. As he focused on the soothing coolness, a faint sound of footsteps reached him. He sharpened his hearing; an agitated breath came with it. Someone dared to trespass into his territory. 

The mere thought sent anger coursing through his veins, propelling him hastily toward the origin of the sound. He landed with a resounding thud, causing the scattered branches on the ground to snap beneath his weight. The intruder staggered backward. His katana reached their throat, halting mere inches before the tender flesh.

As the moonlight cast its glow, clarity washed over his vision: a woman, draped in an ethereal white fabric, lay sprawled on the ground. The wind carried her scent to his nose, and he instinctively covered his snout with his forearm before retreating, concealing himself behind a sturdy tree. His pupils dilated, taking her in.

"What are you doing here?" Leo rasped.

— – -   

You gasped a couple of times before digesting that what you just saw was not human. 

It’s okay, you said to yourself, It’s him. It's the same voice, steady, gravelly, and with a hint of sparkle. He who had rescued you so many years ago. He, who took care of everyone in the village. He, to whom the elders held respect and affection. Once you caught your breath, you began to recite long-memorized lines.

"Mighty spirit of the wild, protector of the jungle, I— I have been sent as an oblation for you to do as you please. If that brings you back to our aid."

Leo scoffed, disbelief evident in his expression. "They forced you here?" Anger was palpable in his voice. Perhaps he had been protecting the wrong kind of people.

"No!" you quickly clarified. "I offered myself.”

Your scent was intoxicating: sweet with a hint of spice. He focused on breathing through his mouth.

“Why?”

You gave one step closer, cautiously. “Consider it a payback. For your help to everyone in the village.”

"Payback?" he sneered. “I came back of my own free will. You owe me nothing.”

The urge to approach and tap your cheeks was gnawing at him. Fuck, he hated not to be in his freaking right mind. Hold it, Leo chanted in his mind. Hold it just for one more minute.

"I still want to lend you a hand,” you mumbled. “I- I have worked customer service, so I understand that taking care of other's needs constantly drains energy. I just thought you might want an extra hand."

Why was your voice suddenly so alluring? He huffed, exhausted.

"You offered yourself as a sacrifice bridal because you think I'm burnt out?"

You could hear a certain tension in his voice, stitched with a hint of sass—although, he seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth. Was he in pain?

His tone was harsher than he intended, perhaps due to the embarrassment of enduring his heat in the worst possible way. The branches and dirt cracked under your weight as you approached. Leo tensed, gripping his katana tightly.

“I know I may not have all my screws in place, but I wanted to return the favor for all the times you’ve saved us, that’s all. Help around in any way you see fit, whether it's assisting with chores you're too tired to do or whatever else you wish."

Your voice was as soft as a velvety touch wrapping around him, sensually caressing him like the finest silky fabric. It sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed a gasp when you reached his side. His heart rate surged, echoing through every blood vessel. Leo moved back, the sharp katana once again mere inches away from your face, yet this time, trembling like he wasn't strong enough to hold it.

You raised your hands, palms showing. "But it's up to you. I really don't want to disturb you further."

You observed him wrestling with inner turmoil, his face taut, burdened by indecision. 

"You don’t understand what you’d be getting into." His gaze matched the depth of his voice.

"Tell me."

Leo exhaled heavily, whispering, "I'm burning."

He sounded like he was dying. 

“Are you sick?”

You took a step closer, and his face became much clearer.

He let out a sort of sardonic laugh. “No.”

Then you saw it: desire blazing bright in his eyes. You took a deep breath, considering. He remained as still as if he was another three in the green landscape. It hit you right there.

"Spring is when the reproductive cycle of life forms begins, isn't it?" you were searching for toned-down words so as not to make him uncomfortable. “That's what's happening to you," you stated, half matter-of-factly, half realizing it. 

"Then you understand what it would mean to stay and help me," he said. "So leave. Run back, I'll guard your flank."

You stood your ground, despite your shaky legs. “I'll help.”

“What?” he gasped in disbelief.

“I won't go back as a failure, and I won't let you suffer when you've broken your back to keep us safe. I will help you.” you stated. The resolution in your voice made him shiver.

"You don’t get it," he said, feeling every ounce of self-control slowly dropping off his body. 

Shit, he wanted to just accept. Why was he even holding back? Bet you were such a slut, bet you were thinking how would it feel to have your pretty cunt so fucking stretched by his knot.

“I do. You need reli-” 

"No, you don't," he snapped. The blue mask framed the gravity of his expression. "When I start, I won’t stop. Not even if you beg, not even if you cry. Is that clear?" 

You swallowed hard, your voice carrying a slight tremor as you responded, "Yeah."

"For as long as it lasts, I won't let you leave. You might get hurt... do you understand?"

"Yes," you muttered, finally mustering the courage to slowly push the sword out of the way. He allowed it, his eyes guarded.

You aimed closer, taking one steady step after the other. Your hand reached out until the tips of your fingers finally grazed his plastron. You slid them until the full palm pressed against it. He shivered under your touch, a faint sound escaping his lips. A moan?

There was a different glow in his eyes when he settled them back on you. They shone like he was seeing something beyond. His hand closed around your wrist, pulling you. Your chest crashed against his front, knocking the air out of you. Another mutant hand gripped you tight on the opposite side. His face landed on the crook of your neck. He growled as he took a deep breath before letting out a sigh. You held your breath.

Leo stopped, his agitated breathing inches away from your ear. Raspy, desperate, needy.

"Wait here. I'll come back for you in an hour," he instructed, reluctantly breaking the embrace to hold your face. You moved with him as he seemed to rock you. His forehead was inches away from yours. "This is your chance to flee."

He let go, and as if he were indeed a ghost, he vanished into the shadows of the night.

—--------

You waited until the thin clouds finished traveling the night sky, clearing it entirely, allowing the stars to shine. For a moment, doubt crept in, making you wonder if he would return.

"You stayed," he muttered in disbelief.

You snapped back, scanning for the source of his voice. He landed before you, a smoother descent this time. His demeanor underwent a subtle change, softer and tinted with a hint of nervousness.

"Follow me," he instructed.

You stood up, shook the dirt off the white cloth covering you, and trailed behind him through the vines and bushes. With his sword, Leo skillfully cut through some overly dense branches, making a path for you.

"Where are we going, ghost?"

"To a secluded place," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "My name is Leonardo."

You snorted. He halted, casting a quizzical look over his shoulder.

"Sorry, I was expecting something less... ordinary," you chuckled. "It's a beautiful name; a bit too formal, tho. Can I call you Leo?"

He smirked, resuming his pace. You were easy to talk to, a quality he found comforting. "Sure. So, what's yours?"

You shared your name, and he said it back. “Pretty.”

His voice, along with the praise, made your belly tingle.

He took you to a kind of cenote a couple of meters below. The surroundings stole your breath. Various shades of green foliage reclined on moss, bathed in the glow of a mellow fire dancing near the shore. The light cast the reflection of the water swells upon the walls of earth and rock. 

Beyond the flames of the campfire, there was a makeshift… nest? —more resembling leaves intertwined over the mushy moss— stacked beneath a rock bowl. The scent of flowers lingered heavily. There would likely be more than a couple on the seemingly soft pile. It looked like he had been living there for a while. 

The feeling of his hands on your sides jolted you. You turned. He was looking down at you, his gaze intense, silently conveying a question, hungered for answers. His teeth clamped together, still in pain, it seemed. You placed your hand over his.

"It's okay. I'm not afraid." 

"No?" 

Leo cupped your cheek, his fingers gently tapping. It seemed like something he couldn't suppress any longer. In an attempt to reciprocate, you did the same to him, using both hands.

“No.”

It must have struck a nerve because he yanked you from the spot where you stood, practically tossing you into the heap of leaves. He landed above you, a hand behind your head. It was so sudden that it made you dizzy. You clung to the edge of his plastron as he pressed you against it. 

Leo caught your mouth. His kiss was deep, fervent, demanding, exuding an almost fuel-ignited heat. His tongue interlaced with yours, and he moaned when you kept up with him. 

You gasped for air when he let go. A pang of bolt-like tickles sprouted and spread from your belly through your veins, and they reverberated through every place he explored with open, calloused palms. He dragged his hand across your side, all three fingers groping your breasts ravenously, pinching your nipples above the fabric. You gasped.

Leo carried his kisses to your neck, nibbling at it right over your pulse line, sucking the soft flesh hard enough to make you yelp. That would leave a mark. He grinned over the bruise before finding another spot near it to make another.

You felt his grip over your thighs as one of his hands had somehow found out how to go past that ridiculously long bride-like dress. You embraced him with your legs, pulling him close to your core and arching your back as if you were in heat alike upon feeling his front so tight against your cunt.

He humped over your clothed slit, pushing your legs wider to accommodate himself, after which he thrust again, this time letting out an earnest groan right into your ear. His hot breath against your skin gave you goosebumps. 

You whimpered, seeking a place to anchor yourself. Slipping a hand through the top of his shell, you secured yourself to his broad shoulders as he kept grinding on you frantically. 

You spread your legs wider in an attempt to feel the friction better. The lower part of his plastron was soaked, and the slimy moisture seeped through your clothing smoothly. It felt so good that you started clenching and unclenching to increase the sensation.

His voice quivered as a hot liquid damped you down, sticking to the clothes. You remained there, fixed as he caught his breath. Leo got up on his knees. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. You could then notice every perfectly formed muscle on his body. Below his belly, his cock was glistening with the slick of the previous cum. His size was not as intimidating as the knot at the base, swollen and somewhat red. He looked almost immaculate.

Leo removed the blue bandana in one swift movement, and in the next, he ripped off the ruined dress off your body. He panted, gaze lusting over your nakedness. His predatory gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he said with a half-grin on his face. "Not wide enough to fit me, tho. Gotta fix that first."

He pushed your labia open with raspy thumbs before leaning down. You breathed in sharply upon sensing his snout so close. Leo licked a stripe over your slit, steady and soft. You gaped, holding his head with trembling fingers. His tongue was thick, mushy-like. You moaned when he circled it over your clit, before sucking on it. Your hips snapped up, offering as much of yourself as he was willing to take.

Leo lingered there, feasting on your puffy nub. You closed your eyes, head falling back. Soft whimpers and sighs echoed through the place as you squirmed between his arms.

He slid back to your entrance and pushed in, moaning at the taste. After a couple of testing thrusts, he began fucking you with his tongue: sleek, hot, and skilled in a way you weren't prepared for. 

You pushed his head deeper into you so your clit would rub against his snout, building an exquisite warmth inside your belly. Leo sensed you tensing under his grip, and he gave until the hot, sweet spasms of your walls told him you were satisfied.

His cock pulsated more with each passing moment, aching to get entirely sucked by your hot insides, and move. But fuck, if Leo retained yet one ounce of self-control, he committed it to ensure he wouldn't harm you that much. 

A fine line of saliva followed him for a fraction of a second when he pulled away, panting. He cleaned his face with his palm to then fist his cock, right above the swollen knot. You lifted your legs by pulling them towards you from behind the thighs, gaze thoroughly hypnotized by the sight of him lining with you. 

Leo let out a breathy moan as he pushed into you, the heat, the softness, and the sight taking away the last drops of his rational thought. 

The stretch stung slightly, but god, other than that, it was heavenly smooth. He bottomed out. Before he even moved, Leo spilled one hot load after the other, brimming you with cum. 

“Fuck—,” he panted. 

His chin rested on the crook of your neck. Your hands flew to his back, and you caressed his shell lovingly. His breathing evened with each controlled exhalation, yet the grip of his fingers over your flesh hadn't relaxed one scrap. It gave you the impression that he was holding back. Despite his feral desires, on the verge of losing his mind to pure instinct, he remained steadfast in his commitment not to harm you. Your heart melted.

“It's okay. I can take it,” you whispered tenderly, leaning your head over his, embracing him further.  

“No, this is— this is enough.” he gritted, voice sore. 

“Hey, I don't like giving half-heartedly. I told you it was alright," you told him, but it didn't seem like it was going through his stubborn head. So you changed the tone to try your luck. "Besides, I like how you feel inside me. I bet you'd fuck me so good."

His breath hitched. 

You grinned, clenching around his cock. “I bet you’re wondering how it’d feel, if you pushed your cute knot inside me.” 

“Stop it.” 

“Why?”

“I can’t— “

“Say you don’t want to.” you pulled his face to make him look at you. Hooded eyes bearing such a delightful dark gaze. He was about to snap, just one more small push. “Say you don’t want to breed me so fucking much it drips off my cunt. Say it, and I’ll shut up and let this to your own devices.”

His pupils dilate entirely. "Say that again." 

"Breed me so good." 

He kissed you at the same time he thrust, setting a frantic pace. His dick felt heavenly. It effortlessly reached the best spot inside you. You kept him pinned in the right place with the clasp of your legs, getting friction over your clit. 

He forced the pulsating nub inward, the stretch sent your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Ah— shit, yes. Yes.” he gritted, his voice drunken-like.

Irrepressible moaning streamed like a pretty song as his pace quickened. Leo sounded so fucking hot, relishing the instant. His orgasm triggered your own. Your back arched, and he slipped his arms underneath you, bringing you impossibly near to him as his dick pulsated deliciously, spreading the warmth within him through you.

Leo didn't stop after that. He continued to fuck you until your inner thighs bled from the continuous chafing against the edges of his shell, babbling something about pretty babies with your eyes. He was thoroughly unbound, mind spinning, burning as much as his passion for you. 

At some point, reality became a vaporous reflection on tempered glass. You were facing him at one moment, and then next, Leo held you by the hips as he ravished you in doggy style. His groaning, along with the lewd sound of wet skin slapping, anchored you to consciousness just enough to feel him spilling another hot wave of cum.

— – -

You woke up to the soft symphony produced by the combined sounds of the jungle—small animals rustling their wings, the wind whispering through the branches, a distant echo of a bird's song. The sun bathed the water in light, creating small waves that reflected the tranquil movement of the water all around.

Every inch of your body ached so intensely that the mere contemplation of movement welled tears in your eyes. Perhaps it had been too much. When you tried to shift, you felt something wet adhering to the skin of your thighs. Looking down, you found seaweed moistened with a scent that resembled a subtle mix of herbs.

A firm hand caressed your arm, and you tensed. However, the grip was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid to touch you. Slowly, you turned around. There he lay, gazing at you with bright, guilt-filled eyes.

"Good morning."

“Hello,” you greeted back.

"I'm sorry. It was-"

It's okay," you interrupted, placing a hand over his own. "I signed up for it. I told you I'd tough it out. Don't be too hard on yourself."

His gaze softened.

"Yet, I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You followed his gaze toward the area closed off with herbs. Bruises spread underneath. Then you noticed that, except for those bruises, you were pristine, and so was the place where you slept.

"You cleaned me up?"

"I had to do something for you. Although I know it's not enough, it’s a beginning," he said, fluttering the tips of his fingers near the damaged area.

"Thanks. So, is it over, or…?"

"The worst part is, we should be okay as long as someone keeps her mouth in check," he teased.

You chortled. "Sorry, not sorry."

He shared a laugh with you. Just as it subsided, Leo drew you into a tender embrace, snuggling you in a way that set your heart aflutter.

"I'm gonna keep you safe," he whispered.

You froze, a touch overwhelmed by the unexpected affection. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. The moment lingered until a rumble from your stomach shattered the magic. Your cheeks burned bright red. Leo chuckled softly.

"What would you like for breakfast?"