#sprite lip gloss

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bonne Bell Coca Cola Liquid Lipsmackers in Coca Cola, Sprite, Cherry Cola, Vanilla Cola and Barq's Rootbeer

early 2000s (maybe late 1990s? does anyone know?)

Found on Ebay, user 412liquidation

[make-an-undertale-blog-why-not]

[schlattslambo]

schlatt with shy, quiet, nerdy, and chubby reader that wears glasses? 😢😢😢

a/n: as a girl thats literally like this, i fear i may have gotten a bit carried away. thank you so much for this request!

note: female presenting reader, munch!schlatt

———

you were never one to get attention from boys. not that you minded that much, of course. you figured that your person would come along and sweep you off your feet when the time was right. your friends, of course, wanted you to get out of your comfort zone and go to a house party. you tried to get out of it to no avail. so, you’re currently sitting on someone’s couch, clutching a red solo cup full of sprite in your hands.

music plays from a speaker outside somewhere, playing some song that you don’t know. you glance down at the cup in your hands and sigh. parties aren’t your thing. they never have been. you wished you could have stayed home and curled up with your new book, but you also didn’t want to let your friends down.

“hey there,” a voice slurs as the couch dips next to you.

you look over and a boy sits next to you, eyes glossed over and a drunken smile on his face.

“h-hi?” you manage.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” the boy asks and you can smell the vodka on his breath.

“my friends brought me,” you reply. “i’m waiting for them to come back.”

“well,” the boy sighs, playing with a strand of your hair. “why don’t you and i get acquainted? we can be friends too.”

you shake your head, glancing around the room for one of your friends. they aren’t in the room, and you don’t know anyone else here.

“n-no thanks.” you reply, scooting away just a bit.

“c’mon hun,” the boy smiles, following you. “i don’t bite, unless you’re into that of course.”

“yo, she said no.” a voice comes from in front of you. “leave her alone.”

you look up at the source of the voice and your eyes widen. a taller man with a backwards baseball cap and interesting facial hair stands in front of you, glaring at the boy next to you.

“c’mon man,” the boy next to you replies. “i’m just being nice, she’s here all alone.”

“maybe she wants to be alone and not bothered by weirdos.” the guy standing says. “now get lost.”

the boy begins to protest but with one look, he scrambles up. the guy takes his place and shakes his head.

“i’m sorry about him,” he tells you. “you alright?”

you nod. “yeah, i’m fine,” you reply. “thank you.”

the guy smiles at you. “i don’t see you at parties, what’s your name?”

“i’m (y/n).” you reply. “whats yours?”

“call me jay.”

you smile at the boy, jay, and he returns it. now that he’s closer, you get a better look at his face. he’s got brown eyes and soft freckles that dot along his face. his facial hair is neatly groomed and his lips look soft. brown hair peeks out from underneath the baseball cap.

“it’s nice to meet you jay.” you reply. “parties aren’t really my thing. i’d much rather sit at home with a book. no offense.”

jay laughs a little. “none taken,” he replies. “this isn’t even my party. it’s my friend ted’s. i’d rather be at home playing video games.”

“what games do you play?” you ask.

as jay tells you all about the different games he plays, you realize that he hasn’t said anything about your size, the fact that you wear glasses, or the fact that you’re sitting by yourself. as the conversation continues, the music gets louder.

“do you want to go somewhere quieter?” jay asks against your ear.

before you even register your own movements, you’re following jay upstairs into a bedroom. as the door closes, the music becomes muffled and you sigh as the room becomes quieter.

“you seemed like you needed a break from everything,” jay says, sitting on the bed as he smiles at you.

you nod. “yeah, it was getting a bit overwhelming.” you admit. “thank you for being so nice to me.”

jay gives you a look, the smile on his face not fading. “why are you thanking me, dummy?” he asks. “it’s basic human decency.”

“you’d be surprised at how little of that i get.” you laugh softly.

“well thats fucked up,” jay says as he pats the spot on the bed beside him. “come sit.”

you do, looking at jay and swiping your tongue over your lips nervously. he watches the small movement, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. your cheeks flush as you notice and jay smiles.

“your glasses are really cute,” he says. “they show off the color of your eyes.”

“yeah?” you ask, pushing them up the bridge of your nose subconsciously.

jay nods, his own cheeks flushing. “i like girls in glasses.” he admits.

there’s a moment of tension between the two of you. jay scoots closer to you, his breath fanning out across your lips.

“you’re very beautiful.” he whispers.

“th-thank you,” you stammer.

despite friends calling you beautiful, you never really believed them. but for some reason, you believe jay. the way his brown eyes stare into yours, it’s hard not to believe him. his hand goes onto yours, sending a spark of electricity up your arm. you can’t help the words that leave your lips next.

“this isn’t a set up is it?” you whisper. jay nearly stumbles back.

“huh?” he asks. “what do you mean?”

“like, there isn’t anyone hiding in the closet, waiting for us to kiss to jump out and record it?” you ask. “or people waiting at the door?”

jay gives you a look that’s mixed with hurt and disbelief. “of course not, doll.” he says. “what makes you think that?”

“it wouldn’t be the first time.” you admit.

jay stands up and opens the closet, allowing you to see that there’s nobody in there. then, he opens the door, and the hallway is empty as well. you look away, biting your bottom lip as you go red.

“i-i’m sorry,” you say softly.

“don’t be sorry,” jay says, running a hand through your hair. “you’ve clearly been hurt in the past, and you wanna make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

you nod and lean into jay’s touch. “it’s okay.”

“it isn’t okay,” jay replies. “beautiful girls like you should never be treated lesser.”

you look up at jay and he gives you a smile that makes butterflies dance in your belly. you can’t help but smile back as he sits back down next to you, hand on your plush thigh. jay leans in, forehead pressing against yours.

“may i?” he whispers.

“you may.”

his lips press to yours in a soft kiss that takes your breath away. his tongue swipes on your bottom lip as the kiss deepens. the two of you fall back onto the bed and jay is quick to climb on top of you. your hands go into his hair, tugging him closer. jay groans at the action, breaking the kiss to chuckle.

“so pretty,” he says, kissing along your jaw.

you gasp out a moan as his lips reach that particular spot on your collarbone. jay sinks his teeth in gently, smiling against your skin as you let out a whine. he continues to kiss and he grips the hem of your shirt.

“can i lift this up?” he asks.

you nod hesitantly, but jay smiles and gently leaves kisses down your tummy, not caring about the stretch marks or anything. and frankly, he thinks it makes you even more beautiful. he wants you to believe every single word that he’s told you.

“you’re gorgeous,” jay mumbles against your side. “can i make you feel good?”

“i-i didn’t shave.” you protest.

“baby, you think i care?” jay asks with a smile. “you’re beautiful as you are.”

you nod and bite your lip. “you can.”

jay tugs your pants down and kisses along your thighs. you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as his kisses slowly move closer to where you need him most. you weren’t expecting to be in a room with such a hot guy, let alone that hot guy being on his knees for you.

as your panties come down, jay groans at the sight of you. you’re soaked, even just from kissing. he thinks its adorable. he licks one stripe up your center, making you gasp and throw your head back. jay switches from soft swirling licks on your clit to harsh sucking, sending you for a loop.

“f-fuck,” you whine. “that feels so good.”

jay groans against you at the praise, one of his fingers finding your hole and sliding in with ease. a thick finger quickly finds the spot that makes your vision blur and you let out a pathetic moan.

“yeah?” jay asks, taking his mouth away and replacing it with his thumb. “feel good baby?”

you nod and pant, locking eyes with him as he lowers his mouth again. with a curl of his finger and a hum on your clit, you’re nearly there.

“c-can i cum?” you ask, chest heaving. “pl-please?”

jay smiles and nods, keeping eye contact with you. your hand finds his on the mattress and he links his fingers with yours as your thighs clamp on each side of his head. you ride your orgasm out on his tongue, one hand gripping his hair.

“holy shit,” you breathe, watching as jay crawls back up onto the bed. “that was amazing.”

“you taste delicious,” jay says, pressing his lips to yours.

“i do?” you ask.

jay nods, reaching down and slipping a finger into you again, smiling as it makes you gasp. your juices cover his finger as he places it in front of your mouth.

“go ahead, dollface,” he says. “taste yourself for me.”

you open your mouth and he places his finger on your tongue. you suck your juices off of his finger and he smiles.

“atta girl.” he praises. “taste good?”

you nod. you really do taste good. jay helps you pull your pants back up and before you can try and apologize for anything, he pulls you into his arms. you relax against him, wrapping yourself around him.

“you know,” he starts. “you should give me your number.”

“yeah?” you ask.

“absolutely,” jay smiles. “now that i have a taste of you, i think i’m addicted.”

jay nuzzles against you, making you smile. maybe bigger girls are better after all.

[iplayghoul]

i know im supposed to finish that ghost fic, but i kept thinking ab piss kink wit onyankopon. stay wit me now!

ony's the typa nigga to not have a thing for feet at awwl, but will suck on ur pretty toes when he sees u got them done, just bc its youu

so the piss kink conversation was nothing in depth really! but it starts off spending the day at the mall wit him, you had water with breakfast, grabbed a caramel frapp as you started your shopping adventures with him and got some sprite wit your lunch that almost killed u !!

its nnottt long at all b4 u gotta get to the bathroom :3 the first time u ask ur like "ony can u hold my bags for me, i gotta go pee real quick babe." and its a simple question really, ur handing ur bags over to him already but he doesnt take them, he just says "nah, lets go," and suddenly youre... a bit shellshocked lmfao. but he has you walking into the next store like nothing happened.

within another hour, your feet hurt and youre ready to gtfo this damn mall :( and ur bladder is holdin on by a thread too ! ur bouncin on the balls of ur feet and bouncing your legs restlessly as you hold ur pee, literally throbbing from the sensitivity 😭😭

so u ask him again, "ony bae, i really needa go piss, come on." this time he stops n looks u in the eyes, rubbing your arms calmingly and says, "you can hold it, can't you mama? you're a big girl u can do that f'me. cant you?" ur eyes are glossed overrr the ache is honestly unbearable so within the next 20 minutes yall are finally getting home.

when u guys get back to ur apartment, ur rushinnn to ur bathroom so quick, but ony grabs you by the arm, lightly pushing u to just sit on the bed and u bounce restlessly on the bed, ur piss just on the edgeee ready to come out >>:( u cant help but mumble questions at him, getting irritated but he remains calm and only smiles, drawing his fingers between ur legs to put pressure on ur clit. he rubs hard circles on you and now youre torn between focusing on the stimulation to your clit and trying not to piss all over him and the bed.

he's soo sneaky and skillful honestly, he's holding you down with one arm while the other is working you hard and slow, letting your clit harden and puff out below his thumb and his eyes are glued to yours, except all you can do is stare at his thumb's work. as if that would help u stop yourself from peeing :/

i like 2 think that ony is quite mean, but hes so soft and casual about it, he gets away with it so easy. because its only a matter if time before he has two long fingers in your pussy, together with his thumb on your clit and now you're gripping that arm so bad 😭 eyes teary and can never be drawn away from observing his hands on you.

its sinister honestly the way he so slowly strokes your g-spot with his clean cut and trimmed nails. and then he's getting on his knees... everything speeds up and suddely your tapping his arm quick, panicked telling him to stop before you cum. n squirt all over him. his eyes remain trained on yours, revelling in the way your eyes frantically move from his to his fingers and back to his😭😭😭 "mmm, u cant handle dat?" he mumbles, onya's so mean to u >_< you're speechless honestly, this day didnt go how you expected it.

but, ur dripping down his palm, tears mimicing it the same way on your cheeks and then youre cuming hot and heavy . u swear warmth washes over your entire body and your thighs squeeze around his hand and ony's fingers never fuckin stop . orgasming so damn hard your tummy started to cramp up and ur legs stiffened up baaad in that position. "let it go baby, c'mon mama. been such a good girl f'me."

and jus like that, u let go, piss n squirt, whatever the fuck it is spraying in a hot, relieving stream onto his face just like he wanted, he gives ur lower lips a few kisses n licks :<< then going slack jawed, cupping ur cunt wit his mouth while u spasm and moan above him. lettin u full his mouth up real good :)

[thoseboysinblue]

My Type

Part 1

Christian Pulisic x reader

You have a chance encounter with Christian, who happens to be just your type.

Word count: 2700+

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, drinking

Thanks to the girlies in the gc for the inspiration 😘

You spent the day lounging on the beach in Miami sipping on drinks, reading, listening to music and enjoying some much needed downtime for your friend, Ella's, bachelorette party. After your day in the sun, you and your friends had all returned to the beach house you were renting for the weekend to get ready for your night out. It promised to be an interesting night based on the theme of "dress like your type" chosen by the bride-to-be.

You were thankful that you would be able to dress casually and let your hair down a bit, pulling on some cutoff shorts and your favorite sneakers. Although your friends had no idea who he was; Christian Pulisic embodied your type, brown hair, brown eyes, soft spoken and athletic. Topping your outfit off with his jersey, you finished curling your hair and applied a final coat of lip gloss and mascara before you joined the rest of the group.

A few more drinks and social media posts later, you all climbed into a minibus, ready to enjoy the Miami night life and celebrate your friend's upcoming wedding.

"I don't know man, can't we just stay here?" Christian asks, running his hand through his hair.

"No, come on, let's go into Miami, have a night out, blow off some steam," Nick pleads with him.

"Fine, yeah, whatever," he gives in, going into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

He's tired and isn't really in the mood for a big crowd, but he doesn't get to see his friends in the States that often so he obliges their request for a night out, hoping a few drinks will improve his mood.

They arrive at a night club, trying his best to keep a low profile, Christian directs them to a booth just off the dance floor and orders a round beers and shots for everyone.

Scanning over the sea of people on the dance floor, Nick nudges him and tilts his head in the direction of your group of friends, "they look like a fun bunch," he raises his eyebrows. Christian had already spotted you, noticing you were in a US soccer jersey, "interesting attire for a night club" he thought to himself as he waited patiently for you to turn your back to him so that he could see whose jersey you were wearing. His eyes widen and his heart rate increases slightly when you turn just enough for him to see "SIC" on your back.

You are enjoying yourself, dancing and drinking the night away with your friends, mostly ignoring anyone who approaches your group since you are more interested in your girls weekend than any random hookup. "I'm going to go get drinks," you shout over the music to Ella before turning to make your way through the crowd to the bar.

"I'll be right back" Christian says to Alec, noticing you leaving the dance floor and hoping to catch you at the bar.

You push your way through the crowd finding an open spot at the bar and waiting to catch the bartender's eye. Christian spots you, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees an open space next to you that he can squeeze into.

"Nice jersey, you a fan?" he says over the music. "Something like that," you say back, still trying to get the attention of the bartender until you turn to face whoever is speaking to you.

"Oh shit" you blurt out as you are met with a pair of dark eyes and a playful grin, dimples fully on display as you feel your cheeks flush.

"Hi" he chuckles, grabbing the bartender's attention, finally.

"Can I get a Michelob Ultra here, and whatever she's having, then send a round of beers to that booth over there, along with tequila bottle service," he asks, nodding towards you to order, "you can order for your friends too, if you want," he smiles at you, "just put it on my tab" he nods at the bartender.

"One vodka sprite and one vodka cranberry please" you smile, thanking him for the drinks.

"You could've ordered for the rest of your friends," he smiles at you. "I just came over to get something for me and the bride-to-be," you shrug, "I wouldn't expect you to get drinks for all of us."

"Ah, so it is a bachelorette party," he says offering you a lime for your drinks and picking up the vodka cranberry you had gotten for Ella. "Yeah, just here for the weekend," you say taking a sip of your drink and watching as he takes a swallow of his beer.

"I'm assuming there is a theme, or do you always go out dressed in jerseys?" he smirks, looking you up and down before catching the look on your face that didn't seem amused by his comment. "That didn't come out right, you look good, I swear, it's just not what girls around here usually wear on a night out," he tries digging himself out of the hole he's in, but you don't budge, keeping a straight face. "Fuck. I'm making this worse" he says as he rubs his hand over the back of his neck looking at you, his cheeks flushing.

"You finished?" you say, still no sign of amusement on your face.

"Thanks for the drink, but I don't think I'm what you came into this club looking for, Christian" you hold your hand out to take Ella's drink from him.

His pupils dilate slightly as he hears his name roll off of your tongue, "I'll take this to her," he looks at you, his demeanor definitely changed.

Christian notices that his group of friends has now joined in with your friends on the dance floor as you are making your way back to Ella, "fuck sake" he mutters to himself before plastering a smile on his face and offering Ella her drink along with his congratulations.

"It is a bachelorette party, man" Nick shouts over the music "dress like your type is the theme," he grins, grabbing one of your friends and spinning her around before he realizes what you have on, a Cheshire Cat grin on his lips. You stand there frozen, tempted to just leave without making eye contact with Christian again.

"What are the fucking odds" Alec chuckles elbowing Christian. He shakes his head at him, "don't, I've already fucked it up," he rolls his eyes at himself, watching as you slip away through the crowd.

"Hey, let your friends know I've bought beer and a bottle of tequila for our table over there, you guys can help yourselves and if you want anything else, just have one of them put it on my tab" he gestures towards Nick and Alec smiling at Ella before wandering over to the booth and sitting down.

You return to your friends on the dance floor, noticing that Christian seems to be watching you from his booth, averting his gaze every time you glance towards him. A smirk painted on your lips, you decide to give him a little show if he was going to stare all night. You dance sensually to the music, turning to give him a good view of your ass along with his name on your back, pulling your shirt up slightly in the heat of the packed dance floor, exposing your toned mid drift. You throw him a wink when you catch him staring, his lips slightly parted like he's in a trance.

"Come take a shot" Abigail shouts at you, grabbing your hand along with Nick's and pulling you over to the table where Christian is sitting having absolutely no idea that he is actually the man whose jersey you are wearing.

"What's your name?" she shouts at Christian, pouring shots out for the four of you. "Christian" he smiles catching on to the fact that she doesn't recognize him. "Why aren't you dancing?" she presses him, sliding a shot across the table to him. "Because he doesn't even want to be here," Nick answers earning a glare from Christian, "he'd rather be at home, being boring," he chuckles swallowing the shot back and turning to grab a lime. "So would, y/n, we always have to beg her to come out with us," she laughs before taking her shot. "Thanks for these" she grins at Christian before turning to pull Nick back to the dance floor.

"You gonna take that?" he nods towards the shot glass sitting in front of you as you sit down on the edge of the booth. "Are you?" you fire back at him. He nods, watching as you take the shot glass and hold it to your lips, pausing slightly to take a deep breath before taking it. You glance around looking for a lime, finding him holding one up for you between his fingers. He pulls it away when you reach for it, smirking as he offers it to you again, holding it up to your lips for you to take. You roll your eyes and pull the lime from between his fingers with your mouth, noticing the way he bites his lower lip when you do.

He takes his shot quickly, standing up and holding his hand out for you, "dance with me?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at you. "Fine" you huff, placing your hand in his and allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor.

"Y/N, is it?" he asks as you nod, turning your back to him as he places his hands softly on your hips.

"Tell me how this is your type," he says, pulling at the material of the jersey you're wearing. You grind your hips back against him, smirking when he groans and grips onto your hips a little tighter before you turn to face him wrapping your hands around the back of his neck. "Is it, actually me, or something else?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"I mean, I guess it's guys like you, dark hair, dark eyes, athletic, probably should throw some red flags in there too, since that seems to be what I attract, but no, not you specifically" you shrug at him.

"Well, no red flags here," he dips his head to speak directly in your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. "You sure about that?" you tilt your head back to look him in the eyes. "I guess that would depend on what you consider red flags," he grins at you.

"I know what I said earlier, came across wrong," he starts before you hold your hand up against his chest stopping him. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't actually upset, just wanted to make you squirm a bit," you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up slightly. "Well, I still want to explain my self," he says turning you back around so that your back is against his chest.

"It's actually nice to see someone dressed more casually on a night out, I like it, prefer it actually," he says, against the shell of your ear, his mouth dangerously close to your neck as you feel his warm breath fan across your face, "most girls around here come out specifically looking for one thing, but you don't seem that way."

You shake your head, "Do you really think I'd have worn your jersey if I thought there was a chance I'd run into you? I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole when I realized it was you standing next to me at the bar," you say, throwing your arm up and around the back of his head, pulling him closer to you so that he could hear you.

"I noticed you before I realized what you had on," he smiles against your neck inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your shampoo.

"Is that so?" you ask, turning to face him as he nods, cheeks flushing a bit. "Yes, seems like you're my type, too" he winks.

"Would you like another drink?" he asks tilting his head towards the bar. "I think just a water, this time" you smile as he slips his fingers through yours, pulling you towards the bar. He orders both of you a water as you sit and chat realizing you have a lot in common with one another. "How long are you here until?" he asks. "All day tomorrow, and our flight is at 4 on Sunday," you smile at him.

The bartender calls last call and you watch as Christian closes out his tab. Abigail and Nick walking over to where you are. "Y/N, our minibus is on the way, it will be here in a few minutes," she says, eyeing Christian up and down as he slips his card back into his wallet. You nod at her and stand to leave, but feel Christian's hand slip loosely around your wrist giving you a little tug to get your attention. You turn to face him, standing between his legs, "nice to meet you, Christian," you smile, bringing one hand to the side of his face and leaning in to press a light kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you too, y/n" he smiles nervously and it seems like he's holding something back. You offer him a smile, before turning to join the rest of the group assuming your chance encounter is over and that you will never see him again.

"Please tell me you got her number," Alec says to Christian as he watches you walk away. "Nope, didn't even get her last name," he says shaking his head at how stupid he's been. "Did either of you get any of their names so that maybe we can track them down?" he looks between them visibly frustrated when they both shake their heads.

As you crowd into the minibus, Ella, loops her arm around yours. "Who was the hottie you were with all night?" she giggles. "He was exactly my type," you sigh at her. "Well did you get his name?" she asks. "Didn't have to" you roll your eyes, opening up his Instagram profile and showing it to her. "Oh fuck, are you serious?" she stammers, clearly at a loss for words when you nod and bury your face in your hands.

"It's fine, not like I'll ever see him again" you shrug. "Oh, honey, the way he was devouring you with his eyes, that boy is going to be trying to track you down," she grins. "Well, it's gonna be tough, he only got my first name," you shake your head at her.

Taking matters into her own hands, Ella, tags him on one of the pictures she had posted earlier in the evening, hoping on an off chance he might see it along with your profile tagged.

Once he's home, Christian scrolls through his social media, clearing out notifications when sees that someone named Ella has tagged him on a picture. Surely not, he thinks to himself as he clicks on the notification, opening up the picture of you and your friends. He smiles to himself realizing that Ella must have added the tag recently in hopes of playing matchmaker after he presumes you'd told her who he is. He notices that you are also tagged, clicking on your name and finding that your account is private, his finger hovers over the request button momentarily before he pushes it and closes the app and goes to sleep.

The next morning you wake up, groaning when your head starts pounding as soon as you sit up. You get out of the bed and put your phone on the charger after you notice it's dead, before going in search of water and painkillers. When you return to your room, your phone turns on, and you hear several notifications come through. Assuming it's where your friends have tagged you in photos and videos from last night, you grab the phone and scroll through the notifications.

Your eyes widen in disbelief when one in particular catches your eye:

cmpulisic has requested to follow you

Part 2

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16

[k0yaz]

IT’S ME THE MONIKA ANON, YOU ATE W THAT FIC THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD ‼️‼️

Also I just ended up quitting the game because it confused me too much and never finished it until like two years later when I watched a playthrough and realized that I would romance Monika at the end. 😭

Could I request her reaction to that happening?

also could I be 💤 anon?

error of a heart.

Pairings: monika x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, very heavy angst, part 1 is optional so this can be read as a standalone, horror themes, monika going insane, mentions of implied suicide, death, blood, hallucinations, monka crying this had to be a warning bc i felt so bad :(, this made me start crying no joke, guys im sobbing help, oh no I cuss like once here aaaa, I want to hug her sb, wrote this on a school night so might not be good, not proofread.

A/N: hell yeah you can be 💤 anon, and no thank YOU for the food I love ddlc with all my heart and I’m so happy I could write for it AND WHO CARES IF I HAVE SCHOOL IN THE MORNING RAHHAHA 🕯️

No.

This was a cruel joke, right?

Monika’s sleek fingers threaded into her coral brown hair, grasping at her scalp with widened, twitchy eyes as she felt her chest tighten with each gaping breath. The screen displayed a ticking count of your absence from the game, the small pink dotted box splaying out thickened and bolded lines of text. Her body felt like it was wavering in and out of existence.

The horror of situation dawned upon her, feeling as if pixels of her merely drawn figure were being ripped out of her piece by piece. Her hands practically slammed down onto the opposite ends of the control panel, breathing forced and drawn out as tears glossed over her once bright emerald eyes.

“Is this it? After you’ve made me suffer for so long?” Monika spat, her voice laced with clouding venom that blinded every sense with a mixture of rage, despair, sorrow. She couldn’t even tell what she was feeling at this point. She just knew it sure as hell wasn’t positive. Cool grazes of the wind drifted into the club room through the opened window, swaying her hair off to the side and masking her lowered, empty eyes.

Nature no longer calmed her down anymore. Not when the natural world and lush landscapes outstretched through the window were all false. Bits of code. There was no reason for Monika to pretend anymore. Not when the woman who was her sole purpose for living had been ripped away from her so cruelly. Uneven beats of her heart was the only sound alongside the clock within the desolate club room, the quiet noises ringing in her ears with each agonizing second that passed.

Did time even exist anymore?

“Why? Just why (Name), why? You just had to play through…were you that disappointed that you couldn’t love me the way I loved you back?” She sobbed quietly, lips quivering as her palm dragged along the dried tear cracks bruised down her cheeks. Her teeth ground together in pure anguish, eyes fluttering shut with each quiet sob that racked her glitchy sprite.

Monika’s brows furrowed together as she tried to choke back her cries, shoving them back down her throat and tilting her head up to fix her gaze upward. There was probably nothing there. Maybe she was just hoping there was an entity, a creator, a higher power, anything. Anything that she could scream at to soothe her error of a heart.

Whatever didn’t allow her to have a route was the reason you were gone. It wasn’t your fault. Her gaze remained utterly transfixed onto the console, chest rhythmically rising and falling with her shaky breaths as she slowly came to terms with reality. Her vision slowly grew clearer, the thick fog of blinding emotion seeming to part itself before her as she anxiously circled her thumb along the ridge of the console. Monika began to understand. Her once bright green eyes, reminiscent of a leader, darkened into two cold pools of deep emptiness you could get lost in if you ventured too far.

You weren’t coming back.

Who was she kidding?

She got her hopes up for nothing.

She was the fool in this situation.

Shattering screeches began to pierce through her ears as she felt her eyes slowly beginning to sink into her skull, wanting to squint upon catching sight of the epileptic flashes of red green and blue. An endless mind breaking cacophony circled her within the void, rendering her immobile as she was forced to resume the unending torment that would plague her over and over.

Monika’s expression was devoid of any trace of possible emotion, her form tilted back as if she was succumbing to her fate. It was like she was drowning in an empty stomach of falsehood, caged in this endless cycle of knowing she wasn’t real. She never was real. She never will be. Everything she knew, everything she felt, it wasn’t real. If you could leave so quick and she couldn’t do anything about it, she couldn’t have been real. No chance.

Nothing was real.

The gravity of the situation dawned on her, weighing her down as she sunk into the void once more. Eyes gradually drooping lower and lower with each passing second clicking in her head—if time even existed here, Monika felt herself drowning into an ocean of code, which stung at her every sense like a numbing frostbite.

“Monika, are you alright?”

Her head jolted up from the desk, bleary vision lingering on the other three club members circling her. Sayori, Natsuki, and Yuri fixed their concerned gazes onto Monika’s tired expression, faint dark circles adorned below her eyes. Great. She had another moment where only she was aware.

“Where is she..?” Monika muttered out weakly, her voice still raspy from her supposed ‘nap.’

“(Name)…where is she?” She inquired, confused glances being exchanged among the other three girls before looking back down at her. “There’s…no one here named that..” Yuri replied, a perplexed look crossing her features, deep purple eyes locked onto Monika’s messy form. Sayori simply gave her a gentle smile, resting a hand on her shoulder with her fingers brushing against the fabric of her blazer in an attempt of comfort. “Let us take care of things today, alright? Get some rest, you’ve been working too hard after all..”

A feigned appreciation painted her face as her palm rowed forward dismissively, attempting to imply that she would rest, and that the others were welcome to take over. Monika heaved a deep, shaky breath that pulsated in her chest over and over, slumping back onto the desk as her fingers tightened into the edge of the smoothed over wood. She couldn’t help but glare at the other members with a bitter disdain creeping up within her. They have everything she wanted. Yet they didn’t need it. Nobody understood how much it fucking hurt for her.

A sharp sting seared against her pointer finger, slashed diagnonally along her skin as she took in the seeping pain of the minuscule paper cut. She flipped her hand over and brought it close to the tip of her nose, examining the blistering red glistening along her finger as crimson droplets trickled down the open wound. It didn’t mean anything anyway. Just a couple taps of the control panel and this cut would close right up.

Monika allowed herself to wallow back to sleep, eyes slowly flickering in and out of consciousness as she slowly began to mentally return to her personalized hellhole. Her eyes slowly focused on the flash of bright light hovering above her head as her lashes filtered her already fuzzy vision. The light flooded her senses as a sharp pang of uncomfortable warmth spread along her drowning body within the void. It was warm, like being held. Yet disheartening to her knowing it was simply the faux comfort of the repeated codes strings.

It all became so clear now. There was no purpose, and she knew what was meant to be.

With remaining strength she could muster up, Monika extended a shaky hand upward, outstretching it to manipulate the code. Within moments, her body began to sink further into the endless void, the horrific orchestra of screaming no longer affecting her as her slow, rugged breaths filled her ears. It didn’t take long before her throat began to tighten, eyelids slowly lowering shut as she tilted her head back to allow the waves of erasure overtake her meaningless body. Her consciousness was slowly fading as Monika parted her lips to utter out a final set of words before drowning herself into the sea of her scripted feelings.

Ah. She adored the idea of you. Even in her final moments, as her throat closed in on her like a claustrophobic cave, she couldn’t help but think of you. Perhaps she would be granted the honor of laying her eyes upon your beautiful self when she got the chance. But for now, it’s not meant to be.

“If only I could be reborn in your world, (Name). We could be together. But not in this life.”

A/N: OH MY GOD I SOMEHOW COOKED ON A SCHOOL NIGHT??? I should’ve done this earlier but…OMG IM ACTUALLY FUCKING SOBBING BRO WHY DID I MAKE THIS SO SAD MONIKA DESERVES BETTER.

💤 anon it’s your fault for making her cry /j

Someone request something good for this woman I feel bad I love Monika so much idc if Yuri is my favorite Monika still deserves everything :((

Also oo I added a filter to the banner and it looks sm better ok goodnight I need soeep

[disillusioneddanny]

This Love is Ours

You never know what people have up their sleeves Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles But I don't care, 'cause right now, you're mine And you'll say Don't you worry your pretty little mind People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard The stakes are high, the water's rough But this love is ours - Ours by Taylor Swift

Jazz Fenton stared down at her girlfriend, her arms crossed over her chest. This was the third time tonight that Steph had tried to sneak out of the house and Jazz was just about to strangle the woman. 

“For god’s sake, Stephenie! You’re a nurse! You should know better than anyone that you need to be on bed rest right now!” Jazz shouted, walking towards where her girlfriend was carefully and struggling to put on her Spoiler suit. 

“It’s just a gunshot wound,” Steph mumbled, nearly falling over as she tried to put on her pants only for her Amazon of a girlfriend to haul her up in her arms bridal style. 

“It was three gunshot wounds, and you’re lucky that none of them hit anything serious, now you’re going to lay down like a good girl,” Jazz told her, walking back to her girlfriend’s bed and carefully setting her down. Jazz and Steph had been dating for about a year now. It had been a year of ups and downs as Jazz learned about life outside of Gotham City and what cursed herself with getting involved with vigilantes yet again. She had thought she left that behind when her brother had moved to Metropolis for school and Team Phantom broke up. 

But apparently, Jazz just had the best luck in the world and found herself involved yet again. Slightly, not really. It definitely wasn’t the same this time around. Now she was just dating a vigilante and dealing with the fallout. She had told Steph she wanted nothing to do with the vigilante aspect and thankfully her girlfriend had been okay with it—after she finished reeling over the fact that Jazz had figured her out so fast.

It had been their first actual date that Jazz had told Steph that she knew, and Steph had taken about ten minutes to reboot before demanding that Jazz tell her how she figured it out. But how could she not? The first time they met had been when Jazz had started her internship at the Gotham Hospital. She had been torn for so long between being a professor, a therapist, a lawyer, and a surgeon and surprising everyone. Apparently, everyone had made bets on either her being a therapist or a professor.

Which, understandable, as she had a tendency of being a know it all. But it had ultimately been Frostbite who had inspired her to become a surgeon, to be able to heal others, to help those who had been hurt. Plus all the years helping Danny definitely went into play. So there she was in her first surgery, ready to throw up when she looked over at Nurse Brown who was giving her a wary look. Jazz had been nervous as hell the entire operation and as soon as the operation had ended, Jazz had run out of the doors as fast as she could and heaved. 

Nurse Brown had been right behind her, rubbing her back and giving her soothing words to comfort her. Afterward, she had taken Jazz down to the cafeteria and gotten her crackers and a Sprite that she slowly munched and sipped on while she asked her about her life. 

It was then that Jazz had her clocked. Steph was definitely more than just a nurse. She had watched the way she sat, ensuring that she saw all exits in the lunch hall. She saw the way she kept her shoulders tense, her eyes narrowed, and how she followed each of Jazz’s movements. It all reminded her of herself, of Valerie, Danny, Sam, and Tucker, and how they had all been the exact same way. 

Jazz had managed to learn how to ignore it, how to be more subtle about keeping an eye on everything. Besides, nowadays she relied more on her extra abilities due to her liminality. It turned out that having a mother working around ectoplasm while pregnant and then growing up around ectoplasm and going to the infinite realms as often as she did, meant the radiation would turn you a little less human and a little more ghostly. 

Not that Jazz minded, the super strength, the enhanced senses, the speed, they were a major plus, especially living in a place like Gotham where there was danger at every corner. She wasn’t as fast as say, the Flash, or as fast as even Danny but she was definitely faster than the average human. Her strength was nothing to laugh at either, while it wasn’t ghost-level strength, she could bench press a thousand pounds with no problem. Which was beyond enough in Jazz’s opinion. 

Relying on her liminal gifts, though, kept her at a constant advantage, she had Steph figured out way too quickly and easily. Once she had pegged her as a vigilante, she had realized she was Spoiler as the blond hair matched. This wasn’t her first rodeo, unfortunately. 

“Three gunshot wounds, one in the right shoulder, one in the thigh, and one in the abdomen, I know, I was there, I got them,” Steph said and let out a huff as she slammed her hands against the mattress and glared at the ceiling. “I’m bored."

“And going and fighting crime in spandex and Kevlar sounds like a fun time to you?” Jazz asked, arching a brow as she sat down beside her girlfriend and pushed the hair out of her face. “Rest, please. I don’t want to have to redo your stitches again,” she said softly. 

Steph sighed and held Jazz’s hand to her face. “I’m sorry, I’m making you worry again, aren’t I?” She asked and Jazz just gave her a sad smile and nodded. 

“I thought I lost you, you know. When Alfred called me and said you had been shot, I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast in my life,” she said with a laugh. She moved her hand from cupping Steph’s cheek and ran her hands through her hair. 

“I know,” Steph said with a chuckle and then winced. “I believe one of the first things you told me after saying you knew I was Spoiler was that you wouldn’t do house calls and I’d have to find someone else to stitch me up. But there you were, shoving both Alfred and Dr. Thompkins out of the way to fix me up yourself.”

Jazz let out a sniff. “I can’t have you dying on me, now can I?” Steph caught her hand and threaded their fingers together and pressed a kiss to Jazz’s knuckles. 

“No I suppose not. But that explanation to Bruce was not a fun one, you know. I still don’t know how you even got in the Batcave,” she said, furrowing her brow. Jazz just gave her girlfriend a secretive smile. Steph had been so unbelievably excited when Jazz had finally trusted her with her closely guarded secret. She knew that Jazz was meta but for the longest time, the redhead had been unable to bring herself to share more than that. With the anti-ecto acts still solidly in place, her existence was still illegal. It had taken her a lot to finally tell Steph the truth. 

But when she had, Steph had just given her a deep kiss and promised she would overturn the acts herself if she had to. She’d do anything to make Jazz safe. And she had kept her word. Stephenie Brown, the Spoiler had marched right through the zeta tube to the Watchtower and demanded that the Justice League help overturn the laws. 

It had been an ongoing legal battle for the last three months now but things were looking up. Danny and his totally not-a-sugar-daddy boyfriend had been excitedly keeping up with the news and updating Jazz constantly. 

Steph laughed and shook her head. “This is why you and Cass aren’t allowed to be in the same room together anymore. You’re both so damn sneaky I can’t trust either of you,” she said with a huff. 

The liminal just laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of Stephenie’s mouth. “I have to keep you on your toes somehow, don’t I?”

“I suppose so,” the blond said and carefully scooted over on the bed and yanked Jazz onto the bed with her. Jazz smiled and adjusted herself on the bed until her girlfriend was resting her hand on the surgeon’s chest, their fingers interlocked as Jazz carefully maneuvered around her girlfriend until their legs were intertwined with one another and she held her close. 

“How’s the pain? Scale of one to ten, and don’t try to act all high and mighty on me Stephenie Brown, you know better,” Jazz murmured, running her fingers up and down the vigilante’s side. 

“Right now? Probably a six or a low seven if that makes sense?” She said, crinkling her nose. “I was a bad patient and waited until the pain was kicking in to take my medicine.”

Jazz laughed and shook her head in dismay. “Steph! You know better than anyone to not do that!”

The blond pouted, pushing her bottom lip out in a way that made her oh so kissable that Jazz couldn’t help herself and captured her lips with her own.  How could she not? Her girlfriend was right there, pushing her lips out in a pout, taunting her! It left her no choice. 

“I love you,” she murmured, nipping at Steph’s bottom lip softly. 

“I love you too Doctor Nightingale,” the vigilante whispered as Jazz started to pull away from her. Jazz smiled and brushed her own hair out of her face as she looked down at her girlfriend, she couldn’t get over the fact that this was her life, that she had somehow gotten so lucky to have Stephenie plop right in her lap that day at Gotham General just two years before. That they spent a year skirting around one another, with soft touches and flirty comments until Jazz had finally gotten the nerve to ask Steph out. 

She had been terrified to do so! To date a coworker? One of the nurses in the very OR that Jazz was now a resident in? It felt taboo, forbidden, she had read the handbook at least thirty times to be absolutely certain that she wouldn’t get fired for dating Nurse Brown. 

Once she had been sure, had covered all of her bases, she had fumbled through asking the vigilante on a date until Stephenie had finally taken pity on her and said yes. Of course, after that she had marched a laughing and blushing Steph all the way to HR just to let them know of their romantic relationship, just to be extra, extra sure that they wouldn’t get in trouble.  Steph had given her so much grief for it, but thankfully she thought that it was adorable as well.

“Thanks for taking care of your poor, pathetic patient,” Steph said, giving Jazz sad eyes. 

“You mean my terrible patient who doesn’t listen to doctor’s orders and keeps getting out of bed to sneak out and patrol?” Jazz asked, arching an eyebrow. “It’s like you completely forget that I have super hearing.”

“They need me! And I’m bored, babe! I’m so, so, so bored in this bed! I wanna get out of this damn bed! I wanna spar, I wanna run around, I wanna do something!”

Jazz smiled and moved back to lie on her back, holding Steph close. “If you behave for me for two more days and stay in bed, I’ll go down on you,” she murmured and Steph blushed and started mumbling. 

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to something like that, and you know, they say that’s a good way to get some pent-up energy out,” she said, looking away from her girlfriend. Jazz just laughed and kissed her temple. 

“In the meantime, my brother dropped off some video games and his video game console. We can play that new Zelda game if you want? He also left us his switch thingy so we can play that island game you’ve been talking about too,” Jazz said and Steph let out a laugh. 

“Jazz, you’re my lifesaver. Please tell Danny thank you for me,” Steph said, hugging her girlfriend tight. 

“Why don’t you just get your own video game stuff?” Jazz asked, glancing down at the woman. 

“Because video games rot your brain and I refuse to have that in my house. Besides, I usually just go to Wayne Manor and mooch off of them anyway,” Steph said. “When will Danny want this back?”

Jazz snorted. “Don’t worry, his sugar daddy can get him another one,” she said with a shrug. 

“Are you seriously calling Conner Kent his sugar daddy?” Steph asked with a cackle. 

“He gets money from Lex Luthor like every month! Like a lot! Neither of them even has to work because of how big his allowance is. How is he not a sugar daddy?” Jazz exclaimed. 

Steph just chuckled and shook her head. “Go get the switch,” she said between laughs. 

Jazz climbed off the bed and saluted her girlfriend. “Anything for you, my love,” she said and skipped out of the room. Smiling to herself that she finally figured out a way to distract her girlfriend enough to keep her in bed and not sneak out to fight crime. She grabbed the bag of video games and consoles that Danny had dropped off through a portal and headed back to the room just as she found Steph struggling to put her pants to her Spoiler costume on.

“Stephenie Brown!”

[rosesnink]

The Way To Rome, Chapter Two: New Routines

Author's Notes

After months being on a depression slump, here I am, back on my TWTR groove! Exams start tomorrow, but the muses were faster. Oh well!!!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

My OC's Choices sprite was made by the talented @peonyblossom all credits to them!!

If you'd like to be tagged on these series or in the It Lives stuff in general, send me an ask!

Summary: After Tallulah's anniversary, it's time for Faye to finally face college, but the forces of nature just don't seem to agree with her...

Word Count: 1.8k

Category: Angst, hurt-comfort, horror, nightmares, grief

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Lucas Thomas x F!OC (Yun Faye), mentions of Stacy Green x F!MC (Tallulah Hunter)

CW: This series will deal with themes of death, grief, horror, sexual themes and strong language, and other recurring themes of the It Lives Anthology, including the It Lives Project. Reader's discretion is advised.

Book: It Lives in the Woods

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Faye opened her eyes, sighing as her senses and body awakened. The fun was over, and it was time to prepare for the real challenge: college. Throwing back the covers, she got up and yawned as she scratched her head.

After going to the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she brushed her hair, did a simple makeup with some blush, a small eyeliner and lip gloss. Spraying her coconut perfume, she put her MacBook inside of her bag alongside her charger and went straight to the cafeteria for a good cheese bagel with its seasonings and a strong coffee. Faye had always been a morning person, she enjoyed how foggy and silent Westchester looked, the birds singing in the distance, the fresh air and how the sun wasn’t out yet, but it wasn’t dark either. A calming, comforting grey. Paying for the bagel and coffee, she started walking towards the campus. People were either groggy or already running, laughing, talking and simply living. Back in high school, people in Westchester would want your head for being so energetic. But that was the magic of college: it was not like high school.

Suddenly, woman with familiar blonde hair and blue eyes laughed with an equally redhead woman, both talking about something. She froze. No. It couldn’t be them. They were dead. They were both dead. She had seen them die.

She shook her head. Her brain was playing tricks on them. Jane hadn’t even been ten when she died, and she had buried Tallulah a year ago, and visited her grave a few weeks ago. Yet, she could feel their absence more than ever. Not when she had died. Not when Redfield killed them both. Not while watching her coffin be laid six feet down. Not during her anniversary. Today. Right here. Right now.

Her chest swelled, and her throat closed, her body going limp. Tears threatened to drop, and her body didn’t feel hers. She was sure she was about to collapse when a familiar pair of steady hands steadied her and embraced her “Easy,” it was Lucas, “it’s alright. I miss them too.”

She didn’t even remember why she was mad at him, or why she didn’t want to even breathe the same air as him. She simply laid on his chest and cried silently, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Why them, Lucas?”

“I’m afraid we’ll never know, Faye.”

She sniffled, grabbing his napkin as she wiped her tears and took a few steady breaths. He stroked her back gently, drawing comforting ghosts on it, soothing her. She looked at him, and for the first time, didn’t see the man who broke her heart, or the one she fell for. He was tired, sad and full of regret, just like her. Two broken children bearing in their backs the pain of losing a piece of their past, someone they loved for so long, it just left a gaping hole in their hearts.

“Let me walk you to class.”

“Please.”

He walked her there, and even got her a good seat, and squeezed her arm “If you need someone to talk to, or just to cry with, my number hasn’t changed.”

She nodded, squeezing his shoulders before he left to his own class.

At first, it was hard to focus on class, but then she felt Tallulah a few feet away, encouraging to do so, and found strength in it. It was probably stupid, but grief was odd like that. And as long as one found comfort in that oddness, it was okay to lean on it for a bit.

After a long, emotionally exhausting day, she dragged herself to the room and closed the door, and opened her computer to start working when she saw a message of Stacy that read ‘vc me when u get back from class? Xx’ and decided that talking to her would be nice. They were very different people, but they understood each other very well, and had been on good terms during cheer.

The window opened to a red-eyed Stacy with run-down mascara and a weak lip, but nevertheless smiling at her with her familiar blue orbs “Hey, girl. Tough day, huh?”

Faye chuckled “We both felt the same despite being a few states apart, didn’t we?”

Stacy sighed “I don’t know about you, but I tried it with my first class, then had a whole meltdown and called Connor crying like crazy because… because it hurts, Faye.”

Tears threatened to spill them both “You think the same as all of us: it’s not fair.”

Stacy started crying “She should be here, Faye. In my bed, talking, cuddling, watching our annual rewatch of ‘You’ve Got Mail’, not six feet deep into the mud because of that rat’s delusions.”

Faye finally said it out loud “What was he thinking, that we’d perform the ritual and a grown Jane would come back, and we’d all eat cake and be merry?!”

“Right! Noah clearly did not think of anyone but his own desires. And Tallulah—,”

“Was too good to let him face the consequences of his actions. I told her, Stace, I told her a million times that her kind, golden heart would be the death of her!”

Faye realized what she said, and covered her mouth. Waiting for Stacy to blow up at her, she closed her eyes, but instead met a sigh “But that wouldn’t make her our Tallulah. My Tallulah was always so kind, gentle, brave and full of love and life…”

“I’m sorry, that was too far.”

“Maybe. But I think it’s time I accept that. Besides, I told her too, back when we were children, that the adult world was ‘full of meanies’ and it’d eat her alive.”

“Yet, that didn’t stop her from being kind and caring. I cannot see her as a cold-blooded murderer, no matter how much Noah deserves it.”

Stacy sniffled “If only he had learned from her instead of looking back, huh?”

Both stared into the distance, sniffling in silence and remembering Tallulah. The exchanged looks in the halls after that night, silently celebrating when she succeeded, watching her change her colors from pink, to blue, to red, to lilac. To think to herself how well it suited her, to hear her laugh or hum her quirky songs in the distance, telling Britney to screw off, watching her come late to class because a hungry cat wanted her to pet them, or because the petting session with Hilda had prolonged itself, or when she missed a day because she was sick, and how charged the air was in her absence.

Even if they didn’t talk, Lula was always there, lingering in a corner, and every time she felt the fear and guilt, she could always watch Tallulah from a distance, eating her spanakopita in peace as her headphones vibrated of how high the volume was.

“You know you’ll be deaf when you’re forty if you keep it up, right? Sooner, even.” A thirteen-year-old Faye told Tallulah. It had been the first time that they had talked properly since Jane died and both went into a depression and PTSD slump. Tallulah removed them and shrugged.

“The thrum comforts me. Having noise all around my ears does. Silence…”

“Reminds you of that night.”

Tallulah nodded, her black highlights based on Avril Lavigne now looking less bright. Faye squeezed her hand “I don’t like complete silence either, but not too much noise. That’s why I always put on some water noises. Reminds me of home, and I sleep easier without the nightmares.”

“…Do you see her? Lying there, eyes wide, looking at you for help?”

Faye nodded “And Redfield there, looming, smiling creepily as she dies.”

Tallulah took her hand and smiled at her “I’m glad I’m not alone in that.”

Faye hugged her tightly “Never, Lula.”

That had been the last time they had hugged one another. When they found each other last year, she was too hung up on her jealousy of Lucas that she lost her chance of reconnecting. She had her right there, and she had taken her for granted, all because of a boy who’d never love her back.

“Tallulah had always been there, now that I think about it,” she mused, breaking the silence “I could always find her in her spots every time I felt overwhelmed, but now…”

“Her absence feels as heavy as your whole body? Yeah. I looked for her, on the way back. To see her in the entry stairs, or the theater, or the back of the cafeteria, but then I remembered that this isn’t Westchester, and Lula’s gone. Forever.”

“Yeah…”

Knock knock.

Faye looked up to see her dormmates with something in their hands asking for her to come “I should go. But you take care, and shoot me a text if you need anything.”

“Okay. Tell Lucas I said hi.”

“I don’t—,” But she had already hung up.

She sighed, and looked at her dormmates: Silvia, from Massachusetts, Chandini, an exchange student from India and Sky, their non-binary dormmate from New Zealand.

“We saw that you were feeling down, and then heard that your friend passed away, so we decided to bake you cookies.”

“I baked them,” Chandini responded, and pointed at Silvia “you scrolled all through the Marshall case and Sky stood there like that one Robert Pattinson meme.”

Faye chuckled “They smell nice. Come in, tell me about yourselves.”

They talked for a while, exchanging tales of their homes and lives, and laughed at some oddities from professors of their majors and its students, and all was well until Connor texted her ‘turn on the tv rn!! news of noah dropped”. She frowned but went to the living room of the TV.

“As you were telling us, fugitive Noah Marshall, accused of killing fellow classmate Tallulah Hunter a year ago, has been seen in New York running away on a getaway car with an unknown man, allegedly stealing a worthy possession. The police are now looking for any witness who may have seen him or may have reached out to them. Here are the phone numbers to call if anyone spots him. Catching him is crucial, and the Oregon government offers 5,000$ of reward to whoever turns him in.”

Silvia placed a hand on her shoulder “How do you feel, Faye?”

“…If that rat even approaches this school, it’s on sight.”

She was back at the threshold of that cave. In there, Tallulah sat on the grass, her dress ripped to shreds, her hair messy and tears in her eyes, a haunted expression on her face. Faye ran to her, but a barrier seemed to stop her. Tallulah looked up “You left me, Faye. Again. Left me alone. Trapped, with it.”

“Who?! Talk to me, Lula!”

Then, Redfield appeared behind her. Slowly, the monster grabbed her neck and scalp, and Tallulah gasped. Faye screamed, trying to get through “No! Nooo! Not again! Leave her alone! Take me!”

But the monster had taken over her. It looked at her through those powerful blue eyes, void and lifeless. Then, it lunged at her. All Faye could do was scream.

[messinwitheddie]

Cini, do you wear lipstick? What are your favorite colors? And do you wear lip gloss for Shine?

*Blows a kiss💋 *

Pepperoncini "For a moment, I was so insulted; I thought you were insinuating I have thin lips. Ha...Ha...Ha...! I only jest.

I do paint my lips, or rather these talented sprite paints my lips and the rest of my face. As you can see, it takes a small army to make my sagging mess of a flesh vessel presentable. Luckily I have a small army under my command; they are my personal wardrobe and they are well equipped. Their lip paints come in every pigment visible to the Irken eye. Plus glitter...do you use gloss, my drone?"

Wardrobe drone "If the occasion allows, my Tallest."

Pepperoncini "There you have it.

. The others are preparing my robes for me. Praise them for their patience. Never gave much thought to my favorite color... black is the military standard. I tend to wear black usually. Lately I lean towards soft, diluted shades of pinks and purples for my robes. Makes the lines around my mouth and eyes a little less stark.. but pink is fun. When the right mood strikes me, I flaunt pink lips. The brighter the better.

Now, I must insist on a little privacy."

[harveylembecks]

look at my fail vibrator son SPRITE my $5 tube of lip gloss looking son SPRITE one and a half star rated vibrator SPRITE

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 ꒱ 송민기

summary : all mingi did was ask a simple question about lip gloss, so how'd it end up with him as your boyfriend?

genre : fluff, mingi x afab!reader, f2l tws : language, kiss, lip gloss, reader is in denial author notes : one for my pwincess word count : 0.6k

“what is that?” 

you were studying yourself in the car mirror, carefully lining your lips with a dark brown pencil. you couldn’t really reply to the man in the passenger seat, your best friend over the last couple of years. you couldn’t even really remember how you met—something about buying him a drink one night (as a dare) at your little sister’s 21st birthday. however, at the time, you were too intoxicated to even think of the repercussions of something usually reserved for people who liked each other romantically. 

and, you didn’t like him. at least, not like that. 

he was your friend… who had a really pretty smile. and really pretty hair. and a really pretty personality. and a really pretty laugh. and—

okay, maybe you liked him. 

but, only a very tiny, small amount that you could keep contained and hidden whenever he was around. it wasn’t anything serious, and you couldn’t even really blame yourself. you have eyes and aren't blind. you also just thought that the way he cared for you was attractive. the way that he knew small details about you and your preferences: like chocolate over vanilla, and ginger ale over sprite. things that would seemingly be meaningless to anyone and everyone who didn’t care for you deeply. they would get to you, but you didn’t lose sleep over it. 

you didn’t get butterflies when he would hold the door open for you. your palms didn’t sweat when another girl would strike up in conversation. you didn’t even overthink when you’d comically call him babe. 

song mingi was your friend, your very handsome friend. 

at this point you had applied half of your lip combo, only needing to finish it off with a little shine. 

you took your purse from his lap, pulling out a tube. he curiously still watched you—with an intoxicating, otherwise hot to anyone else—stare as you unscrewed the top, popping the application wand out. “lip gloss.” 

“is it sticky?” 

you were focused enough to not comprehend, finding the simple question amusing, “huh?”

“it looks sticky.” he added, almost like he was pouting at your non-verbal mockery. 

you smudged your lips together, mixing the harsh lines until you were satisfied with the color. an eyebrow rose when you met eyes with him, shutting the overhanging mirror. “do you want some?” you asked, the wand still out. 

it was a pink-ish, otherwise clear substance that wouldn’t stain his lips—so, you thought, what's the harm in asking? he seemed curious afterall. 

but, you didn’t expect him to agree, “sure.” 

and, you really didn't expect him to take your face within his hands, pulling you so close—too close—to his lips. 

you half wanted him to continue, closing the gap for good between you two. “w-what are you doing?” you asked, knowing that you were walking a thin line between friendship and something more than that. would it be better? only time could tell. 

the eye-contact was harsh, almost dizzying, breaths mixing in the couple of seconds between your question and his response. 

“seeing if it’s sticky.” 

you wasted no time on agreeing to the experiment, “okay.”

then, the dizziness only got worse as he finally closed the gap. a taste of forbidden fruit was dangerous in your book; and as much as that used to intrigue you for anyone else, this seemed deeper than that. he meant more than any other fling of yours, and you weren't sure if you were ready to dive into the deep end headfirst, possibly losing a friendship that comes once in a lifetime. 

but maybe you also didn’t care that much, maybe this was exactly what you were waiting for. the tension is only so petrifying until you learn to live with it. you’ve liked your best friend for a while now, and it was only a matter of time until you realized how good you were at lying to yourself. and, you guess by this exact situation, they haven’t been one-sided. 

you smiled into the kiss, even after he pulled away slightly. “your verdict?”

“it is,” he sighed against your mouth, “and let me please—finally, be your boyfriend, y/n.”

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[songs-about-girls-like-me]

chapter 19: an almost deleted scene (2)

(a/n: alternative title for the chapter: Feisty)

"Okay, take out your lipgloss" Poppy scattered her collection of BeautyRush on the school desk.

I had two lip smackers that my sister had gifted me. One was skittles, the other one was sprite. I also had a roll-on straberry gloss I had bought myself (my parents' money) at "Todo Moda" during the weekend. The five of us put them in the middle of our school desks making a considerable collection that looked so cool in their plasticky colorful glory and, idk why, we put them into a light green plastic pencil holder that Poppy had brought from home.

"This way we can share while we're in class!" It was a cool shiny display in the middle of our school supplies. Our gloss obsession was a bit deluded and silly but the bond between us sharing them felt so real. We were doing geography or math and we had taken over the desks at back of the classroom. Mr. G hadn't scolded anyone for completely disregarding the sitting chart and changing places, so my friends and I were all together in one "school team", rolling with it. We all went in to take one, I chose the most true-pink gloss, almost like a magenta shade that looked just clear on the lips. It smelled like pure sugar. I was happy that MJ took my Skittles lipsmacker.

"1, 2, 3, lipgloss"

"That one is so dumb, guys" called out Liv. Maybe it was, but we just laughed.

"This is awesome"

We nodded in agreement with Ella, I flipped my front pieces of hair off my face so it didn't stick to my lips, the now familiar thick texture of petroleum jelly making me smell berries under my nose.

"Oh, wait. Careful with the cherry gloss!" Said Poppy pausing the silly bliss of the moment.

"This one??" I asked showing her mine.

"No, it's red. The 'cherry bomb' one isn't clear gloss, it's so so red."

"Which one?" we all were moving the glosses around on emergency mode all over the desks but it wasn't there. Then I smelled cherry. We all darted our eyes to the head of the table.

"Wait, this one?" Ella's lips were dripping red like a vampire frozen in spot with the lipgloss still pressed to her bottom lip, squeezing more product out. It was definitely THAT one and we all cracked up laughing. It smelled really fucking good, I could smell it from 1.5 metters apart, holding on to my chair while laughing so much I could've fallen to the ground. Ella bursted out a laugh still confused, not knowing how funny she looked but having an idea by how much we couldn't stop laughing. Her lips were red, the gloss making a line down the left corner just like blood, and MJ didn't miss the moment to call her sexy. Elizabeth sent each one of us a flying kiss, playing along to the dumb sexy vampire jokes. I wiped my tears away to keep writing down whaterver we were copying from the blackboard, still carrying a giggle in my chest.

That afternoon we were messing around still at school before Jazz. We all had been perfecting a walking technique, a model stride that made your hair move in the wind, even with zero breeze needed. My friends and I would line up and practice before dance class or recess or whenever we could in the hallways, each starting with the right foot on the count of 3 to be coordinated. By this moment, it was a nonchalant reflex to go everywhere chatting while walking like that. So we walked the length of the running track at least three Times just to enjoy ourselves while discussing TV shows, probably talking about Shake it Up's latest aired episode.

"I almost cried with 'Add it up', it was so good." MJ held Ella by the shoulder while still strutting with us.

"Yeah!! I liked it better than 'Meatball it up'" She agreed. I was wondering how in the hell they knew the episodes' names.

"Rees? Did you catch 'Add it up'?"

"Mhh... I don't think so..." I had watched the first episode and the Olive Garden one like five Times now, but apparently I was missing more. Sometimes my mom would be late to pick me and my sister up from school and I couldn't catch it before America's Next Top Model started.

"O.M.G. You'll love it" MJ would spell out OMG when talking. "It's about Cece!" A smile grew on my lips.

"Lame, Rees! Keep up with the episodes!" Ella and I had the most savage friendship at Times, so I pushed her by the shoulders, making her laugh and starting a quick physical fight between us. After being stopped by MJ who was giggling and Poppy who finally snapped out of counting the petals of a pink geranium from The Flowerbed, we reached the basketball court. The four of us found a bech facing the basketball court to chill at before having to change out of our school uniforms. The boys before jazz were still annoying, but today we were hanging around them even while they were having basketball practice. Everyone was in for the banter, which some days could actually be just innocent enough to make us more friends and less enemies. MJ and Poppy were bickering with the boys warming up for practice. Ella and I were once again quoting Disney Channel not paying too much attention to the dudes doing shoulder rolls and neck stretches wearing baggy basketball shorts and tanktops.

"I tipped over the canoe, I cut my lip... and my top came off." I was even copying Cece's voice and closing the imaginary olive green jacket over my flat chest. We would do this scene all the Time, unprovoked.

"Cece, you were 10. Nobody even knew you were a girl." Ella was my Rocky, pretending to sit back on a bench in the Chicago subway. (The irony in this, I was currently actually 10 loll).

"I knew!!" our cadence was exact, and in the end we would burst in laughter and repeat it all. The rhythm between us was the best thing, like a quick witted game of cards we had perfected.

"Go Joe!" Poppy was being her extra cutesy self, while the team did some laps around the court. Joe winked at her, still running.

"Get out of the way, girls" Max came up to us, pretending she was about to throw a ball to our face and retrieving it at the very last second before it hit us. We were so used to it by now, we barely even flinched.

"Stop that!" Poppy whined in complaint of the aggressive game.

"Let me try" Ella jumped up and quickly took it out of her hands.

"No. Let go" MJ, Poppy and I were now laughing at the scene. Both girls fighting over it, Ella hunching over the ball hidding it from her reach, her curly hair falling over her face.

"It's mine now, Max" she stated with a laugh.

"Noo, Elizabeth, let go." Max was trying to use her elbow to make the dirty synthetic ball fall from my friend's grip. Max lets out a laugh too. "Ella."

"Ohhh, Max can be nice. Did you just call her "Ella"? I loved pissing her off like this. She looked me in the eye with half a laugh and her basketball back in her hands.

"Watch it, Rees" She did the trick again, only this Time the ball actually hit me straight in the face by accident. "Omg, sorry" She was laughing but sounded genuinely surprised by the slip. We were laughing too, cause it was one of those good days. She rubbed my forehead a bit, holding back a giggle.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, thanks" I acted just a bit pissed keeping her hands away, but finding it funny too.

"You girls are distracting" Mick yelled wearing that crush he had on both Poppy and MJ on his sleeve.

"So focus" asked MJ. I could laugh so much when my friends acted like this. Some of the guys were finishing their laps now, panting from the running, while forming a group in one corner of the court.

"What are those? The cheerleaders?" Their coach was paying attention now, shading his eyes with one hand to be able to see us better. He was so deeply annoying.

"Yea, they're our cheerleaders" Joe agreed, he seemed very okay with the idea and I fucking hated his coach.

"In your dreams" Poppy blew her boyfriend a sarcastic kiss, while she walked her way closer to them. The rest of us following behind to back her up.

"Oh, we'd never be cheerleaders for you." MJ was being real now, sniggering.

"You should! Isn't that what you do?" This was getting my blood heated.

"Oh, they're your friends who do dance" their coach didn't speak directly to any of us.

"Yes. So you could cheer if you're going to be here watching us"

"We dance. It's so not even similar" Ella corrected Rick, her arms crossed. We nod our heads, as if all of us had said the thing.

"What's the difference, again?" Max was back to being annoying, and the boys were too, laughing.

"You just twirl around in mini skirts" They all broke into a laugh at Rick's joke. I didn't know the word "misogyny" at the Time, but these dudes were constantly making me discover the concept from firsthand experience.

"Cool, as opposed to what?" I had been quiet but my voice appeared harsh and hostile. "Running like graceless deadbeat horses after one single lap? The team is terrible ?" I said bluntly making them silent. I wasn't used to talking back like this, even worse cause it sounded like my insult went out to an adult too. But what the fuck?!

"Yea... you guys always lose your games" Poppy added, her eyebrows furrowed. And it was true.

"Girls, we're in the middle of practice. You can't even be here to start with." The adult who started this decided to speak again. "Imma ask you to leave"

"Yea, kick them out coach!" our classmates encouraged him finding their laughter again, booing.

"Yea, let's go girls." Said MJ. That was the cue for our hair flips but this was too serious for that. "Enjoy your stupid class" She murmurs, starting to walk away. I know most of them caught her words.

"It was a joke, girls!" Despite de half-apology, Joe was partially still laughing.

"You are a joke!" Ella had to scream it from the other side of the courtyard and I knew it was a good retort to exit with. I flipped my hair subtly over my shoulder to feel less shaken up as we walked lined up, all four pairs of legs matching the beat.

"Damn! Graceless deadbeat horses was insane, Rees" says Ella as a compliment. I hear the naughty snigger on her voice and we all break in a bit of a laugh at what I said, hopefully they'd hear us giggling. I wanted them to know it had no effect on us.

"'Enjoy your stupid class' was crazier" I break from the line to jump a bit and look at them. "And Ella, just now?"

"It was good" says Poppy in deep recognition of the scene. We strode taking the short hallway to get completely away from their sight. The running track was more populated yet chill as always. It felt funny, even if we had to take some punches, I was so fixated on the good parts. Did I really have those harsh comebacks in me? We kept walking,four different shades of medium to dark brunette hair moving in a made-up breeze of our own.

"I really hate the boys, though. And Max." MJ was setting the pace for our coordinated walking.

"Yea... we should stop talking to them. And the school should get a cheer team, maybe that would show them how hard that also is." I state, feeling a bit amused. They conversation gets cut short cause we see a girl a year below ours was approaching us, directly to Poppy. I couldn't tell right away, but then I recognized her brother's hazel eyes.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" Joe's sister was asking for a word with her.

"Sure, Sienna. I'll see you in a minute, guys"

"Catch us at the bathroom" Poppy nodded at Ella's words while picking up her pace to match Sienna's. It was not the first nor the second Time this happenned. She was good looking, prettier than Joe and she had a cunning look in her eyes he didn't have. Poppy had already told us how Sienna was a big cause of drama and arguments between Joe and herself. She had even cried to us about it a couple days back, so I didn't understand how she would still have these private conversations with her but... I think she was trying to get on her good side, so she stopped talking shit about her to her brother, making them fight.

"Hmm... Sienna is a bit..." MJ started.

"Yea, I don't like her either." stated Ella. I sighed. I mean, I didn't even fully liked Joe to begin with, so. "Anyway. Let's get changed?"

[sweetkandiships]

Mr Teeth:

1. An unlabeled blue orb I got from a school function. The mystery!

2. A Crazy Flavors Chap-Ice, flavored like Watermelon!

Dallas:

1. A Lip Smackers Crayola Crayon flavored keychain thingy. Its like 3 different flavors of blue, stacked.

2. A Kiwi flavored Lip Smacker... Dallas is my bestie and I love kiwi and man has kiwi vibes.

Harvey:

1. A pineapple flavored glittery roll-on lip gloss

2. A Sprite flavored Lip Smacker shaped like a nice icey cup of soda!

SPEAKING OF MY LIPGLOSS/LIP BALM COLELCTION HERES AN IDEA Reblog with one or some of your f/os and I'll assign them 1-3 of my silly little lip balm flavors :) based mostly on vibes probably unless I know their source!

[churchyardbasementromance]

[not-your-posion-littles-blog]

Oh how I love being spoiled

[geminimoonbeamx]

Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused (1/6)

A/N:  First chapter?! Out now?! How? It feels so surreal to finally be sharing this. Ive held this story to my chest for over a year. If you want to(and I highly suggest you do) go give Beans version a read !@allaboardthereadingrailroad, I still cant believe we did this. 

Warnings: Cursing. Drug use. Heavy Smut at the end of the chapter. Fingering. Penetration. Pet names. Minors, do not interact. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader. Circa Season Three.

Summary: Sam Goody was the perfect job for the summer; inside the shiny new mall, your best friends a co-worker, and free music? What was not to love. That was until Steve Harrington got a job on ground floor at Scoops and flipped your “perfect summer”upside down. 

Chapter One: Opening Time Down on Fascination Street

You smoke too much weed. 

It’s a sentiment you’ve found yourself reflecting on lots of times. In English class last year when you were so high that you could barely remember the plot of Hamlet. At work, last week at work when a group of beyond annoying freshmen had plowed in; you’d had dozens of records to sort in their wake, and it had all been like a mahjong fever dream. 

You'd never been so high that you couldn't function, your adventures in ganja land were all pretty tame- never leaning into psychedelic darkness or any of that other bad trip shit other people talked about. 

Until last week. 

No. Your brain rejected the memory that desperately tried to peek from behind the curtain of your subconscious.  

No. No. You smoke too much weed. You and Bean were stoned. 

It was a dog. 

A dog that had left a dent the size of a fucking person on your hood. You flinch at the thought. Of both the dog you'd hit, and the damage to your car. 

It was a just a stray dog. Or some assholes runaway….

A dog with no fur. Reptilian, and monstrous. 

You choke on the memory- or maybe that’s the doobie you’d found under your seat. 

When you can string together two breaths; you use the reprieve to reapply lip gloss and wipe your at your eyeliner because priorities. You cant stroll into work looking high, or ugly. Neither were viable options, obviously. 

After desperate gulp of the stale sprite that’s been sitting in the cup holder for days, you’re out of the car. 

Hopefully the floral-y Chloe that you’d drenched yourself in an hour ago somehow manages to mask the skunk smell that you know tends to cling to the woven fabric of your work Polo. 

You pop a piece of gum and slide on a pair of aviators, contingencies.

The parking lot of Star Court is pretty tame- if you consider tame 50 cars deep. Before noon.

Ever since the Mall had opened its doors; they never seemed to close. It had become the place to be, a plethora of never ending activity’s and the residents of Hawkins we’re proverbial deer in the headlights. Or front grills- however you choose to look at it. 

You’re just happy you’d scored a spot that wasn't a hike to the mouth of the food court. 

Your feet phantom ache just thinking about the evening shift you’d worked a couple days ago.

Parking near the east entrance had it’s perks. The lot was always easier(since everyone wanted to hit JC Pennys and the Theater from the main) on this side. 

And if the path happened to take you by a certain Ice Cream parlor, well. That was just an added bonus. 

Making a work uniform look good is a feat. One even you don't think you quite clear. Half of your hair is pulled up high, hours of labor keeping it both straight and voluminous, and the sugar pink gloss you don is sparkly in the fluorescent plaza lights. 

There’s nothing you can do about the uniform making you look like your body shape is Maytag Double Wide, though. 

Your manager is a Nazi who refused to hear any complaints about the heinous sizing of the Polos. It wouldn't really be that expensive to get them tailored. 

Ring corporate, call it a company expense. 

Whatever, it's temporary. After summer…you'll figure that out come August. You wouldn't be stuck working in a Record shop for the rest of your life. Right?- God maybe you really should stop smoking, or like take a tolerance break because when did you get so paranoid? 

Theres one place in the mall that you always get your jollies off; a sugar high and a show is always in store. 

Steve Harrington had been Hawkins High’s superstar. There wasn't a sport he didn't play and you’d witnessed him in all of his various Jersey Glory for the four years of public high school- 

So seeing him dressed in the fluorescent blue and red striped sailor get up that Scoops Ahoy required of him never failed to fuck your brain. 

Aw, how the mighty had fallen. Hard. 

You could barely take him seriously on any given day, but when he was wearing a glorified Dollar Mart Halloween costume? Well, if you cracked up every time you looked at him, who could blame you?

He’s standing at the front of the store, surprisingly not surrounded by either girls or his usual group of 8th graders. Both as odd as the other. 

His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to be contemplating something. Are there any thoughts in that pretty head other than what hair gel he should buy next? 

When he notices you making your way to the escalator he perks up a bit. 

“Good morning, Y/N” He greets with that grin. That charming grin- the panty dropper, so infamously named. You’d never been on the receiving end of it back in school but now he flashes it at you whenever he gets the chance. 

You have to say, the sailor hat atop his fluffy head kind of dims its power. 

Your traitorous stomach flutters in protests at that statement. 

“Mmm, it’s nearly noon but good morning” Being casually uninterested is definitely harder to accomplish then Cosmo makes it out to be. “You seem totally spaced. Did the Junior Varsity squad decide not to come pay you your weekly visit?” 

Instead of being offended, as usual,  the snark just makes his grin widen. It’s so annoying. 

Steve is unshakeable.

Unbotherable. 

No matter how bitchy you get, how dismissive and annoyed you appear he just takes it all in stride. 

“No, actually that’s scheduled for Wednesday’s, you cheerleaders are always very timely. Guess I gotta thank Coach Ross for those tardy drills” 

“For one; Former cheerleader” you interject feeling a little too exposed by his teasing gaze “two; if it isn’t a lack of Pom poms that has you looking like- that. Then what is it?”

“What is what exactly?” He shoots back, the glint in his eyes telling you that he knew  exactly what you were talking about. 

“You know what, what is” You deadpan, not wanting to play into his game.

“No, please, elaborate”

God. You seriously have to muster every ounce of fucking maturity you have with this guy. It’s always like this when you talk to him. Rapid fire, back and forth. It feels chaotic and borderline childish. 

You take a deep breath and force yourself not audibly groan at him. 

“Steven, Why do you look like someone ran over your dog” you hope it wasn’t you- the other day. In the woods. 

Does Steve even have a dog? Your conversations never last that long. 

He chuckles and quirks his mouth, “I’m fine” 

One manicured eyebrow raises and you push your sunglasses up into your hairline so that you can really assess him. 

He’s kind of a horrible liar. 

You’ve learned during the duration of the warm summery months. During the time that both of you had been employed at Starcourt. He was an itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe and some how some way the two of you always ended up bumping into each other. 

The universe a pinball machine and you a simple sphere, constantly bumping and clashing into Steve’s presence at every turn. It was jarring. And loud. And you hadn’t quite found the angle or velocity that would keep your path Harrington free. 

Eventually you’d get it though. 

“Riiiiight. No seriously what happened? Did another kid puke up their Rocky Road- or worse” you mock gasp before going on “did Sally’s run out of Aquanet?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that” Steve shakes his head- not appearing any less amused. His brown eyes interested. Looking at you in a way that they never had before the summer. 

It still makes you want to retreat. Head for the fort. Red flags, millions of them, might as well cover him from head to toe. 

He shouldn’t look at you like that while calling you a dick. 

He should look at you like that at all. 

“If you must know- a friend of mine is going away for the summer and it just sucks, okay” He finally admits, the genuine disappointment apparent in his tone. 

You open your mouth, to console him. Maybe. Probably. 

What comes out instead is a small snort as puzzle pieces interlock in your head. 

“Wait, you mean Dustin, huh?”

Dustin, your next door neighbor. 

The dorky curly headed thirteen year old boy that seemed to be Steve’s best friend as of late. Steve was at the Henderson’s at least once a week and Dustin and his group of friends were at the Ice Cream shop once a day. 

It was kind of cute, in the very weirdest way. 

“Yeah, so?” Steve’s trying so hard to be nonchalant and you’re trying so hard not to bust out in laughter. “He’s a cool kid- and he was helping me with college essays, get an early jump on next year is the plan”

His ego can spare the lashing, I mean look at him. You’ll berate him later. 

Dustin is a decently cool kid who you knew had gotten teased pretty mercilessly when he was younger for his teeth, or lack there of. You kind of appreciated that Steve was nice to him and didn’t bully him, which for the former jock, was a new theme. 

“He’s going to be gone a month. I’m sure you can learn to live without him- and for your essays they’re really not that hard”

“Oh yeah? You breezed through yours, huh?” Steve looks interested, impressed maybe.

 Or maybe he’s just bored. 

“Yup” you lie. You hadn’t sent one in since before graduation. And even then, procrastination has slammed you sideways. There were no acceptance letters waiting for you.

“Well maybe you could help me with mine? If you had time we could like, meetup. I mean obviously not here. At the mall. Where were both employed-“

How did this guy score the masses of pussy he had, back in high school? 

But most importantly, what was he trying to do here? Hanging out, outside of the walls of the mall? What- like a date? 

No, your brain supplies. He’d never…

And if he did, it would have to be a part of some kind of joke. King Steve would never be caught asking a fat girl out. Que laughter and thrown tomatoes. Tommy H peeking from behind a puller with a camcorder 

“Hard pass” you interject, quick and blunt “But good luck on your essays. See you later, Steve” 

And with a very awkward half wave between the two of you, you’re off- the escalator carrying you up and away from the unwanted scenario. 

If only you had an escalator for all of your issues. 

You’re thinking about that very sentiment later in the day, five hours into your shift and 3/4ths through your sanity.

If you had to clean up after people’s kids one. More. Time. You were going to scream. 

“Who brings kids into a record store anyway” You snark, having to put stacks of cassettes back in their proper home “Not to be a bitch, but I really wish forced sterilization was a thing”

Bean chuckles from her place behind the counter. The store had been pretty on and off- a normal Thursday.

“I’m pretty sure you very much do mean to be a bitch”

“I’m pretty sure those motherfuckers should legally not be allowed to have more children” that family of six had destroyed the whole kids aisle. 

Another thing you protested. Why should we have to have a kids' aisle? You wanted to collect all the He Man TV Soundtack’s and throw them in the dumpster. 

When you’re finished, you meet her behind the counter. It’s technically the two of you guys’ break but we’ll since the store was empty you didn’t see a reason to go navigate the steadily filling mall. 

And Bean? Her head was buried in a book, the top of her dark hair visible as her eyes were plastered to the pages. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. Like at all. Bean was a Bonafide Nerd with a capital N and you kind of loved her for it. 

What was uncommon though was her particular choice of reading material. 

‘The Unidentified and Creatures of the Outer Edge: A Collection of Accounts by Edward J Rupplet’

The title is in bold silver letters. You bite the inside of your lip hard as you gloss over it. 

Grabbing Strawberry Banana Orange Julius she had grabbed you on her lunch run, you plop down on the swivel chair behind the counter. 

“Doing a little light reading?” You inquire as you stir at the thick smoothie with the straw. Voice strong- void of any of the anxiety you feel about her fascination with the subject. 

Or at least you hope it is. 

“Did you know that Indiana’s a hub for unidentifiable activity- that in the last fifteen years there’s been a surge in all kind of sightings around the state but especially around Roane County” she chatters a mile a minute. 

The way she always does when that brain of hers is working faster then her mouth can. 

“No I didn’t know that. Nor did I want to but thanks” 

Bean looks up then “You can’t tell me that you still think we hit a dog” 

“We did”

“The dent on your hood is the size of TV” 

“A Great Dane then” 

….”You know the brain does this thing with trauma, like universally, when an event is too traumatic for us to handle the brain process it through-“ Bean starts, slowly, dark eyes meeting yours over the lip of her book. 

“The stages of Seven Stages of Grief. Yeah, I know”

“Well did you know that Denial is the first one?”

You give your friend a sharp glare. 

“The only thing I’m in denial about is having to fix my fucked up hood. Uncle Elliots making me pay for it all by my self. Its going to be 200 dollars! How bogus is that!”

Bean gives you a look- one that says “I call you out on your bullshit”, without actually calling you out on your bullshit.

And continues to let you play it off. 

As a good friend does. 

Saturday, Summer 1985

You scan the note held to the fridge with a strawberry magnet. 

In the city for the weekend, left money in the office. No take out! 

Fix your car, lovey- or else I’ll let Hop write that ticket.

Kisses, Uncle Eliot

Your surgeon of an Uncle is out of town at least once every couple months. Confrences. Conventions- that’s lost to you. He always comes back from Indianapolis cherry as can be- and with gifts so it like, works. 

The house is too quiet in his absence. It used to bother you, when you were younger, unacclimated. You don’t mind it anymore, being alone. The silence still sucks. But-

Watching TV at a mind numbing decimal will fix that. 

There's a soft chirruping meow as Bowie, your big ragdoll tabby, hops up on the counter beside you.

 “It’s me and you, baby. As usual”  You kiss his wet little pink nose, and scoop him up, ignoring his indignant squawk as you cradle I’m to your chest, holding him like a newborn you trek down the stairs, ready to turn on something soapy. 

It's your own fault that you're doing nothing but rotting away in the house on a perfectly good Saturday night. 

Heather had called, inviting you to some afterhours thing they were doing at the pool. She was totally going to get fired if they got caught and her dad was going to rip her a new one- you reminded her of that fact,

But like, all the lifeguards were going. Which meant Billy would be there, so she had to be, too. Duh. 

Ugh, you would never get the appeal. Billy Hargrove was so microwaved white trash. Half baked Motley Crue- at least Tommy Lee could actually pull off the mullet. You didn't get the hypefest around him. 

“I guess” You try to be supportive, but the level of unimpressed you are is unmaskable.

“You guess? God, what's been up with you lately? This is the last summer before everyone goes off to school! I mean Tracys leaving for ASU in three weeks! This is one of the last times we’ll be able to get the squad together” 

She's so excited for the fall, they all are. All of your friends dispersing like confetti around the country for school.

It makes your stomach churn. 

Heathers words are sharper than she intended for them to be, and even hours later they are echoing heavily around your head. You can't let them go. Because by the end of the summer Tracy will be in Alabama. And Heather off to Pennsylvania. 

Even Bean would be leaving, you comfort yourself with the fact that she’d still technically be in the state but fuck. She’d become something like your best friend since that faithful AP Lit class, and the impending countdown to her departure was ever present. Even if the two of you smoked yourselves silly, as you normally did, it still came up. 

Her leaving. You’re staying. 

And that damn dog! 

Becoming one with the sofa while battling intrusive thoughts is not it.

You need to work through your chores, and honestly, you’d rather deal with shoveling out cat shit then shoveling out the hundreds of dollars that it will take to fix your car. 

Both of which Uncle Elliot was expecting to be done by the time he gets home. 

You’re shuffling down to the end of the driveway, a heavy trash bag swinging to and through as you bop along down the path. After threatening Bowie, emptily of course, that he was going to live in the garage from here on out, with his stinky ass. 

It's hot and sticky; the Indiana summer not loosening its grip anytime soon and the tank top and shorts combo you don does nothing to keep you cool. You love first world amenities, and all you want to do is get back inside before you end up having to take a second shower and or be covered in mosquito bites. 

The night is still, like most are in Hawkins. The stars bright and clear, no clouds in sight. The chance of precipitation slim to none, as the weatherman had cheerfully announced on the night time news report. 

You try not to be scared, because you're a grown woman. Freshly eighteen, but eighteen nonetheless since the end of May. Grownups aren’t scared to walk down their stupidly long drive way. 

Grownups don't get so high that they hallucinate monsters shaped like dogs, and if they do then they're grown up enough to know that it was just a figure of their imagination. 

Why did your street have to be so dark? One of the few streetlamps had gone out in February. And still zilch. Shouldn't the city do something about this? Parks & Recs? The Zoning Committee? 

You're wondering where exactly your tax dollars go as you lift the lid of the pail, swinging the bag-

It all happens in slow motion, but in the flash of an eye:

 There’s a bang from across the street, and well- you’ve been jumpier than usual lately. Unfortunately for you, the curb decides it would like to stomp you. You end up flat on your ass, but not before your kneecap meets rough concrete. 

“Mother fucker” You curse loudly, more confused then anything. Your equilibrium thrown off by the sudden fall. 

“Oh shit- Y/N, are you okay?” The voice is deep and familiar and oh god. Why you? 

What kind of karmic retribution had you been sent on this earth to repay? 

And why couldn't the earth open up and swallow you, right now. Right at this very moment? 

“Steve?”

Is all you can brilliantly come up with as the jean clad figure comes closer, out of the darkness. He’d dropped- is that a fence panel?- by his car, which was parked in front of the Hendersons. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you-” His hands are flaying the tiniest bit as he goes to lean down.

“Are you stalking me? What the hell are you doing here?” You cut him off quickly, scooting away a bit, then hissing when your knee stings. Of course youre bleeding, the skinning minimal, but deep enough that crimson rears up. 

“Hey, chill out for a second- I’m not stalking you, I was finishing helping Miss Henderson do some cleaning up in her backyard and- you know what, I actually don't need to explain myself to you. What are you doing out here and why did you just use your driveway as a trampoline?” ugh god, why?  Driveway as a trampoline? You’ll never recover.

You groan and fight the urge to bury your burning face in your hands. He’s just about the last person you’d ever want to see you literally ass down. 

“Y/N? Did you bang your head or something?” 

You're examining your bended knee, and no, it’s not bad at all. A little anti-bacterial and you’ll be fine. You need hydrogen peroxide for your soul right now, an ego cleansing, if you will. 

 “No, just my knee. I’m fine, stop Steve-” You slap his hand away as its extended to you, but he's a persistent little shit and just grabs your forearm instead “I’m fine” 

“Cool. You’re fine. Can you not be difficult for like, a nanosecond and let me help you up so we can see if you really hurt yourself or not?”

“I just fell” You insist, because he’s being dramatic and you don't need him to mother hen you. Like ever. 

“Yeah, and Robbie Cohen broke his ankle just falling during practice last year. Get up and put some weight on it so we can see if you really hurt yourself or not” he still hasn't let go of your arm and you know he would, if you really pressed the issue. 

You should press the issue. 

Instead, you sigh and hold your other hand out. Arms held out in a pathetic grabby motion. 

The bastard has the nerve to chuckle about it. 

You let him pick you up off the ground, and although he’s surprisingly strong, you refuse to allow him to take all of your weight. Absolutely not. 

“Do you even know what a nanosecond is?” you insult him once you're standing, feeling defensive as he assesses your bare leg. 

“Yeah, like a super second, right?” He’s kidding. Maybe? Before he tells you to step down on your right foot, balancing your weight on both legs. You dont scream out in pain, your knee doesn't buckle. Just like you thought, it's just a scrape. Probably not even deep enough to scar, but there is blood dripping slow down your leg. 

“I think you're okay, but you should probably clean it up. I could help, if you need it. I know some gir-people are squeamish when it comes to blood” He catches himself on that girl comment, fumbling through it a bit, but in a weirdly pleasant way. 

“My uncles a surgeon” You deadpan. 

“Oh yeah, uh, I do remember that. My mom, her gallbladder, surgery you know” He nods, biting the inside of his bottom lip as though thinking pensively “I could still help you…if you wanted me to.”

It was a perfectly good Saturday night that you were wasting…

What it wasn’t supposed to include was Steve Harrington but well? 

Universe; pinball machine. You: a tiny sphere at its mercy. 

There’s a few sights you never thought you’d see, 

Steve Harrington man spread on the round, mustard colored couch in your living room is one of them. It's such an odd sight that your eyes almost can't focus on it. 

It’s either that or the glass of  wine you're nursing. 

There hadn't been much cleaning up to do, for your fucking scrape. But Steve had insisted you sit down at the kitchen table and let him play doctor. Neosporin and all, you’d had to will yourself to sit still as he touched you, finger tips grazing over bare skin. 

Its just your knee for fucks sake. Just a knee- you'd repeated like a mantra. Acquaintances touch each others knees all the time. It’s fine. You don't even like Steve. He’s barely even an acquaintance. 

You donned a Care Bear Band-Aid for your troubles, and a glass of wine, or two, for your nerves. 

You’d been raiding Uncle Elliot’s liquor cabinet for years, and as long as you never finished anything off, he was pretty cool about it. You didn't dare touch the top shelf. 

“It’s really 70’s in here, like…a time capsule” Steve observes, his own wine glass mostly empty in his hand. Another refill needed “But not in a bad way”

“Fabulous, right? My uncle still thinks he’s the dancing queen” He sniggers at that, taking another gulp “But he has this weird fear of second stores, so he, uh actually gets new furniture like reupholstered to look older” 

“Ah,” Steve confirms “so it runs in the family” 

“What runs in the family, asshole?” You turn on the couch, criss-cross applesauce, thick thighs on display because fuck it, there was no point in hiding them from him. 

“How particular you are” he makes a broad gesture with his hands. At you. It makes you feel…seen. And you do not like it. 

“What do you mean by that?” You glare, eyes focused in on him, his Adam's apple bobs. 

“Don't get touchy, I just mean you are really picky. Like hair trigger picky” 

“And you know that how? Because were friends?” The laugh you let out is cold, a mimic you’d picked up from Bean “Best friends? Since when? Never.” 

“Bullshit, yeah, we aren’t best friends. But were friendly. We had all the same friends in school, we’ve been running in the same circle since we were thirteen” 

Now you full on laugh because all of that hair spray he uses has to be affecting his brain. Clogged hair particles must lead to like brainwave malfunction. 

“No Steve, we had friends of friends in High School- and any time before that you ran with Tommy H and all those other douche bags. I can assure you, you were not my friend. Like, at all” 

You hate talking about it, acknowledging that there was a period of your life, before you’d learned to adapt, where you’d stuck out like a sore thumb. And where Steve and his friends had made you feel that difference. That distance from everyone else. 

He’d bullied you, simple as that. 

And he knew it. 

It’s why at he couldn’t look you in the eye when the subject was brought up, why he palmed the back of his hot neck awkwardly and fisted the stem of the wine glass way too tight. 

“Look Y/N, when we were kids. It was all so different and-“ 

“It’s fine Harrington, just stop” you snort because as much as you love to see him grovel, you can’t bear to hear him apologize. It literally makes you feel like you’re going to be sick, embarrassment makes your mouth water threateningly. “We’re adults now, it’s water under the bridge”

You do not and will not ever accept his pity, or his apologies. 

“Yeah, right” he mutters as he takes a swig of his wine- and then looks at it and decides to down it all. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been trying to be friends with you all summer. Since I found out you were working at Starcourt, too. It’s nice to have a familiar face around, you know? I don’t- I see the old group, run the rounds. Sometimes. But after I stopped talking to Tommy and we all graduated shit got weird” Steve explains, kind of. In pieces. 

He’s the most obvious puzzle. 

You don’t say anything because you get it. Shit got weird. That phone call with Heather earlier was weird. 

You grab the bottle and top yourself off- Steve let’s you do the same to his glass. 

“Shit has indeed gotten weird” you agree, “King Steve, hanging out with little ol’ me. We must be living in an alternate dimension” 

He half chokes on his drink. “Stranger things have happened” 

“Yeah fucking tell me about it” 

“Keep getting me liquored up and you just might get lucky” He. Is. So. Cheesy. Good god. 

This can’t be the same Steve that caused a full on riot brawl in the girls locker room. 

“How’d you get so much pussy back in school with pick up lines like those?” You’re just on the right side of wine tipsy. The liquor makes you bold, makes you feel sexy and daring. 

 It also makes you want to kiss, but that part you can ignore. 

Steve smiles, obviously entertained “You think I’m trying to pick you up? That’s a little presumptuous of you”

You want to tell him to spell presumptuous. 

“Are you telling me you’re not?” You inquire instead. 

He could say no. It’s a possibility. Maybe you’ve been reading this whole thing completely wrong. Maybe he’s really just been trying to make amends- 

Or maybe he’s been looking down your top for the last half hour. You can’t say you blame him, the low cut coral tank top did make your tits look grade A. 

Steve bites his lips a lot, when he’s nervous. When he’s turned on. Bright and cherry red and distracting. 

“If I say yes are you gonna be a dick to me about it?”

You giggle, roll your eyes and scoot closer, leaning on your arms, your cleavage artfully on full display. “Probably”

“Then no, I’m not trying to pick you up” Steve protests, weakly. His gaze flicking fast between your face and your chest

Oh. He can not be this easy.

“My mistake” you shrug feigning  casual. Well you hope. “I must’ve read the signals wrong” 

You both know that was not the case. 

The room is charged now, the energy thick and electric. Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours, fawn brown and searching. Like he’s trying to find a crack, some way in. 

“You’ve really got this whole hot and cold thing down pat, hmm? On my break the other day you literally slammed your car door in my face-“

“You’re exaggerating”

“And now you’re being kinda slutty for me, Y/L/N” Steve informs you and it should not make your stomach lurch the way it does. 

“I am not!” You protest, hating that word. Hating the way he’d said it. Hating the fact that you really, really want to jump his fucking bones. 

“You are- it’s okay. I dig it. I know you can’t resist the Steve. Most women can’t” the words coupled with the tone on his voice sends you into a fit of laughter.

You can’t stand him, really. He’s so corny. He’s so annoying. 

He is the worst most charming jerk you’ve ever met. The wine just makes it more apparent. 

“For one you date girls not women Steve, shut up. And two, you said it yourself, you’re not trying to pick me up so it doesn’t really mat-“

You see it coming from a mile away. 

All guys get that look, that really intense, almost scary one. 

The one that means one thing. 

Steve doesn’t lean in slow, doesn’t lead you into it at a snail's pace. One second he’s watching your lips move and in the next he’s abruptly covering them with his own.

Stealing the words from your mouth and the air from your lungs.

Your world tilts sideways. 

It would be a bold face lie, to say you’d never imagined kissing Steve. Everyone in Hawkins has had fantasies about kissing Steve Harrington at least once. 

The reality of it felt weightless and far away, down at the bottom of the discarded wine bottle on the coffee table. 

He tastes warm, liquor sharp and flesh sweet, as you suck at his bottom lip.

Steve kisses like he’d played sports, confident of himself. Practiced almost, and yeah you bet he has had practice. Tons of it, His hands aren’t as sure as his mouth though, your body new. Uncharted territory. They hesitantly rest on your leg as he leans over you, inching upwards towards your chubby waist. 

You bite his lip, hard, harder than you meant to when his hands get a little too close to going under your shirt. 

He hisses, pulling away, tongue flicking over his bottom lip “No?” 

“You first” you insist, 

“Yeah?”

Your chest is pounding, blood rising in your ears and making it hard to think. You still know one thing though, you’re not showing him your body, yet. You’re not going to be vulnerable, first. “Yeah”

He just nods, yanking off his gray t-shirt, before leaning back down and kissing you until you’re dizzy, your fingers threaded in his thick hair, his thin hips snug between your thighs. It's humid between the two of you as your hands wander, cling, grope. 

Every breath you take is of Steve and it’s stifling. 

You whine, small and shakily as you pull away- the sound turning into a wet gasp as he kisses your face; nose, cheek, soft jaw and lands on your neck. Fingernails, Barbie pink, dig into his shoulder blades, all bare freckled skin when he mouths the tender skin, his teeth at play in a way that could make your eyes cross.

“Steve” you moan, as his mouth goes for your chest, you tugging at his hair not derailing him from completely ruining your tank top, wet with spit as he suckles on your clothed nipples single mindedly. 

Can he not feel that you guys are about to lose your balance? 

“Steve! Stop for a sec We’re about to fall, jackass” you warn him and he huffs, right into your cleavage before straightening up on his knees, both of you maneuvering for purchase on the couch. The tent in his jeans glaringly apparent. 

“Wanna take this to your room?” He offers and really it’s smart. Your bed would be easier…

That also feels a lot more intimate and you can’t remember what you’d left out in your room. What hidden secrets were just chilling, waiting to be found. 

“MmMhmm, I want to stay right here” you tell him, your hand tracing down his chest in what you think is a distracting manner. Steve nods, obviously game for whatever you’re willing to give.

“Wait” you still him with that same hand when he begins to lean back down. 

He’s so…nice about it. Doesn’t protest when you say wait even though he looks like there’s nothing he wants to do less then stop. He doesn’t make you feel shitty or pressured, at least not in this moment. It’s weird. But you appreciate it. 

You reach down to grab the ends of your top and wiggle yourself out of it, Steve helping when he realizes you’re going to have a little trouble getting it off while underneath him. 

It’s scary, always, letting someone see you. A nervous, semi manic giggle trapped in your throat as he looks you over in the dim yellowish lighting emitting the standing lamp in the corner. You should’ve turned it off. You should get up and turn it the fuck off-

“Damn” he whispers, even though it’s just you two and an empty house. 

The giggle breaks break free, your boobs giving a very gratuitous jiggle that has him making a sound, a throaty one as he buries his head between them. 

“You enjoying yourself, Harrington?”

“Very much” he doesn’t pull up to reply. 

You know the kinds of girls he’s dated- you don’t look like Cheryl or Laurie, and you sure as shit doesn’t look like Nancy Wheeler- but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s having a fucking hay day right now, his mouth and hands digging into your flesh. 

You’re so soft all over, he can’t help but squeeze. 

It’s a little blurry after that. From the wine and the hormones both. He pulls your shorts and panties off in one go- there goes his jeans. Flesh on flesh, so much friction it feels like it might start throwing sparks. 

You’re shaking, pinned down underneath him with three of his long fingers buried inside of you when you’re able to put words to thought. 

“Condom” you demand, voice going high as his hand pistons between your legs, his finger tips curling in a way that has you both arching towards him and shifting away from him because holy fuck that hurts so good. 

“I don’t- shit, I think I have one in my car. You don’t have any?” His hand stills and you try to catch your breath, wracking your brain for something right now, which is pretty fucking hard with Steve knuckle deep.

You've got nothing. You hadn’t hooked up with anyone since before graduation.

“I don’t…” you whisper, shaking your head, bottom lip pursed.

His fingers slip from you with a squelch that isn’t as sexy when your moans aren’t an octave higher. And he huffs, exaggeratedly, before pecking you and hopping off the couch. 

Its a- sight. Butt naked, dick bobbing. He's such a beanpole, but he’s hand to god hung down to his knee. Biting your cheek you try to determine whether you think that's hot or hilarious. A bit of both. 

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute” Steve grumbles as he shimmy’s clumsily into his jeans, and only his jeans. 

“You’re lucky I’m so cute!” You holler after him as he all but jogs up the stairs and out the front door, a man on a mission. 

Its a quick interlude- not even a full two minutes but it gives you enough time to run to the lamp. The shroud of darkness comforting, easing the awkwardness that was steadily building. With Steve out of the house and you left inside, naked, you're really starting to reevaluate things. 

Yanking a throw blanket from the armchair, you wrap yourself in it before plopping back down on the sofa. 

Steve Harrington is outside getting a condom. 

Oh my god, is this real life? 

You wish you could call Bean. 

Your brain’s going a mile a minute as you stare at the dark ceiling when you hear the front door open. 

It’s dark, but not pitch. Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see him, bare chested a little out of breath because of what must have been a sprint to his BMW. 

“Ow, fuck- Y/N?” Steve stumbles over a piece of furniture with a clatter, not familiar with your home’s lay. 

“Come here before you break something” you urge, reaching out and tugging on him once your fingers link. 

“What, like my head?” His knees hit the couch and he's going for his fly.

“No, something more valuable. Like a vase” it should sound more malicious, on any other given day it would, but right now you just can't muster it. Not when he’s taking off his jeans, not when he's back to hovering over you. How are his eyes more intense in the dark? 

“You okay?” He asks, like he cares. Your chest pulls something tight, an artery block or something. Maybe your uncle was right about eating pizza. 

You nod fast, humming a sound of agreement. 

Steves gently as he pries the throw blanket away from your body “Yeah, you sure? About this?” 

“I’m sure- i-if you are, I mean” fuck, its so uncomfortable. These moments before always are. 

“I'm sure” his voice is so much steadier than yours. Asshole. You yank him down, hard, by the back of the neck. 

Its lips and tongue then, teeth and shivering flesh. The furnace between the two of you cranked back up to a hundred as you perch your knees high around his waist, as he settles back into making you squirm, hooking you on the ends of his fingers, and then quickly switching to fast strokes of your clit until you- oh fuck you’re not going to, are you? 

You come with a shocked whine, your core clenching something piercing and good and holy fuck you can barely believe it. 

Most men can't even find your clit, much less make you come. It’s always a fumbling experience, where you end up getting yourself off for them. The fact that Steve had gotten it, on his own, on the first go? 

This can not be real.

“You good, baby? That feel good?” He mutters in your ear. 

Baby? What is life? Like seriously, what is this?

You feel shaky and out of it now, and if you grab his free hand and make him hold yours, you’ll blame it on the endorphins later. You need a tether. 

 “Y-yeah, fuck, are you going to put on that condom or not?” he thinks its funny, the way you can barley talk but still manage to be a smartass. You think it's annoying, how fondly he's looking at you. 

You have to get that look off of his face, kissing him’s a good of method as any. 

Steve’s still a teenage boy, one who can make you come, but still. Nineteen. He jabs in a little too hard, hits an angle inside of you that makes you gasp with pain, that makes the two of your bodies go into limbo, a hard attempt at figuring out just how you fit together, 

“There?”

“A little to the left, yeah”

“There?” he asks again and you can't stop grinning because maybe he's not good at everything. Maybe King Steve isn't the pussy pleaser everyone thought him to be, 

He gains his bearings then, straightening out and thrusting just right as his hand goes back between your still throbbing legs, tracing where your bodies meet and the almost inhumane sound that tears itself from your throat cant even begin to cover how fucking. Good. It. Feels. So. Good.

You didn’t expect to spend your perfectly good, Saturday night hanging off Steve Harrington's dick. But you can't say you regret it, not when he's moaning your name in your ear.

Come Monday morning, you make your usual trek to work, through the parking lot and the food court.

You don't stop when the neon sign of Scoops Ahoy comes into view. When Steve gives you a hopeful grin from behind the ice cream counter. 

It’s easy to pretend you don't see it and continue on up to Sam’s, the escalator your forever savior. 

You're good at pretending. 

Hope you enjoyed this monster of an intro chapter! Taglist is Open! But please be ready to leave some feedback if you’d like a tag.