#technically college kid fic

[sikayeto]

[0500] Monday the 13th

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

[michael robinavitch x offspring/daughter reader]

[tw: depressive thoughts]

[summary: no matter what your dad might think, the spreadsheet doesn't lie]

[a/n: this series is going to be incredibly self indulgent. i'm writing this for me, and I'm kind of really proud. no matter how this turns out. hope you enjoy :)]

MASTERLIST

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

[0500] Monday the 13th

Monday is a fucking bitch. You wake up groggy as hell, with your body refusing to cooperate an inch. Monday isn’t any different from any other of the week. The same grogginess. The same frustration. The same crushing, desperate plea from your body to stay and rot in bed. There’s nothing for you out there. Not anymore, at least. You’re a failure, and reminded of it everyday. 

Wait. Stop. You have to stop thinking those thoughts and believing them. Remember they’re just thoughts. Okay. Thank you, and goodbye useless thoughts. This suffering serves no purpose. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Repeat. Repeat. 

Your hand reaches out to grab your buzzing phone, turning it on displays a bright light that reads 5:35am. Eyes squint to adjust to the offence against your pupils. Monday, the 13th. 

Scroll through your feeds. Answer texts from Emily. Check your email. Sitting up, you feel around your bed for the earbuds that fell out of your ears overnight. Small hard lumps touch your fingers and you grasp them. Arising from the safety and comfort of your bed, as you get ready for the day.

Brush your teeth, take a shower. Get dressed, moisturizer and deodorant. A spritz of perfume. Grabbing your comforter and fixing it over the bed to make it look neat. Fluff the pillows. 

Meow, you hear outside your bedroom door. Opening it reveals your cat, Reginald. A true gentleman, here to remind you that he would like his breakfast served, preferably on time and before 6am. He sits so prim and proper in the hallway, impatiently waiting for you.

Crouching down, you pick up his small potato sack of a body. Placing him to rest against your shoulder. You make your way to the kitchen of your 2-bedroom apartment. You pause at your Dad’s bedroom door, putting an ear against it. Loud slumbering snores can be heard through the wood. You remember him coming home last night, but you don’t know if he ate, or just went straight to bed. You were in your room trying to study for an upcoming exam this week. The creak of the front door opening alerted you to his arrival home. A couple of shuffling sounds and the closing of his bedroom door was the end of it.

The full plate of cellophane covered lasagna on the kitchen island, tells you that no, your Dad didn’t eat last night. But maybe he’ll eat breakfast this morning. He never works this day, ever since Dr. Adamson died. When you look at him, you know that it’s still a wound that never stopped bleeding. And the day drains all the blood from his body through that opening in his heart. 

Maybe you’ll finally be able to spend the day together. It’s been so long since you’ve spent quality time with him. You understand that his job is important, and that he saves lives every day. But you’re important too, aren’t you? 

Conversations are had between doorways, texts, or voicemails. They’re short and brisk. You actually see your Dad, maybe a total of an hour a day. 30 minutes in the morning if he eats breakfast, and 30 minutes at night if he’s not too tired to eat dinner. Sometimes you don’t even get to see him at all. Both of your schedules never allowing a time to interact. Him, busy with his job. You, busy with college. That’s the excuse you use, anyway. If anybody bothered asking. 

Independent. That’s what you’ve been called by your peers and elders since you were old enough to remember. It’s always just been you and your Dad. Had to be independent. Had to be able to survive on your own for long periods of time. Dad’s working a shift. He’s gonna be there a while. 

The sting of bacon fat on your hand brings you back to reality. 

You look at the clock hanging above the fridge. It reads 6:30. 

The bacon looks crisp and ready to be taken off the heat. You grab a pair of tongs and plate the bacon. Taking two eggs from the fridge, you crack them over the pan, letting them drop and sizzle on the leftover bacon fat. The toaster makes a sound, and you look over to see that the bread inside is done, and sprung up.

Watching the sunny side eggs sizzle, you hear familiar shuffling sounds. Strange, he normally sleeps for longer if he has a day off. You didn’t expect your Dad to be up for another half hour. He sounds hurried. A prickling, heaviness, crawls onto your shoulders. They involuntarily make you hunch. You massage and roll them, in a poor attempt to shake off the oncoming dread.

It’s his day off. It’s your day off, too. You’re going to spend time together. Finally. 

He steps into the shared kitchen, dining, and lounge area with a hastiness to his step. He was wearing scrubs underneath his zip up hoodie. Making a beeline to his work bag, he greets you with a, “Morning, sweetheart”.

Your eyes furrow, the dread becomes a sinkhole in your throat. You cough to clear it before replying, “Morning. Dad, where are you going? You never work today”.

He’s still rearranging the things in his bag. He won’t look at you. “I know, honey. But they called and asked me to come in. They’re short on staff, and it’s gonna be a busy day”.

“They’re always short on staff. And it’s busy every day”.

He just chuckles, as if you’re telling a joke. And not telling him a statement. 

He moves back to his bedroom, presumably to grab another item. You face away from the stove and toward the hallway, calling out, “You’re still going to eat breakfast with me, right? You didn’t eat the lasagna I put out last night”.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I can’t. I’m running late already, and I need to go”, he shouts back to you. Remorse isn’t what you hear, but an awkwardness instead. 

He rushes out of his room, straight to the doorway, putting his airpods and sunglasses on. Opens the front door, and leaves with a parting, “Bye sweetie, have a good day!”

A slam is heard, as he shuts the door on his way out. The smell of charcoal wafts into your nose. Hurriedly, you turn back to the stove. The eggs are burnt. 

Reginald, forgotten by both you and your Dad, makes figure eights around your legs. Butting his head against them. Telling you that, at least, he’s here. 

You pick him up, and press his little warm body against your. Burying your face against his soft fur. Wetness gathers in your eyes, and itchiness in your throat. A small sob escapes from your lips. You squeeze Reginald, just a touch more. 

—

A short cry session later, and you get your shit back together. Just because your plans for the day were disrupted, doesn't mean you don’t have other things that need to be done. There’s a list of errands to be settled today, and you have a practice lab session in the afternoon. 

Turning on your tablet, you review the lists of tasks to be completed today. You open a spreadsheet folder, containing an ins and outs record for both Reginald and your Dad. After writing down what food Reginald was served for breakfast, and how much he ate, you open your Dad’s. 

01/10/2025 

Breakfast: Eggs and Bacon [X]

Dinner: Spaghetti [X]

01/11/2025

Breakfast: Pancakes and Fruit [X]

Dinner: Steak, Mash, and Asparagus [X]

01/12/2025

Breakfast: Oatmeal with Granola and Yogurt [⅓]

Dinner: Lasagna [X]

01/13/2025

Breakfast: Eggs and Bacon [X]

He’s been running on nothing. Basically hasn’t eaten at home for days. Is he even eating at work? With how busy he is, you doubt he even leaves the ER to drink water. Is he even drinking water? Do you need to start monitoring that too? How would you even be able to tell if he drank any or just dumped it out? Assess skin turgor, maybe. Asking your dad what colour his pee is and getting a renal panel might be too much. You don’t think you could trust him to be honest if you asked him how much water he drinks. Coffee doesn’t count, that’s a diuretic. Whatever water you drink from it gets peed out anyways. 

STOP. Stop. stop.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. In. Out. In. Out.

Okay, if he doesn’t want to eat at home, that’s fine. He should at least have something filling and homemade to eat at work then. Where he doesn’t have to worry about whether it's contaminated with hospital infections or not. 

Check the time. 11:30. Close enough to lunch. You can make a quick stop by the ER to deliver him some of the lasagna you made last night. Heat it up in the oven, pack it, stop by the ER, errands, and then to practice lab. 

The lasagna gets a quick blast in the microwave, before being packed in a thermal lunch bag. You shrug a light coat on, and grab your shoulder bag.

One last glance at Reginald before you leave, “Bye, Reggie. Behave yourself, okay?”

He opens his eyes to give you the most judgemental expression a cat could muster. You smile and peck him on his head. 

You leave the apartment and make your way to your Dad.

—

You don’t visit the ER often. Could count your visits there on one hand. The bright light bothers you to no end. And the busy noise and endless chatter makes a buzz in your head that’s hard to ignore. This place is a kind of hell. Lives are lost here, but they’re mostly saved. You wonder if that’s why your Dad keeps coming back. Because maybe he feels that, if he leaves, the scales will tip to the other side. Does the God complex come before, or after he became a doctor?

You bypass the waiting room, there’s no point in waiting to be seen for a medical issue when yours isn’t an emergency, unless assessed by a professional that you’re a danger to yourself or others. If you stay too long at the ER, you just might be. Best to be in and out then.

Making your way to the nurse’s station, you spot a comforting face. 

“Dana!”

Dana Evans swivels her attention to focus on you. Her eyes widen slightly, in recognition.

“Sweetheart?”, she calls out. “What are you doing here?”

Her perfectly plucked brows are making groves between themselves. Seeing you here is a rare occurrence. Like a unicorn sighting. She knows how much you hate visiting the ER. Hates that it takes your Dad away from you. She’s scared you might be here for something serious. 

“I’m here to drop off lunch for Dad,” you explain. “Do you know where he is?”

“I’m sorry honey, but he’s kind of all over the place today. Why don’t you leave it here with me and I’ll make sure he gets it.” 

You pout, and pause.

Dana catches it, and with concern, asks “What’s wrong, hon?”

Your eyes flutter back and forth from Dana’s eyes, to her scrubs, the desk, her ID badge, and back to her face. A sigh is released, and you look her in the eyes. “Dad hasn’t been eating well at home for the past few days. Or like, at all.”

You take out your phone and pull up your Dad’s meal record. Handing the phone over to show her. “See? He’s had almost nothing at home for the past couple of days. And I don’t know if he eats lunch at work. Even if he does, that can’t be enough for the amount of energy he burns here”.

Dana hands back the phone to you and purses her lips. “Kiddo, I know you’re worried, but don’t you think keeping a record for what your Dad eats is a little invasive?”

“I know, but if I didn’t keep a record, then I wouldn’t know that he’s been too busy and tired to even meet his basic metabolic needs. Besides, I keep an ins and outs record for Reggie.”

With raised eyebrows, Dana gives you a look and admits, “You got a point there”.

She takes your hand in hers, and the thermal lunch bag with it. “Okay, how about this. I promise to get this to your Dad. And, to take a picture of him eating it. I’ll send it to you during his lunch break. He’s due for one soon anyways”.

Warmth and gratitude fills and overwhelms you. Your arms wrap around Dana in a tight embrace. You press your face to her scrubs, and you can smell antiseptic and hand sanitizer. 

“Thank you so much Dana”, you mumble into her clothes. “You don’t know how much this means”.

She returns your embrace with the experience of a mother, who’s hugged her children the same way more than a hundred times over. She rubs your back in gentle circular motions. “Of course honey, it’s no trouble at all”, she reassures you.

Pulling away from each other, Dana takes a good look at you. Holds you by the shoulders, and declares, “Now get outta here, before you start smelling like hospital”.

You giggle, and Dana sees how exhausted you look. There are bags, deep under your eyes. Despite worrying about your father’s dietary habits, you should worry about yours too. Cheeks, more sunken than when she saw you last. 

Walking to the exit, you turn back to look at the man made disaster of the ER one more time before. And then you leave. There are errands to do after all. Someone has to get them done.

—

Dr. Robby wouldn’t say this day has been horrible, but he wouldn’t call it peachy fuckin keen either. Gloria on his ass all day. Students here for their rotation. Collins is acting weird. And he can’t even get a minute for himself to take a goddamn piss.

“Robby!” He hears Dana call his name out from the nurse’s station. Her arm is raised, and it’s holding up a bag. 

He squints. It looks familiar. 

He jogs up to Dana, “What’s up?”

Dana gives him a look, “Your kid was here earlier to drop this off”.

He looks at the lunch bag that she holds in front of his chest. He grabs it and places it on a nearby desk. Unzipping it reveals a container of lasagna, still hot. Love, affection, gratitude. They all bubble and rise in him. When he got home last night and saw the lasagna, he was so excited to eat it. His kid makes the best lasagna he’s ever had. He knows that they make it with love. Make it because they know it’s his favourite. But then he reached his bed, and promptly passed out. 

He always felt bad whenever he skipped a meal at home. It was really the only family time he ever spent with his child anymore. He really couldn’t call them a child. They were a young adult now, and in college. All grown up, and it happened so fast. One day, he was packing their lunches. And now, apparently they were packing his.

“Honey says you haven’t been eating at home,” Dana states. “Are you doing okay?”

Robby looks up from the lunch bag, and brushes off Dana’s concerns. “Hm? Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’ve just been forgetting to eat every now and then”.

“Robby, 3 days of not eating a solid meal isn’t ‘every now and then’. Your kid is worried”, she exclaims. “And did you know they has an ins spreadsheet on you?”

A spreadsheet? On him? He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. “Are you sure it’s on me? I know they have one for Reggie, ever since he got diagnosed with CKD”.

“In big bold letters, the title read ‘Dad’s Meals’. So yeah, I’m pretty sure it was for you”.

He could feel an oncoming headache building in his cranium. Robby takes his hands out of his pockets to rub his face. “Mm, I should probably talk to them about that”.

Dana quickly checks her nurse’s watch, “It’s past lunch. Go. I promised your offspring you would eat, and I need evidence that you actually did”.

He chuckles, feeling a bit mad. “Y’know I would love to actually take a lunch break. If it wasn’t for this”.

He gestures to the chaos of their shared circus of a workplace.

With the will of a charge nurse who’s tired of all his bullshit, Dana grabs the lunch bag and shoves it into her colleague’s arms. “Take this, and go. I’ll cover for you. And take a picture of you eating it so I can send it to your kid. They worry enough about your ass”. 

A smile forms on his face, and he says before departing to eat his well overdue lunch, “You’re the best, Dana”.

As he walks away to devour his lasagna made with love, he hears Dana shout to him “And don’t you ever forget it!”

Next

[nylqnder]

DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW? WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x fem!reader

summary: to will, age is just a number. so he prays you don't care that his is a few notches lower than yours.

warnings: older!reader (i don't specify the exact age gap in this but i was picturing something like 4-5 years), underage drinking technically, appearances from macklin + fabian

wc: 4.74k

notes: sort of but not really based on 'does your mother know?' by ABBA. thanks to mack, we all know will has a thing for older girls so i thought i'd play into that in this fic!

The bar was packed, buzzing with the easy energy of a Friday night crowd. Neon signs flickered against the brick walls, and the air carried the scent of spilled drinks, cheap cologne, and warm laughter. The Sharks had taken over a corner of the place, their voices loud and unfiltered as they reveled in a night out together.

These types of outings, where they could get the full team out together, were rare. The elder Sharks, the ones who carried a bit more of a reputation in the city, had sweet-talked the bouncer into letting the underage players (which began and ended with Macklin and Will) into the bar.

And it’s not that Will didn’t like hanging out with the guys — team bonding was important, after all — but he would much rather be getting dinner or playing a friendly game of poker at someone’s house than sitting in a sterile, impersonal bar, surrounded by strangers whispering about the athletes who had taken over the space.

Nevertheless, he didn’t want to be that guy who turned down a team outing, which is why Will was shifting on his feet, half-listening as Macklin and Fabian argued over something to do with the teams' fantasy basketball league. His fingers tapped the side of the glass, slow beads of condensation dripping to his feet. Will’s gaze drifted over the crowded bar, the neon glow casting a hazy shimmer across the patrons.

Then, over Fabian’s shoulder, he saw you.

You were standing in the middle of the room, chatting with a friend, your fingers wrapped around a drink that glowed under the neon lights. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful — though, Jesus, were you. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you were effortless and composed told him you weren’t just some college kid sneaking in with a fake ID. You belonged here. Older, confident, and gorgeous in a way that made Will’s stomach tighten.

Will felt his fingers tighten around his drink. The ice clinked. He wasn’t sure if it was the way your lips curled slightly in amusement at something your friend said or the way your jewelry caught the light, but suddenly, he couldn’t look away.

“You good, bud?” Fabian asked, his voice cutting through Will’s daze. Will blinked, forcing himself to look away from you, unaware of the way he had completely tuned out of the conversation, but it was too late. Macklin turned and followed his gaze, grinning when he spotted the reason for Will’s sudden distraction.

“Ohhh no,” Macklin laughed. “Not again. You and older girls, man.”

Fabian breathed out a laugh, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean ‘again’?”

Macklin snorted, leaning in like he was about to let Fabian in on the best inside joke of all time. “Smitty’s got a thing for older ladies. It’s like, a pattern at this point.”

Will’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Mack—”

But Macklin was already in full storyteller mode. “No, seriously. It’s actually impressive. During training camp, he spent an entire charity event chatting with some reporter — what was her name? Megan? Melissa?”

“Madeline,” Will corrected before he could stop himself.

Macklin grinned like he’d won something. “Right, Madeline. She was like, pushing thirty, and our boy here was in love.”

“No way. You’ve got mommy issues?” he teased, leaning his weight against the bar with a smug expression.

Will scowled at the Swedish player. “I do not have mommy issues,” he shot back, his voice firm, though the way Fabian and Macklin exchanged glances only made their amusement grow.

“Dude, you might,” Fabian said, barely holding back his laughter. “It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.”

Macklin hummed in agreement. “Freud would have a field day with you.”

Will exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Can you both shut up?” He wasn’t even looking at them anymore, his attention already drifting back to where you stood. You had leaned in to say something to your friend, your laughter light and easy, and he could swear he felt it in his chest. You swerved through the crowd, moving to the other end of the bar from where Will, Macklin, and Fabian had set up camp.

Fabian, catching the way Will’s focus had shifted again, grinned. “Oh, he’s gone,” he said, nudging Macklin. “You thinking about making a move, lover boy?”

Will didn’t answer immediately. He knew they were waiting for some sheepish denial, some excuse, but the truth was, he was thinking about it.

He could already hear the chirps that would come if he got rejected, but what if he didn’t? What if you looked at him with the same quiet intrigue he felt pulling him toward you?

“Maybe,” he said finally, rolling his shoulders back like he was prepping for a faceoff.

Macklin made a sound of mock surprise. “No way. Is Will Smith — shy?”

Fabian smirked. “Nah, he’s just trying to figure out how to tell her he still has a bedtime.”

Will shot them both a glare before setting his drink down with a decisive clink. “You guys are the worst,” he muttered before stepping away.

Fabian and Macklin barely held in their laughter as they watched him go.

“Ten bucks says he fumbles,” Fabian said.

Macklin grinned. “You’re on.”

Will wove his way through the crowd, his pulse quickening with every step closer. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. He’d done harder things than this — skated in front of thousands, taken hits from guys twice his size, gone head-to-head with some of the best players in the league. And yet, somehow, walking up to you felt like a whole different kind of challenge.

By the time he reached your side of the bar, he still didn’t have a plan. Solid. Great start.

You noticed him before he could figure out what to say. Your eyes flicked to him, curious, like you were waiting to see if he was just passing by or if he had something to say.

Now or never.

“Hey,” he started, voice steady despite the way his brain scrambled for something smooth to follow up with.

Your lips curled slightly, amusement flickering across your face. “Hey,” you echoed, tipping your head.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting. The bar hummed around you, neon lights painting the scene in electric blues and reds, but for Will, everything had narrowed to just you and the expectant tilt of your head.

He needed to say something. Preferably something that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot.

“I, uh—” He scratched the back of his neck, already mentally cringing. Good start. “I saw you from over there, and I just—”

Your lips twitched. “And you just?”

Will’s mind scrambled, trying to steer the conversation away from the cliff he was about to drive it off. “And I just thought…” He let out a breath, regaining just enough composure to push forward. “I just thought it would be a shame if I didn’t come over and introduce myself.”

Your lips quirked, amused. “Oh? And who exactly am I being introduced to?”

“Will,” he said, his name falling a little too quickly from his lips, like he was trying to get ahead of himself before he could mess it up. “Will Smith.”

“Like the actor?”

Will exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Exactly like the actor.”

Your grin widened, and he caught the glint of your teeth under the neon glow. “That must be a pain.”

“You have no idea.”

You considered him for a moment, the neon glow catching the sharp angles of his face. Up close, he was undeniably good-looking — boyish, but not in a bad way.

There was something almost endearing about him, the way his features still carried that lingering trace of youth, all bright eyes and easy grins. He had the kind of face that wouldn’t look out of place on a college campus, fresh-faced and full of promise, but almost too young to be leaning against the bar like he belonged there.

Your gaze flickered over him, noting the way his jawline was sharp but not quite settled, like he was still growing into it. His confidence wavered just slightly, a split-second hesitation in his stance that made you wonder if he’d been carded at the door or if he’d just slipped past on sheer luck.

Still, there was a charm to him, an energy that made it hard to look away.

“I swear I had something good to say to you, but then you smiled at me, and now I can’t remember a single word. So… hi. That’s all I got.”

Your lips curved. He was trying, at least. But he didn’t have that seasoned ease of someone who truly belonged here. No, he had the slight stiffness of someone who was conscious of their presence, like he was waiting for someone to tap him on the shoulder and ask to see his ID again.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Will?” you asked, feigning curiosity.

You watched it land, the way his mouth opened slightly before he shut it again, his brain catching up with his reaction. He blinked, then let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. “That depends,” he said, leaning in slightly, his confidence rebounding just enough to take the bait. “Is it working?”

You smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Instead of answering, you let your gaze sweep over him again, slow and deliberate, before lifting your glass to your lips. You took a sip, savoring the way he followed the movement, eyes tracking you like he was bracing for your verdict.

You set your drink down, tilting your head slightly. “How old are you, Will?”

His response came fast. Too fast. “Twenty-one.”

It was rushed, a little too eager, and there was a telltale flicker of something in his eyes — uncertainty? Guilt? The kind of panic that came with trying a little too hard to sell a lie. The words wavered just enough to make you suspicious.

Your gaze flickered over him, taking in the baby face, the patchy facial hair, the way his shoulders squared like he was bracing himself.

“Hmm,” you murmured, pretending to consider it, but the smirk pulling at the corner of your lips betrayed you.

“You don’t believe me?” Will asked, his chest puffing out slightly as if that was what would convince you of his age.

You let the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Then, finally, you shrugged, lips curving. “I don’t know. You just seem very…” You trailed off, letting your gaze drag over him again. “…eager.”

He scoffed, recovering quickly. “What, and that’s a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.” You tilted your head. “Just makes me wonder what else you might be exaggerating.”

Will’s grin turned a little sharper, a little more playful. “Oh, I see how it is. You think I’m all talk.”

“I think you’re trying very hard to impress me.”

He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with challenge. “Is it working?”

And there it was — that boyish confidence that made you want to test him, just a little.

Instead of answering, you took a slow sip of your drink, letting him watch the movement, letting the anticipation build. When you finally set your glass down, you gave him an almost lazy smile. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Alright… well hypothetically, if it was working… what would happen next?"

Your lips curved, amused by his persistence. “Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.” His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before snapping back up to meet your eyes, and damn if that didn’t send a little thrill through you.

You pretended to consider it. “Well, I suppose I’d let you buy me a drink.”

Will’s smile widened. “I like where this is going.”

“And maybe, if you were really charming, I’d let you keep talking to me.”

“Oh, I can be really charming,” he assured you, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world. He raised a hand to flag down the bartender, doing it with such confidence that, for a moment, you almost believed he’d done this before. Almost enough to convince you of his age. Almost.

“What’re you having?” Will asked as the bartender made her way over to the two of you.

You leaned in just slightly, close enough to catch the faintest whiff of his cologne — clean, fresh, like something effortlessly expensive. “Surprise me.”

His lips quirked. “Dangerous game. What if I get you something awful?”

You shrugged, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “Then I’ll know you have terrible taste.”

Will let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Alright. No pressure.”

The bartender approached, and Will ordered with smooth confidence. A cheer from the other side of the bar muted his words, so the drink would be a surprise to you. You watched the way he carried himself, the way he leaned just enough to show he was comfortable but not overly cocky. He was trying. Not in an over-rehearsed way, but in a way that suggested he actually cared if you enjoyed his company.

As the bartender slid the drinks across the counter, Will pushed the faintly pink drink toward you with a flick of his fingers. “Moment of truth.”

You took a slow sip, letting the moment stretch, knowing he was watching you closely. The drink was smooth, well-balanced, with just the right amount of kick.

You hummed, setting it down. “Not bad. Maybe you do have taste.”

Will pressed a hand to his chest like you’d just granted him the highest honor. “High praise.”

You smirked, watching him. He was settling in now, shoulders looser, his easy confidence creeping back in full force. He thought he had you. You could see it in the way his grin turned a little sharper, in the way he tilted his head just so, like he was already picturing how this night would play out.

Poor thing.

You lifted your drink again, letting your gaze flick just past his shoulder for the briefest moment. And there they were.

Two blonds looking straight back at you.

It was almost comical how badly they were trying — and failing — to be subtle. The darker blond had taken the bold approach, openly staring, not even pretending to hide his amusement. The lighter blond, at least, had the decency to make it look like he was half-engaged in another conversation, but the sharp interest in his eyes gave him away.

You let the corner of your mouth tug upward before shifting your attention back to Will, who still had no idea.

“You’ve got fans,” you mused, taking another sip.

Will frowned slightly, clearly thrown off by the comment. “What?”

You tilted your chin, motioning subtly behind him. “Over your shoulder.”

His brows knitted together before he turned, just enough to catch sight of Fabian and Macklin. They made no effort to look away. Macklin had the audacity to raise his glass in a lazy toast, while Fabian mouthed something that looked like ‘you’re fumbling’.

Will exhaled sharply, turning back to you, shaking his head. “Of course.”

You rested your elbow on the bar, chin propped in your hand. “They always this invested in your love life?”

Will let out a dry laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “Only when they think they can embarrass me.”

��So… always?”

“Pretty much.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and maybe that was what did it. The way you looked at him right then, all playful mischief and effortless charm — it had Will reeling, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here but wasn’t about to complain.

You watched the moment Will made a choice.

The hesitation he’d shown earlier — just a flicker, just enough to amuse you — was gone. Whatever uncertainty had been there had been swallowed up by something steadier, something that almost made you forget why you’d doubted him in the first place.

He leaned in slightly, elbows on the bar, that easy smirk settling on his lips like it belonged there. “So, now that my charming personality has been thoroughly vetted,” he drawled, “are you gonna tell me what you think?”

You arched a brow. “About?”

He tilted his head, as if to say, Don’t play dumb. “Me.”

Confident. Bold. Maybe even a little cocky.

And, for the first time all night, you saw what he was really made of. The kid act was gone. This was Will choosing to stand his ground, to prove to you — to himself — that he belonged here.

You could’ve dragged this out longer, drawn out the game until it lost its shine. But you weren’t cruel, and the truth was, he’d earned a little honesty.

You let out a soft hum, tipping your glass toward him before taking a sip. Then you set it down and met his gaze, letting your smirk soften just slightly.  “How old are you really?”

Will’s brows furrowed, leaning back a little bit. “21, I told you.”

You cocked your head, dropping your voice just enough to make him sweat. “Uh-huh. So, if I asked to see your ID right now, it wouldn't say… what? Nineteen?”

Will hesitated. He knew exactly what you would find if he handed you his ID, which would be proof that Will was nineteen. It was barely a flicker — just the smallest hitch in his breath, the briefest shift in his expression — but you caught it. That hesitation was answer enough.

You leaned back and gave Will a soft smile. “Sorry, Will. You’re cute but I’m not about to get caught up with a kid.”

You slip off the stool, softly placing your hand on his shoulder — his undeniably solid shoulder — and give it a soft squeeze. You go to slip by Will, to head back to your friends, but you can feel the insistent blond hot on your heels. His hand — warm, insistent — curls around your wrist, not forcefully, but with just enough desperation to make your heart stutter.

You could have shaken him off. Could have pulled your wrist free with little more than a glance, but something in his grip — earnest, not forceful — made you pause. You turned back, brows lifted in question, and found Will staring at you with an intensity that almost made you reconsider walking away.

“I swear I’m not some dumb kid,” he says, his voice quiet but no less urgent. “I’m mature for my age.”

You can’t help but chuckle slightly. “That’s exactly what someone too young would say.” 

This doesn’t deter him. “C’mon. Give me… a game of pool,” he says, motioning to the green tables in the corner of the room. “Give me a game to show you I’m not a kid. That I’m worth your time.”

You sigh, letting your eyes flicker over him one more time. Will's confidence is unwavering, but there’s something else there too—a challenge, maybe even a plea. And damn it, you’ve always had a soft spot for reckless confidence.

“Fine,” you say, shaking your head. “One game. But if I win, you have to stop following me around like a lost puppy.”

A grin spreads across Will’s face, a little lopsided, a little cocky. “And if I win?”

You arch a brow. “You won’t.”

His grin only widens. “Guess we’ll see.”

He releases your wrist as you step toward the pool table, watching carefully as Will rolls up his sleeves,  revealing the veins that snake across his forearms. He moves to grab a cue, but you stop him with a teasing hum.

“Nuh-uh. Rack ‘em up first, kid.”

He groans, dragging a hand through his tousled blond hair. “You’re not gonna let that name go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” You pick out a cue stick, giving it a testing spin in your hand as Will racks the balls. “You play a lot?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he says, sending you a glance from beneath his lashes. “But I guess you’ll have to find that out yourself.”

You snort, lining up for the break. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

“Not when I see something I want.”

You break the rack with a sharp crack, watching as the balls scatter. Two stripes drop into pockets. You straighten, catching Will’s eyes. “Looks like I get to keep shooting.”

His gaze flicks from the table to you, amusement dancing in his expression. “Guess I’m gonna have to distract you, then.”

You tilt your head, giving him a slow, assessing once-over. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Will steps closer, invading your space just enough to make your breath hitch. He leans against the table, his voice dropping into something smoother, softer. “I could start by telling you how good you look in that blue top.”

You shake your head with a smirk, considering your options on the table. “Flattery won’t change the score, Will.”

“No,” he murmurs, watching you line up your next shot. “But it might make you miss.”

Damn it. You sink the next stripe but nearly scratch in the process. Will chuckles, clearly pleased with himself, and moves around the table as you reluctantly hand over the cue ball.

“You’re trouble,” you mutter.

He smirks, bending to take his shot, his voice low and teasing. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. The game continues, and so does the banter — Will making playful jabs, you tossing them right back. He’s good, better than you expected, and when he finally sinks the eight ball with a triumphant grin, he straightens, twirling the cue between his fingers.

“Well?” he asks, stepping closer again, his blue eyes bright with mischief. “What do I win?”

You purse your lips, pretending to think before tapping a finger against his chest lightly. “You get to buy me a drink and maybe I’ll give you my time for a few more minutes.”

Will grins, pushing past the way your choice of words wasn’t completely giving in to him. He gestures toward the bar, his voice casual, but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “You know, I’m starting to think you might actually enjoy hanging out with me, despite my 'kid' status.”

You raise an eyebrow as you follow him back toward the bar, where the neon lights cast a colorful glow across the wood surface. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Will. One game doesn’t change much.”

He laughs, low and amused, as he orders another round. You take the drink, swirling it lightly in your hand, watching the liquid catch the light. Will’s sincerity catches you off guard. He’s easy to dismiss at first glance — young, confident, and a bit cocky — but there’s more to him. You lean against the bar, giving him a sidelong glance.

The conversation takes on a different tone after that. You start asking more questions, genuinely curious about his life—his plans, his passions, the things that keep him up at night. And with each answer, you find yourself drawn in, surprised by how much you’re actually enjoying the conversation. His intelligence is sharp, his humor subtle but quick, and his determination is something you can’t help but respect.

Meanwhile, back at the pool tables where they had set up earlier to eavesdrop, Macklin and Fabian exchange looks, baffled by how long you’ve been gone and how animated your conversation with Will seems.

“You think she’s actually into him?” Fabian asks, incredulity in his voice.

Macklin shrugs, glancing back at you and Will. “Or he is way better than we think.”

The night carries on, and as the conversation with Will deepens, you find yourself captivated in ways you didn't expect. He's no longer just a cocky kid in a bar; there’s a subtle confidence in the way he speaks, a maturity beneath the surface that keeps you intrigued. The more he opens up, the more you realize there’s a depth to him, a sincerity that makes you hesitate at the thought of cutting things short.

“So,” you start, leaning in just enough to close the gap between the two of you, your tone soft but probing. “What do you really want, Will? I mean, you’ve been pretty persistent tonight.”

He doesn't hesitate, his smile morphing into something more genuine, less teasing. “I want to prove I’m not a joke. I want you to see that I’m not just some... kid with a crush.” His voice is steady, serious even, and it makes you pause for a moment. The playful edge he’s been hiding all night fades, replaced by something much more earnest.

You arch a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “So you’re not just here to win a bet or get me to give you my number?”

“No,” he answers without a hint of doubt. “I’m not playing some game. I’m serious.”

The honesty in his words makes your breath catch. You set your glass down with a soft clink, suddenly aware of how much closer you’re standing to him, the buzz of the bar fading into the background. Maybe it’s the way his breath is almost mingling with yours, or the drinks were starting to take their full effect, but you decide the night had reached its end.

“I think this is my cue.”

Will’s smile falters, but only just. “Y’don’t have to go just yet.”

You sigh, stepping back slightly. “It’s getting late. I’m sure it’s well past your bedtime anyways.”

He smirks, shaking his head, but his eyes stay locked on yours, warm and insistent. “Can I at least get your number then?”

You hesitate. Your mind races, trying to remind yourself why this is a bad idea. The age difference. The fact that he’s so damn persistent. But something in the way he looks at you, something in his voice that softens with the request, makes you give in.

You pass him your phone, feeling a strange sense of anticipation build in your chest. Will’s fingers brush yours as he takes it, and he types in his number with careful precision. He hands it back to you with a grin. “There. Now we can talk when you’re not busy pretending I’m a child.”

You snort, pocketing the phone as you turn to head for the door. Will insists on walking you outside and waiting with you for your Uber. The night air is cool, and as you wait, your conversation continues. 

Will keeps stealing glances at you, his eyes flickering down to your lips like he’s already picturing what it would be like to kiss you. You notice, of course you do, but you pretend not to, keeping your expression unreadable even as amusement dances behind your gaze.

The silence stretches between you, charged and heavy, until Will finally gives in with a low chuckle. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You bite back a smile, exhaling softly before shaking your head. “You’re sweet, Will,” you say, voice warm but firm. “But I think we both know that’s not the best idea.”

His lips part slightly, like he wants to argue, but then he stops himself, nodding once. He doesn’t push, doesn’t whine or beg. Instead, he steps back just a fraction, his smirk returning — though this time, there’s something softer underneath. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Your Uber pulls up, headlights cutting through the dim glow of the streetlights. You reach for the door, pausing just long enough to give Will one last look. “Goodnight, Will.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Goodnight. For now.”

You shake your head, unable to hide your grin as you slip into the car. The moment the door shuts, you release a quiet breath, letting yourself relax against the seat. Your phone buzzes just as the car pulls away, and when you glance down, Will’s name lights up your screen.

Will: you know, if you ever get tired of being old, i’m happy to make you feel young again ;)

You snorted, shaking your head as you typed back.

You: bold for a baby. goodnight, will.

As you shut your phone off, you couldn't help but smile. You can’t deny it — there’s something about him that keeps pulling you back in. Despite the age gap, despite everything. You just hope you’re not making a mistake.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?” 

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you.  She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

~

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, ���we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

[bee-the-loser-recs]

✩✮✩ My Jaemin One-shot Fic Recs ✩✮✩

★ Drippin' By @ncteez 16.2k, NCT Dream 00' line x reader, non-specified au, close friends, birthday sex, smut, technically polyamorous, messy, slight fluff, comedy, teasing

★ Subtle By @ncteez 10.9k, established relationship, summer vacation au, college setting, fluff, smut, mentions of the other dream members, pet names

★ Paper rings By @suhnshinehaos 3.6k, childhood friends to lovers, non-idol au, following their life together from 10 to 25, fluff, marriage proposals (multiple times; one genuine), really cute

★ Quarantine Chronicles 1, part 2, part 3 By @domjaehyun 28.5k & 55.3k & 43k, Quarantine au, Jaemin | Jaehyun | Jungwoo | Johnny | Mark | (Jeno | Haechan in part 3 only) x reader, roommates (except Mark), friends with benefits situation, lots of tension & flirting, smut, slight fluff, crack, Jaehyun & Mark have actual feelings for reader

★ Hush Hush By @domjaehyun 19.5k, Jeno|Jaemin|Haechan x reader, college au, friends to lovers??, sleepovers, smut, foursome, mentions of friends Mark & Renjun

★ Breakfast By @markiemelon Drabble, college au, friends to lovers, staying round at your friends house, Jaemin is bad at cooking, fluff, really soft and cute

★ The walls are thin By @springseasonie 7.4k, Jeno x reader x Jaemin, roommates au, flirting, chasing in a sense, playing hard to get, smut, threesome, walls are paper thin

★ I'm a mouse, duh! By @springseasonie 8.3k, Jeno x reader x Jaemin, roommates au, Halloween party, sexy costumes, Nomin in police costumes, reader in a mouse costume, straight up smut

★ Dating Na Jaemin By @lqfiles Drabbles/Headcannons, scenarios in relation to dating Jaemin, fluff, slight jealousy, really cute

★ Jeno x reader x Jaemin drabble By @jenosbigtoe Established relationship, polyamory, straight up smut, kind of phone sex, drabble, nsfw

★ Relationship with Jaemin & Jeno w/Renjun By @vanesycho 1.7k, polyamorous, established relationship between Jaemin & reader & Jeno, Renjun is attracted to reader, smut

★ Random Jaemin bf texts By @gisellesillusion SMAU, established relationship, texts between reader & bf!Jaemin, mentions of college au, friends Mark & Jeno, jokes about Nomin, fluffy, sweet

★ Strawberry cough By @hazyhae 9.1k, unspecified au, plug Jaemin, Shotaro is reader's bestie, Shotaro is also a plug, smut, fwb to lovers, fluff, jealousy, pining, flirting

★ Sour tangie By @hazyhae 6.3k, established relationship, part 2 to Strawberry cough, plug Jaemin, smut, friends NCT Dream, fluff, jealousy, weed usage, possessive Jaemin

★ Crayon confessions By @jishyucks 2.2k, friends/coworkers to lovers, fluff, both Jaemin & reader work at the local community centre, really cute, mentions of the kids, developing feelings, adorable

★ Cat and mouse By @tyonfs 17.7k, college au, basketball player Jaemin, Jaehyun is reader's brother, brother's friend trope, smut, fluff, crack, friends with benefits, Jaemin pushes reader away out of guilt

★ Besties (gone sexual) By @tyonfs 43.4k, college au, part of a series of one-shots, coming of age, best friends to lovers, jealousy, friends NCT Dream, smut, fluff, angst, slow burn, Jaemin has douchebag tendencies, slight love triangle

★ [01:34] Your ceiling fell By @from-izzy 2.5k, established relationship, non-idol au, hot summer months setting, reader's house is too hot, last minute dates, cuddling together, so cute & caring

★ Hey Angel By @sincerelyneo 3.7k, non-specified au, friends to lovers, slightly drunk Jaemin, pet names, smut, slight possessiveness, phone sex

★ Pink pen By @lovesuhng 1.1k, college au, medical student Jaemin, studying in the library, excuses to talk to one another, fluff, slight pining, strangers to lovers, really cute, a glitter pen

★ Drippin' By @neowinestainedress 18.2k, Haechan x reader (x Mark, Jaemin, Jeno), established relationship between Haechan & reader, smut, fivesome, innocent & dumb reader

★ Sweet deception By @neowinestainedress 19.5k, Haechan|Yuta|Jaehyun|Jaemin|Johnny|Jeno x reader, halloween party, smut, monsterfucking, demon Haechan, fairy Jaemin, incusub Jeno, tentacle monster Yuta, ghost Jaehyun, shadow Johhny, smut, plot twist

★ Rock, paper, scissors By @neowinestainedress 11.7k, Johnny|Jaehyun|Jeno|Jaemin x reader, best friends au, smut, fivesome, sexual tension, teasing, childhood friends to lovers?, summer holiday

★ Can you handle it? By @neowinestainedress 12.4k, Johnny|Jaehyun|Jeno|Jaemin x reader, part 2 to rock, paper, scissors, smut, discussing kinks, sexual tension, dirty talk, best friends to possible lovers?

★ He gets jealous over some guy By @jaeminvore SMAU, jealousy, established relationship, suggestive comments, slightly insane Jaemin, a random guy is staring at reader

★ Just so you know By @sluttyten 20.9k, Jeno x reader x Jaemin, friends to lovers, slight established relationship with Jeno, polyamory, smut, slight fluff, love triangle to polyamory, threesome

★ Quiet down By @sluttyten 1.7k, established relationship, freshly out of the shower, Jaemin likes sniffing reader, smut, sex while on the phone, slight fluff, mentions of them going on holiday with a friends

★ J.Crew By @sluttyten 11.4k, Johnny|Jeno|Jaemin|Jaehyun|Jungwoo x reader, sixsome, smut, idol NCT, reader has an unnamed brother in NCT, clubbing, flirting, sexual tension, mentions of romantic interest

★ Pouring hearts By @ch3rryd0ll 5.5k, Jeno x reader x Jaemin, bar owner Jeno, bartenders Jaemin & reader, polyamory arrangement, falling in love, soft, smut, fluff

[stevesgother]

I Don't Want You Like A Bestfriend - S.H

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.3k

Warnings - mentions of anxiety, reader not liking large gatherings, swearing, alcohol (reader works at a bar). As always, let me know if I missed anything!

AN - Part 2 of the Dress mini series! This could technically be a standalone fic, but for the full context I would recommend reading part 1 :) 

Dress Series - Pt 1, Pt 2

December 1987

2 bowls of popcorn and 4 movies later, you’re laying on opposite ends of your twin bed with your best friend; gossiping lazily with droopy eyelids.

“I cannot go to their wedding without a date, Rob.” looking at her exasperated, “That’s like, totally embarrassing! Steve’s gonna have this Madonna-ey, bombshell blonde and with giant boobs and I'm gonna bring who? My cousin? Not happening.” You say with finality.

“Well forgive me,” Robin deadpans. “I only know like,” She gestures dramatically, trying to count in her head, “7 boys!”

May 1985

Immediately upon opening your eyes, you’re met with the blinding pain of your too big brain bouncing around inside your skull and a foreboding sense of dread upon recalling the way you behaved the night before.

You could only remember bits and pieces of the wretched night, but you were humiliated nonetheless. Had you said something you shouldn’t have? Your stomach churns at the thought and briefly you fear you might yak again.

A few weeks later, you were walking the stage, diploma in hand. Steve had broken up with Nancy Wheeler the week following prom. Feigning some bullshit about him leaving for college; not wanting to do long distance. Those cliche, overused excuses that everyone knows loosely translate to “I don’t love you anymore.”

Steve didn’t even get into tech, unbeknownst to Nancy. He was dodgy when you asked him about their breakup. “I just felt like we didn’t make sense anymore, you know? But it-” he sighed, “it’s just, it’s not like I could say that to her.” 

You didn’t want to push the subject further, despite your bewilderment. Part of you felt desperately guilty at the idea that you may have been the catalyst for what happened to their relationship. You didn’t dare ask, though. Maybe you didn’t want to know, or maybe you just didn’t want to make it about yourself. 

December 1987

The Wandering Dog was especially busy tonight. Folks trying to escape their in-laws for a few hours during the holiday season, college kids home for break trying to get wasted; and all of it was your problem. The pay was nice, you made good tips bartending. Right as you watch someone knock over an entire tray of drinks, a familiar head of hair makes its way to sit in front of you at the bar. Distracting, but not enough to suppress the groan that leaves your throat when it dawns on you that those drinks are your mess to clean up later.

“Steve-o,” you force a smile at him, “what can I do for ya on this..lovely evening?”

“Can’t a guy visit his favorite lady without needing a reason?” He lilts.

You try not to let on how flustered you feel at his usage of ‘favorite lady’. 

“You hate this bar, you’re also technically banned-” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand “Still? Seriously? It was one time-” Your turn to interrupt, “No actually, year prior? That was your first warning.” You’re met with a roll of the eyes, forgetting how utterly sassy he’s become in the last few years. You can’t decide whether you love or hate the development.

“I actually uh,” he runs a hand through his hair- a nervous habit, “I wanted to ask you something,”. You look at him quizzically, unable to pinpoint what's caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Okay…” you draw out the last syllable, more confused than unkind. “Spill it Hairspray, you’re kind of freaking me out.” you give an awkward chuckle. Your friendship is hardly what you’d consider serious. Sure, you’ve had your share of late night, existential conversations; but you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve made the other actually nervous.

He clears his throat, “sorry yeah, sorry. I was wondering uh, ifyouwouldbemydatetojoyceandhopperswedding.”

The rest of his sentence comes out as one jumbled word. You do a double take when you finally process what he’s asking, and you choke a little on the Coke you were sipping. “What?-”

“-As friends!” he blurts loudly as his hands shoot out in front of him in a defensive gesture, “obviously, as friends. That’s- what I meant.” his words lose confidence every time he opens his mouth.

You stare for a little too long, mouth hanging open like a trout. “You don’t..already have a date?” You hope he doesn’t take offense to the inquiry. Steve Harrington can most certainly find a plus one to a simple wedding.

“Yeah I- something like that,” his mouth opens like he’s going to explain further before deciding against it; settling on a lopsided smile instead. He’s terrified he’s blown his cover. If he had given any effort at all to the endeavor, surely he would’ve been able to find a date. Fancy car, rich parents, million dollar smile and his infallible charm. The problem was that he didn’t want to go with another Heidi. Another Jessica. Another Stacy.

He wanted to go with you.

Even if it meant just as friends. You two were just friends.

-

Joyce and Hopper’s wedding was at Pokagon State Park, and the drive up was less than stellar. 3 hours stuffed inside a cramped BMW with Robin, Eddie, and Vickie. You were fortunate enough to be riding shotgun next to Steve for the trip, Eddie muttering something about ‘date privilege’.

When you arrived at the cabin you’d be sharing with your 4 friends, you were a little mortified. There was a room for Vickie and Robin, and Eddie claimed the pullout couch almost immediately. This leaves one more room. With one bed. For you and Steve Harrington. It’s possible Joyce may have misinterpreted the reality of your situation when booking the rooming accommodations.

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it. You guys had had sleepovers before, but almost never in the same bed. His house had a plethora of guest bedrooms, and your father would be found dead before he let a boy sleep in your room, even at the ripe age of 20.

We’re adults, you think. We can be mature about this.

There isn’t much time to dwell on it before you’re being stuffed by Robin into a too tight, wine red bridesmaid dress.

“I feel sick,” you say, groaning. “Do not barf on me,” she warns with a stern look, though you can tell she’s not really annoyed. “I really like these shoes.” Despite the itchy fabric of the dress and the obnoxiously loud color, you do look breathtakingly beautiful. Red has always been your color. 

“Hey dingus! Stop gawking and zip me would you?” Robin lightly kicks you with her bare foot, taking you out of your own head. When you exit the bathroom, you’re immediately met with the 2 boys. Even Eddie, who you don’t believe you’ve ever seen not in ripped jeans, cleans up nice.

Steve looks…strapping. Not handsome in the boyish way you’re used to. He’s all slicked hair, cufflinks and well-pressed wool. He meets your gaze and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly. An arm is offered to walk you to his car. He smells like cinnamon and cedar, woodsy and spice. He opens the passenger door for you and God, he’s a gentleman.

It’s going to be a long night.

- 

The venue was terribly charming. Floor to ceiling windows highlight the snow falling outside in big, fat flakes over the water. The room was lit entirely by yellow string lights, casting a permanent warm hue over the lodge.

On a table clad in lace, there were 5 notecards scribbled on in cursive ink. The one that adorned your name was directly adjacent to one that read Steve Harrington. They were paired with party favors wrapped neatly with a white silk bow.

Steve wanted to pull out your chair for you. He wanted to sit beside you with his hand in yours. Hell, he would’ve bought you a corsage if he thought it appropriate. A death by a thousand cuts; he was again reminded of the fact that you were not his, and he was not yours.

You were unable to identify the source of the nagging anxiety you felt. You were never partial to big gatherings like this, but the unease you were experiencing now was different. All you could do was relax, and try to enjoy the reception. Try not to pay mind to the stark, masculine presence sitting beside you.

The newlyweds’ first dance was to the beloved ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ By INXS. You think about how remarkably fitting a song it was for them and everything they had endured together. The restlessness you had previously felt started to steadily fade after that; laughing and chatting with your friends. It started to feel..normal, for a while.

Just then, like some sick esoteric joke, you hear the unmistakable beginning notes of ‘I’ll Be Over You’ by Toto. When you turn to your left, Steve has a poorly concealed, shit-eating grin on his face.

In the most sober tone he can muster through his unseriousness, he asks, “Can I have this dance?” while extending his hand to you. He prays you don’t notice it trembling slightly. It’s the undeniable corniness of his request that manages to strangle a laugh out of you.

 “I thought you’d never ask.”

With one hand delicately placed on your hip, he threads the other one with your own fingers as he starts to sway. You clumsily try to match his rhythm; so nervous that you’re becoming uncoordinated. His chest is nearly touching yours, and your noses are a hairsbreadth apart. It feels profoundly intimate.

'as soon as forever is through, I'll be over you.'

He leans his head down so his lips just brush your ear as he whispers, “You okay?”

You scoff, unconvincingly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You know he can see right through you. It’s fruitless to try and deceive him.

“You just seem,” he gives your waist a small squeeze, “a little tense.” You swallow hard.

“Just say the word and I'll take you home.” ‘Home’ meaning back to the cabin. Not the comforting safety of your own bed back in Hawkins. You appreciate his earnestly either way.

“I know, Steve.” you lilt, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment with a teasing tone. You rest your head against his shoulder, if only so you don’t have to keep holding his all-consuming gaze.

-

Despite the thermostat being set at a comfortable 75 degrees, you were still shivering slightly. You always ran cold. You stood in front of a dusty vanity mirror trying to extend your arms behind your back far enough to unzip this godforsaken dress.

You felt him more than you saw him. Steve’s presence displaces the air in the room as one does to water when they sink down into a steaming bath: noticeably, and comfortably. You pay him no mind as you continue to struggle with the zipper. Mulling around the same room; busy with your separate tasks, this was familiar to you. Not often did you have to acknowledge the other for them to know you were grateful for their company.

“Need a hand with that?” he asks, slightly amused as he saunters over to you.

You hesitate for a moment before looking over your shoulder and offering him a shy smile, “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind?” You know he doesn’t.

His scent envelopes you like a thick fog when he approaches you. His calloused fingers pinch the clasp and pull it down its tracks slowly. The sound is piercing in the quiet of your shared room; your senses dialed up to 11. You can feel his warm, freshly minty breath fan over your shoulders and the nape of your neck. Your arms erupt in goosebumps at the sensation.

He stands there, he realizes, longer than he needs to. 

“Okay I’m gonna-” “There you go-” you both speak at the same time. 

You huff an awkward breath of a laugh before you finish your thought, “I’m gonna..go change.” you throw a thumb behind you in the direction of the ensuite. “Right, yeah,” he shakes his head as if to escape his own thoughts; his turn to act shy.

-

Lying in bed, you’re suddenly grateful that Steve has always been something of a personal space heater. The warmth he radiates makes you want to curl into him, against your better judgment. The silence in the room is deafening; the only sounds to be heard are rhythmic breathing and the creaking of the ancient plumbing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, no doubt from the boisterous singing he’d been doing earlier in the evening. Still, you’re grateful for the crack in the wall that's been plastered between you.

“I like secrets,”

“I hate weddings.”

The stiff fabric of the pillowcase crinkles as you turn your head to look at him.

“I am happy for them, it’s not that,” he starts, “it’s just, what if it’s never me up there ya know?”  It’s not that he’s scared he’ll never marry; it’s that he’s scared he’ll never marry you.

You want to reach out for him then. Hold his face in your hands and tell him you understand. There are so many unspoken words between you. Things unsaid, but implied. The desire to yell and scream and confess how much you love him is overwhelming.

“Steve. You’re only twenty,” smiling lightheartedly, “there’s so much time for you. There are plenty of women out there that would be delighted to swear themselves to you for eternity. Believe me.” You chuckle and pretend like the reason you know that to be the truth isn’t because you’re one of them.

“I know, I know,” he brings a hand up to card through his bed mussed hair, “you’re right, it’s silly.”

“I didn’t say it was silly,” you elbow his side gently, consequently moving your body closer to his.

He doesn’t say anything then. Instead, his hand cautiously moves over the bed until it’s touching yours; intertwining your pinkies. He doesn’t breathe, as if any sudden movements might scare you like a frightened doe. If he breathes, you might remember you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“If we’re not married by the time we’re,” he pretends to ponder, “32, will you marry me?”

You laugh, the unexpected loudness of it making you cringe a little, “yes,”

“Promise?” He sounds deadly serious.

You tighten your pinky around his, “Promise.”

[saeist]

my personal touya headcanons (yes i will make full on fics n drabbles with these in mind):

CHRONIC manspreader. literally takes up a whole love couch with the way he spreads his legs

can drive but gets motion sick easily so counting on him for a 2+ hour roadtrip? yeah pull over we’re switching seats

damaged hair from the constant dyeing but that won’t stop this baddie from dyeing it jet black every 2 weeks

only runs on 4 separate hours of sleep and snores like a truck. (u’ll need earplugs)

surprisingly tidy in regards to his room only because rei comes and checks their rooms and if its all messy they’ll get their asses whooped

doesn’t smoke cigarettes BUT has a box of disposables/juuls hidden in his sock drawer (GOD FORBIDS rei finds his stash)

^ in addition to that, contrary to popular belief his plug is unironically natsuo..

loves icy berry related related flavors too LMFAO

is supposed to be a junior in college on paper but since he keeps dropping and switching majors, he’s technically still a freshman

^ is currently taking chemical engineering (took business ad, computer science, finance, nursing (💀) and literally god knows what. his college majors that he dropped is between him, endeavor and god now)

since he’s competitive as fuck and is a perfectionist, took up multiple sports and extra curriculars growing up

prefers soggy cereal

drinks a lot but lightweight as fuck. after one bottle he’s out 💡 but that won’t stop him from drinking more!

knows how to braid girls hair thanks to fuyumi

cats warm up to him on the street cus he’s warm n shit

prettiest resting face but makes the ugliest faces known to man just for the sake of it (still pulls)

doesn’t approach girls, girls approach him

scares them away when he’s all like 😐🧍🏻

hooded eyelids + long eyelshes (both top and bottom)

genuinely starts tweaking when people say he got endeavor’s eyes solely bc hes a momma’s boy..

grew up being SPOILED rotten amongst his siblings so he doesn’t take no for an answer and will actually start stomping his feet

once he opens his mouth however.. everyone is gonna know he’s endeavors son fr 😓

keigo is his closest irl friend but tomura is who he considers as his best friend even if they’re only internet friends

has a basic pc set up and plays valorant fortnite and roblox religiously

shits on children especially shoto and his two friends

once babysat the three of them in exchange for concert tickets

did i mention he has an indie rock emo band he formed when he was in high school? yeah

bassist obviously but sometimes he plays drums

will scare rei out of her wits when he would just magically appear on their couch when he’s supposed to be at his university

his room is in the attic

dresses like hes going to an opium concert but rei makes him change before they leave to go to church so ultimately he dresses up like a cottagecore mf but with piercings and box dye jet black hair

almost broke natsuo’s hand when he first got his nose piercing

embodies the trope of “best friends older brother”

has a soft spot for grandmas and will help them cross the road each time

picks up shoto from school with his beat up hand me down car. literally one slam on the break away from breaking (endeavor gave it to him as his 18th birthday present)

sometimes ends up driving shoto’s friends home too if shoto insists (more like demands)

will also intentionally go through a drive-thru and the kids in the backseat are expecting him to ask them what they want but touya just gets whatever the fuck he was craving, pays and leaves

“we got food at home!” - touya to a enraged shoto

also sometimes touya is shoto’s chaperone or the “parent” that goes to those parent teacher meetings when its time for get shotos report card and will deliberately say shoto has failing grades when shoto is part of the honor roll just to again, fuck with him

shamelessly flirts with the girls natsuo brings home just to fuck with him (he gets sucker punched later that night bc at the end of the day, natsuo is bigger than that man 😭)

when all the todosibs are fighting, nobody listens to him even if he’s the eldest. they all end up ganging up on him (fuyumi doesn’t stop shit, in fact she instigates further. she don’t play)

says he hates winter and likes summer more but whenever its summer time if he could he would live inside the freezer

hates the feeling of sweating 😮‍💨

sometimes goes on days without showering only popping a lil deodorant here and there so rei forces him to shower whenever he just so happened to pass by her

cooks decent meals but shoto hates it and intentionally makes gagging noises whenever he finds out touya was in charge of cooking that night

hates doing the dishes and fools shoto into doing it for him

when he goes on dates, he steals endeavors credit card and just pays for everything. will probably even take you to nobu just to do so

attempts to blame natsuo when endeavor caught on since his card decline at the supermarket but unfortunately touya cannot lie to save his own life even if he tried

OH! talks MAD game in bed but has never touched a woman in his life.. painfully a virgin. u have to teach this man PLEASEE 🙏

likes yeat and carti

basically teenager borderline adult core

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

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

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[sanguineterrain]

redamancy | steve harrington

Summary: redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings/tags: friends to lovers, 5+1 fic format, no use of y/n, FLUFF, PINING PINING, injured s4 steve, hospital setting, general vecna angst (eddie's alive bc i will never kill eddie in my fics), bed sharing, happy ending, and kissing. if that wasn't clear. :)

A/N: fun fact: this is the first time i've written a 5+1 fic! technically it's 4+1 but whatevs. if you enjoy this fic, please give it a reblog and support your local steve harrington tumblrina.

divider by firefly-graphics

i. the promise 

"Would you ever get married?" 

You open your eyes. The setting sun nearly blinds you through the windshield. Immediately, you stick out a hand to block it. 

You're still reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, because Steve's fancy schmancy BMW can do that. He frequently lectures you about doing it while he's driving. Have I taught you nothing? Road safety! 

"I mean, I guess so," you say. "If someone ever wants to put a ring on me."

You sit up and pull down the sun visor. Steve turns. His hair lightens in the summer, shades of reddish blond peeking through. He insists his hair has never been anything but brown, fiercely pledging his allegiance to brunettes. You coo at his highlights all the same. 

"I want to," he says after a minute. "I wanna get married." 

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin. 

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago." 

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve." 

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten. 

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask. 

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious. 

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer." 

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me." 

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?" 

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say. 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up. 

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth. 

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth. 

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look. 

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why. 

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says. 

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with. 

"Let's make a pact," you say softly. 

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage." 

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks. 

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say. 

"I can't wait till I'm thirty." 

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?" 

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat. 

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do. 

"Do you mean it?" he asks. 

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart. 

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night." 

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve. 

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you. 

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb. 

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away. 

ii. the wound 

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow. 

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though. 

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep. 

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far. 

She looks away, and your not-smile falls. 

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly. 

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die. 

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that. 

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears. 

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—" 

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her. 

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand. 

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long." 

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening. 

So he did. And now you're here. 

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better. 

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead. 

"Come sit," you say. 

"I need to see him," he tells you. 

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita. 

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait. 

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all. 

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels. 

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway. 

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly. 

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does." 

She holds out her hand. 

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there." 

God, are you really that obvious? 

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter. 

Steve’s eyes lock with yours. 

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats. 

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you? 

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side. 

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you. 

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour. 

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared." 

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you." 

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him. 

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't." 

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his. 

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks. 

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.” 

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve. 

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair. 

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly. 

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks. 

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers. 

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say. 

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve. 

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says. 

You scoff. "More like the other way around." 

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van. 

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks. 

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters. 

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops. 

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat. 

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve. 

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment." 

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded. 

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests. 

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years. 

But this? This is way, way beyond that. 

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair. 

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always. 

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording. 

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve. 

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly. 

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time. 

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke. 

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick. 

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks. 

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection. 

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already." 

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again. 

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs. 

God, you’re never living this down. 

“Y’okay?” 

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip. 

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin. 

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight. 

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation. 

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question. 

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you." 

He relaxes. 

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh." 

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not. 

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there. 

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks. 

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face. 

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed. 

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent. 

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you. 

"Do you think he'll come back?" 

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though. 

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight. 

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married. 

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars. 

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness. 

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light. 

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you. 

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you? 

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper. 

Steve squeezes your hand harder. 

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles. 

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?" 

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again. 

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says. 

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says. 

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive. 

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him. 

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair. 

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for. 

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away. 

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you. 

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly. 

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man." 

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart. 

You smile. Steve shakes his head. 

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart. 

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven." 

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?" 

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle. 

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you. 

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again. 

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established. 

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him. 

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot. 

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity. 

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back. 

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat. 

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty. 

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses. 

Now you know: tenderly. 

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise. 

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you. 

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say. 

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times. 

You hope you’ll lose track at some point.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! Do you have any fic recs where Derek and Scott are brothers (or at least very closely related)? Thanks in advance! You’re great <3

Sure thing!

little spoon by bibliosexual

(2/2 I 6,455 I Teen I Sterek)

To save money while attending college in NYC, Stiles and Derek decide to rent one tiny apartment together. With one bed.

as dear as a brother by endversed

(10/10 I 10,385 I Explicit I Sterek)

“You are not allowed to sleep with him,” Scott says.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Stiles scoffs.

Stiles and Scott become best friends at college. Derek is Scott's hot older brother.

Please Don't Say You Love Me ('Cause I Might Not Say It Back) by Tamyou

(17/17 I 36,829 I Mature I Sterek)

'Derek glanced at Stiles, who's smile dissolved into a light frown. He moved his hands again, and Derek flicked his eyes back to Sheriff Stilinski, silently asking for help. The Sheriff took a few steps forwards.

"Stiles is mute." He said.'

AU in which Stiles is mute and Derek is a college drop out.

Got To Get You Into My Life by NekoAliceYamiYaoi

(27/27 I 89.314 I Teen I Sterek)

While on summer vacations with his best friend, Stiles never thought that he would fall for Scott's step-brother, the devilish handsome Derek. At the same time Scott feels a little attracted to his brother's best friend, Isaac.

But We're Still Sleeping Like We're Lovers by CharWright5

(15/15 I 109,744 I Explicit I Sterek)

There are several things Stiles Stilinski knows to be facts: he's a werecoyote like his parents; his twin sister Malia could use a filter more than him; he's an Omega and terrified of his upcoming heat; and Derek Hale-McCall will never see him as anything more than his kid brother's best friend. Doesn't stop Stiles from asking the Alpha to help him during his heat. Or from developing some serious feelings that go beyond the bedroom. Basically, he's totally screwed, in more ways than one.

Unforgettable by Sallyasher1994

(18/18 I 161,510 I Explicit I Sterek)

“No, I guess not,” Stiles shakes his head distractedly, “What’s this about anyway?” What was it about? Had his dad called and complained about his attitude over the phone? Technically it was made from a work station but it was a personal phone call. He can’t get in trouble for that right? Then Stiles thought about how his stand in boss had mentioned Derek. Derek who is in Beacon Hills right now. Within driving distance of his father. All alone. Without his scrawny, children’s book comparison of a husband to defend him. Stiles felt his heart sink with dread. What had his dad done?

“Everyone get your go bags, we’re heading to Beacon Hills,” - Derek and Stiles are married and work for the FBI, with Scott, Stiles best friend and Derek’s brother. Stiles has always struggled with his father hating Derek, but he never thought it would culminate in the man arresting Derek for several murders. Stiles and Scott have to take the team to their home now and see if they can not only free Derek, but also catch a killer, and do it before anyone else gets hurt… they can’t do all three.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures In Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: You haven’t been babysitting Dustin for very long. Underestimating his tendencies for rebellious behavior, you realize too late that he’s snuck out, with your dire search for the boy leading you to the last place you wanted to be: Steve Harrington’s house.

Content warning: swearing, inter-dimensional demogorgon bullshit, kind of strangers to friends to lovers (not necessarily all in this chapter), stancy, slow burn

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s note: This is my first fic and it isn’t super original; it pretty much sticks to the plot of the show, but adds you to the mix! I tend to like fics that put the reader directly into the Stranger Things universe, demogorgons and all, so this chapter roughly follows Steve’s involvement in season 1 episode 8 when he goes to the Byers’ residence. This is more of a prologue and I plan to be more original with the story as it goes on, but it will still largely follow the plot lines of the series, so if that’s something you’re looking for, you’ve found it here!

Series Masterlist | Next Part

***

You knocked quickly on the door in front of you, eyes darting left and right to take in your surroundings. You were out of place here among the upper class houses in the neighborhood, with your hand-me-down and thrifted clothes screaming the opposite of prosperity. You were antsy, weight shifting from foot to foot; in fact, you were almost confident that if any of the neighbors were out and caught a glimpse of your obviously anxious form, they’d put a call in to the Hawkins police in an instant. You didn’t belong here. You scoffed at the thought. Though every fiber of your being was telling you—no, screaming at you—to leave, you really didn’t have a choice.

Not to mention the address you were at housed probably the last person you would ever actively seek out. He probably didn’t want to see you either, if you were being honest.

“Come on. Just answer,” You muttered through gritted teeth as you raised your hand to knock once more. However, before your hand could even make contact with the nice, expensive oak of the front door, it opened and you were met with the annoyed and confused glare of the one and only Steve Harrington. The expression on his face didn’t surprise you but the state of it did. Bruises and cuts littered his otherwise perfect skin, leaving you with a lot more questions than you had originally intended on asking.

“What do you want?” His words were direct, his tone short and clipped, drained from what on the outside seemed to be quite an eventful day.

“I-I, uh…I’m sorry, but what happened to you?” You breathed out. You had more pressing concerns, but you couldn’t help but wonder why King Steve of Hawkins High looked like absolute shit.

“I don’t have time for this,” he sighed as he began to shut the door.

You reached your hand through just in time to catch it as you shoved your way into the Harrington household. You knew his parents were likely on some sort of fancy business trip, so they wouldn’t be there to reprimand you for your actions. It’s what made Steve’s house the prime destination for the biggest parties in Hawkins. Parties you were rarely, if ever, invited to.

“What the hell are you doing?! I barely even know you and now you’re breaking and fucking entering into my goddamn house!”

“Technically, I’m just entering. You opened the door.”

“Are you kidding me right now, y/n?”

You were surprised he even knew your name. You tended to blend into the background, flying under the radar in your attempt to make good enough grades to maybe, just maybe, give yourself a fighting chance at attending college on scholarships. “Will you just hear me out. Please.”

You must have sounded desperate because Steve’s furrowed brow relaxed, his expression softening before he rolled his eyes, sitting down on a pristine white couch saying, “Fine. But make it quick because I have a raging headache and my patience is wearing thin.”

You breathed in a deep breath before you rattled off your reason for trespassing.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I happen to babysit Dustin Henderson—or, well to be more accurate, I just started babysitting Dustin Henderson since Jonathon Byers’ brother disappeared—and everything was going fine one minute, but then I went to check on him in his room because he was being awfully quiet, and then I noticed his window was open and he must’ve snuck out, and—“

He cut you off, “Woah, woah, woah. How does any of this concern me? I mean, it’s not my fault you’re clearly a shit babysitter and can’t keep track of some seventh grader.”

“If you would just let me finish,” you warned through gritted teeth, “I’m aware of the fact that it doesn’t concern you, but I’ve been looking all over for him and I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve checked the Sinclair’s, I’ve checked the Wheeler’s, I’ve checked every location a seventh grade nerd might frequent, nothing. So, yeah, though it doesn’t concern you, I thought I might find Nancy here, given the fact that the two of you have obviously been going out, to ask her where the hell her brother is so that maybe, just maybe, I could find the damn kid I’m babysitting before I get fired from my fucking job. Now, if you could stop being so goddamn selfish for once in your life, I would really appreciate the help.”

Steve paused for a moment while he considered this. Being called selfish stung, but you weren’t wrong. The events leading to the myriad of injuries across his face seemed to prove just that. However, there was something about you in particular saying it that cut deep. You were seemingly so perfect, granted a bit odd. You were nice, you made good grades, but other than that he didn’t know much about you, so the expletive-laced explanation was a bit out of place coming from your mouth.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re a little too late to find Nancy here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she didn’t say it, but I take it things are probably pretty over between us.”

This was surprising to say the least. Nancy Wheeler wasn’t someone who you would have guessed would go for a total asshole jock like Steve, but even you had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. Your heart skipped a bit at the thought, as you suddenly also remembered that you basically broke into the house of the most popular kid at your high school. One whom you’d never really spoken to in any meaningful sense before this very instant.

“What happened?” You asked hesitantly, taking a step towards Steve as your fingers hovered over his forearm. Even though you hated nearly everything Steve stood for—popularity, prosperity, assholery—you felt compelled to comfort him. Something about him was different than you expected. When he didn’t pull away, you let your hand rest there.

“Well, speaking of Jonathan Byers, we kind of got into…an altercation. I would like to say that I won, but I think it’s clear that I didn’t. I was with Tommy H and Carol and he spray painted a bunch of awful shit about Nancy and Jonathan all over town, and I didn’t stop him, so yeah, things aren’t what I would call good between me and Nancy right now.”

Your comforting instinct told you to apologize, sympathize, but you weren’t going to condone his actions. You’d seen the “Nancy ‘the Slut’ Wheeler” graffiti earlier in your mad dash to locate Dustin. Though you didn’t know her super well, Nancy had been nothing but nice to you and she definitely didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.

“Well, how do you…feel about it?” You asked gently, internally cringing at your anxiety forcing you to find something to fill the silence with.

“I mean, definitely not good. I was an ass, and I know it, and as much as I hate that I screwed things up with Nancy, I think I’m more so realizing how shitty I was to Jonathan. I mean, he’s got enough going on without me making things more difficult…I need to make things right.” He stood up abruptly, quickly grabbing his car keys from a likely expensive decorative dish on the side table by the door.

“Woah, wait! You’re just going to leave me?” You asked incredulously. “Steve, I-I….I need help.”

“You can come with me,” he responded as he spun his keys around his index finger.

“What?”

“To the Byers’ house? You know, kill two birds with one stone? I apologize to Jonathan, you ask about the Henderson kid. Hell, you might even luck out and find him there, so what do you say?” He explained as he placed his hand gently on your back, leading you out the front door, down the driveway to his car. You tried not to think about the way his hand felt on the expanse of your back. Before you could say no, he was opening the passenger’s side door for you.

Your eyes met his, your mouth slightly parted as you weighed your options. Sure, you could handle yourself fine on the way to Jonathan’s house…but then on the other hand, Steve had a car and you didn’t, and with all of the weird things going on in Hawkins recently, it was probably best not to be a young woman walking around on her own, especially now that you were losing light. Safety reasons aside, the element that settled the internal argument for you was the look in Steve’s eyes. He wanted to do better. He wanted to be better. Who were you to deny him that?

You breathed in once more, shaking your head as you breathed out. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

Being in Steve’s car was, needless to say, a bit awkward. You both had your own problems, brought together by chaos and regret, a combination which didn’t make for great small talk.

“So, Nancy Wheeler, huh?” You asked in an attempt to ease the tension, needing to rid the car of the weight of the uncomfortable silence.

“Yep,” Steve muttered, eyes focused on the road.

“She’s pretty cool. I mean, she’s always been nice to me.”

“She’s the best.”

You weren’t sure why, but this comment made your heart sink a little in your chest. Though Nancy had always been nice, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of her. She stood out in a way that you never could. She was smart but had the money to back it up, which, in terms of social status, meant that she mattered and you didn’t. You were living paycheck to paycheck, barely functioning, picking up odd jobs all the time just to support yourself in the way your family couldn’t. You barely had the time to study or have fun, becoming the background character to everyone else’s life. Hell, you weren’t even sure you had a starring role in your own. She was also pretty in a way that you could never be, with her big blue eyes and thin frame making clearly even the douchiest of douchebags swoon. Steve was living proof.

“Y/n? Did you even hear anything I just said?” Steve’s voice finally flooded your consciousness, drawing you away from your thoughts and feelings of inadequacy.

You shook your head trying to clear out the negativity. “Sorry! I was-I just zoned out for a second, my bad,” You chuckled, your smile not quite reaching your eyes.

“I asked you why you were babysitting the Henderson kid anyway. It just seems like something that you wouldn’t be interested in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, you’re…different. Yeah, you’re nice and make good grades and whatever, but you’re also pretty edgy. You seem like one of those weird, alt kids that would be into like pretty heavy music and shit, and babysitting just seems a little too suburban-status-quo for someone like you.”

You stared at him blankly, not really sure how to answer given that his words were more a statement of assumptions rather than a question. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interjected before you could even say anything.

“That came out wrong. What I’m saying is that you’ve always struck me as a little bit intimidating because you’re actually an individual; you don’t follow the crowd which, I mean, is admirable, but babysitting? Come on. I’m as stereotypical as they come, and I wouldn’t even babysit, especially not for some thirteen-year-old misfit who seems like more of a handful than its worth.”

“Well, for starters, you’re a guy, so no shit you’re not babysitting the youth of Hawkins, and also, I just need the money, which I’m sure is a foreign concept to you. And babysitting is kind of a piece of cake…normally. Henderson is a special case; he’s too smart for his own good.”

Steve laughed and you blushed, grateful for the darkness to hide the heat in your cheeks. His words felt like they were trying to be a compliment, but you weren’t sure how to interpret them. You guessed that maybe you stood out at least a little bit more than you had initially thought. By his description, people must be noticing you to some extent. He was noticing you.

You shook your head at the thought. What had gotten into you? Half an hour ago you hated this man, but now you weren’t too sure. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

With Hawkins being a small town in rural Indiana, the drive was not long, so your conversation ended here as you pulled up to the Byers’ residence. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw the tarp-covered hole in the front of the house. From speaking with Mrs. Henderson, you knew how much of a toll her son’s disappearance had taken on Joyce. Both of you got out of the car and you made your way to the front door.

Steve knocked. When there was no response, he banged on the door again. “Jonathan! Are you there man? It’s—it’s Steve! Listen, I just want to talk.”

He continued to bang on the door. You were about to reach up and stop him, tell him that it was enough and clearly no one was home, when the door opened a crack and you were met eye to eye with Nancy Wheeler. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw you, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second before her expression settled and her brows furrowed.

“Steve, listen to me.”

“Hey. Nancy, what—“

“You need to leave. Both of you,” she added as she turned to meet your eyes. She was serious, her expression stern, but there was something else there…desperation maybe?

“I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded. It didn’t make a difference, as Nancy had clearly made up her mind.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave. Now.”

“No, no, listen, I messed up…I messed up, and I just want to make things right.” Steve was desperate, you could hear it in his voice. You wanted to try and reason with Nancy, speak on behalf of Steve, but it wasn’t your place. You went to cast your gaze downwards, trying to give the two of them a private moment, but Nancy’s gauze-wrapped hand caught your eye instead.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” You asked hesitantly, brow furrowed, “is that…is that blood?”

You went to gently reach for her hand but she quickly drew it back and out of sight, but it was too late. Say what you will about Steve, but he was protective to a fault, and in seeing Nancy hurt, any desire to make things right with Jonathan quickly dissipated.

“It’s nothing! It-It was an accident.”

“Wait a sec. Did he do this to you? Nancy, let me in!” Steve demanded as he pushed into the Byers’ home, not dissimilar to how you had intruded upon the Harrington residence earlier. You entered behind him. Under any normal circumstances, you probably would have felt awkward, but instead you were too preoccupied with Steve’s short temper and the fires you knew you would inevitably have to put out.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the premonition to know the literal nature of that preoccupation.

Crossing the threshold of the Byers’ residence, you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at, but it did make your heart stop in your chest. You momentarily locked eyes with Jonathan as you looked around the room. There were multicolored lights strewn about the whole house, makeshift weapons on the coffee table, the entire alphabet painted sloppily on the wallpaper, and Jonathan’s hand had the same blood soaked gauze as Nancy’s.

“What is…what the…what is all of this?” Steve demanded.

“You need to get out of here. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Jonathan grabbed the fabric of Steve’s shirt attempting to force him out of the living room, but Steve planted his feet.

“Is that….is that gasoline?!” You stammered as the rest of your senses finally showed up. Your hands were trembling at your sides, and you felt like at any moment you might have a panic attack. You took a shaky breath as you attempted to calm yourself down.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy shouted. The distinct click of a gun rang out, and Steve froze, eyes fixed on the revolver in Nancy’s hand, pointed directly at him. Jonathan’s grip loosened on Steve’s shirt as he stepped away, shock registering on his face as well.

Something was obviously very wrong. You pushed your anxiety deep down in your chest, and you took a step forward. If I could just talk to her, you thought, I can deescalate this.

“Nancy—“ you began cautiously, but as soon as you took a step she pivoted and now you were the one staring down the barrel of a gun. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly raised trembling hands in front of your chest. “I think you need to calm down.”

“I think you need to leave,” she responded, her voice icy. Suddenly, Steve bounded forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him. Once you were hidden behind his tall figure, you allowed yourself to break down a little, pressing yourself against him for some semblance of security.

“Is this a joke, Nancy? Put the gun down!”

“I’m doing this for you.”

“What is this?! What does that even mean?” He yelled back at her, but his words weren’t doing anything to help. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and his grip tightened. He was holding onto you just as much as you were holding onto him, with a fistful of his shirt balled into your delicate hand as you attempted to ground yourself. It felt intimate, and if it weren’t for your current predicament, you would have been embarrassed.

“Three. Two—“

“Nancy! The lights!” Jonathan shouted, and you peeled your face away from the solace of Steve’s back, watching as the lights flickered with a raging entropy, making it nearly impossible for your eyes to navigate the small room.

“Where is it? I don’t see it!” Nancy cried out and for the first time in the craze of blinking lights and shouting, you saw the fear on her face, her previous stoic facade shattering in the chaos. Seeing the fright in her eyes made your stomach drop, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?!” Steve shouted and you couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Even with the family room being sporadically lit up like a Christmas tree, you and Steve were very much still in the dark.

No sooner had he said it did the ceiling begin to crack, something large writhing as it made its way into the small house from above. Nancy began shooting at it as you stood frozen. Finally, it burst through the drywall, falling to the floor on all fours. If someone asked you to describe what you had seen, you weren’t sure what you would’ve even said. It had pale skin, nearly translucent, and made an awful chattering sound as it started to gather its bearings.

“Go! Go! Run! Go!” Jonathan started shouting as he grabbed Nancy around the waist and shoved her in front of him as she darted down the hall. Steve turned around and did the same, his hands harshly grabbing at your sides to redirect you as you formed a human chain; Jonathan’s hand wrapped around your wrist, and your other hand wrapped around Steve’s as you made a mad dash to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

In all the commotion you barely heard Jonathan shout “jump!” narrowly missing the open bear trap on the floor. You shrieked and willed yourself to be coordinated for once in your damn life as you hurdled over the metal teeth of the trap, blindly trusting that Steve’s athleticism would kick in and he would do the same. A low growl sounded out just as the bedroom door slammed shut behind Steve, his momentum causing him to collide into you. You would have toppled over if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, as he reached out to steady your shoulders.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s all going to be okay,” Steve frantically whispered, his hands still holding together your shaking form, as you stumbled backwards and collapsed down on the bed. His lips were dangerously close to your ear, and he brought a hand to the base of your neck, drawing his fingers down to your shoulder to reassure you. He was barely holding it together himself, scared out of his mind, but he brought you into this mess and he was determined to protect you first. “What the hell was that?!”

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan yelled in unison. Everyone’s gaze then fixed on the yoyo that was precariously draped over the chair. Your heart thundered in your ears, your eyes welling with tears as you held your breath and waited. The lights continued to flicker, until a jolt of electricity rang out and they became static. The silence was unnerving.

“Do you hear anything?” Nancy asked.

Jonathan shook his head and slowly opened the door. The four of you stepped into the quiet of the hallway, eyes fixed on the undisturbed bear trap in the middle of the carpet. You all cautiously made your way back to the disheveled family room of the Byers’ house, Nancy and Jonathan prepped with their weapons in hand.

“This is…this—this is crazy!” Steve shouted, running his hands through his perfect hair.

You tugged on his sleeve trying to draw his attention away from what just happened; this was already a shit show, the last thing you needed was Steve losing his mind. “Steve, you need to calm down,” you begged, still shaken from before.

“Y/n, how the hell am I supposed to calm down?! This isn’t a situation where you can calm the fuck down! What the hell is going on?!” He continued to shout, grabbing your wrist and shoving it away. You tried not to take it personally, but it still hurt. You hated how quickly he had gone from comforting to cold.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Nancy spoke up, “It’s going to come back! So you need to leave. Right now.”

Steve grabbed your wrist, your body lurching as your trajectory quickly changed, the inertia causing you to stumble while your feet attempted to keep up with Steve’s large strides. Steve fumbled with his keys as you reached the car. His shaky hands finally unlocked the door and he swung it open, about to sit when he realized that you had stopped following him, still positioned in front of the house.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing here? I said to leave,” Nancy warned.

“I’m not leaving. You guys need help, and I want to help.”

“Y/n—“ Jonathan began, but his warning was cut short when the lights began to flash again. You quickly grabbed a large kitchen knife from the pile of improvised weapons on the coffee table and met Nancy and Jonathan back to back in the center of the room.

“Where is it?” You asked, trying to shove the fear in your chest down, hoping it was a false alarm, that the wiring was screwy, that you were safe.

“Come out, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan yelled out. You willed your hands not to shake as you tightened your grip on the handle of the knife. Suddenly the lights went out, plunging the room into inky black darkness. You blinked rapidly, a futile attempt to get your eyes to adjust to the pitch black room.

You heard a low growl before Nancy exclaimed, “Y/N!”

You spun around, eyes meeting the nine-foot hulking form of whatever the hell this thing was, standing less than a foot from you. You didn’t even have time to scream as it lunged at you, pinning you to the floor. Your knife fell from your grasp, clamoring across the hardwood. You wish you could go back to when you hadn’t had a good look at the monster. Now you stared wide eyed as its face opened up revealing countless rows of razor sharp teeth as it shrieked, spewing thick drool across your face.

“Help me! Please! Nancy!” You screamed out as you writhed under the pressure of the beast. Its clawed fingers began tightening around your upper arm, ripping into your skin as you cried out in pain. It reared back to scream its ear piercing scream again, but something collided with it, knocking it off-kilter. Its long claws dragged across the flesh of your arm, etching larger gashes as its grip began to release.

You took this opportunity to slip away, scrambling across the floor on hands and knees as you grabbed the kitchen knife, turning around to slash the monster’s achilles. It cried out, turning back towards you, this time far angrier than it had been in the first place. This was when you realized that the collision from before had been Steve, swinging Jonathan’s nail bat as hard as he could at the creature.

He had come back for you.

He continued to swing the bat with all his might, causing the monster to stumble backwards until the resonant clang of metal hitting against metal rang out.

“He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!” Steve yelled out, causing the rest of you to spring into action.

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy shouted. Jonathan hurtled around the corner, the unmistakable flick of a lighter sounding out before he tossed it in the gasoline soaked carpet. The hallway erupted in flames that were almost too bright to bear, as the four of you covered your eyes. You took this opportunity to sprint back to the family room, quickly grabbing the fire extinguisher laid out on the rug, before bounding back to the hallway.

“Get back!” You shouted as you desperately tried to put out the fire before you were all suffocated in a fiery mix of ash and smoke. You all coughed as the smoke cleared, revealing that the monster had disappeared, no longer stuck between the teeth of the bear trap.

“Where did it go?” Nancy hesitantly asked.

“It has to be dead. It has to be,” Jonathan said, though it seemed more like he was saying it to convince himself; to speak it into existence.

Suddenly the string lights started blinking again, this time in a line leading toward them in the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat, and Steve protectively pushed himself in front of you and Nancy. The lights then blinked again, this time in a line towards the front door. This time they weren’t the erratic display of chaos from earlier, but rather an orderly demonstration of cosmos. The four of you cautiously followed the lights, weapons drawn just in case.

“Mom?” You heard Jonathan quietly ask. His eyes welled with tears, and you immediately wanted to hug the boy. He’d been through so much. He didn’t deserve this; none of you did.

You followed the lights outside the house, watching the streetlight gently flicker before all trace of the paranormal phenomenon dissipated.

“Where’s it going?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think that’s the monster,” Jonathan responded. He didn’t elaborate and none of you asked.

Steve quickly turned to you, gently grabbing your wrist. “Y/n, you’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes widening as they focused on your blood soaked sleeve.

“It doesn’t matter. Where’s Dustin? Please tell me one of you knows,” you turned to ask Nancy and Jonathan, both of them caught off guard by your question.

“Uh, I think it really does matter, y/n. We don’t even know what the hell that thing was! You can’t just ignore—“

“They’re at the school,” Nancy interrupted. She wanted to argue with you too, to tell you that you definitely needed medical attention, but she also knew you weren’t going to listen. Hell, you’d just run back into a house with an inter-dimensional threat so her and Jonathan wouldn’t have to face it on their own.

You turned back towards Steve. “Steve, I promise I’ll let you take me to the urgent care or the hospital or whatever if you just please let me go make sure he’s okay,” you pleaded. Tears were welling in your eyes and Steve realized that he wasn’t going to be able to say no to you.

“Fine, but this is fucked up.”

***

By the time you pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins middle, it was swarming with police cars and emergency vehicles. You felt nauseous and negligent, as you frantically scanned, looking for the curly mop of hair hidden under a baseball cap. Before Steve stopped the car, you flung your door open, jogging across the lot, calling out for the boy.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You can’t just jump out of a moving vehicle!” Steve caught up with you. He wanted to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder to rein you in a little, but he decided against it, not recalling which one was torn up. You had to be in excruciating pain, but you didn’t show it. She’s pretty damn tough, Steve thought to himself. Suddenly, you both saw the Henderson boy, chatting away with Lucas Sinclair, as if nothing had happened.

“Henderson!” You growled, marching across the parking lot towards the young child.

“Y/n, I can explain—“

“Do you have any idea the hell I just went through trying to find your ass?! Where the hell were you?!”

“You’re not going to believe me, but there’s this alternate—wait, what the hell happened to your arm?”

You looked at Steve, trying to silently decide how much to tell the young boy. He was just a kid; he didn’t need to be mixed up in all of this, and neither did Lucas. To be perfectly honest, neither did the two of you, but you couldn’t change what happened. You broke eye contact with Steve and looked at Dustin, lips slightly parted as you tried to find the right words to say. Before you could even say anything, Dustin broke the silence.

“It was the demogorgon, wasn’t it?”

“What in the fresh hell are you talking about?” Steve asked, growing tired of this kid who had inadvertently caused you to risk your life trying to find him instead of just listening to his damn babysitter.

“Monster, big and scary, likely inter-dimensional?”

“You…But how do you…you know about all of this?” You asked, your heart sinking knowing that you couldn’t protect him from this.

“It took Will, and we’ve been trying to find him,” Lucas chimed in.

“B-but…but there was a funeral. He died,” you stammered, your heart aching this time as you thought back to Jonathan and Joyce and how miserable they had been over the loss of the young child.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry I snuck out but it was to find Will. I can explain the rest but it’s going to take a while and you might want to sit down,” Dustin hesitantly spoke.

“You’re so damn lucky your mom is out of town for the next few days,” you spoke through gritted teeth, but you sat down and you listened to the boy.

***

After his explanation, you and Steve were, needless to say, a bit stunned and speechless. How the hell did three middle school boys figure all of that out? And a girl with a shaved head and super powers? You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Hawkins Chief of Police Jim Hopper knew about all of this either. What was there that you could trust? Your head started to spin and you were getting a bit nauseous at the thought.

“I mean, this is wild Henderson. It’s borderline unbelievable,” Steve chided. Dustin’s eyes widened and his face reddened, clearly mad that Steve wasn’t buying his story.

“Are you serious right now, Steve? You saw it! You saw the damn demogorgon! How could you possibly deny that—“

“I said borderline unbelievable, shit bird. Obviously I know some strange shit is going on, it’s just still fucking insane.”

You couldn’t agree more with him as you attempted to stand up, but your vision blurred and you stumbled. You would’ve fallen if Steve hadn’t immediately shot up to catch and steady you.

“Woah, y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steve’s eyes were darting all across your face. He wished he could read your mind but you just stared up at him with those eyes and it all remained a mystery.

“I think she needs to get that checked out. She’s losing a lot of blood,” Lucas chimed in, his brow furrowed under his camo bandana. He pointed at your blood soaked sleeve, and everyone simultaneously realized that blood was now dripping down your hand, the fabric no longer able to hold anymore liquid.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Let me just walk it off. I’ll be okay,” you tried to sound confident, but your speech was slurred and there were dark spots invading your vision. Steve gently patted at the side of your face, attempting to keep you conscious.

“Y/n, just stay with us. We’re going to get you help. Just keep those pretty eyes open for me. Y/n, please!” He sounded desperate, and you fought to stay awake. The next thing you knew, he was carrying you, attempting to make it to an ambulance to get your wounds assessed by a real medical professional.

“Hey, we need you to take us to a hospital right now,” Steve spoke quickly as he sprinted to one of the EMTs on scene.

“What happened to her?”

“It’s a long story. Please sir,” Steve’s voice began to falter. The EMT gestured for Steve to hop in the back of the ambulance where he gingerly placed you on the gurney. Lucas and Dustin swiftly followed suit, going to hop into the ambulance, but the EMT stepped in front of the boys to stop them.

“Woah, where do you think you’re going?”

“Sir, if you could please let them come with us. We babysit them and I can’t leave them here by themselves,” Steve argued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was the best he had to work with to convince the guy to take Sinclair and Henderson with them. Dustin looked at him with confusion, mouthing the word “we?” before Steve shot him a warning glance to fix his face before their story was invalidated.

You woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. You were no longer in your blood soaked clothes, your frame fitted with a hospital gown instead. You looked over to your left arm which had since been stitched up and was now wrapped in gauze, the bleeding slowing to a stop.

“Steve?” You called out, hoping he was still with you.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” He exclaimed rushing over to the side of the bed. You’d been out for the past hour. They had sedated you once you arrived at the hospital, saying it would be easier to tend to your wounds that way.

“Today didn’t really go how I thought it would.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve chuckled.

“I mean, my worst fear earlier was that I was going to get fired. I can tell you that I have significantly worse fears than that now,” you hated crying in front of people, with Steve being the last person you wanted to be vulnerable in front of, but you couldn’t help it as your eyes welled up and one stubborn tear slid down your cheek. Steve was quick to wipe it away, his hand reaching down to hold yours.

“I know, but on the bright side, I think you might be the most qualified babysitter in Hawkins,” Steve tried desperately to make you smile. It worked as you let out a wet laugh through your sob.

“I mean, I guess so,” you chuckled, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“You guess so? I know so. I don’t know anybody who would fight a monster with that many fucking teeth for some kid.”

“Nancy would,” you reminded him, your voice getting small again. The light in his eyes suddenly dissipated and he let go of your hand.

“Yeah, no, you’re probably right. I guess we’d all make pretty damn good babysitters,” he averted eye contact, preferring to look at his hands. In the time he’d been spending with you, he kind of forgot about Nancy. He felt guilty.

“You should talk to her, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sure she’s probably ready to put whatever happened between the two of you behind her. I mean, you really stepped up when it mattered today,” you added. You weren’t sure why you were saying it because the thought of him going back to Nancy made your heart ache, but maybe you weren’t ready for the alternative. You weren’t ready for him to look at you the way he looked at her. Not that you thought he would, but you just felt the need to create some distance. A lot had happened and this wasn’t the way you wanted him to realize you were something special, something to hold onto.

“Yeah, I guess…I mean, I guess I’ll go talk to her. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He looked you in the eye. Instead of seeing annoyance or indifference, you saw something new for a change: sincerity.

“Promise.”

He gave you a small smile, pausing in the doorway as he took one last look at you. You did a small wave goodbye, reassuring him that you’d be okay. With that, he took a breath and turned the corner, making his way back to the hospital waiting room where him and Nancy would patch things up. There was something about you though; something he couldn’t quite get out of his head.

He also had a sinking feeling in his chest that this wasn’t the end of whatever was going on in Hawkins. He had a feeling that the danger would linger, lurking in the shadows. He pushed the feeling aside and smiled weakly at Nancy, moving to sit in the empty chair next to her.

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked it; in theory there’s more to come (like I said earlier it’s gonna be a slow burn so yeah lol). If you feel so inspired to reboot this post that would also be pretty dope and I’d be eternally grateful <3

[sikayeto]

Weltschmerz

"...the psychological pain caused by sadness that can occur when realizing that someone's own weaknesses are caused by the inappropriateness and cruelty of the world and (physical and social) circumstances."

[summary: Your Dad's work at the ER has always been important. Sometimes you wonder if it's more important than you.]

0500, Monday the 13th

1800, Monday the 13th

0200, Tuesday the 14th

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 18th

~*~

1. itmf fics where jiang yanli becomes the yunmeng jiang sect leader?

the focus doesn’t necessarily have to be on that aspect but i would love to see how that would turn out

thanks!

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] Cold read of Sail Away Sweet Sister by kisahawklin)

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, JYL & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, JC is slowly becoming a good sibling, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX) If the requester doesn't mind a WIP, plans for Jiang Yanli taking over as sect leader begin in chapter 18 of I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me

~*~

2. hi hi! any fics which have the song WangXian as the main focus or play a big part?

hi this is the person who sent the WangXian song ask I forgot to mention that I'd prefer if it was modern au but canon is fine too!

synesthesia by uchiuchi (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

🔒Closer Than Eternity by Netrixie (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, an unhealthy addiction to starbucks, Immortals, cultivation is -kinda- commonplace, Self-Doubt, POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, not for jc fans, This is not a reconciliation fic)

every love story is a ghost story by aisthuu (M, 59k, WangXian, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mixed Canon)

~*~

3. Hello, I’m not sure if you’ve answered this before but do you have any fics where Wei Ying dies in the burial mounds and resurrects or ends up puppeting his body with resentful energy? Thanks so much!

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding) link in #6B Not sure if this counts because WWX is technically dead but also not?

~*~

4. Hello! I was wondering if anyone has seen any fanfic with canon wwx exchanging places with a wwx that had parents? With canon I just mean orphan and preferably without any good/nice yzy, I just really want to see everyone's reactions to how different he would be of he had parents and wwx's reaction to how his parents are but I haven't been able to find anything like that 😞

I would specially love if it's during the crsa but if it's not that's fine!

Thank you! @menimimimeni

in a dream, i was home by thelastdboy (M, 25k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Different First Meeting, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Sentient Burial Mounds, CSSR and WCZ Live, Families of Choice, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Golden Core Reveal, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Wen Remnants Live, WQ Lives, WN Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX)

🔒the world wags on by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 5k, WCZ & WWX, WCZ/LQR, Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Past Child Abuse, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Not for Madam Yu fans)

~*~

5. Hi! Thanks for the work you do. I’ve found so many great fics! I’m in the mood for fics where Wei Wuxian comes back in his original body. Thank you 😊

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian)

Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, a little bit, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer wwx, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, probably at least half of this fic is just that, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness)

This House of Ill Repute by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 13k, WangXian, First Time, Post-Canon, Getting Together)

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for) by yiqie (M, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wedding fic, Psychological Trauma, Empathy)

Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

~*~

6. Hi!! I’m in the mood for fics where people believe A) Wei Wuxian actually birthed A-Yuan (when he didn’t) and B) fics where WWX is inhuman. I prefer fics set in the canon timeline (i’ll accept modern fics if it’s WWX as a zombie or something though lol). It’s been surprisingly hard to find good fics with these premises.

6A)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX makes a joke about giving birth to A-Yuan & a couple of Lan disciples believe it

Wei Wuxian, God of Fertility by tired (T, 19k, WangXian, Family Feels, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, the juniors get REAL drunk, Gossip, POV Multiple, surprisingly not an mpreg fic, Kissing, Self-Esteem Issues, Discussion of Porn and Sex, Post-Canon, SOFT SOFT SOFT, married wangxian, Fluff and Humor, PSA: touching forehead ribbons gets you pregnant) focus on people believing Wei Wuxian gave birth to Yuan.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Reproduction by likeafox (E, 7k, WangXian, Kid Fic, not mpreg, but not-not mpreg?, Pregnancy Kink, Come play, LSZ deserves a sibling) focus on people believing Wei Wuxian gave birth to Yuan.

🔒Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple) has Lan Wangji believing Wei Wuxian when he says he birthed Yuan himself.

6B)

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding)

❤️ A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun (Not rated, 60k, WangXian, Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Horror, Zombie WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, yunmeng trio, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dad material even in death, Humor, YLLZ but make him dead, A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun [Podfic] by Miss Appellation (Lizeth)) if the modern setting is okay then A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun, featuring some angst and a very cute Zombie Wei Wuxian, it's amazing!

~*~

7. Hello! Are there any Wen Qing centered fics? Both modern and canon?

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ) Post-siege Ghost!WQ hunts down the scattered remains of WWX's spirit

💖 With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder) WQ time travels & goes on a murder spree

The Needle and the Nail by littledust (E, 119k, ChengQing, WQ Lives, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Explicit Rating Earned 14 Chapters In Because Slow Burn)

🔒 Meat by captain_apostrophe (E, 5k, NMJ/WQ, Modern, PWP, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism (Referenced), Hook-Up, himbo NMJ, horny WQ) set during a power outage

🔒 The Hand is a Voice (that can sing what the voice will not) by captain_apostrophe (E, 124k, NMJ/WQ, NHS & NMJ, WQ & WN, NHS & WN, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Non-Canon Relationship, WQ Lives, and is awesome, it's not Beauty & The Beast okay, NHS Being A Little Shit, Marriage of Convenience, arguing as a love language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Original Character(s), Everybody Lives, Slow Burn, only a little bit of smut, Childbirth) in which the Wens find a new home

~*~

8. Hello~

It's me again, I just love this blog! I'm in the mood for fics where the Lan recognizes Wei Wuxian's geniuses and the Jiang doesn't, so the Lan plot to steal him or something. Could be arranged marriage or anything, really! I just really want the Lan appreciating his mind! @lostandmessedup

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) link in #6B

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing) link in #1

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

~*~

9. ITMF: fanfics that take Madam Yu's abuse toward Wei Wuxian seriously, no Jiang Yanli bashing and without Wei Wuxian being mad immediately but instead needing time to realize that what happened was wrong. Thank you!!!!! :D

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WN & WWX, WWX is a Wen, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming) If they don't mind an AU for 9, the very recently completed All Things Belong fits the request nearly perfectly.

~*~

10. hii could u recommend some office aus, slightly longer and complete ones?

thank you

Work-Life Balance is Not A Thing by catbrainedschemes (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Workplace Relationship, Romantic Comedy, Idiots in Love, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, but not that eventual, Pining, Dirty Talk)

🔒WangXian Office AU: What's the Tea... ? by Blackbeads461, Ladycroft4evr (M, 23k, WangXian, Modern Era - no cultivation, CEO WWX, Secretary LWJ, Office Romance, Rollercoaster ride of new love and angst and pining, office gossip, OYZZ is So Done, SS Bashing, more like pulling his leg, Awesome WQ, NHS is a Little Shit, no nsfw in this work but it is there in the next ones)

whether i’m gonna flip you off or pull you into the closet, i haven’t decided yet by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Epistolary, Workplace Relationship, hostile coworkers to lovers who have not disclosed their relationship to hr, Human Resources, hr director!lwj, unknown corporate job!wwx, ft the junior squad as interns, told entirely thru emails and slack messages, Crack, Social Media, if you consider slack social media which is highly questionable, Enemies to Lovers)

~*~

11. hi!! for the itmf, can i get anything where yllz!wwx get’s transported to the 13 years he’s dead (not him coming back to life, but specifically yllz!wwx being back in a world where he’s dead). bonus points if he’s been redeemed already. this may be weird and overly specific but i figured i’d try T_T

~*~

12. ITMF: a fic where people found out it was LWJ who done corrupting. Not WWX

Bonus if the one that found out is LQR

Prefer if it was a humorous fic. But im okay if its not. Thanks!

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) (link in 6A) assuming they mean "shameless behavior" by "corrupting," Chapter 45 onward of Dispersing Clouds

🔒Something is wrong with A-Zhan! by HeloSoph (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Dark LWJ, Morally Gray WWX, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, WWX is a Lan, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, JC Bashing, Smitten LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Engaged WangXian, Blood and Violence, a lot of people die, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, because of, Shameless LWJ, LQR Tries, to fit into the following tag, Good Uncle LQR, Semi-Public Sex, or at least wangxian's version of it, Scheming NHS, POV NHS) would also work but note that it starts off very lightheartedly and then gets very dark in chapter 4.

~*~

13. heyyy for the next itmf can i request something lsz-centric that shows his relationship with wwx and/or lwj? Growing up with them or when he's already grown up, anything works. Preferably canonverse, but I can also do aus. Thank you!!!

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

Inquiry by incendir (G, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa)

~*~

14. It's spook month and that means our fave disaster necromancer birthday!! How about some recs of everyone's favorite fics celebrating Wwx's birthday? Any and all the birthday fics!!!

when I look over my shoulder by cafecliche (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, exorcist LWJ, medium wwx, vague The Conjuring AU, some horror elements, Pre-Relationship, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort)

On a night just like this one ... by DizziDreams (G, 3k, WangXian, WWX & The Juniors, The Junior Quartet, Ghost Stories, Comedy)

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place by gusucloudbunny (dykebytrade) (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Autumn, Halloween, Fluff, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Haunted Houses, Pouty baby lwj, Mutual Pining)

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending)

an hour of sunshine by astrolesbian (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mindless Fluff, halloween party)

In love with a ghost by Bookish_penguin (T, 14k, WangXian, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, junior shenanigans, Necromancy, Talking to Ghosts, Or in general spooky things, Post-Canon, references to death, where wwx is an expert on all things dead and dusted, because he’s one of them too, big yiling laozu vibes, wwx can be kinda creepy sometimes but everyone still loves him)

why'd the chicken jump over the fence by yellowcarnations (G, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Drunk LWJ)

~*~

15. Itmf a fic where wwx adopts himself a younger sibling oc (basically he's being a parent but age gap between them isn't wide enough) like an orphaned shidi, street kid, or child of Jiang servant. And wwx has to provide for them out of his own stipend (which madam yu insists on remaining the amount for 1 person). How would that change plot? Distance him from Jiang sibs cause he eats with sib instead jaings? Better behaved at leactures or doesn't attend? Work hard & creative to care for them

~*~

16. Itmf wwx and lz ghost marry while one is dead/believed to be dead and the other is later resurrected. Esp if it's while wwx is dead and his name is cleared prior to or after the marriage, but while he's still dead. And how people react to their relationship/lz's affections because of this

Ghost Wedding by nirejseki (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost wedding, Introspection, Crack Treated Seriously, mostly seriously anyway, Good Uncle LQR)

lovers be lost (but love shall not) by la_muerta (T, 13k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, 1910s, Case Fic, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Ghost Marriage)

~*~

17. Itmf any fics where wwx's name is cleared while he is dead/believed to be dead

🔒Confusion by Vrishchika (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, time travel)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[nomsfaultau]

Philza Malewife Competition Round 9

Previous rounds: Cleaning. Cooking. Decorating. Karens. Sick Day. Eggs. Hugs. Venting. Current points: The Lambs Wolves Wear (2), Lighting Lanterns (1), Weight in Gold (2), Fault (2), everyone else (0). And an honorary point to qsmp for a guest appearance.

For a quick synopsis for the fics I’m referencing- those are here

Next round: Handy man! Broke a Samsung Smart Fridge? Giant magical explosion? No problem! These Phils are on the job, dedicating their experience and skills to crafting, repairing, and home improvement!

GOLDEN APPLES (Gilded Atrophy): Well this Philza did repair all of L'Manburg after withers, tnt, and however many wars occurred. If he could patch up a crater, he can fix just about anything. This includes lovely walkways and infrastructure, beautiful residencies for the refugees of the nation, stunning air balloon lanterns, and overall just the prettiest town ever seen on the server. It's all developed from his centuries of knowledge, though might be a little slow since he's building it all by hand while his wings are recovering from the blast damage. If he can fix a country, he can fix anything. Also patches up creeper holes <3

The LAMBS Wolves Wear: He lives in an old house (built by his great great grandparents) and is used to fixing things up by hand. Doesn't have much in the way of materials, but can chop down trees or make rudimentary replacements. And given "Tommy" keeps destroying the house, he's putting those skills to use....or would, if "Wilbur" isn't refusing to let him, insisting on plastering illusions to 'fix' everything. So, now it's broken, and you can't tell it is until it's too late.

MANDATORY FAMILY REUNION: Hahahahhah......he has a check for 200k to make this go away..?

Where do BABIES come from?: "Heyyyy Dad? Could you swing by, I think my fridge is broken. And the shower, and backdoor, and- DID YOU START A FIRE IN THE WASTE BASKET?! Sorry, I- oh yeah, I have news about new...roommates?" Essentially, this dude just got out of college, does not have money for a repair person, and is replying on his own dad to dad for him. Also forgot to tell his family he now has...four kids? And counting?? So that'll be fun....

LIGHTING LANTERNS to Bring You Home: "Mmm I'm reading. Technoblade I humbly fall in supplication in need of your godly power blah blah fix it for me. "HAEH?! Your words fall upon closed ears for I am a god of Work, not of lazying about!" "Fascinating. I did not realize you were incapable." "NAY! VERILY I AM THE MOST CAPABLE!" "uh huh prove it. Do I win the tournament now?"

Worth far more than you WEIGHT IN GOLD: He has made a very fluffy nest! (this is all he is capable of building). Like technically he can use rudimentary tools...but that's kinda it.

LORD what fools these mortals be!: Poof. He conjures up the finest of new rooms. The ceiling is infinitely high and sparkles with constellations. There are floating steps and magic candles and waterfalls for bed curtains and jewel trees and just about any magic you can imagine. Doesn't show much hard work, though.

FAULT: Philza reveals a lot of craftiness and resourcefulness within Fault. He is shown carving a reed based woodwind instrument for Wilbur, tanning rabbit hide and creating sinew thread for a dagger sheath, contributing metallurgy abilities to the crafting of Tubbos' prosthetic legs, and constructing fairly serviceable tarp tens for everyone while on the run. Has lots of experience from building houses, crazy knowledge for all sorts of time period based skills, trades, architecture trends, etc. However doesn't currently particularly have a house to do home repair in.

I thiiiiink next round will be the Maid Outfit round but that will take a bit because I’m planning full drawings for each one.

[itsascreambaby96]

Summer Camp

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ mdni!!! Mentions of blood, death and stabbing, double penetration. Name calling. A little bit of somnophilia. Oral (m on f) . Pet names. Choking. Slapping. If I missed anything please let me know.

Pairings: Stu Macher x fem!reader x Billy Loomis

Word count: 5k

A/N: This technically wasn't a request. It can be read as a second part of this fic. But mainly it is its own fic no need to read the other one to understand this one. I also have no idea if the camp really exists, I made the name up. Please enjoy and leave feedback.

"You've never been to summer camp when you were a wee kid?!"

Stu couldn't believe it, neither could Billy but he didn't make a big deal out of it, other than Stu. 

You just shrugged. "I didn't. Why is that such a problem?"

"It's not." Billy said, giving Stu a look. 

"Well it kinda is! I mean every child went to summer camp so their parents could have some time off of them right?"

That did leave a little peng in your heart. Poor Stu, he always had a rather complicated relationship with his parents. 

"You really should see a therapist because of that." Billy spoke again. Stu gave him a look.

"Yeah well if I should then you should too, because of your unresolved mommy problems!" Stu was not amused and now he was dragging Billy down too. 

You had to do something quick, or your boys would definitely kill each other. 

"So what did I miss while not going to a summer camp?" That got Stu's attention back to you. He went into great detail on all the things he had to do, shooting arrows, canoeing, even making friendship bracelets, the horror stories they told in their little cabin. How he was the master of horror stories, which earned him a snort from Billy.

"You went there together?"

"Jup, I always snuck into Billy's cabin cause it was more fun there." Stu gave you a wink. "Especially when we were older."

"And I clearly remember I got the badge for best Horror Story teller." Billy grinned.

"Pf in your dreams!"

"No no I clearly remember! How you almost pooped your pants when I told the story of the guy who slaughtered every kid in summer camp." 

"First, that was just your wishful thinking. Second, it is the plot of Friday the 13th." 

"So? Not my fault those kids didn't watch the movie."

"Yeah cause we were kids!"

"I watched it."

"Because you are not normal."

You laughed softly at their banter. You were so used to it by now. 

"What else did you guys do?" And so they went on with their stories. 

You thought with that the topic would end. And you were right. But a few weeks before you guys left for college, your boys came up with a camping trip. You weren't a big fan of camping but they were persistent. You couldn't really say no to their ideas. So you agreed. Maybe it could be fun. If only you knew how much fun it would be. 

You drove 3 hours to a big forest. Billy assigned you to make a mixtape for the journey and also let you drive shotgun. 

Stu was pouty for an hour, before his good mood returned. You might have given him one too many sweets. When you arrived you parked the car at the destined spot and got out. Both Billy and Stu had packed a big backpack making sure you didn't have to carry too much. Aren't they the sweetest? Then you three were off into the woods. It was very hot and you were glad for the shorts you were wearing, though you were sure your legs would be littered with insect bites. Oh well, the fun of going camping. What you failed to notice was that neither Stu nor Billy had packed a tent. They had a much different plan. It also seemed like they knew exactly where they were going, well at least Billy because Stu was next to you talking. It wasn't as bad as you expected it to go actually. 

After 3 hours though you were getting slower, your energy was dwindling. 

"Are we almost there?" You were whining at this point.

"Yeah, there should only be another hour." Billy was still as motivated as when you started. How, you didn't know. 

You were groaning at his reply, displeasure setting in. For the next hour you were grumbling about how "this better be worth it" and how "you were going to plan the next vacation". The whole time Stu only chuckled next to you at your attitude. 

"Don't worry it will all be worth it."

"You better be right."

After another half hour, thanks to you demanding a break, you saw a big clearing, cabins littered everywhere, and a big sign welcoming you to "Camp Silver Lake." The whole place seemed to be abandoned though.

"You are kidding." You looked at Billy who, like Stu, was grinning. 

"Nope. We thought it would be fun to show you what you missed." Stu was so excited about the whole thing. It makes you question how he didn't spoil the surprise at all beforehand. 

"So is this the one where you two went?" You were not going to ruin the fun. You actually believed this could be a great few days. 

"Pf no. We were at a more … luxurious camp. Though they are all the same anyway." Billy was making his way to a cabin, assuming you two would follow him.

"The place hasn't been closed for long. Only one or two years. So everything should still be in a rather good condition." Opening the door and going in you could see he was right. But you still didn't think it would be a good idea to sleep in those beds. Sure they were infested with bugs.

"We will put the mattresses down and sleep in sleeping bags on them." Billy saw your sceptical look. You gave him a grateful smile. 

"Enough talking. Last one in the lake is a stink bug!" Stu had already taken off his shirt running outside. Billy and you gave each other a look before darting out of the cabin. Laughing you took off your shirt while running, and somehow your shorts too. You almost fell over trying to undo your boots, giving a triumphant grunt as they slipped off. Billy wasn't far behind and Stu was a few feet in front of you struggling with his second boot. You were squealing, running past him. 

"Who is going to be the stink bug now Macher?!" Laughing you didn't notice him being done with his shoe and running after you. He's almost got you but you somehow slipped from his grasp. He was laughing too and you two almost stumbled over each other. Billy used that to his advantage and ran past the two of you onto the dock and jumped into the lake. You and Stu weren't far behind jumping in. 

Emerging from the depths of the lake you saw that Stu was dunking Billy, laughing. 

You enjoyed the mild temperatures of the water on your skin, floating on your back a little. You didn't see Stu staring at your glistening skin that was revealed from the water. He was subtly liking his lips. You were effortlessly beautiful. Suddenly two arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you under. You were trashing and swam up again looking at a grinning Billy. You pushed at his chest, huffing but not being mad. When he only laughed you splashed water at him and into his open mouth. He was gagging and coughing. 

"Serves you right." It was your turn to grin. 

"Oh you will be sorry for that!" 

Squealing and laughing, you swam away from him as fast as possible.

"Stu save me!" You were climbing onto his back.

"Oh of course princess." He swam away with you on his back, Billy hot on his tail. 

The three of you spend the rest of the day like this, mostly in the water, laughing and just having a good time. 

As the sun was slowly beginning to vanish behind the trees, Billy and Stu took care of gathering wood for a campfire, while you arranged the sleeping arrangement. You made sure you were going to sleep in between them. After getting dressed, you grabbed the food and went outside, seeing Stu and Billy fighting each other with sticks. You watched them with an amused look. 

"You can't win, old man!" It was Billy talking to Stu, trying to hit him. 

Stu blocked the attack, grinning.

"If you strike me down I will become more powerful than you could possibly imagine!"

"You should not have come back!"

They continued fighting. After a little more of this you stepped into their view, distracting Stu. This was Billy's chance to strike and he did. Stu let out a painful hiss and went down. You knew your part and screamed a dramatic "No!"

That made Stu laugh full heartedly. Billy was chuckling. "Oscar worthy performance sweetheart." You bowed, laughing sweetly. 

"Thank you. Thank you. You can get autographs later." As Stu got up and dusted off, Billy gave you a loving kiss, making you hum.

"Now can we please eat? I am starving."

"Of course." 

They were going back to their task, you sitting down on a log watching them. The soft pushes and the banter they shared made you smile. The good mood stayed for the rest of the evening. After eating you guys talked and talked for hours. You were leaning with your back against Stu, the night colder than you thought it would be, but Stu kept you plenty warm. Especially after Billy denied you his sweater that he was wearing. Stu was more than glad to jump in and be your hero, making Billy roll his eyes playfully. Your eyes were closed and you were already half asleep. You couldn't really make out the words they were speaking, and you didn't really care. You knew you were safe with them.

"Do you wanna do it tonight?"

"No, she's exhausted, let's give her some rest. Tomorrow will be better."

You would have wondered what they were actually talking about but sleep pulled you in. 

When you woke up you were in your sleeping bag, Billy and Stu snoring away on either side of you. Giving them both a soft kiss you carefully stood up, getting ready for the day. While you prepared breakfast a sleepy Billy emerged. His hair stood in all directions and his eyes were barely open. You offered him a cup of coffee which he took gratefully. You turned back to your task, Billy sipping his coffee and watching you like a hawk. His eyes moving over your every curve. The swell of your ass, resisting the urge to slap it like he so often does, playful or not. Your thighs which he loves to grab and squeeze and have his head between. He was getting worked up watching you be a cute little housewife in the middle of the woods. Wanting nothing more to bend you over and fuck you silly. He put his cup down and snug up behind you. Wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you in, a soft gasp leaving your lips. Billy nuzzled at your neck inhaling your smell. A low hum left him as the beguiling smell of you hit his nostrils. You closed your eyes, enjoying the soft moment between the two of you. He was softly squeezing your hip as he gently placed kisses over your neck. Your head lulled to the side as he bit your neck like he so often does. 

"Billy…" his name was nothing more than a whisper on your lips. He only grunted in acknowledgement not parting from your neck though. 

The moment was ruined when Stu emerged from the cabin with a more than shrill "Good morning!" 

With a sigh Billy dropped his head onto your shoulder, you softly patted his cheek.

"Morning Stu." He gave you a big sloppy kiss, making you laugh as he slapped Billy's bubble butt. "Oi! Watch it!" Stu just grinned at him. 

The three of you ate your breakfast, Stu filling the silence with unimportant chatter. 

The rest of the day was spent exploring. You saw many squirrels and got excited every single time. How could you not with their cute little faces and their fluffy tail. 

It was almost dark when you got back to the camp. You were exhausted and hungry. Stu took care of preparing something, meaning hot dogs. After scarfing down your meal you enjoyed a bit of quiet. Billy started to tell some horror stories, to give you more of the summer camp feeling. You appreciated it but some of the stories were really terrifying and you wondered where he got them from. The one about a haunted doll freaked you out the most. You were never a fan of dolls. Stu chimed in here and there because he could see how stiff you were and wanted to lighten your mood a little, but it didn't help much. That's why you stayed even closer to them while sleeping tonight. You didn't mind horror stories usually but something about being in the middle of the woods alone, only with your boyfriends made you more jumpy than usual. 

It was no surprise that you woke up when you heard something outside, noticing that Stu was not next to you, Billy snoring on your other side. Stu was probably using the bathroom. But then you heard something again right outside the cabin. You jumped and woke Billy, who gave a grunt. 

"Billy, wake up! I think something's outside!"

"That's probably just the wind. Go back to sleep." He kept mumbling, not even opening his eyes. 

"It is not. It sounded like footsteps and groaning."

"That's probably just Stu trying to scare you."

"What if not? What if someone has already killed him and now he is coming for us?!"

"I am never telling you horror stories again before sleeping." You could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Can we please just go check?"

"Can we please go check? Are you serious? Have you never watched a horror movie in your life? That's basically a death wish."

"I know! But I don't want our boyfriend to die!" You stood up and looked around for some kind of weapon. You found an old crowbar in the room and looked at Billy expectantly. He let out another groan and got up. 

"If I die I will haunt your ass."

"I can live with that. Now let's go."

"Give me the crowbar first."

"No. Get your own weapon. This is mine." You held the crowbar close to your chest.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Billy rolled his eyes and went outside without anything to protect himself. You were following close behind. 

The both of you looked around carefully. 

"Stu!" Calling for him as loud as you could.

"Shut up! Are you insane? This will lead the killer right to us!"

"I thought there wasn't one!" You whisper yelled.

"There probably isn't but you don't have to shout either!" Billy hissed.

The two of you kept sneaking around looking for Stu. That was until you bumped into something, assuming it was Billy you went to apologise but when you looked behind you, you saw a white mask with big black eyes and a wide open black mouth. You let out a loud scream as the person lunged at you with a knife missing you only by a few inches as you ran away.

"Billy!" You were running for your life, looking behind you to see if the killer was chasing you, but he was gone. Frantically you were looking for Billy. Turning around the corner you bumped into him, clinging to him. 

"There's a killer! There's a killer here! We need to find Stu and leave!"

Billy looked at you with big eyes and nodded, taking the crowbar, that you've completely forgotten about, from your hand. His eyes widened when he saw the masked killer show up behind you. As quickly as he could he pushed you behind him and went to hit the killer with his weapon. But the guy wasn't stupid and saw Billy's attack coming, taking a hold of the crowbar. Billy tried to get him to loosen his grip but there was no chance. The killer pulled Billy closer and stabbed him into his stomach. You led out a scream as you heard Billy groan. The killer then went on to stab Billy multiple times. Over and over again. You started to cry. Billy's legs gave out and he fell to the ground. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, tears streaming down your face.

You looked back at the killer who was looking at you, wiping his knife off of Billy's blood with one hand. Then he came stalking over to you. Your legs felt like jelly as you stumbled back, your back hitting the cabin. The killer was right in front of you, lifting his knife to strike you down too, just like he did with Billy. You closed your eyes and looked to the side. But after waiting several moments nothing happened. So you opened your eyes only for them to widen. The mask was lifted and sat atop of Stu's head. 

"Stu?" Your voice was shaking.

"Surprise princess." He was grinning.

Coming back to your senses you started pushing him. "What the fuck is wrong with you Stu?! Are you insane?! You killed Billy!" 

Just as you said that Billy jumped out from behind Stu, scaring you half to death. You didn't understand a single thing. His shirt was stained with his blood but he looked as alive as ever wearing the same grin that Stu wore.

"How are you alive?" You felt stupid asking him that.

Billy licked some 'blood' off of his fingers. 

"Corn Syrup. Same stuff they used as pig's blood in Carrie."

You were in utter disbelief.

"Are you two fucking kidding me?! I thought you were dead! I was scared for my life! I thought I was going to die!"

"Awww babes we are sorry. But a prank is always played during summer camp." Stu got a sheepish look.

"That was some fucking prank Stu!" You were getting more angry by the second. 

They gave each other a look. Pushing past the two you stormed back to your cabin. The two boys are hot on your heels. 

"Sweetheart, come on, it was just a prank." But you didn't respond to Billy, way too furious.

"Don't be mad at us. We love you."

"If you'd love me you wouldn't have done this fucked up shit." 

"Ok ok we are sorry ok?" Billy got a hold of your wrist making you stop. He turned you around putting his hands on your cheeks, making you look at him. "We really are sorry." 

"I don't know if I believe you. I was so scared. I thought I lost you." Tears were welling up in your eyes at the image of Billy laying in his own blood. Dead. Stu's head popped up over Billy's shoulder. Giving you his best puppy dog eyes. 

"Please forgive us. We swear we will never do that again."

"You better not." 

"So are we forgiven?" They looked at you hopeful. 

"Ask me again tomorrow…" With that you went into the cabin and back into your sleeping bag. You laid there for a while, eyes closed. Stu and Billy took a little while to come inside. You could hear them talking outside. You pretended to sleep when they came in, laying down beside you. They didn't know if you wanted to be close to them so they refrained from their usual cuddly positions. You didn't fall asleep until dawn, when exhaustion finally took you over. 

You don't know how long you've been sleeping for but a very pleasurable feeling between your legs was waking you from your slumber. A soft moan left your lips and you fluttered your eyes open. Between your legs you could make out a tuft of blonde curls. Stu was eating you out lazily and softly. So different from his usual pace. Your hand crept into his hair pulling softly but it only made him release your clit from between his lips.

"Good morning princess." He gave you a soft kiss. 

"Morning Stu. What are you doing?" 

"What does it look like? I am apologising." He grinned at you and went back to work, making you arch your back softly.

"If this is the apology for last night you will have to do much better."

"Oh princess, this is only the start. We plan to properly apologise, don't you worry. If you let us of course." Billy spoke up beside you. You looked at him, nodding. 

"Of course." Realising that they took off your clothes completely. Billy was playing with your boobs. 

Stu continued to play your pussy like he so often did before. Two of his fingers already buried deep inside you, fucking you open for them both. His lips were wrapped around your clit, the tip of his tongue flipping your little bud of nerves in his mouth. He loved being messy even  when things were going slower than normal. 

Billy's lips wrapped around one of your nipples, his teeth gazing softly. Your other  hand that wasn't in Stu's hair went into Billy's, pulling them both closer to you. It was so easy to forgive them like this but you wouldn't tell them that. Stu slowly added a third finger, scissoring them to fuck you more, curling them to find your gspot. He was so attune with your body, that it didn't take him long to find the spot that made your toes curl and an almost pornographic moan to leave your lips. Billy pulled at your nipple with his lips, making you clench around Stu's fingers. When you looked down you saw Stu was humping the ground while eating you out. This puts a lazy grin on your face.  

"Stu… Billy please." You wanted them both desperately.

"What do you want, pretty girl?" Billy looked at you with his intense eyes. Stu's mouth never leaving your wet cunt as he looked up at the both of you. 

"Need you. Need you both. Please." You were begging a little. But you truly needed to be filled by them. 

"Where do you need us?" Stu pulled at your clit letting it pop out of his mouth. 

"Inside me. Need you both inside of me. Please." You were looking at them pleadingly.

"Think you can handle us both?" Stu asked teasingly. You nodded quickly. Stu gave your dripping pussy another kiss before standing up and undressing. Billy doing the same. You kept staring at them both. The both of them started to make out, Billy pulling Stu closer, biting his lip harshly. They got lost in their little make out session. You cleared your throat.

"I thought this was my apology here." 

They parted and looked at you, both grinning. 

"Of course."

"Sorry sweetheart we got a little lost." Billy came over to you first, laying down beside you and pulling you on top of him, your boobs pressed against his chest. He started to kiss you passionately as he entered you. You moaned against his lips. Taking the opportunity Billy slipped his tongue into your mouth playing with your own. He started to thrust into you. Slow but hard. Deliberately. Making you feel every inch of him. Your gummy walls stretch around him. Billy continued his thrusting for a moment before he stopped.

Stu got into position behind you. Getting ready to push into your tight cunt too. Slowly and carefully he pushed in. Your eyes squeezed shut, the stretch almost unbearable. Both Billy and Stu groaned at the feeling, both being in your tight cunt while having their dicks rub together at the same time. They gave you time to adjust to being filled to the brim. You were panting. Billy gave you a soft kiss. 

"Are you ok?" 

You nodded. "Yeah I'm good."

They both started to move slowly. Working in tandem. You couldn't keep your moans in. It felt so good. How they knew how to play your body. Stu was gripping your hips so hard, definitely leaving bruises. Your eyebrows were knit together. Billy was groaning underneath you, Stu moaning behind you.

The slick sound of your juices mixing with your guys' moans. It was so lewd but it turned you on all the more. Billy kissed you again, sloppily. He kept sucking on your tongue. When he let go of your tongue you felt Stu leaning over your back, down, his head next to yours. He gave you a particular hard thrust making you scream in pleasure. Stu and Billy kissed again, just as sloppily as you two did. You were moving against Billy with every hard thrust. 

Somehow they managed to roll around, a squeal leaving your lips. Stu now under you. Your back on his chest, Billy on top of you. Billy gave your tits a hard squeez, now more in control of his thrusts. You felt like a rag doll how they handled you, and you loved every second of it. 

Billy laid a few quick slaps to your tits making you moan loudly. Your head fell onto Stu's shoulder. One of his hands wrapped around your throat. 

"You looked so cute being all scared last night. Really wanted to fuck you there." Stu's voice was deep, laced with lust. You whimpered at his words, his hand squeezing around your throat, cutting off the bloodstream, slowly becoming lightheaded. It only added to your pleasure. 

Billy's thumb gazed over the little scars you had on your hips, where you let them carve in their initials, while angling his hips a little differently. His thrusts only became harder. 

"You know we would never let anything happen to you princess." Billy's voice was equally as deep as Stu's. The same ounce of lust in them. 

"You are ours. And we protect what's ours." 

You looked at him with glossy eyes, the pleasure almost too much. They fluttered close when Stu's other hand went between your body's and he started to rub your clit deliberately. You didn't keep your eyes closed for long, because Billy took hold of your face, squeezing your cheeks together. 

"Do you understand sweetheart?"

You nodded dumbly, way too fucked out.

"Say it."

Stu's hand left your throat making you take in a deep breath, your head clearing up a little. Stu's thrusts got faster, your eyes rolling back. Billy gripped your cheeks harder, matching his thrusts into your soaking pussy.

"Say. It." His words were harsh, his thrusts emphasised his words, but you knew it was because he wanted his anwer.

"I'm yours. I'm all your Billy, Stu. Only yours." Your words were slurred. Partially from pleasure and partially from still having your cheeks pressed together.

"And?"

"You protect what's yours. You protect me." You were so close. But you knew better than to come without permission even if this was meant as your apology. 

"And we take such good care of you don't we?" 

You nodded, tears now streaming down your face all from the pleasure of their cocks inside of you and Stu's relentless pace on your clit. 

"You take such good care of me."

"Good girl. Isn't she Stu?" Billy looked a little behind you, directly at Stu who, in return, gave him a shit eating grin.

"Oh she is the best girl. Aren't you, pretty thing?" He gave your cheek, that Billy finally released from his grip, an exaggerated kiss. 

Billy's hand wrapped around your throat now making you gasp. Both their pace is becoming faster. Sloppier. Stu gave your nipples a hard pinch making you sob in pleasure. You were clenching around them so hard trying not to come without their permission. 

"Aw I think she is close Stu."

"Mh you think we should let her come?"

"I don't know. What do you think sweetheart? Do you think you should come?" Both their voices were teasing, condescending even. Billy gave your throat a squeez after you didn't answer immediately. 

"Please."

"Please what?" Billy's tone got harsher.

"Lemme come…" Your voice was hoarse from the moaning and screaming.

Billy looked at Stu again.

"You think we should let her?"

"I don't know man. Seems like she doesn't really want to." 

"Yeah I was thinking the same thing. But it is our apology after all."

"You are right. I think we should give her that."

They talked about you like you weren't even there. It should be embarrassing but it only got you more wet. 

"Go ahead doll. Come for us."

"Yeah, soak us in your juices."

It only took a few short moments of their hard, precise thrusts, Stu's thumb rubbing your clit the right way and Billy squeezing your throats not too tight, for you to finally come. It was earth shattering. Your legs started to shake uncontrollably and your eyes rolled back so far into your skull, your ears started ringing. You were clenching so hard around Billy and Stu that it didn't take them long to come right after you. Both groaning in unison, shooting their seed right into you without a care. They rode out their orgasms before Billy collapsed on top of you. You weren't completely back to your senses yet. 

You didn't really notice how they carefully slipped out of you, some of their joined load dripping out of you. Your thighs slick with your own arousal. 

Billy took a good look at your dripping pussy. 

"Damn. Still the most pretty pussy even all fucked out." 

You only came back to reality when the both of them started to clean you up, already dressed again after cleaning up themselves. 

"You back with us sweetheart?" Billy's voice had nothing of the harshness from earlier. 

"Yeah. That was mind-blowing. We should do this more often." Your voice was still hoarse but you kept smiling at them, utterly satisfied. 

"Sure thing, pretty girl."

"So does this mean we are forgiven?" Stu plopped down next to you, offering you something to drink. You thankfully took it and gulped it down.

"Mh I will consider forgiving you after some more mind-blowing orgasms."

You gave them a cheeky smile. 

They grinned at you in return. 

"That can be arranged."

They were on you again in seconds. You didn't leave the cabin the whole day. They really made you forgive them wholeheartedly. To be fair though you think there wasn't much of your brain left after they fucked you stupif all day

[heartfullofleeches]

Hiii I just started reading your stuff like a month ago and I love it sooo much bro😫 I read like stoner reader or sum shi but anyways can you like explain who your ocs v and k is? I hope that makes sense lol😭 I have like a little idea of who they are but not 🥲

V is my greasy rat of an oc - a borderline incel without any of the truly irredeemable qualities who struggles with his feelings for his darling because mom and dad were never home when he was a kid and he doesn't know how to express his emotions. Still spoiled rotten by them and lives a comfortable life behind his computer screen because their family is loaded and support through everything. He also really likes cats but is allergic to them and wants his darling to be their sweet little kitten - keeping a pet cage in his bedroom for them because he's a freak like that. Struggles with their identity/sexuality depending on where he is in life in any given fic, but this loser is very Bi and is adjusting to using He/They pronouns

K is V's younger sister - a friendly girl who may may not have a criminal record swept under the rug by her parents influence. Loves beaded bracelets and anything cute - like her darling. Feral gremlin woman who'd drop a brick off a roof when seeing a rival/someone who bullied her crush and say "Oops! My hand slipped :p". Goes to college unlike her useless brother and teases him often - being the reason V has purple hair and pigtails because he's too lazy to do his own hair, sneaking in to do it while he's passed out.

V is short for Vince. Technically it's short for Vincent, but nobody calls him that but his parents. K is short for Katherine.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hello, first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! I hope you had a happy birthday today !

I recently read your recent fic (The Sun eats the Moon) and the writting was amazing. But I have some question in my mind like :

"After that maybe 'Reader' could take contraception in secret, no ?"

"Is she (or they) gonna end up married to him, and forced to be a housewife or just following him where he goes ?" honestly I think her destiny is tragic no matter the result.

"How did he react to her disappearance, did he tried to find her (honestly my question was why he didn't ask her parents or search where did she goes, but honestly its a good thing that he didn't search) ? And during 10 years, how was to him ?" Maybe the only thing we can say "good" about him is he will only looking toward her and not any women after THAT day...?

And last question, I was wondering what will happen to them after THAT day like I know fr that in the media there will be news, but honestly I think the conclusion is well writting, the fact you first introduce the concept about the Moon and conclued with the detailed about the Moon and how tragic the ending is for them (Moon and 'Reader'). And if you are going to a Geto's it's will also be interesting because he was there to.

Sorry for the long message (eng isn't my first language) and thanks you to read that ! Have a nice day or night !

Thank you!!!!!!All great great great questions! I'll try to answer them as best as I can before giving tooo much away lol:

Why cant Ms.Moon take contraception?

yes Ms.Moon (that's my nickname for the mc now lol) could definitely try to take contraception in secret but I don't think it'll be a good ending if Gojo finds out. In the comments of the fic, many ppl were pointing out that Gojo was intentionally trying to get Ms. Moon pregnant back when they were "dating" buuuut it was sort of an afterthought for him. His logic was 'oh well it doesn't matter either way. you're staying with me regardless' but now that he's seen that Ms.Moon is 100% willing to leave him his next course of action is 'k well can't do that if you have a kid'. It's really not about Ms.Moon having a baby, rather it's insurance that bestie won't just dip again. He cares about you more than any kid you'd make together (awww thats so....sweet???)

Will Gojo force Ms.Moon to get married?

Probably, he's a romantic at heart teehee. But also he loves the attention. Part of the reason he was so effective in "keeping" Ms.Moon (in high school) was largely due to public pressure. Now, where he's basically a celebrity, his obsession with the spotlight has only increased. He's gonna be on talk shows and never shy about your relationship to the press. Gojo will definitely describe your relationship as 'newly reunited highschool sweethearts'. People at work will definitely bombard you for the details, and you were never one to be defiant so you'd probably just mutely agree with him (that's why he loves you so much: you're so agreeable). He'd make sure your wedding is the biggest celebration of the year. And then he'd drag you to Aruba or something for yalls honeymoon:)

Why didn't Gojo try to find Ms. Moon?

He did! When you dipped (graduated early and left for college) he went ballistic. I totally forgot to add this in, but Gojo is a huge reason why Ms.Moon doesn't talk to family anymore/anyone in that town. You didn't even tell your parents what college you were headed off to. I bet Gojo harrassed your family for a bit, because he's Gojo Satoru, but when it's clear you just disappeared I bet he was depressed. As terrible as he was, he did love you. It was also a pride thing for him. No one's ever 'won' against him, and you technically did. He'd greatly underestimated you and you got away. I bet he'd be a little impressed at that. I think in the fic it was greatly implied that he was searching for you buuuut eventually he forgot because he got so busy with his life. He still thought about you, but its was probably more along the lines of 'damn, can't believe i lost that bitch' And then you unceremoniously fell from the sky. Surprising, but he's grateful. It was fate to meet you again or was it? *cackles in omniscient author*

The Aftermath

Yeah, you're not living a normal life after that ever again. You're moving in with him, he's getting that marriage certificate ready bye bye freedom. I don't think he'd lock you up, buuuut having a security detail on you at all times, putting a tracker in your phone, and constantly calling/texting you is pretty close to life in prison right? EVENTUALLY, he'd limit your social network, then not-so-gently encourage you to quit your job. By the end of it, you'll be his little housewife but I think he'd be nice about it. (kind of)