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luvergirl777 · 11 months

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For All the Multiverses | O’Hara

Pairing | Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Word Count | 7k, not too bad.

Genre | Smut, kind of enemies to lovers if you squint hard.

Summary | Miguel is an ass, through and through. There’s almost nothing that can convince you otherwise, the constant nagging, perfectionism, micromanaging, and passive aggressive comments fueling your rage. After a dumb remark, you’re done with him, done with all of it.

Index | Submissive Miguel, soft dom reader I guess, biting (a bit of blood but nothing too crazy), bickering, dumb fighting, a bit of violence but not too bad (normal spider-people stuff.)

“It’s rude to stare, y’know?” You ask, voice absolutely dripping sarcasm with every single word. You can feel his eyes, your senses tingling throughout your body as his eyes bore into you from the top of his little platform. He’s been easily staring for 10 minutes now, glaring daggers at you as you try to work. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

He simply lets out a tsk noise, clearly not entertaining your conversation any further. “You should get back to work,” Miguel grunts, and you can practically feel his eyes roll as he turns back around to his projections. You’re not sure why he resents you so much, you’re pretty literally only here to help catch anomalies, literally his sole purpose in life.

“You should too, you’re supposed to be leading a capture in less than 3 minutes withhh, one sec, Gwen, Peter B, and maybe Jess if you need the backup. Spider-cat is also down to come with Jess if you’d like,” You inform him, once again getting on his nerves without even really trying. Truly, you practically do what Lyla’s designed to do. However, with anomalies popping up more frequently and unpredictability, she needs all the help she can get.

“I know, I don’t need you to tell me.” Miguel grits out.

“Well, you should get a move on because the rest of the team has been waiting on you for 5 minutes now, but I'm sure you know th-“

“Ay mierda,” And before you are able to get another cheap shot in he’s towering over you at your desk, “No micro-managing my mission, got it y/l/n?” his tone is deadly serious, vaguely threatening. Still, you refuse to give in to his constant fear-mongering bullshit, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. If there’s one thing you’re going to do in your time at the spider society, it’s putting Miguel in his place even if it’s just a little.

“Sir yes sir, Mr O’Hara sir,” You give him a stupid salute, purposely looking dumb to mock him. He leaves with an exaggerated sigh, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. You probably don’t want to, you’re sure it’s a string of curses. With a giggle, you immediately turn on your surveillance and begin overseeing the mission. “Lyla?” She pops up in front of you, bubbly and bright as ever.

“Yes?” She beams, walking around in her little artificial intelligence world. She’s the only other lively thing around here, and you’re grateful for her presence after dealing with Miguel all day.

“Can I have this mission? Pretty pretty please?? With a cherry on top?” You begin to beg, pressing your hands together and shaking them towards her to see.

“Well…I suppose Miguel never put in an official request on who monitors this mission. So I suppose I wouldn’t be going against any orders…” She trails off, thinking for a brief moment, “But if anyone asks, I was super busy!!” She exclaims, immediately running off to make herself busy so she has the excuse. It makes you giggle, turning back around to watch your projections spread around your desk. You hate that you share an office space with Miguel, but at least he’s in the air away from you.

They’re getting their asses kicked, genuinely. You can tell that they don’t know the anomaly they’re going against, constantly getting tricked by the changing of shapes, colors, forms, and even states of matter. Dragging a hand along your face, you quickly ping Peter B’s watch with a message to help them.

Don't tell O’Hara I’m here yet, but the anomaly glows under ultraviolet light. Think glowing like a scorpion !!!

Finally, things begin to click as Peter uses his watch to shine the light around to detect it. With a small smile, you pat yourself on the back. Still, while it’s now easier to find it’s not any easier to catch. You almost itch for Miguel to call it, eyes switching between cameras just in case you miss it.

“Call for backup.” Miguel groans, eyes narrowed more than before in his mask.

“Sorry, what was that?” Your voice fills his ear and he immediately drops his head, hand coming to rub his forehead as he fights off many choice words. He sits like that for a second as he recomposes himself.

“God, can't you hear?? I said call-“

“Already there.” You hang up, and a loud click right after you finish your last word. (AKA before Miguel can give you any more shit.) Truthfully? You have nothing against him. In fact, you think his combat and intelligence are admirable beyond compare. However, you refuse to be afraid like almost everyone else that comes to help. You don’t understand it, yeah he’s kinda scary because of his authority, but at the same time, he does the same thing as anyone else. Everyone is here to help, and the snarkiness and ego he has is beyond your grasp despite it all. You just so happen to have the pleasure to work right beside him.

Miguel was avoidant from the get-go, constantly denying the fact that they needed any more help. He can do it on his own, he’s got everything under control, he doesn’t need a set of eyes looking at him, etc, etc, etc. Even when Lyla appeared and gave a very timid “Actually we really would benefit from the help-“ She was promptly hung up on. (She then flashed her message on all of the holograms and projections in the room out of spite.) But still, Miguel was relentless in his belief that he had everything under control. This continued for a long time, however, there was a brief moment where the two of you got along well.

You’re not sure what really happened, how it even started. The two of you began going on missions together, catching a record number of anomalies for the month with ease. Along with this, you two fell into a routine in no time. He’d get coffee in the mornings, leaving yours on your desk as he was always in way earlier than you. You’d get lunch for the both of you, bringing Miguel his food as it’s rare he’d really leave for long, let alone to eat. It was nice, very nice.

Small conversations in passing turned into hour-long debates about anything and everything, friendly debates. These ranged from which lunch was the best from the cafeteria, all the way to the legitimacy of how the multiverse works. You thought the Miguel Burger was the best (and most funny), he loves the empanadas. He thought the multiverse was do-or-die at all times, you believe there have to be SOME exceptions in a multiverse of infinite possibilities. Through the small banters and discussions, you had actually learned a lot more about each other than you ever expected. In times you couldn’t agree, you two settled on a truce and no hard feelings. You both genuinely respected the other's opinion because you had enough respect for one another in general.

Besides from office encounters, you had even started “coincidentally” running into each other during night surveillance. He scared you at first as you snuck through the hall, a giant figure also popping out of his room. After the initial fright and a very over-exaggerated gasp from you, the two of you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation for a solid five minutes. He had spooked you so bad you even pulled your mask on, struggling to peel it back off through your laughter. “What are you doing, O’Hara, do you know what time it is?!” You whispered in between giggles, unable to hold them back.

He responded with a giant smile on his face, the lack of sleep probably going to his head finally. “I should ask you the same thing!” Afterward, you two snuck into the cafeteria kitchen to make a snack. The two of you made food, humming songs and passing ingredients back and forth with very little verbal communication needed. You two even entertained the idea of sneaking one of the projectors back for a movie, but you both decided you needed some sort of rest before morning duty started.

Another fond memory was his birthday one year. He never celebrates, never even thinks about allowing himself to. You initially bribed Lyla to tell you, and when she wouldn’t, you did some totally legal background stalking to find out. Walking into the office with a cake on his desk, obnoxious balloons, and streamers all over the office, and your frame hiding behind said desk ready to sing happy birthday, your plan was in full swing. Admittedly he was reluctant to even let you celebrate, clamping a palm over your mouth once you began singing. Slowly but surely he warmed up, made a birthday wish, and blew out his candles.

“Happy birthday Captain!!!” You’re over the top and obnoxious, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him around in his chair. Still, he offers you a genuine smile as you continue your birthday antics. Getting his favorite lunch and dinner, hand-delivering them to his desk, the whole nine yards.

It’s not until dinner that he told you why, “The last birthday I had, was with my daughter.” Miguel mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “I know, it’s silly but I just wanted to remember it with her.”

Guilt instantly eats at your heart and brain, immediately feeling bad for everything. You hadn’t even considered the reason why he didn’t celebrate, “I’m really sorry I didn’t know-“ You’re quick to offer your support, reaching out and holding his forearm in your palm.

“But this is really nice!” He interrupts your apology, flipping his arm over so he can also hold your arm near your elbow, “Really thoughtful and kind, I genuinely really appreciate you, y/n.”

Don’t even get going on the one Father’s Day you had gotten him a small gift. It wasn’t intentional, you had been at the store to get Peter a cake for him, Mayday, and MJ. Something cute with #1 Dad!! With a silly hero design in the background that you know Peter and Mayday would like. However, while you were in the store Miguel popped up into your mind. With an uncertainty that could rival god, you bit the bullet and also got him a smaller cake with happy father’s Day written across the top.

You had found Peter in the cafeteria, bothering Miguel with who knows what as he just tried to get his food and then leave. As soon as you gave the cake to Peter, Miguel leaves instantly, a painful reminder he didn’t need right now. Peter and Mayday thank you, and Peter jokingly smears a dollop of frosting across Mayday‘s nose. With a small smile, you excuse yourself to track down where Miguel went. “Captain?” Your voice is quiet and unsure as you walk into the office, trying to see if he’s up on the platform or not.

You get no response before you’re swinging up there, unsure of where else he would’ve gone. Sure enough, he’s sitting, hunched over facing away from you. “I brought you something, you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to I suppose.” You try to speak as softly as possible, minimizing the echo in the office. Placing it down in front of him, he picks his head up just the slightest bit to see what it is. Instantly, he lurches up and you think you’ve seriously done it now, stepped a bit too far over the boundary that you already crossed.

Instead of being chewed out, he instantly pulls you to him, wrapping you in his arms. “Thank you.” He mumbles, clearly trying to avoid voice cracking. You let the silence comfort the two of you, too scared to talk in case it sends Miguel over the edge he was so desperately trying to come back from. It’s nice, your arms wrapping around his waist and holding him close.

Everything seemed to be going positive and only up in your friendship, you two were happy and well-working co-workers. However, this promptly ended when you slipped up during a mission, made a dumb move for someone else, and got hurt pretty badly.

You, Jess, and Miguel were fighting together to catch a doc-ock from about 100 years in the future (from Miguel’s world anyway.) Jess had slipped just as razor-sharp blades were flying toward her. What would’ve originally hit her stomach, was not going for her throat. Without a second thought, you had jumped in front of her to avoid the for-sure deadly strike. It caught your ribs, slicing deep to the bone. Jess sprung up, grabbing you and opening a portal without a second thought and leaving Miguel behind. “Fuck, fuck Jess, hurts bad.” You groan, hands flying to your wound in a feeble attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. It soaks everything it touches, your hand completely red and your forearm soon to be.

In a blur, you’re rushed to the medic bay and onto a bed. The entire time, you’re groaning, writhing in pain. “What were you thinking?!” His voice is unmistakable as he storms into the med bay, quickly finding his spot next to your bed as he accesses the damage you took. “Stupid, stupid move, y/n. Idiotic, even.” He’s mumbling more that you can’t quite catch, and you’re too out of it to even try and understand the broken Spanish. “Can't believe you two.”

Jess cries next to you, holding your hand where it rests on the bed. “Jess would’ve died.” You grit as his hand presses against your wound to slow the bleeding, making you cry out. “Captain!” You scream, hands flying to grab his wrists as you continue to writhe. It’s bad, your hands instinctively clawing at his forearms to try and get him away even for a moment. Easily overpowering you, he doesn’t let up.

“I know, I know I'm sorry, mi sol.” His words fall on deaf ears as you scream. The pain is unbearable as you go in and out of consciousness, doing your best to remain conscious of Jess’s emotional state. You’re completely out as you get stitched and cleaned up, your body is completely spent and your adrenaline begins to wear off.

The very first time you wake up, Miguel is next to you. His forehead rests on his palms, hunched over in the chair next to you. Your voice is too weak, so you simply reach out and take hold of his arm. “Menos mal que estás bien.” His voice is soft as he takes your hand in his, holding it up to his forehead. “You’re okay,” Miguel mumbles, pulling your hand down a bit to his cheek. You smile, flattening your hand to hold the side of his face in your palm.

“Sorry,” You speak, and he gives you a confused look at what you could be apologizing for. “About your arm, and fucking up the mission.” There are scratches all along his forearm, and you’re about 90% positive it had to be from you.

“No, no. Don’t even worry about anything.” He speaks, shuffling slightly to stand up. Miguel places your hand gently back down to your stomach. “And what I said about that mission, that was just- I was-“ He can't even finish what he wants to tell you.

“Please don’t leave me.” You mumble, realizing that he’s definitely about to run away. Miguel huffs heavily, his chest rising and falling. He has a sorry look on his face, and you know him well enough to know he’s not sticking around long. Leaning down, he wraps you in his arms, holding you close and protectively to his chest. It hurts, bad, but you’re not going to tell him as you soak it in. “O’Hara,” Tears cloud your vision.

“I’m sorry, y/l/n.” And just like that, he’s disappearing. Recovery is a bitch, worse than the initial injury. You’re grateful for everyone visiting you in the med bay, but not once do you see Miguel even for a status update.

Since then, he’s completely detached again. No longer leaving you coffee, ignores the lunch you bring him every day, not entertaining any of your conversations. You’re somehow completely back to the day you joined.

Due to this incident, you naturally brush against each other, butting heads on almost everything now. This continued for a while, still remaining relevant here and there to this day. You can see Miguel shake his head as Jess and spider cat come in, they need all the help they can get, before he springs into action again. He’s scary, with fangs, claws, and running on all fours now. Maybe you’ve ticked him off a bit too much. you make a mental note to “STFU when O’Hara gets back” out of fear you’ve created this. (Not an uncommon occurrence.)

With Jess and Spider Cat, they’re able to wrangle up the remaining anomalies and come back to HQ. The door slamming open startles you, and the mental note you made earlier is in full swing, sirens and all going off in your head. Your lips are sealed more than ever. You can feel his glances, before he quickly turns away, just to look back at you. He’s working himself up to chew your ass out, for sure. This is usually the look that he gives to Hobie when he’s being an idiot. The only thing you can do is turn your gaze down and continue searching through the multiverse for anything unusual.

“Really? Really, you did the one thing I told you not to do?” Miguel carries on and you’re sure he’s pacing the platform as usual, “¿Por qué? ¿Por qué sigo dando órdenes?“ (Why? Why do I keep giving orders?) He continues to get himself going.

You don’t know what to say to possibly make the situation better, so you continue your work. “Oh? And now you’re just not gonna talk to me, huh? I see how it is, ya veo cómo es.” (I see how it is.)

“I figured I was helping, O’Hara.” You spit, moving your screens aside to glare up at him. “You know?? Doing the one thing I’m here for? I don’t understand why you think me helping the team is somehow to spite you.” His eyes are beginning to turn red and you’re quick to flash your projections up once more to avoid the glare that is surely targeted at you. Your suit suddenly feels too right around the neck, strangling you.

“Hmm, hmm.” Miguel nods, turning around on his platform and giving you the silent treatment from here on out. Eventually, he would break, you’re sure of it, have to ask you for something eventually. To your dismay, you’re the first one that has to break the silence in the suffocating room.

“There's an anomaly on Earth 295-“

“Go get it. Since you want to micromanage anyways, you got it.” It’s not encouragement at all, the opposite really. With an exasperated sigh, you get up from your desk and begin to make your way out into the lobby. Rounding up a group of people, you set off to catch the anomaly. It’s easy, a routine capture before you’re dragging the man back through your portal. With another sigh, you shove open the doors to your shared office and plop down into your chair. No other words are exchanged for the rest of the day, the two of you doing your work while passing another in silence.

You wish you could work alongside Lyla in her artificial intelligence database. Clocking out for the night, you’re preparing to open your portal and crash land somewhere in your city. Anything is better than being here. “I need you to stay tonight for overnight surveillance.” Miguel breaks the silence just as you’re about to press the open button, your arms immediately falling to your sides and your head was thrown back.

“Fuck you, O’Hara.” You groan, leaving your office and heading up to the overnight dorms to begin your night surveillance. God, you hate him. You joined the society to make the universe better, all of the multiverses better, not to be picked on by some oversized man in a tight-ass hologram suit. Plopping down at your desk in the dorm, you curse O’Hara out in your head. Scanning through your brain, there’s literally nothing you can think of to make the situation better. He simply hates you because he can’t handle everything on his own, you’re sure he’s just projecting but it’s infuriating regardless. The whole night, every second of the surveillance shift, you become more and more irritated.

It’s 7 am when you crawl out of your dorm, running on 5 minutes of accidental sleep and spite. You’re technically supposed to be at your desk at 7, but at this point who cares. If he says one thing, one single thing to you, “You know you’re 3 minutes late-“ And you’re ripping off your watch and hurling it at his head. Miguel, spider sense less, doesn’t feel it coming and gets absolutely clobbered in the side of the head. You hope it bleeds, truly, as your chest heaves.

“Fuck, you, O’Hara,” You grit, turning around and beginning to make your way out of the stupid office, away from his stupid little platform, and his stupid little dramatic face. Like an idiot, he chases, “All I do is fucking help you, stick my neck out for these missions, bust my ass, and nothing. You take the credit and I get yelled at for helping.” You're beyond angry, fists clenched at your side-

“Just put your watch back on estúpida, you’re gonna glitch-“ He watches as you do just that, never crumbling or falling as you turn to glare at him. Scary, that was scary. He’s never seen someone withstand their literal atoms glitching, let alone being so angry they’re able to move also. Still on you’re feet, Miguel ignores the smart part of his brain that tells him to move away from you.

“All because pretty boy,” You’re stepping closer to him, and Miguel takes all the strength in his body to not cower away from you. Forcing himself to stand tall like always, he takes whatever you’re about to give him, finger digging into his chest, “Can’t take the fact that he can’t control everything. Pushes everyone away, would rather the multiverse weaken than admit he needs some fuckin help, and everyone just believes it. Holds their heads high with the assumption everything is fine, they’re doing their job, getting their pats on the back. It’s such a shame you’re so attractive O’Hara, because it’s ruined by that fucking personality of yours.” Maybe you’re being too mean, but if you don’t say it no one else ever will. At the commotion, a few heads begin to look over at the two of you.

“Can we please talk, in private, where people aren’t staring at us-“

“I’m going home. I’m going through that stupid freaky spider machine, that has a stupid name by the way, and leaving the team,” You say, definitive as you tear yourself away from Miguel and began the trek towards Margo’s office (essentially.)

“Can we please talk like adults, y/n?” Miguel still follows, this time grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you back harder than he really meant to. He’s strong, much stronger than you, so it’s no surprise that you almost fly backward into his chest. He catches you by the waist, only making your anger bubble more. Glaring up at him, you can see a flash of emotion rush across his face before it’s gone just as fast. “Please, y/n.”

Miguel isn’t a beggar, never has been, in fact, you can’t even remember if you’ve ever heard him say please before now. “To the office?” You force a grin as the group of eyes on the two of you continues to grow. Miguel offers you a polite nod, placing your watch back on your wrist before allowing you to lead the way. With an annoyed grunt, you eventually make it back to your desk, plopping down in the chair. “If you go up to your platform to talk to me, I’m opening a portal and leaving. Before you even get a word in,” You warn him.

Miguel walks over with an annoyed sigh, rubbing the wrinkle in between his brows out. “y/n please stay, we need all the help we can-“ His words are cut short as your lurch forward, roughly grabbing his face in your hand. His cheeks are squished together as your fingertips dig into his skin, spinning around. You easily knock him back into the chair you were previously sitting at. “¡Joder! ¡De acuerdo!” (Ah fuck! Okay Okay!)

“Now you need me? All of a sudden, now you need the help.” You hiss, caging him in as you step closer, fingertips digging in even more with each word. You’re basically leaning over him, one of his knees slipping between your legs without even realizing it. Miguel’s hands reach up, timidly wrapping around your wrist in an attempt to calm you down or at least loosen the grip you have on him.

“Cálmate dulce chica, podemos hablar de esto.” (Calm down sweet girl, we can talk about this.) Miguel offers, a small whimper falling from his lips as he realizes how close you are to him, essentially hovering over his lap. “y/n please-“ It’s nothing short of sin, a loud whine falling past his lips as his hands fly to meet your waist. His big hands almost wrap around you entirely, if he squeezed his fingertips would probably touch together.

“You’re getting off to this? Really Miguel?” Another groan falls from his lips, you never call him Miguel. Never, it’s always O’Hara or some stupid nickname you picked up from the kids because you thought they were funny. There’s a small smirk on your face, making Miguel’s eyes narrow with lust as it’s clear you’re very amused by his situation. His mind almost melts as you finally sit, your knees on either side of his hips. You fill his senses, judgment beginning to cloud as your smell fills his nose and voice his ears. “You are, huh?” You draw out, the slightest bit of humor behind your voice.

“You’re just, ah fuck, so pretty when you’re yelling at me,” Miguel speaks, a bit muffled as you haven’t released him yet from your grip. Finally, you let go of his cheeks, leaving behind faint red dots where your fingertips once were. “So soft, warm,” He continues as his mind becomes fuzzier by the second, hands pawing at your suit material. He wants nothing more than for it to be gone right now and for a brief moment, he thinks about ripping through it. He can give you one like his, yeah, he thinks as he rationalizes.

“You gonna be good? Let me see you?” You mumble and break his train of thought, hands trailing over his suit that is technically molecules that he’s learned to manipulate over the years. With a small nod, he removes the fabric where your hands trail, leaving open skin for you to touch. The rest of his suit remains intact, only his front opening for you. “Naughty naughty,” You tease at his lack of underwear or boxers, ghosting your fingers across his head to tease him even more. Without explanation, you climb off his lap and step away.

“y/n? Fuck, what’s wrong-“ His worry ceases as you begin pulling your suit off, the skin-tight fabric being dropped on the desk space next to you. “Oh Dios, vas a ser mi muerte.” (Oh god, you’re going to be the death of me.) He knows you don’t understand Spanish fluently, only picking up bits and pieces of his expressions. In this case, you caught death and that’s about all you understood.

“You know I don’t understand, Miguel.” You tease as you crawl back onto his lap only in a bra and panties, seated securely on his big thighs. Leaning forward, your hands find their place naturally in his hair. “Let’s talk like adults, hm?” You mock him from earlier, a sick smirk spread fully across your face. “Go ahead, tell me everything you wanted to earlier, or else I’m taking my watch off and going home~” You almost sing song, soaking in the hint of misery it gives him.

“I just wanted to say- haaaa fuck,” You catch Miguel off guard as your lips find his jaw, hot kisses soon spreading down to his neck. You mark him thoroughly, you wanna leave a part of yourself with him.

“C'mon, O’Hara, or I'm leaving.” You continue to warn.

“I, we need you here. I know I’ve been, shit shit,” His train is thrown off as you press yourself closer to him, pinning his cock in between your stomachs as your hips search for friction, “Mean to you recently. It’s just because, ah ah, I liked you. But I couldn’t express this because of our circumstances. And when you got hurt, it scared me because I realized how much you actually meant to me. So instead of liking you I thought hating you would push you away and it would eventually dissipate. But you’re so stubborn it only made things worse because you refused to go to a different department at least.”

“I see.” You barely give him a response as you suck dark hickeys into his chest, peering up at him to catch his expression. “Miguel, let me ride your fingers,” He groans, nodding his head as his palm slides closer to where you need him.

One of his palms remains on your waist, the heat spreading from his hand to your body. It feels as if you’re on fire, blood molten lava as it flows throughout your body. As much as you’ve hated him recently, he’s still incredibly attractive. And to have him this pliant and finally following your instructions? An added bonus. Your breath hitches as he runs across your clit, running across the small bead as your hips reactively pick themselves up to give him better access.

“Fuck, so pretty like this, finally listening to my instructions,” You fill the silence, hands falling to hold Miguel’s head in them. “You gonna let me kiss you, O’Hara? Or is that too intimate for you?”

“I want nothing more, please do.” He groans as you immediately lean forward, lips clashing as you starve for a taste of him. He kisses you back with a matched fury, his palm siding up to hold your torso against him. He swallows your moans as he begins his ministrations, sinking his middle finger completely into you. The kiss is messy, the only thing grounding you as he inserts another finger, expertly finding what makes you tick. Tongues pressing against tongues, lips swollen, moans, and panting breaths mix together.

“Close, O’Hara,” You warn, “If you stop, I’ll kill you,” A genuine threat as your grip falls to his neck, loosely choking him. It makes him whine, more focused on pleasing you more than ever now. Your hips begin meeting his hand, chasing a high you so desperately need now. You’re soaked, the sound bouncing off the office walls surely embarrassing beyond belief if you were thinking straight. Your free hand finds Miguel’s lips, thumb brushing along his lips and revealing his canines, giant fangs that stick out farther than his other teeth. “Coming,” You whine, losing your grip on him almost entirely as your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, riding out your high.

“C'mon, cum for me. So pretty, y/n, shaking around my hand.” Miguel encourages you, thoroughly prolonging your orgasm as he targets the spot inside and your poor aching clit. He stops only when your hips drop, no longer able to withstand the abuse. “Fuck, so pretty y/n, all for me,” Miguel continues, pulling you close as your lips reconnect, this time rough. Your hands pull his hair harshly, head tilting back as he whines into your mouth.

“Gonna ride your pretty cock, get myself off,” You mumble into his mouth, causing him to groan in response. Miguel’s more than happy to let you, puppy dog eyes and all as you pull yourself away from him. He’s big, and you’re sure you’re not completely stretched as much as you’d like but you’re in too deep now. Lining yourself up, it’s a rough start. Miguel’s hands fly to your waist, not pushing but simply squeezing as his head falls back. His face is squeezed hard, whines falling past soft lips before he can think to stop them. “So big, fuck fuck,” Whimpering, you sink slowly inch by inch as you will yourself to take him.

“Shit y/n. fuck, haaa fuck fuck, tight,” Miguel babbles, unable to hold it back. Taking the last few inches, you lean forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, desperately needing something to hold onto. “So good, please move, please feels good, so deep,” Miguel feels like his mind is melting, completely pussy drunk as he shamelessly begs for you. You grind against him, trying to get a feel for how big he is before you hurt yourself. Rolling your hips slightly, you effortlessly pull moans from the both of you.

Your bodies are completely pressed together as you pick your hips up and slam them down, body heat suffocating but so good at the same time. Your face finds itself in Miguel’s neck, moans and whines being muffled into his skin. Miguel holds onto you for dear life, almost bruising the skin underneath his fingers. Your pace is brutal, once again chasing your high with no other regard in mind. His hands begin to hurt, definitely bruising the skin underneath.

“O’Hara.” Your tone is pissed off as you rip his hands away, webbing them to the armrests on either side of you. He could easily rip them, you’re sure, but he won’t, another thing you’re sure of. “Stupid boy, getting rode and doesn’t know what to do with himself,” You taunt, almost feeling his cock jump. It feels too good, he feels too good as he instinctively curls in on himself. “C’mon, don’t get shy on me.” You taunt, wedging your feet on the inside of his thighs and spreading them.

“Your stupid boy,” He babbles back, picking his head up more fully to watch how you use him, relentlessly fucking him. “So good, so pretty.” He can see the tip of his cock in your stomach, bordering crazy he’s sure. His fists ball at his sides, doing his best to be good. “Gonna cum soon, you feel too good.”

“Hmm, I’m not stopping until I cum.” You warn him graciously. You’re about 95% sure it goes in one ear and out the other, too distracted to fully register your words. “Do what you want, Mig, just remember that.” Once again, he definitely doesn’t comprehend as he eagerly nods at the approval.

As his high approaches, his hips begin grinding up into you, chasing his own release. You allow it, having already warned him more times than you should’ve. “Coming, nghhh ahh fuck, fuck,” And he does, hips driving forward as he cums as deep as possible. You entertain it, sinking down fully and grinding against him as you coax him through it. You can feel his thighs shake underneath you as his hips rest back down on the chair, head thrown back as his chest heaves.

“Oh, Mig, sweet boy.” You tease, voice flowing through his ears like honey. “I haven’t cum yet.” Finally, you’re getting through to him as you pick your hips back up, dropping down with a wet smack.

“y/n, wait! Shit, fuck, nhghhhh ah ah,” Miguel is so overstimulated, thighs shaking slightly as his hips buck. You’re once again chasing your high, using him completely as your toy now. “Please I can’t-“ Tears prick his eyes as his head picks up to meet yours, muscles flexed as he pulls against his restraints. Your grip meets his throat, stopping his whining momentarily.

“I warned you, be good for me and sit still,” You mumble, your free hand reaching for his mouth once again. ”Been so mean to me, so mean Miguel, need to use you. Need to punish you.” You bite into his shoulder, muffling yourself. His whines and moans are nonstop, the overstimulation driving him crazy. Eventually, you pull your head back, finding another sensation to play with. Wedging your fingers into his mouth, Miguel thinks his mind is going to melt. Your fingers run across his fangs, testing the sharpness on the pads of your index and middle. Much to your surprise, (not really), they easily prick the skin and cause blood. Miguel’s tongue is quick to soothe over the two pricks, earning him a loud moan as you run your fingers across his tongue. “My dumb boy, all pussy drunk, overstimulated, just so stupid, hmm?”

“Yes, yes,” Is all he can manage with your two fingers in his mouth, beginning to fuck them against his tongue in speed with your own hips. It’s obscene, but the sight makes you clench tightly around his cock, earning you even louder whines. There’s saliva dripping now, so messy as he allows you to do as you please.

“Fuck, gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, Miguel.” Your thighs are growing tired, Miguel doing his best to pick up the slack and thrust up into you. “Cumming~” It’s barely a warning as your head falls forward, thighs shaking and clamping down around Miguel’s hips. He does his best to prolong it, thrusting up with the limited movement you allow him, soon spilling inside you once more as you’re just so tight.

As you come to, your hips pick themselves up and down a couple more times, fucking his cum into you. “No more, please, no mas, no mas, por favor mami,” (No more, no more, please mami.) Miguel cries, tears slipping as the overstimulation is too much. Your hips still with him still inside, chests heaving as the both of you fight to catch your breaths. Your hands are quick to meet his cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that fall. Leaning forward to kiss the tear stains, Miguel whines as you slide along him.

“Look at you, absolutely covered in cum, spit, sweat,” You smile, slowly picking your hips up and climbing off his lap. Everything aches, but you’re so satisfied as you wobble over to your suit. Picking it up, you opt for carrying it rather than fighting it over your sticky skin. Miguel looks like the epitome of sex as he remains in the chair, still struggling to recover. “Miguel, you okay?” Your voice is much gentler now, walking over and placing a kiss on his forehead. He nods as you rip through your webs for him, freeing him of his restraints. You offer a soft peck which he takes gratefully, your fingers coming to rub his scalp where you had been tugging at his hair.

“Miguel?” Carefully climbing into his lap again, you drop your suit over the armrest. “My boy, are you alright?” You pull him close to you, holding his head against your chest as you massage his scalp. You hold him until he comes down fully, placing soft kisses on his forehead and tear-stained cheeks.

“Yes, mi corazón. Are you okay? Feeling okay?” His hands meet your waist where he had been previously squeezing, rubbing the soon-to-be bruised skin.

“More than okay.” With one final reassurance peck to his lips, you stand back up fully and grab your suit. You're exhausted, both from night duty and today's festivities, and it’s clear there is no way you’re going to be able to work today. “I’m gonna go home and get some sleep, I had the night shift last night.” The reminder pains Miguel that he really asked you to do that out of spite. “You’re more than welcome to follow, or swing by later.” You offer, tapping on your watch until you carefully open a portal inside your apartment.

Glancing back once more, Miguel looks cute as he watches you go, suit fully formed once again. You wonder how that works with all the liquid on his skin, but you opt to ask another time.

“I’ll stop by later,” He offers, not missing the way your face falls slightly. He quickly climbs to his feet, “I just have a couple of things to do here, otherwise I would, I really would trust me.” Miguel explains, big frame easily engulfing you into a hug. His cheer-up protocol works, putting a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

“I’ll see you later, spidey,” You beam, leaning forward onto your tip-toes to kiss him. He meets you halfway, indulging you. With one final glance back, you step through the portal, waving bye as it closes.

“I’ll be there!” He promises just as it closes, leaving you two technically universes apart from one another.

~~~

Hours later, the sound of his portal is unmistakable in your small one-bedroom apartment as it fills the silence and shakes the walls. Peeking your head out of the hall into your living room, his giant frame looks a bit silly in the small area. Nevertheless, the giant smile that spreads across your face is priceless. “You actually came!” You speak, spooking him slightly as you step out from behind the hall wall.

“What? Of course.” He scoffs, welcoming you with open arms when you approach him. He must’ve gone home and cleaned up, hair seemingly damp and a glow that only a warm shower could give radiating from him. “I wouldn’t miss this for all the multiverses.”

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #Hobie Brown #jessica drew #Gwen Stacy #Pavitr Prabhakar #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara smut #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel is annoying #but a softie in this #i still think hes a dick in the movie tho #beating up 15 year olds #but he is hot #miguel ohara x reader

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atttwoood · 1 year

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A minor person goes to read fanfics about minor characters:

Also fics with minors:

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jfkisonthemoon · 13 days

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han sooyoung did not write both TWSA and ORV in the slim hopes that one of them would save kim dokja's life for y'all to write her off as the "angry lesbian who only cares about getting her gay friends together"

#SHE WROTE TWO LOVE STORIES. FOR HIM. SHE CALLED HIM HER READER.#she straight up went to go see him before fading away. she held his little 15 year old hand in the hospital.#she was the one yjh went to for a mercy killing. TWICE.#why would she be hell bent on getting those two together.#i think hsy and ysg is real too but. come on.#not putting this in the full tag because its just me ranting #orv #orv spoilers #mak no peeking #marydontlookatthis #jessie speaks

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 3 months

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The summer of 1942 - Tom Riddle x reader -P1

cross posted on Ao3

summary-

In the month before the school year ended in 1942, Tom Riddle is told that the orphanage council has decided to evacuate their children due to the high risk-thanks to the war. So Tom is sent to live in the countryside with a family-thankfully(or not so thankfully)- its a muggle family with a witch daughter-(y/n), his classmate. let's see if they get along, shall we?

In 1942, about a month before the school year ended-Tom Riddle, 15 years old, received a letter; telling him of the change of housing-as the orphanage council had all agreed to evacuate the children of the orphanage for their safety, due to the high risk of location. Wools orphanage resided in London-which was a high-traffic area for the war, so Tom wasn’t all that surprised to receive such a letter telling him he was to be hosted by a family out in the countryside until further notice.

‘We were, fortunately, able to find some hosts that fit your, unique, abilities.’

Tom huffed, glaring down at the letter-folding it back up and sliding it into the envelope it had come in. Hosts that fit his unique abilities, eh? That either meant a wizarding family, or a family that knew of magic. The rest of the letter had just informed him of what to do after returning from his 'private' school-as that was what Mrs. Cole was told when Tom had first left the orphanage 5 years ago now-and had provided train tickets within the letter.

If he said he was looking forward to this; he would be telling a half-truth. Because yes, he would be free of the orphanage for a whole summer-maybe even the summer after that-but he would also be in a place that wasn’t Hogwarts-a stranger's home, possibly with some random kids who had also been evacuated from London.

Tom set aside the letter-going back to his breakfast as his ‘friends’ all chattered away, not caring for the world around them. Tom glanced to his side, raising his brow a bit when he saw (y/n) Prothero looking at him, a letter in her hands, she blinked at him and then folded her letter-looking away as she returned her gaze to her friend across from her-who was speaking very…wildly.

Prothero was in his year, and his house-muggleborn-he hadn’t interacted with her much-maybe once or twice within the last 5 years, usually if they were partnered together for an assignment.

He had heard many call her weird-which Tom thought was odd, since-they were all wizards and witches, they were weird by that alone. The weirdest thing Tom had ever seen her do was pick up a rat snake and carry it away from a screeching horde of first-years who were terrified of the thing.

Then again, Tom didn’t interact with Prothero much-so he supposed that was why he hadn’t seen how weird she was.

Tom’s mind was back in the present with the sound of the bell, and everyone rushed to grab their things and head to class-Tom taking his time and strolling down the halls to his first class-wondering what the summer would be like now that he wouldn’t be in London for the first time in 15 years.

Tom stepped off the Hogwarts Express, nodding goodbye to his ‘friends’ as they all went off to their parents, heading to their mansions for the summer. How lucky for them. Tom looked down at his train tickets, making his way to the platform and ticket booth as described on the tickets. “Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Tom said as he handed over the tickets, the woman on the other side of the booth examined them and then handed them back-along with a slip of paper connected to a safety pin.

“Wear that at all times sweetheart, until you arrive at your destination, it will allow the marshals to identify you and get you where you need to go.” Tom nodded, politely thanking the muggle woman and pinning the paper to his jacket-one of the marshals examining it as he passed by-his Hogwarts trunk being taken by a station worker as many many other children joined him-saying goodbye to their parents, some sobbing and some attempting to cheer their families up-saying they would see each other again soon.

Tom spotted a familiar face amongst the crowd-Prothero, handing over her trunk and larger belongings before climbing into the train-not wearing a slip like Tom and many other children were. Tom just hummed, curious but not curious enough to ask her where she was going. Tom eventually climbed onto the train-passing by other children hanging out the windows-saying goodbye to their parents.

The train began to move-and Tom quickly found an empty car to sit in. he slid his bag into the overhead bin and sat down-opening his potions book and began to read-ignoring those who passed by his car as the train pulled out of the station-all the children still saying goodbye to their families as they were sent off the countryside.

Tom eventually looked up, surprised to see Prothero standing at the door-looking just as surprised to see him. She blinked, and then glanced at the seat across from him. Tom just looked back at his book and Prothero took that as a ‘whatever’ and sat down-closing the car door and sitting next to it, separating the two by a few feet.

They didn’t speak for nearly the entire ride-but they would both look out the window at each stop along the way, watching as children were picked up by their host families as they rode deeper into the countryside.

Finally, as night began to fall, Tom looked up, closing his book(the 3rd he had read so far on the trip) and glanced at Prothero, who was drawing. “you’re not wearing a slip,” Tom said, his voice slightly raspy from hours of not being used. Prothero looked up at him, and nodded.

“I live out here,” was all she said and that was good enough for Tom, who stood and slid his book back into his bag-grabbing another one to read. At that moment, his stomach growled and he huffed, sitting back down and pressing his hand to his gut. “Are you hungry at all, Riddle?”

Tom snapped his head up, looking at Prothero, who was digging through her bag-the jingle of coins catching Tom’s attention. “I don’t need your charity,” Tom muttered and Prothero frowned, glancing back at him.

“I was just being nice,” She muttered, standing and flipping a few coins between her fingers. “but if you don’t want anything,” With that, she stepped out of the car, most likely going down to the club car to get food.

Tom ignored the hunger he felt, he had far gotten used to doing so anyway. Especially during summer. But when Prothero returned, she tossed a wrapped sandwich over to Tom, who flinched as it landed next to his thigh. He narrowed his eyes at Prothero, who ignored him, opening her sandwich and taking a bite-only looking back when Tom continued to glare.

“It’s just a peanut butter sandwich, I bought jelly if you wanna add it,” Prothero muttered, holding up a few small rations of jelly, strawberry and grape. Tom just blinked and then stood, taking the grape jelly and going back to his seat-muttering a small thank you as he did. “you’re welcome,” Prothero said back, once again ignoring him as they ate in silence.

It was dead into the night when the train arrived at the station Tom was to get off. So he grabbed his bag and got off the train, waiting for his luggage as a station worker went to grab it. he looked behind him as he felt a presence, seeing Prothero once again, also waiting for her luggage.

“A coincidence our destination ended up the same,” Tom said politely, turning back to the train, watching as his luggage was rolled over to him-Prothero’s luggage not far behind. “Yep,” was all Prothero said, glancing over her shoulder. Tom felt as if she knew something, but before he could ask about it-two figures came up to the platform.

“Ah-there you are! Tom Riddle, I assume?” the older woman called, her hair pulled back into a bun, holding a slip of paper. Tom nodded. “Have you all your things?” the woman asked Tom and he nodded again, all he really had was his luggage and bag, he didn’t have many personal items. “very well, I’m Brenda Prothero, and that is my husband, John,” Tom looked around-seeing a man dressed comfortably, with kind eyes and a goatee, hugging Prothero.

Oh, huh. So that’s why Prothero had the same destination, her parents were to be his hosts for the summer. Interesting. “-and I assume you and (y/n) are already acquainted.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tom said, polite as ever, he wasn’t fond of muggles-but he would keep his manners if he wanted this summer to be pleasant in the slightest. At least they were aware of magic. “Wonderful, let’s get going then-I’m sure you’re both tired and need food,” And with that, Tom followed Mr. and Mrs. Prothero out of the station-which was really just a platform with a single building-and climbed into the car awaiting the family and Tom.

They drove deeper into the countryside, passing through a comfy-looking town and into farmland-where Mr. Prothero drove up to a comfortable house that had a farmhouse a good 100 feet away, and a large building about a mile away-all surrounded by fencing.

Tom blinked, sleep eating at his eyes and brain, and he shuffled out of the car as it turned off-and he followed the Prothero family into the home. “Your room is upstairs, to the right of the upstairs hall,” Mrs. Prothero said, pointing at the stairwell to the right of the kitchen-which was bigger than Tom thought it was going to be-blinking at the long table by the window that faced the path back towards town.

“(y/n), show him to his room, please?” Mr. Prothero said, sounding very tired, and Prothero nodded, grabbing her trunk and bag-nodding Tom towards the stairs-he followed, not bothering to say goodnight to his hosts-since they were already shuffling into their room-the light turning off almost as soon as the door closed.

The upstairs hallway was one long hallway, with two doors on either side-photos and portraits decorating the walls, and a door in the middle of the hall between the two ends. “Your room is there,” Prothero said, pointing down the right end, and then she pointed at the other end. “that one’s mine, that’s the bathroom.” she pointed at the middle door. “We share it-and there’s doors in our rooms that connect to it-locks on the inside. So if you use it, make sure to lock the doors when you do.”

Tom nodded, lugging his trunk down the hall and opening the door-nodding at what he saw. It was nearly as big as the dorm room at Hogwarts-but with only one bed. The bed was quite nice, with cream sheets and a green throw blanket at the end, it was just a bit bigger than his bed at Hogwarts and had plenty of pillows to spare.

Tom didn’t bother to examine further-he was exhausted, he had never been on a train so long since his first ride on the Hogwarts Express. He set his trunk on its side and opened it, grabbing his sleep clothes and getting changed, hearing Prothero in the bathroom through the door in the corner of the room. Tom looked through the window next to it-blinking up at the stars that were so bright Tom shut the curtains.

When he heard the door unlock and the other door close-he grabbed his toothbrush and went into the bathroom-brushing his teeth and relieving himself, after washing his hands he shut off the light and unlocked the door on Prothero’s side. He turned off the light in his room and slipped into bed, sinking into the mattress.

This wasn’t bad.

At least he wasn’t at the orphanage, surrounded by stupid muggle kids.

-end of p1-

someone on ao3 commented that peanut butter didnt get introduced into the uk till like-1946? and they dont call jelly jelly but Jam, and PB&J's werent/arent popular. im American so blame any inconsistencies on that-this is written up to p12??? so ill just be posting these on here now since my other writing is being stubborn

#tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #fluff fic #15 year old Tom Riddle

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intergalacticaquarium · 2 years

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Reader visits Family Video practically every day, and tries to get service only from Robin, ignoring Steve 🥰

Hoooooo boy went a little overboard with this one but I really really really love it so much- maybe not exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it!

This Week at Family Video

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington friendship (and character study) Robin Buckley x a girl who I guess is technically an oc

summary: A cute girl keeps coming into Family Video and Steve is determined to wingman his best friend Robin into a date with her, which turns into a deeper bonding moment when Steve realizes he's grown a lot but there's still room to go and Robin realizes that she's not as alone as she feels.

Content/warnings: Robin talks about how it feels to be closeted in the 80s so there are allusions to period typical homophobia and a quote from Steve from season one which is uncool. It's just like....an analysis of the friendship between the lesbian and the straight himbo and how there's a lot more to it than bonding over hot girls.

(Also I mention a couple movies in here and I have seen none of them so don't @ me)

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9k words

Monday

It was an average day at the Family Video. People filtered in and out, a few of whom garnered some appraising, and, admittedly kind of objectifying glances from the two clerks that sat behind the central desk, who’s eyes would flash up as the bell ring, look at each other and make a subtle face to indicate whether or not the thought the girl that just came in was cute.

Robin admits openly to feeling bad about this ritual, and Steve agreed that it was pretty sexist and they shouldn’t be collectively checking out chicks that came in and consulting on their hotness but at this point it was almost involuntary and hard to avoid when Steve all but lept over counters when a pretty girl walked in. Robin told him that she only did it now so she knew if she’d have to be working the sales desk for the next 2-8 minutes until he’d get rejected and come back to help but he didn’t buy it for a second.

The bell over the door rang and they glanced up to see a cute girl with intentionally messy hair, some oversized layers, and a bucket hat walk in casually. Steve and Robin both looked at each other with raised eyebrows just before Steve walked around the counter.

“Welcome to Family Video- anything I can help you find today?” Steve said, turning on his charm, regardless of how overzealous he was with it at times. “I’m Steve, and you are?” He said, sticking out a hand. The girl looked a little overwhelmed at the attention and laughed awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah I’m Leslie. I’m just looking for a movie that nobody else seems to have.” She said with a laugh and a furtive glance at Robin, who prepared herself to step in quickly.

“Well, obviously we have a wide, wide selection of movies, what kind of things are you into? Tell me about yourself.” He said, leaning seductively against a shelf and knocking a few of the empty cases to the ground and picking them up while attempting to look like he hadn’t missed a beat. Robin couldn’t help but widen her eyes in mild horror at how poorly he was doing. Then her eye caught the girl’s, who met it with the same look that said holy shit, are you seeing this? Robin nodded and silently laughed as she watched the girl turn back to Steve’s attempted flirtation with an overly exaggerated interest and nodding that Robin delighted in seeing was entirely sarcastic.

“I’m actually looking for something pretty specific that I’ve been having a hard time finding.” She interrupted after the humor of the situation had worn off.

“Of course, yeah- what do you need?”

“A film called Hour of the Wolf?” she said nervously, and Robin’s ear perked up.

“OH, yeah I love that one- Michael J Fox as a basketball playing werewolf- who thinks of this stuff? I used to play basketball, you know. Didn’t need the wolf powers, though-”

“That's Teen Wolf, Steve.” Robin corrected from the counter, earning a grateful glance from the girl, who walked over to her quickly, and Steve threw his hands up and sighed.

“We don’t actually have Hour of the Wolf which is a shame because it really is a masterpiece.” Robin chimed in, pulling a thoughtful face

“I’ve been trying to get stupid Keith to get it but he says there isn’t enough demand. Shows what he knows.” Robin said, making Leslie smile and her own heart flutter at the sight.

“Whoever Keith is sounds like he’s got quite the expert on his hands…” She said cheerfully.

“If you're into arthouse horror stuff though you should check out Eraserhead.” Robin suggested, and Leslie shrugged.

“Arthouse? Is that like a place, or..?” Steve asked, trying to stay in the conversation, but was largely ignored.

“Sure. If you recommend it I’m sure it’s a winner...” She said, a little cheeky, glancing down at her nametag so obviously that for a second Robin thought this girl was checking out her rack in the middle of the store.”Robin.” She finished, saying her name clearly.

Robin thought that maybe for a second there she died and was resurrected, but it turned out to just be butterflies. She stuttered for a moment, telling her about the cinematography as she got her the movie and finished lending it. As she walked out Robin sighed, glancing at Steve.

“Once again, you blew it, Steve.. I really wish I still had the you suck board.” She said with a wry smile.

“Yeah…I know you do, Robin. I know you do.”

Tuesday

The next day at Family Video, Steve was peppering her with questions to Robin’s ire.

“Okay, explain one more time what an arthouse movie is?” He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Why do you want to know? You already blew your shot.” She criticized while put away the tapes.

“Alright, you don’t know that. And she’s not the only arty chick in the world. Maybe that’s why I haven’t had any luck lately.” He guessed lamely and Robin gave him a dead stare.

“You are telling me that the reason you can’t get a second date is because you haven’t met a girl that is artistic enough? You, Steve Harrington, want a girlfriend who’s primary interests are in arthouse cinema? Is that really what you’re saying to me?” Robin asked incredulously, stopping herself from laughing at the idea of Steve on a date with a moody poet who wanted his opinions on verse. Maybe she should help him if she’d get to hear about that.

“Just give me another movie like that to recommend her if she comes back in.”

“I don’t know- Dr. Strangelove.” Robin pulled out of thin air. He was definitely about to ask more questions but at that moment the bell rang and there was the girl from yesterday.

She gave Robin a big smile and waved the tape in her hand as she walked over.

“Holy shit, Robin. Holy shit.” She said, putting both hands on the counter. She remembered my name, Robin thought giddily.

“Is that a good holy shit or a bad holy shit?”

“It’s a holy shit holy shit.” Leslie said, still a little bit stunned. “I mean, the last scene? With the bandages? I mean what the fuck? I mean it’s a…bold recommendation to make to a stranger that’s for sure but it was a good one.” She said, giddy, and all of a sudden Robin’s worst fears came true: she opened her mouth and couldn’t shut it.

Fun facts about the movie, her favorite things about cinematography, favorite movies in order, all of it came pouring out involuntarily. Steve sensed her panic and stepped in front of her.

“I think what Robin meant to say was that you should check out uh, Doctor, uh,” he glanced at Robin quickly, who tried to mouth the words subtly even though Leslie was standing a foot away. Steve read her lips and confidently looked to the customer and said: “Doctor Trained Dove. It's great. Arthouse.”

Leslie tilted her head and pulled her lips between her teeth like she was trying as hard as she could not to laugh, Robin put her face in her hands and Steve grimaced, reading the room correctly and guessing he hadn’t gotten the title right.

“I haven’t heard about that one. What’s…it about?”

Steve opened his mouth and looked at Robin helplessly.

“It’s a musical about a surgeon that becomes a magician. It’s a lesser known sequel to Doctor Strangelove.” Robin said dryly, glaring at Steve when she said the real title and Leslie laughed and bit her lip.

“Didn’t know Kubrick did sequels.” She said teasingly.

“No, this one is John Hughes, actually.” Robin said, sarcasm not coming through as much as a hopeful punchline that she was obviously shocked to see land.

“Well, Unofficial Kubrick sequels aside, do you have another recommendation for me?” Leslie asked, now leaning on the counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hear about 2002?” Robin said, her voice now fully transitioned to that of a person daydreaming and unaware they were talking aloud.

“I preferred 2003, actually.” Leslie played along, and Robin knew she was laughing too hard as it was happening.

“Or 2004, right?” Steve cut in , and they both looked at him awkwardly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Seems like it’s a long time from now but it’s not that far, huh? Weird. End of the century."

Two two women just stared at him blankly and just like that the magic was broken. Robin was no longer in the nonexistent John Hughes movie where she was the one that got to kiss Molly Ringwald over a birthday cake and the three of them were just standing in a video store again.

“Have you seen Holy Mountain?” Robin suggested, and Leslie left with it in hand.

Robin and Steve sort of just stood there in shock at just how badly that interaction had just gone.

“Maybe you’re my bad luck charm. I feel like the last time I was cool was before I met you.” He said contemplatively.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response besides the fact that I didn’t put you in that sailor outfit. If you want to get her attention tomorrow you’re gonna have to study up, man.” Robin said with a laugh, and Steve frowned at her and cocked his head.

“Me?” He asked, and Robin looked at him with confusion.

“Yeah? I thought you liked her.”

“I mean she’s cute but I was kinda getting a…. Hm?” He said with a vocalization and a hand gesture that Robin didn’t understand.

“C’mon man, you know I have a hard enough time reading people as it is.” She complained.

“What vibe?” She asked incredulously.

“A vibe, Robin, there was a vibe.”

Steve looked around to make sure nobody was around so he could remind Robin that she was a lesbian and he was pretty sure that girl was flirting with her.

“She was totally flirting with you.” He said quietly, and Robin looked at him far more aghast than she had any reason to be.

“What? No! No, of course she wasn’t flir- what would even make you think? I mean that’s just-” Robin stammered and Steve’s eyebrows got higher and higher.

“Alright, alright, alright, don’t start spiraling. You seemed into her, though, right? I’m not about to violate bro code and ask out the girl you like just because you’re a chick.” He said in what she assumed was a tone that bros used to talk to each other with a shrug and Robin just set her jaw in disbelief and well meaning annoyance.

Not for the first time since she met him she imagined getting into a time machine and traveling to Ms. Clicks class and leaning over to whisper to herself See those two right there? See sweet, beautiful Tammy Thompson staring at that dick Steve Harrington? In a couple of years one of those people will be the single person on the planet earth that you have ever told that you’re gay and the best friend you’ve ever had in your life. I’ll give you one guess to who it is, and if you guess right I’ll give you a billion US dollars. Also you’ll be tortured by evil Russians together.

“Whatever- look, whether or not I think she’s cute she’s not a- y’know-” she said, grimacing instead of saying lesbian in such a casul setting without a self pep talk to convince herself it wouldn’t be weird.

“Returning Fast Times at 53 minutes and 12 seconds?” He offered, and her shoulders relaxed and she loosely pointed at him.

“Right. Sure. She’s not pausing fast times and she’s cool- why shouldn’t you go for it?” She said, now surprisingly adamant in a way that Steve didn’t understand in the slightest as Robin was almost always apathetic towards his love life.

“Because I blew my shot? It’s fine, it happens. A lot, according to the You Suck board.” He justified it, but Robin had a determined look on her face.

“I could coach you! Yeah, she’s gonna watch Holy Mountain tonight, why don’t we watch it too and you can talk to her about it.” She suggested, and Steve emphasized the confusion on his face.

“Robin, it's fine if you like her. You know I don’t have any problem with-” he started, and she cut him off on the spiel.

He did that sometimes when she was upset and he couldn’t figure out why- always jumpeing to defend himself and assumed he had said something wrong by mistake. It happened on occasion, Steve, as much as she knew his heart was in the right place, was still a white, straight male former highschool bully from Hawkins Indiana with parents that voted for Reagan, he was always honest that he was still unlearning a lot of shit and it was inevitable that something would slip out every once in a while. The first time it had happened, about a month after they started working at the video store she heard him talking to an old team mate and casually dropped the word fairy as a descriptor. She told herself he didn’t mean it but she had still let it fester until he was following her around while she restocked movies asking what’s wrong what’s wrong what’s wrong over and over again like a petulant child. She confessed loudly and angrily before looking around in fear that there was a customer. He swore at himself and apologized profusely and in that moment she was really reminded of that night in the Starcourt bathroom and how, despite how annoying he was, Steve Harrington had a heart even bigger than his hair.

It had been a nice moment, the next time he said something a little off-color he caught it himself, but still apologized a lot. It only got annoying when he started doing it every time he (unfortunately, usually correctly) identified that she was in a bad mood because of a problem that stemmed from her sexuality and assumed that problem was that he said something offensive by accident. The truth was that there were just always going to be some things that she would go through that he would never be able to understand and would be hard for her to explain. Half the time she hadn’t even taken the time to figure out what exactly it was that was bothering her besides the baseline level of worry that came with the small town closeted lesbian territory.

“I know you’re not homophobic, Steve.” She said and he stopped, nodding in relief, but then doubling down on his confusion.

“So then why are you getting all weird about this?” he asked genuinely, and Robin shook her head exaggeratedly, like if she did it super obviously he would believe it more.

“Fine, I’ll watch the movie.” He conceded, as they started to gather their stuff for the end of the day. Robin shook a triumphant fist with a silent yes as she grabbed her bag and headed out the door to his car.

“I’m not being weird at all. I just think you have a shot and she seems cool. Also I haven’t seen Holy Mountain in a while and it rules.” She said all too casually, and Steve stared at her suspiciously. Robin wasn’t budging, mostly because she didn’t really know why she suddenly had the urge to push them together either besides the odd sensation of trying to make something go away on its own.

“Is this gonna be a movie that I have to think about a lot while we’re watching?” He asked apprehensively, and did not care for the mischievous and possibly sadistic smile she gave him

Wednesday

Robin and Steve sat on stools behind the checkout counter, Steve looked shell shocked, to say the very least. More so than he looked after last year's Russian Invasion. Robin was alternating between laughing at him and trying her best to be comforting and apologetic.

“Steve, I told you you could close your eyes if it got too scary.” She said in a voice she hoped sounded genuine and that he couldn’t hear it shaking a little. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the counter staring downwards, unresponsive. “Okay, you’ve been doing this for like a day and a half the movie wasn’t that weird.” she said, and he turned to glare at her.

“You know that’s not true, Robin. You know that.” He said emphatically, and they glanced towards the door as it rang.

It was Leslie, walking in with a grin on her face and the movie in hand and Steve was pretty sure that this girl might actually be a serial killer. Robin liked it, too, though, so maybe they were on a crime spree together and they were definitely going to take him outside and skin him alive and hang it up and- ugh, Steve stopped and put his palms over his eyes to get the image out of his head.

“Is…he okay?” Leslie asked, leaning past Robin to look at the unresponsive Steve.

“He’s fine- we actually watched Holy Mountain too last night and he's contemplating it.” Robin said, glancing at Steve and pumping the eyebrows of a wingwoman, and scowled when he didn’t see her because his head was now resting against the counter.

From his vulnerable state, Steve braced himself to hear them babble on about the perfect ratio of that shot of that lady banging that mechanical horse without legs but instead only heard Leslie respond with a disingenuously excited “Oh!”

Robin was expecting the same as Steve, and she couldn’t quite decipher the way that Leslie’s eyes flitted between the two of them.

“I’m guessing Steve wasn’t a fan?” She asked, and Robin laughed at him to which he responded with a dry ha ha ha said from under his arms laying on the counter.

“Well, that’s commitment for you. Takes quite a guy to sit through a movie like that just because he wants to hang out with you.” She said with a tight smile. The way she said it made Robin wish she was better at social cues because she knew for damn sure she was missing something.

“Yeah, he’s alright.” Robin said affectionately.

Steve was torn between warm fuzzies at the closest thing his best friend can ever come to a compliment and smacking her on the back of the head for not realizing that this girl now thinks that they’re dating. It never ceased to fascinate him that the person that can decipher Russian without knowing Russian couldn’t hear that telltale sound of jealousy and disappointment in the goodbye of a person who just discovered that their crush was dating sebody already. Then again, he could do that but couldn’t decipher the Russian, so maybe it was just a different skill set.

“Wow, I’m sorry dude I really thought that she’d want to talk to you about the movie.”

Leslie let out a fake laugh and put the tape and some cash on the counter before walking away with an awkward wave and disappeared with the bell.

Steve pulled himself up off the counter, his forehead red from pressing against the surface and his hair messed up, and his look was one of utter frustration and disbelief.

“Holy shit, Robin of course she didn’t. She wanted to talk to you about the movie. She left because she thinks we’re dating and it bummed her out.” He said, almost in a yell at the fact that he knew she wasn’t going to listen to him.

“Ooooh, that makes more sense. See, I was right, her being jealous is proof that she likes you.” Robin declared and Steve dropped his head back onto the counter with a smack that hurt enough to drive that weird ass flick out of his brain. “I’m sorry you watched Holy Mountain for nothing though. She’s right, it is a rough one if you don’t enjoy it.” She said casually, almost certainly smiling maliciously. He began to smack his head against the counter and he was pretty sure he heard her laughing.

Thursday

Family Video opened at 11 AM, so almost every morning after he dropped Robin off he’d go and try to figure out more ways to not talk to Keith for an entire shift. Today he had decided to take the stack of returns into the back room and rewind the ones returned by the “unkind” that he secretly wanted to kiss on the mouth for giving him a really easy and time consuming thing to do every morning until his break, where he’d go get Robin, listen to her rant about school, get some drive thru for the both of them, and then finish off the day with his best friend.

All in all, it was an alright gig.

Except for Thursdays. Steve hated Thursdays.

Because on Thursdays Robin’s band practice goes late and she doesn’t work a shift, and Keith takes off for long periods at random intervals and would leave him alone to mind the store on a pretty busy day of the week.

Today was slow, both in passage of time and number of customers, so they canceled each other out and made the day suck exactly as much as last Thursday.

He continued to rewind movies, noting a few titles for later that seemed interesting. He took out the next tape and pushed it in. The movie turned on and Steve nearly fell off his chair when his screen was very suddenly two very naked women. He didn’t rewind yet as the two of them kissed and Steve glanced down at the tape. Desert Hearts. He quickly checked to see who returned it and it was, unsurprisingly, a long list of male names, a few of whom he recognized from various sports teams and parties throughout high school, and strangely Karen Wheeler of all people, but he wasn’t going to unpack that.

As Steve scanned the back of the VHS box he read about the plot of the lesbian love affair that blossoms between the two women out west and a plan formed in his mind, and that plan would help him honor his Duty as a Man with a Heart a Soul and The Critical Social Skills Robin Buckley Lacks: He was going to get his best friend laid. Because that's what friends do.

Later that day Steve had an okay plan that could potentially pan out and now was just waiting for the opportunity, he just had to wait for Leslie to come in like she had every day this week. He leaned against the counter and idly watched the screens and glanced out the display glass as people passed by.

That was when he glanced up to see somebody slowing down and peeking inside. It was Leslie. Whatever she saw, she looked away and kept walking. Steve tilted his head in confusion, but pushed the VHS tape into the player and waited. There wasn’t much business today and as the movie played he did find himself a bit enraptured in the drama between the two women.

The only time when his attention was torn from the weighty glances between Vivian and Kay was when he saw somebody pause outside the window. It was Leslie again, peeking in. When Steve met her eye and waved a little she looked like she had been caught red handed and awkwardly walked in and waved.

“Uh, hey Sam.” She said a little stiffly.

“It’s- it’s Steve.” He corrected, and she quietly apologized and wandered into the stacks.

Now that Leslie was actually in the store, Steve realized that his so-called ‘plan’ was actually just the idea to put the movie about lesbians on the tv and wait to see if she reacted. He wished that wingmanning for Robin didn’t have to be so subtle.

She put the box on the counter and Steve began to slowly start checking out the movie to give her time for her to either look at the tv and say…something. This was a stupid plan, he realized, and he made a quick move to salvage it.

Using his stealth skills gained from years of monster hunting and high-stakes babysitting, he tried to secretly watch Leslie around the store and noticed that she seemed to not be looking at the movies, but at the staff break room and around the store for other clues about the whereabouts of a certain missing front desk associate. When her eyes caught the TV screen and saw the actresses that Steve hoped looked familiar her head snapped back in front of her and she stood very still, examining a box without really seeing it for what she deemed long enough to take it to the counter to make a quick escape.

“Do you like this movie?” He asked, pointing at the screen and unable to stop himself from visibly cringing.

She looked up at him incredibly awkwardly. “I’m…not sure what movie that is, honestly.” She said, and he was like 50% sure she was lying.

“Robin likes this movie.” What had happened after breaking up with Nancy that left him so much worse at talking to other people? Was it Dustin’s influence? Was it just that he didn’t know how to be charming without being a total dick? He knew it was probably that one.

Leslie gave him a tight smile. “That’s sweet that you’re watching her favorite movies. She’s a nice girl. I'm glad she’s got someone that cares.”

“Yes! Robin is a nice girl!” He said energetically, even if that wasn’t necessarily a word he’d use for her. “She’s super cool and smart too. She speaks four languages and can translate Russian by ear.” he said, hyping her up, realizing now that Leslie had meant it’s sweet that you watch your girlfriend’s favorite movies.

“I…didn’t know that. Very impressive. You two make a cute couple.” She said, and it was audibly strained.

“We’re not dating. We’re just friends. Best friends.” He added at the end, a little embarrassed of himself. “But I do watch her favorite movies and thank you for seeing the value in that because Holy Mountain has literally been haunting me for two days and I just think that friends should get credit for doing that shit too.” He added in annoyance at nobody in particular.

“Oh!” She said, and he could hear the audible relief, and saw her glance back at the tv and swallow. Steve could see the gears grinding in her head and he could not believe that his terrible plan might be working. “That’s- I mean- I guess I just assumed.”

“Nope, not dating, she’s totally single. I asked her out a little after we first met because of all the cool hot smart stuff I said earlier but she was not interested and now we’re just friends.” He explained, trying to put emphasis on the not.

“Best friends.” Leslie said gently with a smile, her awkwardness gone and replaced with a very cautious beginning of a theory he was trying to confirm without saying anything.

“Yes! Best friends. Because she’s the best.” He said, nodding, and then Leslie nodded too. They stood there in silence for a second before Steve remembered he was checking out her movie.

He went to write down the number and furrowed his brow when he saw the title.

“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation? This doesn’t seem like your kind of flick.” Steve said oddly, and her cheeks got a little red.

“I was kinda waiting for Robin to give me another recommendation.” She said with an awkward laugh.

Steve saw his opening, and was closing in on his plan quickly and efficiently. “Well, Robin really likes this movie.” He said, stepping aside so she had a full view of the tv and the lengthy stares between the two actresses. “Do you want to rent it?” he asked, suddenly kind of hoping she said no because he wanted to finish watching it.

“Uh, sure?” She said, and he reluctantly turned around to eject it and making it a full spin when he came up with an alternative.

“Oooh no!” He said in a dramatic fake tone akin to a child's television star that didn’t see you come in but wants to show you some puppets anyway. “This is actually Robin’s copy of Desert Hearts, and not the stores. So I can’t lend it to you.” He said in an exaggerated voice.

Leslie furrowed her brow. “Then why is it playing?”

“Becaaaaaause….she thought I’d like it and she knew it would be a slow day and she wasn’t working.” He pulled out of nowhere. “But- you should come back tomorrow, when she is here and ask her to borrow it. Oh! Maybe you could watch it together and talk about cinema! Now that’s an idea!” He said, knowing he was overplaying it while he was talking and as Leslie stared at him incredulously.

“You…want me. To come in tomorrow. And ask your friend Robin if I can watch her copy of Desert Hearts with her?” Leslie asked, and Steve nodded profusely at the secret code the two of them had developed.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I think you should do. If you want to.” He said encouragingly, and he could tell that Leslie was running some serious cost-risk analysis gymnastics in her head trying to decide if this really weird situation was actually trustworthy. Steve knew that if he said anything else he could blow his cover, so he just kept his mouth shut.

A little smile came on Leslie’s face and she nodded.

“ I guess I’ll be back tomorrow, then.” She said, and Steve thought it was adorable how she was trying to hide her excitement.

She left with a little spring in her step and, unsurprisingly, National Lampoon’s stayed on the counter with him. Steve grinned, imagining how excited Robin was going to be, and started to rewind the movie because he was sure that he’d missed something important while he was talking to Leslie.

Friday

It was Friday at Family Video and Steve was acting….weird.

“Dude, tell me what’s wrong you know I can’t read body language.” She scolded and he shrugged energetically.

“Nothings wrong. Everything’s great!” He said, and reached out to pick a piece of fluff out of her hair so she would look her best when Leslie arrived but she smacked his hand away.

“Don’t touch my hair-Is it the Russians again?” Robin asked seriously.

“What? No. Why do you always assume it’s Russian?”

“Because of the time that it was Russians.”

“Yeah but it was only once.” He said calmly.

“That’s already too many times, Steve.” She said dryly. “Okay, fine, nothing’s wrong but something is up. What is it?”

He sighed. “Okay, but I’m only keeping it a secret because I don’t want you to freak out and get in your head about it.” He explained, and Robin’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no. What did you do?” she asked in horror.

“Not oh no! This is good!”

“Tell me now or I’m going to punch you in the throat Steve Harrington I took a self defense class after last summer.” She said sternly. Robin didn’t like surprises. Especially after the Russian thing.

Steve leaned in conspiratorially, looking around the store to double check that no customers had snuck in. “Leslie’s gonna ask you out today.”

“What?” Robin squeaked, her eyes going wide and her chest filling up with that extra special anxiety that was cooked up for her specifically by Sappho two thousand years ago and Ronald Reagan now.

“Yeah! It’s gonna be great- I had a whole plan to figure out if she was, y’know, pausing Fast Times and it worked and she’s gonna come in later and ask if she can come over and watch your copy of Desert Hearts.” He explained cheerfully, hoping that his enthusiasm would break through what he really hoped was happy stunned silence.

“What? How did you..? Did you tell her I was- I mean what the fuck, Dude- and what is Desert Hearts?” She stammered, trying to gather her thoughts.

“You haven’t seen it?” He asked in shock. “Oh my god it’s amazing the chemistry between Helen Shaver and Patricia Charbonneau is electric and-”

“Steve!” She said, snapping him out of his review.

“Right, sorry. I didn’t tell her anything, I just put on the movie and said that you liked it and she said she also liked it and I said that she should ask if you want to watch it.” He said calmly. “More or less.” he added, but Robin didn’t look any less freaked out. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked her.” He asked, truly confused.

That happened sometimes. Steve would assume he said something wrong but that’s just because he doesn’t like seeing her upset. If he had just accidentally said something shitty at least he could just apologize but more often than not it was just something that she didn’t believe she could explain to him. He had asked her to try, he was her friend and he knew that he was the only one that knew she liked girls- He wanted her to be able to talk to somebody- he hated that his best friend ever felt alone.

“It’s not about that you just- you shouldn’t have done that.” She said angrily and walked towards the counter away from him.

“Why not? You’re always helping me get dates- why can’t I help you too?” He asked, hoping she could tell he was confused and not just being difficult.

“Because it’s different!” She snaped.

“You always say that but maybe it isn’t! Maybe I would understand. We’re friends, Robin. Just because we don’t have the same experiences doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to listen and help you. You told me about how much you liked Tammy- I thought you wanted to meet somebody.” He said, and Robin glanced at him, her hard gaze softening to something more awkward and nervous and familiar.

“It’s just…” she started, screwing up her face and trying to figure out how to explain something that frustrated her about herself endlessly. “It’s- fuck- okay,” she took a deep breath and tried to start, quickly scrubbing her face with her hand.

“I knew Tammy didn’t like me back. It wasn’t real it was just a stupid crush and it hurt like hell but it was still safe.” She tried, words spilling out of her.

“Robin, Leslie’s a nice girl. She’s not going to hurt you.” He said, pained at the fact that he got to ask out and get rejected by 20 girls a week and Robin could just watch from afar.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, it kind of is, you never really know it’s just- fuck.” she groaned in frustration, pacing for a moment before finally finding her words.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” She said in a furious rush. “I’ve never done this before. It’s not like when you were ten and you got to walk up to a little girl on the playground and ask to hold her hand. I never got to learn how to flirt or ask my friends if the girl I like mentioned me or figure out when you’re allowed to put your arm around a date at the movies.

“Robin…” Steve said softly, but she wasn’t done and he wasn’t going to stop her. She took another unsteady breath

“I didn’t get a first date, or a first kiss or a dance with my crush at the Snow Ball or-or ever get to ask my mom for dating advice or gotten to hear my dad sternly talk to my date before giving a nod of approval.” Robin sniffed hard, her eyes watering up as she valiantly fought away the tears.

“I didn’t get any of that. And I’m never going to.” She said, her voice now rough with emotion and a little quieter. She wiped away a stray bit of wetness from her eye and twisted her mouth up. “Nobody’s going to be pulling up in a limo to take me to prom.”

“I’m always going to be different, and it’s hard and it hurts that all of that is just gone now and I missed all of it and I can’t ever get it back. I’m never gonna be a kid at the Snow Ball looking at Kelsey Landin sitting by the punch and not understanding what was so wrong about wanting to ask her to dance. I couldn’t even doodle our names in a heart in my notebooks.” She took a gasping breath and wiped away a tear that finally fell.

“It shouldn’t be like that.” She was almost talking to herself now, taking an angry breath and shaking her head. “I was just a kid. It wasn’t fair that for my entire life every person that has ever claimed to love me might have hated a piece of me so much that if I was sitting on the swing sets at recess holding hands with Jenny Becker instead of you then I would be utterly ostracized by everybody. Not just bullies. Friends, family, students, teachers, strangers. Grown-ass adults that would hate a child for the crime feeling the same way as every other kid but about the wrong kind of person.” Her voice was sad and proud and angry and valiantly holding down the waterworks that were going to come bursting through any second now.

“I mean, Jesus, Steve, you’re the only person I ever told and I did it totally on a whim fueled by adrenaline and truth serum- you have no idea what it’s like not knowing if anybody else I care about might turn on me and ruin my life if they actually knew me. I still don’t even know if my parents would still fucking love me if they knew I wanted to watch a stupid movie with a pretty girl and put my head on her shoulder.” Robin was humiliated that she was fully crying now, sitting down behind the desk on the floor and unable to stop. She had kept all of this in for so long and now it was pouring out of her involuntarily. Steve walked away for a moment and she felt an irrational panic that he was going to leave and not wantt to be her friend anymore because she couldn't keep the ugly parts of it to herself and left any discussion of her sexuality at vague looks of hot or not when a girl came into the store. She watched him go to the door and her heart froze until he just reached out flipped the sign to closed before coming back and sitting next to her on the floor.

Relief flooded her followed quickly by more misery that after all they’d been through her instincts still told her that she shouldn’t expect him to be okay with her saying any of this out loud and the tears came back in full force.

Steve put his arm around her and pulled her close so she could cry into his shoulder and patted her back as comfortingly as he could as his heart just fucking shattered. He remembered when they were in the Starcourt bathroom and she said that if he really knew her then he wouldn’t even want to be her friend. The two of them had just been kidnapped and tortured by evil invading Russians armed with bone saws and floor eating acid and Robin was afraid to tell him that she had a crush on Tammy Thompson. Even worse is that she had watched him be King Dickhead Steve for years and he had almost certainly given her a reason to think he wouldn’t be okay with it at some point.

You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed because I always took you for a queer but turns out you’re just a screwup like your father. Was what he had said to Jonathan after telling Nancy to go to hell. He felt bad as soon as he said it, but that didn’t stop him. Back then he didn’t know how to be hurt he just knew how to be angry. He had been heartbroken, in love, and an absolute piece of shit about it. About thirty seconds after saying it Jonathan was beating the ever loving shit out of him and each punch really hit home the fact that he absolutely deserved it.

He had actually thanked Jonathan later for very literally knocking some sense into him, and to his surprise, he forgave him. And it felt good. He hated who he used to be. He really did, so he had made a few phone calls and a few drop ins to make some heartfelt apologies to some surprised people that were genuinely shocked that he would ever have come around. The worst part is that he would never really know everybody that he hurt, never know who was out there overhearing him say something hateful and taking it to heart.

Robin was his favorite person. He wasn’t sure when it had happened but despite all his complaining she was somehow the only person he knew that really got him. She exploited that knowledge constantly and used it against him, sure, but she got him. He wished he could make her feel as understood as she did. But there would always be things like this that he never would’ve considered that she had gone through her whole life.

Eventually her breathing calmed down and she sat up, her breathing a bit unsteady and her face red and puffy. She gave him a watery smile when she saw their matching tear tracks and she patted him gratefully on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that- that was-”

“You don’t need to apologize, Robin. I’m serious.” He said, looking at her so she knew he meant it. “If I’m the only one you have to talk to about this then I want to hear it all, even when it’s sad and it sucks. Especially when it’s sad and it sucks.” He said, and took a deep breath. “You’re not alone anymore. Anybody tries to mess with you or make you feel like shit just come and get me and I know that I’m not enough to make up for the entire world’s garbage but if there’s anything I can do to make all of that even a fraction less shitty for you then I’ll do it.”

He looked at his hands for a moment, feeling a confession of his own coming on.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know.” Steve said honestly, and Robin quirked an eyebrow. “Like, even though I was super popular and knew everybody I still only really hung out with Tommy and Carol and they were just the worst.” he sighed, not knowing how to say this without making it seem like he was trying to get out of responsibility for being a shithead.

“I have never met two people so good at making somebody feel like a fucking loser like Tommy and Carol and there is nobody better at making you terrified of being that loser like they could. I’m not saying that they forced me to shove nerds against lockers or anything but any time I tried to do the right thing they’d just shut me down and taunt me until it felt like if I didn’t do whatever bullshit they wanted me to then everybody would think I wasn’t a real man or some shit and they’d drop me and then I wouldn’t be fucking King Steve anymore.” He shook his head, his hair wobbling as he swore and looked at Robin, unsure if he was getting across what he was trying to and he saw that she was listening, even if her thing had been bigger and more painful she still cared.

“And that’s exactly what happened. For the first time in my life I stood up to them instead of for them and Tommy punched me in the face and drove away. Never even tried to talk to me again. Then at school they started all kinds of rumors and talked shit about me all the time and then I wasn’t King Steve anymore and…” he trailed off and had a little smile “and then I was happy.” He said, in a little disbelief.

“I was thinking about that the other day, pointing at you and Tammy in Ms Clicks class and asking young Robin one day, one of those two people will be the only person you trust enough to tell that you’re not into dudes.” She said, a little mystically, and Steve burst out laughing, and Robin quickly followed. Their laughter calmed down and they knew that the storm had passed and they came out better on the other side of it. They grabbed each others hands to hoist each other back to a standing position and looked at each other grinning.

“I didn’t fucking hate myself anymore, I got to follow my own instincts and do the right thing. Sure, Nancy dumped my ass and broke my heart and it actually felt so good to just…be sad. Without Tommy and Carol taunting and yelling at me until I felt so angry and pathetic that we’d spray paint her name on the movie theater again and I would’ve felt like absolute shit about it for the rest of my life. I was totally heartbroken but for the first time in my life I actually got to feel it and it. Then Dustin Henderson of all people comes sprinting at me one day and says that everybody else is busy and he needs my help.” He grinned. “It’s just stupid, right? All that time I only cared about being popular and if I could tell my younger self that someday I’d be working in at the video store for minimum and I’d spend all my time hanging out with a 15 year old egomaniac and a band geek that I was briefly a little bit in love with until she rejected me and the entire male population on the floor of a mall bathroom I’d do it and let him know up front that they’re honestly the reason that I’ve never been happier. Really rub his nose in it too.” He said, and Robin laughed aloud in that special way he recognized because it always preceded I was just about to say that.

“Is my face red?” She asked, touching it and being a bit satisfied at how healthy her skin felt after crying.

“Yeah but just give it a couple minutes.” He said, and she nodded. “Hey, when Leslie does get here you can go hide in the back or something if you really don’t want to talk to her, I know I overstepped, but if you need any advice on stuff you didn’t get a chance to learn let me know, no judgment- guaranteed.”

Robin furrowed her brow. “Wait- how exactly did your conversation with Leslie go yesterday? Did you just point at the screen and ask if she liked the movie?” She asked incredulously, and Steve slowly began to nod.

“Uhhh…yeah. That’s exactly what I did.” He said, and she started to laugh again. Steve grinned when he heard a laugh that seemed a little lighter now.

About an hour later the bell rang and Leslie came in. Steve nodded at her and went into the shelves to give quiet support and maybe some advice via arm gestures from behind Leslie, and Robin took a deep breath.

Both girls were extremely nervous, both giggling when their eyes met in a way that reminded Steve a bit of middle school. He smiled to himself and resented the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes when he thought about her getting a chance at simple, blushy, giggly, inexperienced romance for the first time. She deserved it, more than anybody.

“So, um, this is kind of a weird question but I stopped by yesterday to see if you have a copy of um…Desert Hearts?” Leslie said tentatively like she was giving a secret password at a speakeasy and hoping it was the right one.

Robin had a determined look on her face that didn’t necessarily give off a romantic vibe but he could feel her relentless bravery from where he stood.

“I’ve heard of it.” Robin tried to say mysteriously, waiting for the next part.

“And your friend with the hair- He said that, um, that you didn’t have it at the store but he said that you had a copy and that maybe…..you…might…want to watch it with me?” She said, finishing with a smile that was also a grimace. Steve was delighted at how awkward the girl who had seemed so cool all week had gotten.

“I…would like that very much.” Robin said, holding in all her excitement to seem casual when inside she was exploding.

“Cool.” Leslie said, and she and Robin stared at each other in gleeful silence until they made a plan to meet after her shift and Leslie left, waving awkwardly while walking out the door. The bell rang as the door shut and Robin turned around so she could catch her weight against the counter, but Steve’s eyes followed Leslie out the door first and saw her get into a car parked out front with a driver that was currently giving her a high five and obviously congratulating her. Steve waved subtly to the silhouette of the other wingman and he waved back before they drove away.

Steve then walked up to Robin to see her smiling dreamily and starry eyed.

“Cool.” She said softly, and smiled again. She wasn’t much help around the store for the rest of the day, but every glance he got of the wistful Robin putting tapes back in the wrong places and saying cool in a whisper every few moments and giggling made it worth it.

Saturday

Steve waited anxiously outside Robin’s house before work and was annoying himself more and more every time his brain made the comparison of a parent waiting for their kid after their first day of school to ask how it went when they’ve spent the whole day worrying. It wasn’t like that, but he was still anxious for her to come outside.

Robin opened the door and waved goodbye to her family and started towards the car. He could see the size of her grin from the moment she was in sight.

When she got into the car she was silent for a moment, and he refused to drive, only stared at her expectantly

“So? How’d it go?”

Robin was trying to play it cool despite the fact that she was bouncing in her chair.

“You know that whole list of things I thought I had missed out on and it was too late for? Let’s just say I…checked a couple things off.” She said coyly, and Steve grinned at her proudly and gave her a victorious shoulder pat. That’s when she exploded into squeals and all that sandy hair shaking around her as she bounced up and down.

“Oh my god, Steve, it was amazing. She was so cool and pretty and funny and we had so much in common and we, um” She stopped and her cheeks turned red, and Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“I knew it. I knew that you had it in you to be a total chick magnet.” He said proudly, and she grinned at him, shrugging in concession.

“Turns out I’m a natural Cassanova.” She said with only a hint of irony, and turned her head to look at him. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.” she said with a tone so genuine that it almost sounded strange in her voice.

Steve nodded and smiled back. “No worries. I’m your wingman, it’s what friends do. And I like seeing you happy.”

The End.

“Well then…you did what you came to do, because I’m really really happy right now. You’re a good friend.” She said with a sweet finality. Things would stop being mushy and go back to normal but they’d never be the same.

As they began their drive to work they glanced at each other and smiled one more time. Robin had never been so grateful to have a friend like Steve, and Steve had never been so proud to have a friend like her.

#OOPS its 15 pages my b #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #this ones really just about the friendship of a closeted lesbian and her straight male bff #hes a little confused but he's got the spirit #also i do headcanon steve as bi but the story only works if hes straight #also i think too highly of robin to believe shed canonically be attracted to a film buff #i feel like this post has become extremely aggressive towards ppl that like movies which isnt great #imma change some wording #there we go its better now #thats a me thing tho u get it. weve all be starstruck by a girl that likes arthouse movies but robin u gotta just roll past that one #why do i always get so fucking personal in the tags of this blog #why does this show have like 2 of the 3 characters that ive ever genuinely related to a lot and why is it making me insane #maybe its the sideblog thing i usually have a lot more restraint on main bc theres ppl i know on there #and ppl from a lot of fandoms and its a 10 year old blog so i kinda feel like i have to behave myself #idk man but if u want to read me go on like 12 totally unhinged tag rants today then keep scrolling baby

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