#Girl you think you’re being a good mom but you gotta actually LOOK at what your kid is doing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwaslayer · 8 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | four.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, chaery being bold per usual lol (but shes a cutie and we love her), oc and yunho get to know each other more, mentions of sickness/being ill (not oc or yunho), yunho's mom is a single mom, hwa gets a little 😕 but oc knows how to put her foot down, say hello to mingi!!, mingi brings something up and it kinda rubs yunho the wrong way but boy has patience

"We're getting lunch with Jongho and them. Coming?" You shake your head as you walk alongside Soobin, with Seungmin and Chaery trailing behind.

"Nope, no can do." You say. "I'm taking Yunho to lunch to repay him for the ni—" Seungmin looks at you and you pause. Right. Soobin and Chaery don't know Seonghwa left you stranded. "Foooor his help with my reviews." You backtrack a bit, hoping the two didn't catch on.

"Oh, that's sweet of you." Chaery says. "You definitely should! We won't be home 'till later either, soo.. " She giggles and you shake your head at her forwardness.

"So.. what, Chaery?" You glare at her.

"Yeah, what is wrong with you?" Seungmin laughs a bit. "You'll scare him away."

"I will not! I'm just saying, the option is there." She puckers her lips and wiggles her brows.

"Anyway, I'm just going to grab lunch with him at the cute, new brunch place downtown. Let me know if you want anything?" You stop in your tracks, realizing you've walked farther than you should've. Yunho mentioned he was going to be at the Engineering Center, which is in the opposite direction.

"Sounds good." Soobin gives you a small, pursed smile; dimples dotting his cheeks as he sends an animated wave. "See you? Have fun, be safe!"

"Thanks." You wave to your friends as you watch them walk off without. You turn on your heel to walk back towards the building that Yunho just ended class in, picking up your pace when you realize you're running a little late compared to the time you promised to meet him. As you close in on the building, you catch sight of the tall boy and his fluffy black hair.

"Yunho!" Yunho whips his head around to see you walking towards him. He smiles a bit and stops, waiting for you to catch up. "Hey! I was just about to text you. You still free to grab brunch with me, right?"

"Yeah, I was waiting." He teases, making you chuckle.

"I know, I'm too slow. Sorry." You joke back. "Let's go." You look up at him and he nods.

"How was class?"

"Mm, same old. What about you?"

"It was okay. Another small project I gotta work on."

"Sounds fun." You gently nudge him with your elbow. "Computer Science right?" He nods.

"Public Health?"

"Wow, a point for Jeong Yunho." He laughs.

"Y/N, it's not an entirely huge school. You know a lot of people, and people know you."

"For the wrong reasons, most likely."

"No. Just for being you." He says with a soft smile on his face.

"Are you always this smooth talking to girls?" He laughs and shakes his head.

"Quite the opposite actually. It's just.. easy to talk to you, I guess." He looks down at his feet timidly.

"I'm glad." You chuckle. "So, I'm thinking of taking you to Cafe 24. Does that sound okay?"

"The new brunch place?" He smiles, and it adds a rosy tint to his cheeks. "Cool. I've heard good things about it already."

"Yeah?" You ask in an animated, questioning tone. "Nice. I'm excited."

"Your friends didn't wanna come?" You finally get to your car and toss your bag in the trunk, signaling for Yunho to put his things down as well.

"Hell no. Or else, they'll order everything expecting me to pay." You sigh. "So, nope! This is just for you, especially as my small token of appreciation." Yunho doesn't say anything besides let out a small laugh before hopping into your car and settling in. "By the way, I drive as safely as possible, so please don't make fun of me."

"I won't." Yunho watches as you adjust your seat closer to the wheel. Once you feel content, you start the car and double check your mirrors before pulling out of the spot and driving off.

Luckily, the drive isn't far or else Yunho wasn't sure what he'd do. It's not that he was uncomfortable around you, but he's not used to keeping the small talk alive— let alone engaging and being the first to break the silence.

You seem to understand him well though, because besides the few questions you ask him about the week, you don't push the conversation.

And it's nice.

He listens to the music you have on, hearing you softly hum in the driver's seat as you carefully navigate the narrow downtown roads and find a spot near the café.

"Sweeeet." He hears you giggle as you pull into a parking spot that just opened up. "We're here!"

"There's not too many people?" Yunho says in a questioning tone as he unbuckles his seatbelt and peeks at the front door. It's busy, but not enough for a wait. You check your phone and take note of the fact that it's still earlier than noon— you and Yunho barely missing the lunch rush.

"Still early, I guess." You greet one of the staff members and she immediately brings you and Yunho to a table in the back corner. She lays out the menu in front of you, giving you a moment to glaze over the options while she heads to the back to grab water. "Everything looks so good." Yunho chuckles.

"Anything you've been craving for?"

"Something sweet?" Your eyes widen at the sight of 'matcha mochi waffles' on the menu, pondering whether or not you should give in to your sweet tooth or get something a little more filling on the savory side. "But now, I'm torn. I kinda wanna taste the omurice."

"You can have some of mine?" Yunho was eyeing the omurice anyway, and he doesn't mind sharing some with you.

"Really?" Your eyes sparkle and it makes Yunho's ears turn red. He's feeling shy now because yes, really. Yes, you're cute.

"Yeah, I don't mind." You smile.

"Hm, okay. You can have some of my mochi waffle and bacon?" He shakes his head.

"It's alright, Y/N. It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. It's a new brunch place and who knows when we'll be back. You should taste it." He doesn't respond, just simply smiles back at your argument. At this point, the waitress is back with two waters and asks if you two would like anything to drink. Yunho declines, but you happily order a vanilla latte. She asks if you're ready to order, eyes darting to Yunho for some kind of acknowledgement— which he gives to you in the form of a simple nod. She takes down your orders and lets you know that she'll be back with your latte, taking your menus before she's off to the kitchen. "So." Yunho looks at you after he's been people-watching through the window.

"Hm?" He hums.

"Tell me about yourself, Yunho." You say softly. Typically, Yunho hates these kinda things. He'll usually respond very vaguely to cut it off at a certain point. He just doesn't think people need to know much about him, nor does he really find himself interesting. But for now, he'll dive in a little more. He doesn't seem to find the harm in it when it comes to you.

"I don't even know where to start?" He laughs a bit. "I'm not sure what you want to know."

"Anything." The waitress brings your latte and you immediately start blowing at it to cool it down. "Tell me anything."

"I'm an only child?" He starts off with an unsure tone, but you nod in response to reassure him. "Home is two hours away at my aunt's house."

"Sweet. If you don't mind me asking.. have you always lived with your aunt?"

"Yeah, I have. She's my mom's sister, and my mom is sick." Your eyes soften. "She has kidney issues so she's on dialysis. She's still strong and all, but it's nice that my aunt is there. She helps take care of her and bring her to appointments, especially while I'm away most of the time." You nod quietly.

"What about your dad?" He shrugs.

"Uh, he left when I was young, so I don't really know much about him."

"Shoot. I'm so sorry, Yunho. I didn't mean to—"

"Nah, it's okay. I don't mind talking about it, but I also can't give better responses since I don't know much myself."

"You must be very close to your mom." Yunho thinks about his mom for a second, taking mental note that he needs to call her later. She has always been so strong, and she's always been Yunho's driving force. Even though he didn't have his dad around, he never felt like he lacked love or support because he mom did a fantastic job covering all of those bases no matter what.

She never let Yunho down. And he only hopes he can do the same in return.

"I am."

"I can only imagine how tough it is."

"Yeah." He lets out a breath. "But, she's doing well. She's been well for a long time. All I can ask for." You give him a tiny toothless smile.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"W-what about you?" He clears is throat to try and brush off the slight nervousness he feels asking these questions. Surely, you asked about him. But, you wouldn't mind sharing your own facts, right?

"I have an older sister who works in finance. She's 4 years older than me. My parents split up, but my dad still comes around to hang out. They're better this way, I think. Their relationship is much healthier." You also start thinking about your parents, reminiscing about the tough times when they used to fight for days on end. Luckily, you and your sister were close— you could lean onto her like you do with your bestfriends. She tried to protect you and keep you safe as much as possible, tried to shield you from the negativity even though it was hard to. Eventually, your parents had enough and split; though, you'd like to think this was their silver lining since they're much better around each other now.

"I see." Yunho sips his water. "It's nice he's still around."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. "Do you have a lot of friends back home?"

"I wouldn't say lots. A few people that I grew up with still live around my area, but most people have moved."

"That's cool to still see some childhood friends, though." It's your turn to sip. "How do you know Mingi so well?"

"We went to the same high school. We have some common interests, but that's it? We just hang out with different crowds." Yunho shrugs. "Mingi finds certain people and certain things fun that I don't necessarily find fun. He's a big social butterfly."

"Yeah, I see that." You chuckle.

"You and your friends seem really close. Did you meet here?"

"We did." You smile. "Chaery and I were roommates and Soobin and Seungmin lived across the hall from us."

"Did you meet Chaery before you two moved in?"

"Nope. Just that day." You laugh. "Believe it or not. We clicked really well and got close easily. I got lucky with her." At this point, the waitress comes with your plate and tells Yunho she'll be back with his as they're just finishing up in the kitchen. "Then we met Soobin and Seungmin. And they slowly started coming into our room more often. Turned into going to the cafeteria together, to hanging out and studying in our room together."

"That's good. It's always nice to have solid, good friends around."

"Yeah." You look at him. He notices that you aren't eating your food, and he feels bad that you are waiting for him. So, he clears his throat again and mutters out a quick—

"Oh, you don't have to wait for me." He looks at you, then down at your food.

"No, it's okay Yunho. I'll wait." You nod. "Speaking of roommates, are you close to Yeosang?"

"Uh, we're cool, I guess?" He shyly laughs. "We randomly got paired up because we're in the same major." The waitress sets his plate down and he pauses for a brief moment to thank her and asks for an extra plate. When she leaves, he returns his attention back to you. "Anyway. One day, he asked if I knew anyone who needed a roommate. At the time, I was renting a room in this couple's home. I didn't mind it, and they were super friendly. But, I figured having more space would be nice instead of being confined to a room and feeling shy about going into the shared kitchen and bathroom." You laugh.

"I get that, totally understandable." Yunho is splitting some of his omurice [a bit more than you expected] and placing it neatly on the extra plate before scooting it your way. "Wait. Yunho, that's a lot." You look at him worriedly and he shakes his head, continuing to edge the plate towards you.

"No, it's not." You look at him and he gives you a small smile. "Promise."

"Thank you." You say, cutting him a good chunk of your waffle and placing it on the edge of his plate. "I know you said you and Yeosang are cool so.. do you hang out often at home?"

"We'll talk and have dinner sometimes, but most of the time, we're in our rooms playing games." You giggle and Yunho's ears turn red. "Wow, I probably sounded ridiculous saying that."

"No, no. Soobin and Seungmin have a tendency to do that too. As long as it makes you happy and content, right?"

"Mmyeah."

"How often do you go home?"

"Hm, I try to go every other weekend? But, sometimes plans don't work out that way. I just try to go as soon as I can."

"I see." You continue to hold a conversation in between bites, with topics ranging from school, your majors, things your friends have gotten into.

Dancing.

Yunho observes you as you talk about your dance team and how much you enjoy it, and he loves the way your eyes twinkle; the way you animatedly move your hands while describing the team and its accomplishments, the way you giggle in between. He can tell you really enjoy it, and he's truly happy you have something to fall onto when times get rough, something to help celebrate when you're having good days.

He just can't understand how Seonghwa fits in this mix. He doesn't, he shouldn't. You are too good for him, and you have way more to offer.

"So.. yeah, that's us. We're small, but we're fun. And I think people on campus enjoy our pieces." Yunho laughs a bit before finishing up his food. He feels bad since he's never really gone out of his way to watch any of your performances, but maybe he should.

"Let me know when your next one is?"

"You'll come?" You ask with so much hope in your eyes. Yeah, maybe he should this time.

"Yeah, if I don't have anything planned."

"Oh, so we're the backup plan." You tease and Yunho shakes his head.

"No, not like that. You know what I mean. If I'm around and not at home."

"Of course." You tilt your head and smile at him. "I'll text you details later." You set aside your plate and sit back in your seat, feeling stuffed but content with your meal. You call for the waitress to bring over the check, instantly handing off your card in fear of Yunho trying to swoop in. "Oof, I'm full. But, that was so good. I really liked it."

"It was." Yunho sets his own plate aside and sips on some water. "Thanks again, you really didn't have to."

"I did. Small token of appreciation for the help you've been giving me. I've always struggled with these things so having someone patiently explain and walk me through improvements means a lot." You say before getting up and grabbing your things. "Ready?" Yunho nods before following you out. "Are you going to work in the library until class?"

"Probably."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Yunho looks down at you with a small smile.

"Not at all."

You make the trek back to school comfortably, parking in the lot near the library so that you and Yunho won't have to do too heavy of a walk. The both of you are engaging in more small talk, with Yunho feeling a bit more comfortable to joke around with you. He doesn't dare bring up Seonghwa because he knows it isn't his business, but also because he'd hate to see your mood shift.

You look good happy.

Getting back to the library, you scoot yourself into the opposite side of the booth and face Yunho. He immediately pulls out his laptop to do some work, not really saying much as his focus is redirected on trying to understand the new project they were just assigned. He glances over the edge of his laptop from time to time though, and you don't really catch it because you're too immersed in the note-taking you're doing. You write so precisely, so neatly; switching from one colored pen to the next before highlighting in a super straight line. His eyes glance up to your face, your features, before shifting his attention back down to his assignments.

Cutie.

"What's up, Yunho?" Yunho is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears that familiar deep voice. Seonghwa smirks at him before his eyes land on you. You don't look too happy to see him right now, but Yunho knows Seonghwa still has the upper hand here, and honestly, it sucks. "Hey Y/N, can I talk to you?"

"Why?"

"Cause, it's important." He licks his lips when his smile fades. "Please?" Your eyes dart from Yunho, back to Seonghwa. Yunho just quietly glances at you though, trying his best to mind his own business and let you decide on your own. But he's begging, pleading, in his mind that you don't leave with Seonghwa. Not after he left you in the cold the way he did.

Too bad it was a wishful thought.

"Fine." You huff before packing up your things and start to slide out of the booth. "Talk to you later? Thanks for today." You give Yunho a soft, apologetic smile, and he can only nod in acknowledgment before you're walking off next to that asshole. He continues to watch as you two walk down and into a random aisle of books. You can't help but scoff at Seonghwa again when you realize he's hiding because of course he doesn't want too many people in his business and to see you two so close. Of course he needs to do this in the fucking history aisle of the library. "This is your idea of talking?" All he does is chuckle a bit before he's tucking a piece of your hair behind the ear.

"Baby, seriously? Why are you hanging around Yunho so much?"

"Because we're friends?" He snorts.

"Since when? I don't ever recall Yunho being in your little circle."

"Oh my god, Seonghwa. He's been helping me with some assignments. What is this really about?" He shrugs.

"Nothing, I already told you. I'm not trying to share, not with him." You furrow your brows.

"Share?" You scoff. Clearly, you were just a possession to him. "We aren't dating. You made that very loud and clear from the beginning."

"Still. The dude can't even pull his own girl—"

"Stop." You put your hand out and shake your head. "If you're just gonna talk shit, let me get back to doing homework with Yunho. I don't have time for it." He sighs heavily and tries to pull you into him by the elbows.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just got worried because you didn't answer my text last night."

"Worried over me, or because you weren't getting any?"

"Come on, Y/N. Cut that shit out."

"No, you cut that shit out. It was freezing last night. I fucking waited for you at the spot for an hour."

"And I said I was sorry. I wanted to make it up to you last night but you didn't respond. I feel really bad about it, but what am I supposed to do when you won't even talk to me?"

"Seriously?" You let out a sigh. "Whatever you say." He sucks his teeth and lifts your chin with his finger.

"Baby, I'm trying here. If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't be doing this." You simply stare at him. You know he's lying, and you know he genuinely doesn't care about you. There is not one honest bone in his body that actually gives a damn about you. He's telling you what you wanna hear because he knows it'll work every—single—time.

"I don't know—"

"I'll wait for you until you're done with practice tonight, how about that? You can just shower at my place so we can hang out all night."

"That's the issue, you're never there after practice."

"I will be. I promise." He pouts a bit. "I'll be there waiting for you." He laces your hand with his and kisses the surface. "Walk with me to class?" You look at him, but all you can think about is leaving Yunho. You let out a sigh knowing all you want to do is avoid conflict, shrugging at his question.

"Fine."

"That's my girl." He leads the way out of the aisle, giving Yunho the pettiest nod you've ever seen. You try to avoid eye contact since you felt bad for leaving.

But, fuck. You just needed to get through the day in one peace.

He swings an arm around you for a second before he sees his friends on the way to class. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek just as he reaches his classroom, leaving you to finish up work at the nearby student center.

The day goes on [peacefully], and you're off to dance practice with your friends. You forget about everything for a moment while you're with them, enjoying the time that you get to spend all together even if it's through dance. They invite you to hang out with the group afterwards, but you politely decline especially when you actually see Seonghwa waiting outside in his car. You give your friends big hugs before waving goodbye, and settle yourself into Seonghwa's car.

He talks about his day for a bit, even as you walk into his apartment and see San eating his dinner. He doesn't really ask about yours, nor does he care enough to. He does ask if you've eaten and if you want some food, but you shake your head and tell him you'll be off to shower and finish your homework in his room. Throughout your shower, you can hear him and San laughing loudly in the dining area before they're going at each other's necks while playing FIFA.

You feel like you're just.. there.

You silently sit against the wall as you type away on your laptop, sighing as Seonghwa and San continue to yell over their last game. You find that you aren't really in the mood to be here, but you hang on to see what Seonghwa's version of 'making it up to you' means.

Should've known it wasn't shit.

Especially when he barges into his room and shuts the door, immediately kissing you before trailing a few soft kisses down your neck. He thinks you're enjoying it, so he keeps peppering your neck even as you gently try to pry him off.

"Hwa." You call his name and he ignores it, fingers slightly fiddling with the waistband of his sweats that you're wearing. "Seonghwa, stop." You say, pushing him back. "Stop." You repeat with a harder push when he almost dips his hand into your sweats.

"W-what? What's wrong?" He furrows his brows when he backs up to read your expression, your body language. Suddenly, you feel out of place, feeling like you wanna go home and be in your own peace.

You did not wanna be here. Not with him.

"I'm just.. not in the mood. Can you take me home?"

"Not in the mood?" He repeats. "What, should I have gone slower? Did I do something—"

"Seonghwa, please just take me home. I'm not asking twice." You say and he lets out a scoff as he hops off the bed and grabs his keys.

"Alright, whatever." He says, digging his hands into his pockets while walking out of his room. You change into the extra clothes you brought in your duffle bag, setting his clothes neatly into his laundry hamper. You quietly trail behind him as you tug on your bag and watch your feet drag you to his car. You hop in and Seonghwa doesn't say a word, instantly starting up the car and driving off. You can tell he's upset by the way his jaw is clenched, the way his hand tightly wraps around the wheel.

The way he drives.

A rather quick drive becomes even quicker, and you're glad you don't live far from his apartment. This entire ride feels suffocating and you can't wait to leave entirely. He pulls into your lot and brakes near the curb, giving you time to step out of his car. He doesn't give you another look, nor does he say anything— you simply slam the door shut and he races off, leaving before paying you any mind.

Perfect.

This wasn't anything new, but tonight feels awful. You start to feel guilty for whatever happened, though you shouldn't.

You shouldn't feel guilty.

You let out a shaky sigh as you step into your apartment, your roommates not being home since they're out with the dance group. You set your things aside and quickly take a shower before plopping onto your bed and doing.. nothing.

You want to do nothing.

You scroll through your phone as you try your hardest not to let any tears fall. They shouldn't, you did nothing wrong. But everything feels wrong, suffocating.

You hate feeling this way.

Yunho is getting ready to wrap up his work for the day when he sees a body slide into the booth he's currently occupying.

"Sup dude." Mingi says.

"Yo." Yunho responds. "What are you still doing here?" He asks, unfamiliar with Mingi's presence during these evening hours in the library.

"I had to work on a group project." Yunho continues to draft out some notes for his project while Mingi sits back and lets out a breath. "Another project?"

"Yup. How'd your group project go?"

"Eh. It's alright, but we're done. Just need to present." Mingi scrolls through his phone. "I saw you with Y/N earlier." Yunho pauses to briefly look at him before returning his attention back to his notebook. "I didn't know you two knew each other." He chuckles.

"We have literature class together, and I was helping her with some reviews."

"You seem close, though? Have you always been close?" Yunho shrugs at two things— one, he definitely can't say you two are close, and two, how nosy Mingi is being. It must be for Seonghwa.

"Not really. She's cool, though."

"Hm." Mingi hums before putting his phone down on the table. "Yeah, she is. I don't know what Hwa's deal is sometimes."

"Mm, but you would never mention it to him." Yunho teases with a small chuckle, but he means it. He absolutely means it.

"I just feel like it isn't my place to. Me and San have both told him to chill, but can't force someone to act a certain way if they don't want to." Yunho shrugs.

Fine, he thinks. But, Mingi could at least tell the guy when he's wrong and what he's done wrong, right? He would at least hope that's part of their conversations, and he knows Mingi is aware of right vs. wrong.

No better way than letting someone know the truth.

Seonghwa is wrong damn near more than half of the time.

"Yeah, I guess." Is all Yunho responds with.

"He does like her, though." Yunho looks at him with tightly-knit brows. What does he mean Seonghwa likes you? That's his way of showing his feelings for you? And it must be obvious that Yunho is feeling a certain way about that statement because Mingi instantly backs it up with a— "I mean like, I know he has some kind of feelings for her. He does more for her than I've seen him do for anyone else. I just don't know why he's stringing her along and not being more serious."

"Like.. what? Leave her in the cold until he's ready to pick her up? Really shows his feelings." Yunho sarcastically responds. "Anyway, sure. It's not really my business."

"Are you sure?"

"What?"

"You seem interested in her."

"Because we hung out?" Yunho shrugs. "Okay, Mingi."

"I only bring it up because he's mentioned it. Hwa can get pretty protective and jealous. I don't want him to start shit with you—"

"He doesn't need to." Yunho responds. "Not really on me anyway, I'm not the one in the wrong."

"Right, I guess."

"I know he's your friend, but she deserves way better. You can tell me all of this, and it still won't change my mind." Yunho chimes in one last time, completely over the conversation. "If she isn't happy, he shouldn't be selfish enough to continue trapping her." He finishes up his notes before closing his notebook and packing up.

"You're right." Is all Mingi replies with while watching Yunho pack up. Because what can he say? Of course, he agrees. But he has this weird obligation, this loyalty, to Seonghwa because of their friendship.

"I'm gonna head out." Yunho slides to the end of the booth before throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Gonna stay behind?"

"Nah, I'll come with. Wasn't planning on staying any longer." Yunho nods, allowing Mingi to walk alongside of him. He's a little annoyed, but in a weird and unconventional way, he knows Mingi didn't mean any harm. He knows he didn't mean to intentionally attack him.

Still, though. His point about Park Seonghwa stands.

Yunho continues his walk to the car with Mingi, the topic of discussion now being new game releases and a party that's coming up soon at one of the athlete's homes. Mingi extends the invite to Yunho, but Yunho shakes his head and tells him he doesn't think he'd end up going. He might change his mind if he feels better about it when the time gets closer, but as of now— it feels like a hard no.

Once Yunho and Mingi finally part ways, Yunho climbs into his car and begins his silent drive home. He starts pondering about his day and how he actually really enjoyed it. He feels comfortable enough to be himself around you, and he can't say that for many people.

You are enticing to him.

When he gets home, everything feels still— quiet. The night sky is dotted with stars, while the crickets chirp.

"Mom." He says, parking his car off to the curb and grabbing his things.

"Yunho, baby." She says a bit lowly. "How are you? How was your day?"

"I'm alright, just hanging in there. Had lunch with a friend before working on a few projects." He begins to walk to his apartment. "How are you feeling?"

"Good! Your aunt and I went out for a walk, then shopped for a few things today." Yunho chuckles.

"Cute. Weather's been nice. Glad you guys have been getting out."

"Yeah, enough about that though. A friend, hm?" She chuckles.

"Yeah." Yunho smiles. "We have the same class together. I've been helping her with some of the assignments."

"So, it's a her." Yunho can hear his aunt giggling in the background, making him roll his eyes.

"Uh huh—" Before he can start lecturing his mom and aunt about how you two are merely friends, classmates, another call comes through on the line. He stops in his tracks and quickly removes the phone from his ear to see who's calling. "Mom, can I call you back in a second? I just got home."

"Okay, get settled. I love you!" She says in a sing-song manner and Yunho laughs a bit.

"Love you too." He responds before ending that call and switching to the next. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

You chuckle on the other line before responding with a shaky: "Why wouldn't things be, Yunho?"

"I don't know. Just wasn't expecting your call, is all."

"I'm sorry, are you busy? I'm so dumb, I really shouldn't have—"

"It's okay, Y/N. Seriously. I just got home from the library." He steps inside his apartment finding that Yeosang is in his beloved cave, yelling at his computer screen per usual. He walks into his room and places his things down, settling onto his computer chair with a soft sigh.

"Okay." You haven't said much and it's obvious to Yunho that something is indeed wrong. You needed someone and you turned to Yunho for comfort.

God, he sucks at this. But, he wants to be there for you.

"What's going on?"

"Huh? Nothing. I just wanted to check on you." He chuckles.

"I don't get very far, Y/N. Don't worry." Silence. "What's bothering you?"

"How do you know something's bothering me?"

"I can practically hear you thinking from here." You giggle and it warms Yunho's heart. At least his effort is somewhat working.

"I.. was at Seonghwa's not too long ago. And I just didn't wanna be there. I asked him to take me home and he was upset. I don't know why I feel bad about it."

"Feel bad? What is there to feel bad about?"

"Maybe I should've asked him in a better way, I don't know. I felt suffocated and demanded rather than politely telling him."

"Y/N, you don't owe him anything. You don't need to explain anything to him. He doesn't need to be upset about you going home because that's your own choice. He's mad because he didn't get his way for once. Still not your problem." You let out a shaky sigh and a tear manages to slide down your cheek. This was so dumb, you shouldn't have called Yunho to vent about this.

"This must sound so dumb, I'm sorry Yunho—"

"It's not dumb. Don't be sorry." Silence, again. "I hope you know that if things don't get better, you were never in the wrong. You don't need him."

"I know." Yunho doesn't say much because he doesn't wanna attack you or make you feel worse. So, he sits there. Listening to you breathe.

Listening to you sigh, be upset.

"Yunho?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind earlier."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize."

"Mind if I join you at the library again tomorrow?" He softly smiles to himself and nods as if you can see him.

"You're always welcome to join me."

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk [bold = can’t tag 🥺]

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Special Interest 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

Note: this one is a bit longer than I anticipated!

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Hmm, I don’t know Camila,” Cole picks out the washer, “I don’t think this will fix the problem. Sounds like a different issue than the pipe.”

“Yes, well, my husband said to get this,” she ho-hums, “thanks so much for helping me find this.”

“No problem,” He grins, his baby blue eyes deceivingly bright, “I know this place pretty well. We order most things in bulk but you can’t wait weeks when it’s an emergency. Especially with farmwork.”

“Oh my, you are so responsible. It’s just you and your parents on the farm?” She flutters her lashes. Maybe your dad should be concerned.

You stand off to the side, staring down toilet seats as they chatter. Neither of them have stopped and you’re not bothered fading into the background. Hell, you prefer they forget you entirely. You look down at the cactus in your hand, you could just sneak off with this new prickly friend.

“Yeah. Sister comes to visit but someone needed to stay behind. There’s too much work for just my dad and we never recovered fully from the recession. Can’t really afford a hand.” Cole explains.

“Aw, oh, how dreadful,” your mother gestures like a melancholy Victorian widow. “I’m sure your parents appreciate how helpful you are…”

You don’t miss her eyes as they stray in your direction. You give a scowl, you’re helpful. You take the garbage out and do the dishes. Hell, you’re the only reason the toaster works again.

“Yeah well, I know when I was younger, they probably didn’t feel the same. You know, you just gotta get perspective and learn what’s important.”

Okay, this is ridiculous. They are drinking the same flavorade and you’re more of a cream soda girl. You peer around evasively.

“Well, mom, you got the washer thingy, we should get going. Dad’ll be waiting,” you say.

“I suppose you’re right. Oh, and we still have to hit Eddie’s for dinner,” she recalls, “hm, what a long day it’s been.”

“Eddie's? Oh, I know that place. Owner’s a buddy of mine. I could probably get you a deal.”

“We’re good,” you insist as you step forward, “we got our cactus and our thingamajig. We can pay for dinner.”

“Honey, he’s just being nice,” your mother reproaches, “it is so sweet of you, Cole, but it would be a bit much.”

“You know, that’s a good idea. I should head down that way too,” Cole swiftly diverts her denial, “mom and dad love a good kebab. I always try to bring ‘em something when I come to town.”

“Oh, my heart,” your mother squees, “you are such a good son.”

You clear your throat. Your mother gives you a look. Cole glances over, his head tilted victoriously. He’s effectively making you look like a real bum and you just made a couple hundred.

“Look, I can tell you two are in a hurry,” he shifts suddenly, reaching under his jacket, “I’ll give you my card. I’m down at the market three times a week. If you need any tips about the cactus or maybe looking for a buddy for it, you can always call.”

“Wow, thank you, Cole,” your mom accepts with a fawning gaze, “oh, honey, you hold onto this,” she waves the card in your direction, “I’ll just lose it.”

You reluctantly step closer and take the card. More like rip it up. You pinch it between your knuckles and retreat. Again, Cole peeks over at you.

“I gotta go grab that sod,” he leans back on his heel, “see ya around… I hope.”

“You too, sweetie,” your mom preens.

He backs up, his eyes flitting between you and your mom. He gives you a smile and slowly turns on his heel. He struts away with a bit of a hop, almost as if he’s nervous. You scoff and shake your head. What a show.

“He is so nice!” Your mother announces shrilly, “oh my, and so handsome. And tall and dreamy. His eyes, god those eyes.”

“Mom, you’re married. You know, to dad?” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, hush, I saw you looking at him and he was looking at you,” she fans herself, “you would make the cutest babies.”

“God, ew, another word and you're getting the cactus,” you warn.

“What? You too would be adorable and I can tell, he’s single. He didn’t mention a wife or anything. And a farm? You’d be set for life, and your kids could run all around–”

“He’s a stranger and you’re talking about babies,” you sneer, “please, before I throw up.”

“That whole hard to get thing, it doesn’t work, honey,” she chides.

“I’m not– I don’t want him to get me. I’d prefer I never see him again. Ever. Forever.”

She giggles, “don’t be so dramatic. What did he do to you? He was perfectly sweet. Good manners. Good posture…”

“Really mom, should I be concerned for your marriage,” you snort.

“If only. I think I’m a bit too old for him,” she mourns with a swoon.

“If we don’t get something to eat soon, I’m going to lose my appetite,” you stick your tongue out.

“You are a brat. I’m your mother, you know?” You set off down the aisle next to her as she finally abandons the plumbing shelf. “Why can’t you be like Cole. Such a good boy.”

“Oh my god! Mom, you don’t know him. How do you even know he told the truth? What if there is no farm?”

“You don’t know him either, do you? So maybe, before you assume the worst, you should give him a chance.”

“A chance?” You puff out, “never. He’s an order number, nothing else. And old.”

Your mom tisks and turns towards checkout. You avoid looking at her as her disappointment radiates off her. She wiggles the washer in her hand.

“Where’s that card, I’ll put it in my purse.”

“Ugh, take it,” you flick it at her, “I was just gonna dump it in the trash.”

“Why, with how prickly you are, we shouldn’t need any more cactuses,” she chides.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #drabble #series #special interest #ghosted #au #bookstore au

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ashipiko · 4 months

Text

“A Hundred and More Memories with You”

SUMMARY: A story in which Ace reminisces upon the many memories of him and Ashi.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

NOTES: <3 enjoy the rare Ashi writing

taglist: @taruruchi @deeva-arud @thelegendaryfluffypotato13 @midnightmah07 @cynthinesia

Ace would consider himself an Ashi expert. A lot of people would consider him one too, considering how often they hang out with each other.

And when he says it’s a lot, it’s a lot. Sure, of course, there’s Deuce and Grim too. They all go through their antics together, whether it be slaying in a singing and dancing competition or solving the latest issue Night Raven College has got to answer, which includes facing off against high school boys in life-risking duels, when they should really be in therapy. They all went through a lot together and somehow pulled through and survived all that nonsense too. Same class, same lunch table, same shenanigans for them all. And Ace would like to think of them as a dream quad, but here’s the thing.

Who got there just a little earlier than Juice did when Ashi was having trouble at Scarabia? Who did Ashi go to hug tightly when that happened? Who did Ashi stay behind with when VDC practice came by and everyone else left the room? Who turned out to feel so comfortable with him that she fell asleep on his shoulder? Who always bunks at Ramshackle and is always taken in by the prettiest girl at NRC?

That’s right. Not Grim, not Deuce, but Ace Trappola himself.

It might not be much, but Ace finds himself thinking that it’s those small things that no one else sees that places him a little higher than everyone else. With this, at least. He can confidently go up to anyone and go, “Hey! That’s my best friend you’re talking to, you know?” with a shit eating grin on his face, and no one would bat an eye. Because that’s just usual Ace behavior around Ashi.

Behind closed doors or not, he’s real committed to her.

…Maybe if you cut out their first meeting, actually. He thinks about it sometimes. How’d he fall for a goody two shoes like her?

Just some girl, straight out a coffin and fell onto the floor, during NRC’s opening ceremony. It was really funny! Doesn’t mean it made him think much about it. Like yeah, sure it's all-boys school, but it’s not anything crazy. What, none of you have seen a girl before? Do you guys not have moms?

Until Ace spots her again, her eyes crinkling in confusion at the sight of the Great Seven. Some dialogue is exchanged, and nothing is of note. She’s cute and pretty, sure, but it’s not like Ace came to NRC, an all-boy’s school might he reiterate, to get a girlfriend. After the last snooze fest he had? Pfft! Forget it! Not to mention she’s got no passion or fire within her. The little furball she’s got beside her is the one who carries that all for her, I guess.

“Maybe before you try gettin’ into the academy again, you should try a second crack at kindergarten? Hahaha!” That was the Ashi-Grim duo’s first taste of the iconic grin™.

“Grrrr… How dare you!”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta head to class~. Unlike these two janitor losers over here I’ve got places to be. I’ll leave you alone and let’cha get back to picking up some trash.”

Ace still remembers looking over at such a blank face. Just standing there like a statue, watching the situation play out. Nothing about this interaction would’ve hinted to what was in store for him.

“Hey, goody two shoes, maybe loosen up a little, how ‘bout it? You could benefit from some good old insults every once in a while. Take a page outta the weasel’s book here.” The redhead teases one last time before his departure, as he watches the brunette’s eyes lock with his.

“Hehe,” Ashi finally perks up, “I’ll think about it, Acey.” She chimes.

Ace is about to shoot something at her again, until a blaze of blue fire engulfs the area around them. All tension is lost and next thing he knows, he’s battling a literal animal and being sent to wash windows as punishment for the roughhousing. He didn’t sign up for this at all! But after some self reflection, the Ace now would roll his eyes and mutter, “Well, I GUESS it was kinda deserved.” But of course, that would only be because of Ashi. Despite how much of a “bad influence” he is on her, in her own way, his best friend had her own ways of helping Ace improve himself too. They balance eachother out well, and Ace smiles as he thinks this. To make himself feel better? Maybe.

Even still, in the beginning, Ace didn’t really think much about Ashi. He ditched the whole window cleaning ordeal for a reason, you know? And no matter how hard he tried, no amount of pushing her buttons resulted in any sort of snap back, no retorts at all. Bullying her more than Deuce didn’t work either— so he eventually gave up and changed targets. Which I guess was fine, since he had to focus on the stressful situation of the mines.

But at the end of the mage stone obtaining mission, when Ashi caught some time alone with him on the walk back as Deuce and Grim walked ahead, Ace figured that she just wanted a piece of him. He can’t blame her, honestly, so he decided to give her what she wanted and talked to her casually for a while. He thought one last time, adding some spice into the conversation, to joke around.

“You were reaaaally scared back in that dark and spooky house, weren’tcha?” Ace teases, giving Ashi that signature grin once again, “The cave too, to boot. What are you, actually scared of the dark or something?”

He catches Ashi’s attention, and she looks at him, offended, “Aaand? I totally did it still, you know! Give credit where credit’s due, Acey!”

“Still means you’re a baby.”

“Hmph.” Ashi huffs in response, pouting a little, “…At least I manned up and made a plan instead of arguing like an idiot with the others.”

An actual comeback? For real? Ace didn’t think she had it in her!

The ginger’s lips curl up into an even bigger grin as he pokes the bear a little more, “And who did the execution, huh? Without me, you wouldn’t have even gotten to go through with your plan!”

“I could say that about Deucey. He definitely deserves more credit than you do anyway.”

“Ha! As if. Juice over here barely did anything.”

“Either way, neither of you would’ve come out of this successfully without me,” Ashi sighs, fed up with Ace’s behavior, “What’s your brawn worth if you don’t think about how to use it?”

“Offense over defense, baby!”

“Exactly why you would’ve failed without me!” Ashi snaps at him, immediately realizing how much she’s allowed Ace to wind her up right after. She internally scolds herself for acting out, and before Ace can say anything else, she breaks eye contact and changes topics.

Noticing how her body stiffens and her words seem less… slangy than usual, Ace can’t help but ponder about this. This whole entire time, not a single complaint has come out of her lips. Her voice was constantly sing songy throughout the entire nerve-wracking situation, but the way that it climbed up and became more strict and stern at this moment was a complete curveball. A breaking point, perhaps? Not to mention, the sudden way her body closes up and acts like it resets? It’s like she’s being corrected. A light goes off in the instigator’s head.

Huh, Ace thinks. Maybe goody two shoes here isn’t exactly what she’s living up to be.

He barely knows how he got here himself. Something about Ace’s first taste of something outside of Ashi’s whole “peppy good girl” deal was enough of an incentive to pester her more, and more, and more and more and more, only in attempts to see more of that special side of her. And somehow, through some sort of divine intervention, he got closer than anyone could’ve imagined for the guy who’s known for pissing people off.

Closer than anyone else she’s met in Twisted Wonderland has gotten, and based on how she words it, closer than anyone in her home world, even. The fact makes Ace feel bad, but at the same time he can’t help but feel kind of proud. Hell, he doesn’t even understand how people don’t like the real her. The whole good girl act is polite and sweet, sure, but compared to how dynamic and fun the hidden side of her is… Why would you ever think that the shallow 2D side is better than the in-depth 3D side in this scenario?!

If he ever gets there, Ace pledges to beat the hell out of every person who made Ashi think this in her home world. You can count on it.

From there on out, he had to keep his curiosity at a minimum. Though he wanted to keep pushing, he cared for her so much that he didn’t wanna cross her boundaries too far. So he kept it as teases and banters for the time being, because that’s how you keep it light and fun. Such as having sleepovers, just the two of them at Ramshackle.

To say the least, Ace got a little too comfy.

At some point, Ashi would offer him an old sweatshirt she never wears, too oversized for her but perfectly fitting for Ace during the cold nights he would want to visit. At some point, Ace had a secret knock he used at her window after the incident where he had only scared her instead of delightfully surprising her. At some point, Ashi and Ace giggling the night away became the norm for them.

Simple? Yeah, Ace had to admit, it’s just talking the night away with a friend till you both pass out, but it has its charm. Just as they showcase it in movies, the two best friends always hang out under the covers, tell scary stories and laugh excessively due to being way too sleep deprived, having a special bond that no one else would understand, just because they understood each other that well.

Something so simple, and yet something Ashi never got a taste of before.

She never got that close.

So, Ace, being the great friend he is and being the bearer of knowing Ashi’s history of, well, not being too involved in the usual teen activities, he would take it upon himself to go and make a dream come true. His mind begins to wander off way back when, before any of these bestie advancements were a thing. When Ace wouldn’t come out of nowhere, instead making his way through the door, like a normal person. And what better place to propose the idea of Ashi’s very first sleepover than the cafeteria?

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a sleepover. Seriously, Ash? The heck kinda life did you live?” Ace jokes, giving her the most bewildered look as they eat their lunch.

“Eh…” Ashi mumbles about, thinking about it as she takes a bite of her sandwich, “Kinda just the way the cards played out? Dunno, my mom didn’t really get the whole dealio.” Shrugging as if it’s nothing, she looks over at Grim chowing down his food to end the current topic.

Ace looks at her as she finishes talking, and he feels like her smile’s lacking more than it usually does.

“Then why don’t you experience it while you’ve got the right cards?” He shoots back, pulling Ashi back into the conversation, “You know who’s not here? Your mom.” He chuckles a little at his little joke, “Seriously though, take this whole away-from-your-family situation to your advantage!”

“Ace has a point, actually,” Deuce joins the conversation, “For once we agree on something. You’re already in a magic world, what’s one more abnormal thing to experience?”

Ashi blinks a couple times at the pair, before putting her finger to her chin and letting out a hum, “I guess so… Who do I invite, though? Plus, there’s Grimmy I gotta worry about too. This guy’s a drama queen…”

“I need my beauty sleep!” Grim scowls, before getting right back to his tuna. Ace rolls his eyes before he leans across the table, towards Ashi.

“Invite me, duh! Who else is your bestie, Ash?”

She smiles at his attitude, “Mr. Trappola, huuuh?” The brunette takes a comedic amount of time to think about it, “All his complaining miiight keep me up at night… Me and Grim are in the same boat when it comes to the sleep department too~.”

Deuce chuckles, “He really doesn’t shut up. Actually, a sleepover with all of us would be fun, but I have studying to do…”

Grim adds on, “Well I don’t wanna see an ugly face when I wake up!”

Tired of the bashing from the rest of the group, Ace loudly groans, “Then why don’t you take your ugly mug to me and Juice’s dorm while me and Ashi have a sleepover! Problem solved!”

It takes one glance from Deuce for Ace to get the message, “You know, you just sound like you just wanna get alone time with Ashi.”

The redhead glares back, “As if! I just wanna have a sleepover!”

…Only to add a solemn “Back me up, would you?” to it. Deuce gets it and helps him out.

“It would help me actually, Ashi. Take him away from me so I don’t have to worry about getting off track. And Grim can’t be that bad of a roommate, right? He’s just a cat. If he slept the whole time, I think it’d be relaxing if anything.” Deuce adds on, slowly egging on Ashi to decide.

“If you feed me enough tuna!”

The prefect ponders for a second, as her fingers tap once, twice on her chin, “I mean I guess… It’s not like it’s the first time Acey’s stayed over.” Ace pumps his fist in the air, and the other two think he’s being a little too obvious.

“Win! This time, it’ll totally be a proper sleepover. Call me the sleepover master, even! Get ready to not get a wink of sleep tonight, Ash!”

Ashi giggles in response before the bell rings and everyone scatters once again.

Later that night, Ace appears at the door of Ramshackle once he gets word that Grim has taken his place as Deuce’s roommate. He knows that Ashi’s scared of being alone in the dark, so of course he rushes over as fast as he can. Not because he wants to. It’s just what a decent person would do. It’s nothing to give him a weird look about. Right?

A few knocks and he’s let inside, and it’s not like anything has changed much. The dorm is the same old dusty and dainty place it’s always been, except this time he’ll be spending his time in an actual bed. No, it’s not because he’s asked all those previous times that Ashi finally caved in and let him get what he wants. It’s because now they’re just close enough that it’s chill. There’s no other reasoning further than that. Right?

Because he and Ashi are just best friends. He’s not here because he wants to have alone time with her! Ace just wants to see his best friend happy, able to experience all the things she hasn’t. Because that’s what good friends do.

…Right?

Okay, maybe Ace did get a little sidetracked from his main mission now that he thinks about it. The whole idea of being alone with Ashi planted a seed in his head, he admits it, but how could you blame him, honestly? None of that means that he didn’t get what he originally wanted, though. Two birds with one stone! He wins either way!

Still, it’s a night filled to the brim with snarky comments and blissful laughter, and while certain housewardens wouldn’t allow staying up this late, Ace decides that the lack of sleep is worth it. A sleepy Ashi is always cute, cuter than usual, and it’s an evening of rare sights. They’re both laying down all across the bed, staring at the blank ceilings and watching the cobwebs the prefect hates sway with the breeze of the bedroom. It’s calm, and neither of them are thinking about what they’re saying. The norm for one and an uncommon occurrence for the other.

“So how’d your first sleepover go?” Ace mutters, tiredness hitting them both. It’s dim within the room, and it’s thanks to Ashi’s nightlight that they can even take in this atmosphere at all.

“It was pretty hypesies.” Ashi replies back, and it’s a simple exchange. ‘Till she speaks up again after a while, and Ace is surprised at her different tone of voice.

“…Thanks, Acey.”

“Eh? Sounded pretty serious there, Ash.”

“That’s ‘cause I am!”

Ace faintly laughs, “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

“Really though. I’m pretty sure you’re not as dumb as you look, so you probably caught on already,” Ace’s eyebrows suddenly jump in surprise at the sudden change in character, and Ashi proceeds, “I’m not really used to being this buddy buddy with people, even chicks— And like, it just means a lot to me that you even volunteered to do this with me in the first place. It makes me real happies to call you my bestie, you know?

I like that you’re honest. It makes me feel comfies. I can kinda be more like myself, somethin’ like that? And…” her voice quiets down before she says anything else. Which is somehow both a good and bad thing for Ace.

They both soak in the moment, and Ace’s cheeks feel like they’re burning up just a little. This is probably the most genuine reaction he’s gotten out of her— But at the same time, it’s completely unfair how she’s simultaneously making this seem so casual and yet so impactful.

His train of thought quickly fades away as a small, weak laugh from Ashi breaks through, “Sorries, I got too serious there. You might as well call me Riddle or something at this point,” she murmurs, her voice not quite carrying the energy she intended, “Probs ‘cause it’s past my bedtime.”

Ace hears her sit up a little, and he still stares at the ceiling blankly as he hears the crinkles and turning of the blankets along the bed. His next words practically come out of thin air, cheeks still feeling warm.

“You really should talk more, Ashi.”

The noises he hears suddenly pause, and after a quaint moment of silence, he hears a relieved exhale from the other side of the bed.

“…Thanks, Acey.”

It’s then that Ace wonders if it’s not just his cheeks that are hotter than usual at that moment.

From there on out, Ace feels both better and worse about himself. Because, man, his chest begins to feel kinda weird when he sees her. He swears she’s gotten prettier somehow, but at the same time, he also feels proud that he’s Ashi’s special person— she basically said it herself, y’know? Part of him wonders if this is the farthest he’s gonna get. Both as a friend and, well, maybe more.

So he waits days on end, they have their sleepovers more and more often, and hell, they get to a point where they have sleepovers every day. Ah yeah, the VDC days, amirite?

In his head, Ace thinks that this “era” of “AshAce” (name made by him, proof is in his alchemy notebook) is an era in which their relationship deepened even further.

There’s multiple points and examples he could give, and he’d tell you about ‘em and brag all day if he could. But the most vivid memory for Ace, apart from the one he forcibly tried to forget out of embarrassment, has gotta be when he really saw Ashi speak her mind.

He remembers the rain pittering and pattering outside when he went to go and get a drink. It was a cool night, after everyone was done and exhausted from practice, so he figured the one who’s all “I need my beauty sleep!”, especially, was asleep. Well, until he saw a figure outside and flipped the freak out— Alas, it was just Ashi, but he found it to be pretty out of character for her. She’s notorious for being horrible at dressing herself for the cold, and he’s sure Vil would bark her head off if she got sick before their performance. Ace’s neck still aches in memory of all the times he’s been collared, and he knows that pain of being yelled at by a housewarden all too well. Knowing Ashi? She wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of discipline. So why’s she out there in the first place?

He makes his way outside to investigate, and knocks a couple times on the doorframe, same pattern as he would when stepping through her window. Ashi’s frame jumps in surprise, and she quickly turns around, body stiff and drops of rain across her skin.

“Oh, it’s just you, Acey.”

“You aren’t looking too hot. What’re you even doing out here?”

“Ah…” Her tone of voice trails off, and ends off with a sneeze. Not a good sign.

The boy lets out a somewhat disappointed sigh as he sits down next to her, aware of the sketchbook on the porch as she keeps to herself. Based on the way there’s endless scribbles and several notes floating around the halfway finished sketches, contrasting against the blissful, one-take doodles in class, Ace puts the pieces together and concludes that maybe he’ll stay quiet just this once, the best he can. To prevent himself from getting any more tuckered out, and to prevent Ashi clamming up again.

He doesn’t like oysters, and clams sure aren’t that different in this scenario.

Now that he’s got a better look at her though, Ashi doesn’t seem to be very warm. The rainy ambience gave everything a downer mood, and her lack of a dry jacket is concerning. Her cheeks are wet too; but Ace can’t tell if that’s a byproduct of the weather or her own emotions.

“You don’t wanna get sick, do you? Vil’s never gonna let you hear the end of it.” Ace mutters, as he takes his own NRC blazer and drapes it across Ashi’s shoulders. She gives a faint smile, one saying thanks, before it fades away once again.

“You know me~. Not good with cold weather.”

“You’re even worse with discipline.”

“Fairs.” Ashi sighs, her voice quavering a little. The vibes in the air aren’t it, as Ashi would usually say, and I guess that’s something to apologize for for her.

“Sorry,” she says. It’s a quick mutter, but Ace hears it. And he hears her act unravel further and further, feeling his own heart drop and drop.

Hesitant, she continues, “I’m— I think I’m too tired to keep anything up at this point. There’s been so many issues going on and with managing and performing in VDC and feeling homesick I can’t even look anyone in the face right now. I’m so worried that my smile doesn’t live up to what it usually does, and I’m worried that everyone’s gonna notice and it’s all gonna go to ruins and the whole process of learning the dance and song is gonna get so— so… I don’t know!

I wanna perform. I want to learn from the others, but I don’t want to show them an Ashi that they’ll be annoyed with or make them think she isn’t what she’s lived up to be. I just can’t muster up the courage to push the act, so I end up spiraling down and isolating myself which is so not it for a cooperative project like this. Even if I do show up, the heck are the odds that they’ll be satisfied with such a half-assed act. It’s so hard to keep up.”

And now I’m showing you all of this stuff that I don’t want you to see and it’s embarrassing. It’s… I’m sorry, Ace. I’m sorry.”

Her confession finally comes to an end, and Ashi falls into silence. Meanwhile, Ace’s response is said so quickly— It doesn’t even seem like he’s keeping up with his own words.

“Ashi, seriously, you know I really don’t care, right?”

“…Huh?”

“Actually. I don’t care at all. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I don’t give a care in the world if you’re crying on my shoulder or laughing and doodling on my paper in class,” a breathy laugh follows suit, “Great Seven, honestly, when are you gonna realize that?”

The way Ace’s words just fall out of his mouth make him feel like he’s being too honest and brash again, and he doesn’t want to hurt Ashi in any way. He stops himself for a second before looking at the brunette’s expression, delicate and yet invested. It’s not anything ordinary, and maybe someone would find it weird coming from her. But if anything, Ace is an honest man. Both of them know this.

“You… Man. You know how I said you should talk more? That still holds up. You should think less, if anything. You overthink all these things, and you’re so people pleaser about it. Like— C’mon! You know I’ve got your back. You don’t have to be so cautious and scared of things.”

Ashi can barely process his words.

“Just know that I…”

Ace pauses.

“I… care for you. A lot.”

The silence that follows after is awkward, sure. Two frozen figures under the thin overhead of Ramshackle dorm, and Ace feels like he’s fumbled his words. The one time he hesitates.

Yet, one more raindrop falls to the floor, breaking the silence. And after that, one, two, three follow pursuit.

She doesn’t say anything, and yet Ace hears so much. Offering her his shoulder, they spend just a while longer together, soaking in the moment. Ace doesn’t mind the tears soaking into his clothing. Because if it results in Ashi’s true, sunny smile shining his way, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

Of course, not without some lighthearted teasing.

It’s a bittersweet memory, Ace notes as he reminisces. A memory of many, but definitely one of the highlights, he thinks. Like he said, a pretty core point in their relationship, and an eye opener as to how Ashi works.

…He could even say it helped soothe his own insecurities too.

Ace would consider himself brash, assertive, and I guess in some cases, insensitive of other’s feelings. Other people think that too. It’s part of who he is, the troublemaking prankster he is. It’s a double edged sword. Sometimes people complain about your attitude and think you’re a dick, or sometimes people actually think you’re doing something good on a rare occasion.

While this kind of attitude could totally get you out of sticky scenarios, sometimes Ace’s heart hurts at the way people climb up before him. He did it to himself, really— I mean, he’s gained a reputation and at an expense, he just so happened to lose the chance of hearing some praise. The troublemaker gets something done? At least he’s actually done something. The good guy does it? Everyone’s cheering him on.

It stings a little.

It’s just the way he is, he knows it. He tells himself this again and again. He’s proud of it, but it’s hard to feel like he’s really accomplished something when people treat him the way they do. When he feels like he’s falling behind, all he can do is give snarky remarks to the people above him. He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t gain anything.

But the rainy clouds fade away when Ashi’s near him, able to put all her trust in his care and see him as something better than a guy who’ll mess things up. She sees him as her knight in shining armor, and Ace’s heart heals.

To be someone people want to be around, and to have people see you for your true self without berating you because of it.

It’s something they both want. Something they both have, now that they’re together. Ace doesn’t wanna let that go. Not for one second.

These memories and thoughts with the girl he really loves are what Ace has to repeat in his mind, over and over and over again in this moment. Because when he’s standing in their little Heartslabyul hideout, the mood perfect and warm just like those paintings Ashi gushes about, voice clear and his back straight, he needs all the evidence he has.

He’s ready to take a shot at making this last forever.

Though, despite how determined he is, it’s not like he’s acting like his palms aren’t insanely sweaty right now. It’s lowkey embarrassing at how riled up he is about this.

Even in his basketball matches, he isn’t this nervous. But maybe it’s ‘cause Ashi isn’t cheering him on now that he’s really feeling the pressure? His thoughts wander and wander… couldn’t she get here sooner?

Jeez, how do you talk to girls again?

Ace has had a girlfriend before. He knows how to treat girls, but this opportunity is so much more stressful. Ashi’s not just a shot at a possible girlfriend for fun. He’s surprised himself if he’s being real about it, that he’s even this serious about them.

He didn’t intend for it to end up this way. To be friends, to best friends, to falling for one another and now, risking it all away in attempts to, what, kiss her? I guess it would be worth it. Wait— maybe he shouldn’t get too cocky about it. But doesn’t Ashi love him because he’s cocky? Wait a minute! Who said she even liked him like that in the first place?!

The redhead groans a little as he throws his head back. His last get-a-girl operation compared to this is insane. From boring stupid love to serious I-love-you-for-real love? Did Ashi really impact him this badly? Did her hopeless romantic disease spread to him too?! At this point, Ace doesn’t know if the break they spent apart while Ashi was off fighting Idia helped him calm down his feelings or make them more prominent.

He wallows in his thoughts a little longer, the doubt slowly consuming him, before a small noise of footsteps make their way towards him, causing him to straighten up. A patch of leaves open up, and Ashi waves through, catching Ace with somewhat of a goofy smile on his face.

Gosh, she really is pretty.

The nervous boy stands and waits for her to make her way towards him, and Ashi looks around the garden. Someone spruced it up, for sure. Starting out as just a simple hideout for Ace when he tried stalling from getting collared by Riddle, and turning into a hangout space for the two of them, Ashi never would’ve thought she’d see it in its full glory like this. Some cute fairy lights, treats on the small table, and even considering her fear of the dark, something about the atmosphere here still makes her feel delighted. It’s nice, but it obviously gives the suspicion that something’s gonna happen.

While she’s stuck enjoying the scenery, Ace can’t help but feel his smile getting even goofier as he watches her. The smile that shines through as she looks over at him tells Ace that he’s gotten successful with the first part.

“Ahaha. Acey, everything’s so bedazzled. What’s happening?” Ashi jokes, her voice chiming through the nighttime breeze. The redhead chuckles a little, before stepping another step closer.

“Just got something to tell you. It’s not a bad joke this time, I swear,” Ace comments, trying to keep the mood light, “So I tried getting the vibes to translate through this and that. Artsy, right? You proud?” He gives a snarky smile, gaining a laugh from the brunette.

“Yeah yeah~. So what is it?” Ashi tilts her head, awaiting for the big reveal. Ace gulps, before going on ahead. Just like he planned.

“Listen, I know that we haven’t really gotten time to spend with eachother since the end of VDC, but the whole break while you were gone… It got me to think about some stuff.” He starts off, focusing on the way Ashi’s expression changes along the way, “It made me really think of all the stuff we’ve been through, together, and I couldn’t help but keep thinking about how close we’ve gotten since you got here.

And NRC is filled to the brim with guys. Heck, some of them even have crushes on you. But…” Ace exhales, his heartbeat quickening as he starts to forget his lines. But in proper Trappola fashion, he bounces back and decides to go with his gut.

Brows furrowed as he clasps Ashi’s hands in his and pulls it to his chest, he spills his heart out to her.

“But none of those guys, and I mean none of them deserve you! You deserve someone you can laugh and cry with. Someone who won’t hate on you for showing something a little weaker than a big grin. Like me.

No matter what, even if we ever butt heads, you know I’ll always set it straight. Heck— I don’t even know how much time you have left in Twisted Wonderland— and I don’t know how much time we have left together. But none of that matters.

Because, Ashi— I love you.

I love you and I want to spend every single second with you. As something more than friends. Something where I can give you all the love you deserve, and you don’t have to be scared.

So please, just answer me.

Will you let me?”

The stars shine in Ashi’s eyes as she processes Ace’s words, and he feels his heart beating out of his chest. The tension is insane, and he can’t do anything but watch her for any sign of a reaction.

Stars, dancing in her eyes as they tear up and shine, her cheeks being painted a rosy red, and her shining smile falling into a soft one.

“Ace…”

“I love you, Ash.”

She laughs as her face faces downwards, hair falling over her eyes, “You idiot…” she mutters, before looking Ace in the eyes once again.

“I love you too. A lot.” Ashi confesses back, voice choking up a little as she laughs again. Again and again. It’s music to Ace’s ears, and he can't help but find himself laughing along as he picks her up and hugs her like it was her last. The two simmer in their emotions for a while, tears and jolly laughter transforming the atmosphere into a lovely and bright scene.

This is another memory to mark down, Ace subconsciously thinks as he holds Ashi in his arms, one to look back on again and again.

And he can’t wait to make even more memories from here on out.

#THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE THO #and a big thank you to the tenkaku server for helping me out <3 #welcome to my ace characterization!!!!!!#hope it gives better insight on ashi’s chara too #ashace #ace trappola #twstshi #ashi tamadai #twst oc #twst oc x canon #twisted wonderland #twst #THAT SHOULD BE IT I THINK……#mini spoilers but <3 fun fact I referenced Ace’s ghost marriage proposal/speech in his confession #teehee

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evansbby · 2 years

Note

Having slutty, slutty thoughts about stepdad ari pulling you on his lap and playing with your pussy for what must be hours(?) at this point. Rolling your hips against nothing and you are of course the dumbest slut in the world for it. He finally give you his cock and he’s so deep you might actually cry? I just can’t stop thinking about like leaning back on his chest so fucked out and not being able to leave his neck/near beard alone?

oh my god i’m a slut and a hole for stepdad!Ari, like the way this trope has me in a fucking chokehold rn…

“That’s right, you dumb baby, ride your daddy’s dick all nice and slow. Feel how big I am inside your little baby pussy. You feel that, honey? Feel my big dick?”

Ari’s got you riding him while he sits at his desk in his home office. Your mom is currently in the kitchen making dinner, and she’d sent you to call your stepdad and let him know that dinner’s almost ready.

Well, that was twenty minutes ago. Ari had pulled you onto his lap immediately, playing with your pussy and edging you for ages before he finally sat you down in his dick.

“Nngh, daddy, pl-please!” You garble, making grabby hands at his face, wanting to pull his closer for a kiss, but he turns his head and you muzzle against his beard instead.

“No, baby. Dumb little girls like you don’t deserve daddy’s kisses. You gotta work for it, honey. Bounce harder and make daddy feel good or I’ll call my friends over tonight and have you serve all of us.”

You gulp. The last time your daddy had shared you with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Everett, you hadn’t been able to walk for a week.

“N-No, daddy! Only you!” You cry, riding your stepdad harder.

Ari laughs cruelly, reaching down to squeeze your ass, “Only me huh? Well honey, maybe if you stopped acting like such a slut then i’d stop treating you like one. Now bounce harder, you dumb baby, before your mother realises you’re missing and comes looking for you.”

#oh fuck #ari drabble #this is me from the past trying to queue some asks #queue #anon

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razorblade180 · 2 months

Text

Where You Need to Be

[Menagerie General Hospital]

Nurse:Your mother has one more test to run then she’ll be back here in no time.

Young Lucas:Okay, thank you…

Nurse:She talks about you everyday y’know? She’s going to be thrilled to see you!

The excitable nurse left the room. Lucas calmly took a sip of his soda he got from the vending machine as he played the waiting game. He didn’t dare look out the window towards the courtyard or go for a walk. Right now, things were good. Things were…normal.

???: Excuse me?

Gods, why can’t things be normal? His lungs captured a slow, deep breath before greeting the doorway with a smile. There was a young girl with a lovely little rhino horn and wearing a hospital gown.

Lucas:Yes, little one?

Girl:Wow! It really is you! Lady Belladonna’s son. Hi! I’m Sam.

Lucas:Hey Sam. Aren’t you spunky? Not to mention alone. Does the nurse know you’re out and about?

Sam:Shhhh! I snuck out for you.

Lucas:Hehe, for me? Why’s that?

Sam:You gotta know why! Can’t you see the future!?

Lucas:….Yeah. Yeah I can. It’s not always by choice though.

Sam:Oh…well, I was wondering something. You see, I’m actually going to surgery soon. I’m not scared or anything but…my mom…she….

Lucas:She’s worried for you?

Sam:*nods* Mommy says I shouldn’t lie, so I can’t tell her I’ll definitely be fine because…I’m a little nervous too. But…if you can see my future then I can definitely tell her everything will be alright! So please! *puts hands together* I wanna know my future.

Lucas:….Come closer.

The girls eyes lit up and she ran to him, front and center! Same watched his amber eyes gain a blue ring around the iris as his gaze became distant. It was a a handful of seconds later that he snapped out of the trance.

Sam:What did you see!?

Lucas:You’re gonna wake up and feel bad before puking all over the nurse.

Sam:*red* What!?

Lucas:It’s fine. Anesthesia, the sleepy medicine, does that to people sometimes. But the important part is you wake up. *smiles*

Sam:I knew it!

Nurse:Aha!

The children looked at the doorway to the nurse and Blake standing there. Blake waved at Sam. It was about to be the only gentle greeting the girl would get before the nurse lectured her. Then she looked at her dear boy.

Blake:Hey sweetie!

Lucas:Heh, someone looks happy.

Blake:Yeah, you’re here.

Nurse:Sam-

Sam:I’m sorry! I just wanted to know if I would get better for mom! Please don’t mad!

Nurse:That’s… *smiles* Why would I be mad at that? Still, no running off now. It’s time to go get ready. You gotta be big, strong, and keep all that adorable energy. That’s the key to every victory! Now then, let’s go.

Sam:Kay!

She gives Lucas a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before taking the nurses hand to leave, closing the door on the way out. Blake sits on her hospital bed right next to his chair and pets the boy’s hair; his head falls to her lap just like when he was little. She wanted to see his face so badly, but could tell by his trembling just how scared he was to stare too long.

Lucas:Sam, she’s-

Blake:Sshhh, I know. *frowns* I know…

Lucas:What’s the point of seeing the future when you can’t change it?

Blake:Maybe… it’s not always about changing it? It’s about being there at the right time.

Lucas:….How soon is her surgery?

xxxxxx

It had only been two hours later that he found himself walking through the courtyard with Blake towards a bench made for two. Only to see one spot solemnly filled by a woman with a rhinoceros horn, tears endlessly rolling down her face. Lucas walked a little faster until he was right in front of her. Somehow, she found the strength to raise her head to meet his gaze.

Mother:The nurse said…you saw her last?

Lucas:Yeah, I did. And…right before she went in.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his scroll to show a picture of Sam cheesing at the camera and waving.

Lucas:She was nothing but happy and thinking of you.

Whatever strength the mother had left faded as she audibly wailed. Both Lucas and Blake supported her body, holding her close as she repeatedly thanked him through the tears. Lucas didn’t know if this could even begin to make him feel okay, but he glad he was right here in this moment; right where he needed to be.

#rwby #rwbabies #lucas belladonna #blake belladonna

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

a warm body

Stranger Things x Horror Movie Collection

American Psycho / Halloween / Scream / Friday the 13th / Fear Street / Jennifer’s Body

13.7K words

warnings - sexual allusions lol!, descriptions of wounds/violence (blood n gore n such), bimbo reader bimbo reader <3, jennifer’s body au

summary - You drag Robin to The Hideout in hopes of fulfilling your fantasy of hooking up with a boy in a band. Hijinks ensue and suddenly you’re a succubus that only your bestest friend can satiate.

“Hey, we’ve gotta go to The Hideout tonight.”

“Ew,” Robin gags, “Enough of Munson, okay? I’m sick of going to their gigs.”

“It’ll be fun,” you pout and lean your head against the locker next to Robin’s, “besides, there’s a new band showing up today. Heard it straight from Gareth in the lunch line - Bombed Grave, or some shit. Should be good.”

“Oh my God,” Robin shakes her head, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, “You need to get over this fantasy of being a groupie, it’ll get you killed.”

“It will not get me killed, it’s just a one-time thing, you know?” you fiddle with one of the rings Robin had gifted you a couple of years back, “Some stupid boy in a stupid band and me, just once. It’d be fun. And then it’s over.”

You shrug like it’s simple - like you’re talking about a piercing.

“Well, as long as I’m here - no stupid boy from a shitty band is getting anywhere near you,” Robin grins sardonically.

“Hey,” you stick out your bottom lip, elbowing Robin in the side, “I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself, Rob,” then just to tease, you throw out, “Mom.”

“Don’t call me ‘Mom’,” she groans.

“Then don’t act like I need a savior,” you look away, immediately finding the gaggle of math club members staring at you.

Robin watches as you wave and giggle and they nervously return the gesture.

Robin hates to call you an airhead, but sometimes you didn’t think things through. Going to The Hideout every Tuesday in an effort to sleep with a band member, she suspected, was one of them.

“Fine, okay,” Robin doesn’t know why she puts up a fight anymore, she always gives in. Perhaps it’s just the illusion of debate - the back-and-forth - that she likes, “I’ll go. And I won’t be your little savior.”

“Okay, then!” you perk up, reaching into the collar of your cheer uniform and pulling out your half of a BFF magnet necklace.

It was your part of a heart-shaped strawberry charm. You held it out proudly and Robin, despite how much she’d pretend to hate it, couldn’t help but pull out her own half. She connects your pieces and watches you light up at the way they click.

“I’ll drive you home to drop off your shit and change,” you pause, narrowing your lashes, “And I need to borrow a shirt,” she raises a brow and you just shrug, “People dig the short cheer skirt, but the uniform top makes it a little too real.”

“Gross,” Robin shuts her locker as the minute bell shrills.

“Uber,” you bump her shoulder with yours, “‘kay, I gotta go. See ya!”

“See you later!” she sighs once you’ve left.

What shirt could she possibly lend you that you didn’t already steal?

Every cute shirt - or article of clothing period - she owned was most likely already stashed in your closet. Not that Robin necessarily minded, it isn’t like she wore those clothes very often (or at all) anyway.

Robin has no fucking clue how you and her stayed friends after elementary school. She was adopted by the Hawkins’ middle school band and you became one of their beloved cheerleaders. Your rise to popularity was swift and unmatched by even King Steve himself and even now, you haven’t fallen from your pedestal.

She assumes it’s because you, unlike most other popular kids, are actually really nice. Chrissy Cunningham is your cheer co-captain and if it weren’t for Robin, you two would be the most iconic duo since Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs.

Now, as you’re both seniors, Robin remains a band geek, and you queen of Hawkins High (if not all of Hawkins itself), and you two are still tied at the hip.

Seriously, how Robin is your little friend after X amount of years, is an absolute cold case to her, but she’s not about to give it up.

So, Robin just bites her tongue and goes to her Spanish 3-4.

“No, no, no, no,” you pause your cycling through clothes and Robin looks up from her peeling black nail polish, your head is tilted and you pull out whatever has caught your eye, “When’d you get this?”

Robin’s cheeks flush and she huffs, reaching out to rip the offending sweater from your hands, “Oh my God, just put it down!”

“No!” you whine, clutching the pink fabric to your chest, “It’s adorable. I like it.”

You hold the sweater up. Robin usually buys her clothes in bigger sizes than what she actually is, that’s why you like borrowing her clothes - it’s rare to find something of hers that won’t fit you too.

It was something you’d have to work with - just a plain pink sweater with red hearts. And it’s not like it’d go with your cheer skirt.

You throw the garment over one shoulder and move to where Robin stored the skirts she doesn’t wear anymore.

“See, this always happens,” Robin rolls her eyes, all in good fun, and leans back on her elbows, “‘Just a shirt,’” she mocks, “You’re a little thief.”

“Whatever,” you chuckle and pull out a short, black skirt, “As if you were gonna wear these.”

“It’s the principal of the matter,” Robin stands, sighing loudly and draping her arms around your shoulders.

“Okay, turn so I can change,” when she doesn’t move, you shrug, “Fine. Don’t.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Robin has ever seen you change, but it never fails to make her squawk and cover her eyes before giving up. You’d be lying if you said that her watching you change never sent a spark through you.

“What’s even your plan?” Robin tilts her head, trying her absolute damndest to keep her eyes above your collarbones, “Hook up with who? The guitarist or the singer? And then what? Just go after a painter?”

“I dunno,” you grin, “Maybe I’ll keep chasing bands. Maybe it isn’t a regular guy I want, but Eddie Munson, and now I’m just trying to fill the void,” Robin wretches dramatically, “Okay, okay. I’m kidding.”

Eddie’s nice. You don’t have a reason to dislike him, you just didn’t think he was your type beyond a quick fantasy. Not that you spend all day thinking about how he isn’t your type, mainly because if you do that then you have to confront what - or rather, who - is your type.

“What about after, though? Are you still gonna drag me around so you can screw with guys who don’t deserve you?”

“Haven’t thought much about it,” you move to look yourself over in Robin’s full body mirror, “Best friend approval?”

Robin hums as if thinking, eyes narrowing and lips pressing thinly before she ultimately nods, “Best friend approves.”

“Yay,” you cheer under your breath, grabbing your purse from her vanity and skipping over to her bedroom door, “Ready?”

She looks around as if there’s anything of importance that she could possibly be leaving behind. Everything she needs is already at the door, ready to flutter out and right into the arms of some guitarist. Or vocalist. Anyone but the drummer.

“Maybe the drummer,” you announce to Robin, parking in front of The Hideout.

“How low will you go?” she gasps, scandalized, then giggles when you shoot her a glare, “I’m just saying, bunny, it isn’t that big a deal if you go with the drummer instead of the guitarist. I bet 99% of people won’t even know who you’re talking about if you tell them who you’re with. Just saying.”

“You know what I think?”

The both of you climb out of your car and Robin tilts her head, watching as you wait to hear your doors lock.

“Hm?”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get out there.”

Robin scoffs and you bounce up to the door, lugging it open for Robin to enter the dingy, dim, dank bar.

You see Eddie immediately and Robin hates to say how jealous it makes her when you squeal and throw yourself on him with a giggly, “hi, Eds!”

“Hey, bubble-brain,” his eyes flick to Robin, “Someone’s outta their element.”

“Huh?” you rear back and nod, “Oh! Yeah.”

Robin tries smiling at Eddie, but it comes out strained, her hands packed in her pockets and clenching tightly. Her rings indent her skin and she can feel her teeth digging into the thin stretch of skin inside her cheek.

“Hey,” you reach into her coat pocket and take her hand, “if you really don’t wanna be here, we can go.”

She considers it.

Honestly? Honestly - she’d rather be back at her house, with you. Eating ice cream with bad romcoms stuffed full of cliches she makes fun of but always cries to at the end. With you, though. It’s only worth it if it’s with you.

“I’m fine,” she looks over at the bar, then past your shoulder, “You go look for your boy toy,” her brows shoot up at Eddie, “Munson, wanna help a girl out?”

“I’d be honored,” he bows and you peck Robin’s cheek appreciatively before bounding further into the bar. Eddie is observant - it’s one of the things Robin hates most about him - and he pulls out a fake ID while staring right at her.

The bartender knows Eddie - hell, everyone in town knows Eddie - and she knows that he’s only twenty. But hey, then again, he’s twenty and it isn’t like she’s being pressed to card the people they serve anyway. Because nobody even gives a fuck.

“What’s your damage, dingus?” Robin can hear how tired she sounds but there’s no room for her to try and pretend she’s anything else, “Staring’s rude.”

Eddie orders before looking down at Robin, “I think you should get it over with and just take her home.”

“You’re crazy!” she swats his shoulder, “Also, shut up.”

Eddie finding out Robin is a lesbian was a massive accident. She didn’t know he was behind her and Steve during Ferris Bueller and kept whispering about how hot Ally Sheedy was. It was way after hours at Starcourt, how was she supposed to know anyone else was there?

But he kept her secret.

“I’m just saying,” Eddie hands over a glass ripe with condensation, “You’re gonna watch her flirt her cute little sweater off with some douche, and then you’re gonna whine and ask me to drive you home. ‘Cuz if you go with her, she’s gonna drop you off and you’ll have to walk through the door alone knowing the one you love is about to get her shit rocked.”

Robin stares down at the cocktail. If she was a little smarter, she would’ve asked what it was before taking it. It’s clear, if a little auburn. Just a tad.

She doesn’t even know what to say, “It’s my sweater. She’s ‘borrowing’ it.”

Eddie coos, pouts, and pats her head, “Poor thing. You’re so fucked.”

Robin takes a cautious sip of the cocktail and her face immediately screws up, she gags and holds the glass away as Eddie laughs, “Dude, what the hell is this?”

“Moscow mule,” he clinks his glass to hers, “Vodka. Ginger. Lime. Enjoy and don’t drink it too fast.”

“Won’t be an issue!” she huffs, watching his stupid vest’s stupid Dio back design disappear into the crowd, “Atthay assholeyay.”

She takes another sip, somehow more careful than last time, and that’s when she sees you. You’re talking up the lead singer of the other band and he’s eating it up because who wouldn’t?

You’re sweet and, yeah, simple, but you’re more than that. You’re not just a best friend, you’re her one. Her person. The Nancy to her Margaret. The burger to her fries. The Shaggy to her Scooby. You two are Wham! You stay up until midnight just to call and wish her a happy birthday. She holds back your hair and helps you out of your heels when you go overboard at your popular friends’ lame parties. You feed each other soup when the other is sick.

You try really hard. All the time. Doesn’t matter what it is. School, cheer, dressing, befriending, shopping, whatever it may be - you try like someone will die if you fail. It’s intense and admirable to her at the same time.

And right now, you’re trying really hard to get the singer to like you. Robin would bet her entire college fund that it’s working, too.

So she stays out of your way and pretends that seeing that stupid guy’s hands pet over her sweater on your body doesn’t make her silently languish.

This time, her drag of Moscow mule is longer. Stronger. And she thinks that somewhere in the back of her head, or perhaps the back of the bar, Eddie is laughing.

“They’re not good,” Robin mutters as soon as you’re back at her side.

You wrap an arm around hers, yanking her shoulder into your chest, “Yeah…” you sigh, “but he’ll do. Not like he’s gonna be my boyfriend after this or anything, so no need to pretend.”

Robin has hated every single one of your boyfriends.

“You, uh,” she swallows the marble in her throat, “you giving him a ride?”

You giggle and she groans, “Jeez, Rob, talk about forward.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she tosses her head back and when you just keep laughing, it’s almost like things are how they should be.

Then your cheek presses to hers and you nod, “You need a ride home?”

“No,” she clenches her eyes shut, “Munson said he’d give me one.”

“Aw, he’s such a sweetheart,” you pull away, one hand wrapping around hers, “Call me if you need anything, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Robin watches you reapply her favorite gloss that you own, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Impossible,” you search the crowd and wave over your beau for the night, “Seriously, though. I’m a ring away. Maybe just gimme an hour or two before you have an emergency.”

“Sure,” Robin knows she’s being curt, but it’s not like she can help it. She can, but she shouldn’t. If she talks in longer sentences then everything will come loose and all her secrets will be like a rippling wound.

Eddie hangs an arm over Robin’s shoulders and laughs in her ear, “Hmm, did I get it word for word? Or did I get it word for word? I need to be reminded.”

“Shut up and get me another, Munson,” Robin shoves her glass into his chest.

To her, boys were ugly, red, agitated zits (except maybe Steve, who was a smaller, healing zit). To you, they were momentary fun when Hawkins felt a little dry. If she wasn’t so desperately wishing she could be the boy you give a ride, then maybe she’d be happy for you.

You wait for your car’s heater to thaw at Hawkins’ chilled night air before pulling away from the bar, “Your place or mine?”

“Actually,” the singer, Robbie he’d told you, lays a hand on your thigh. Toothy grin and pink lips on display, “there’s this cute little place in the woods. Think you’d like it.”

Robin didn’t like drinking. It gave her a headache and made her stink. Made her have to sneak back into her room just to avoid her parents finding out. Made her mind somehow less aware of her words.

So she laid in bed - face down in sunset sheets and stripped to her shirt and underwear - with one hand on the bedside table phone. Her fingers were wound tight around the receiver in a wavering display of determination. She wants to call you.

Make sure you got home safe. Make sure that idiot didn’t hurt you. Make sure you’d sleep well.

But you’re probably busy, so she also wants to leave it be.

Her fingers don’t move though, and when the sheets grow too hot with her breath being shot back in her face, she angles her head to the side. Her hair falls into her eyes and over her cheeks; she can’t be bothered to fix any of it, so it remains.

Fuck it.

You said to call, right? You want her to be able to call, right? Yeah, of course, you do. Robin knows you well, and she knows you don’t say things you don’t mean.

So she picks up the receiver and her fingers fly about the numbers in muscle memory. Turning onto her back, Robin blinks up at the ceiling as the phone rings.

A few streets down, your bedroom window is still open from when you forgot to close it before school. Inside your bedroom is an egg-shell white nightstand on the side of your bed not pressed to a wall. On the nightstand is a bubblegum pink phone gifted to you by your parents. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Robin blows a stray hair from where it’d tangled into her lashes.

Four times.

The line beeps and your family’s voicemail message plays.

She slams the receiver down and picks it back up. You usually don’t let the phone ring more than twice - even if you don’t want to take a call; you have the balls to either pick up and say so or simply pick up the phone and immediately hang up. So she dials your number again and sighs.

A handful of blocks away, there’s a forest that hides Lover’s Lake. A few miles from Lover’s Lake is Skull Rock. Against the side of Skull Rock is a young girl - you, in a torn pink sweater that wasn’t even yours - bound and screaming through a gag. You watch, wide-eyed and seconds away from pissing yourself, as Robbie unsheathes a knife, his drummer readies a printed prayer to Satan.

In your bedroom, a pretty pink phone sends its unlucky caller right back to voicemail.

Robin groans, scratching at her stomach, and lets the receiver tumble back into place.

She debates calling again. You probably aren’t even home.

You probably aren’t even home.

The thought makes her turn back onto her stomach and groan louder into her pillow.

The night is dark and cold. Robin hates the cold. It reminds her of the dead - of how her Aunt Shauna looked so pale and plastic in her casket. Young Robin made the mistake of touching Aunt Shauna’s hand and now teenage Robin has to deal with the consequences.

It’s agony.

She awakes with a shiver and looks to where her peachy curtains are dancing gently in the wind from an open window. Of which, she was sure she shut.

Robin rises from bed and yawns, one hand on the window frame and the other rubbing at her drool-crusted cheek. Just as she goes to shut the window, she sees it - right on the ledge of the frame are two big bloody handprints.

That’s when she wakes up a little more - realizes that her bedroom door was open when it’s normally shut. She hears it then, too, the rustling in her kitchen downstairs.

Someone’s inside.

Robin scurries to her closet and pulls out the bat full of nails that Steve insisted she keep for him. Her bare feet touch cold wood and her legs shake as she makes her way to the kitchen. The lighting there is limited to the bulb inside the fridge.

There’s more rustling. Things unwrapping and ripping open. Tupperware lids thrown across the tile and the sounds of something - an animal - eating straight out of the containers.

She wants to run, but her parents are upstairs and even if they don’t get along at the best of times, she’s not going to let them be attacked by… by…

There’s a sharp gasp of pain and her resolve is wavering.

Then the thing comes up, and it casts a human shadow on the wall opposite the fridge. A feminine silhouette dances across the ugly pistachio paint.

A croak. A cough. A call.

“Rob…in?”

It’s broken and pained and inhuman, but it’s your voice. Undoubtedly.

Robin’s bat clatters to the ground, just narrowly missing her feet and she runs into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” she clasps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide at the sight of you.

You’re fully leaning against the counter, arms limp at your side and head slid against the side of the fridge. You look like hell.

You swallow, sputter, and blink at her miserably, “Robin.”

“What…” her eyes roam - sweater torn open down the middle and stomach gaping with blood and prickled flesh, shoes missing, socks ripped and stained with dirt and blood, skirt weathered to threads at the end and thighs slashed. She can’t look you in the eye, “What the fuck happened to you?”

She flies forward, hands cradling your face. She can feel her heart in her stomach and throat simultaneously.

You’re so out of it, your eyes don’t even seem to be seeing her. They stare straight through, like she’s not even there.

You smile and that’s when she sees the blood staining your teeth, it spills out between your split lips and you giggle when she gasps.

“Oh my God,” she backs away, head on a swivel to find the paper towels, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God- “

You wrap your arms around her waist, chin leaning on her shoulder and temple pressing to her cheek, “Robin…”

“Yeah,” Robin extends her arm, fingertips just brushing the paper towels, “I’m Robin - and I’m gonna get you cleaned up. Then we’re going straight to the hospital,” she stops, “Or should we go to the hospital now? We should go to the hospital now.”

“Uh-uh,” you tut, squeezing her tighter, your tone drops a little lower - how it does when you flirt, “Are you scared?”

“Scared of you?” Robin tries worming from your grasp but you’re holding too tightly, “I’m not- I could never. But we need to go, right now. You’re really hurt and I can feel you bleeding on me and you’re- “

“Good,” you coo and stumble back. There’s a rumble, you belch, and then your jaw drops open - black mucus-tar amalgamation spills out. It spots and bubbles and Robin throws herself backward - spine cracking against the doorway. Her hands clamp over her mouth to muffle the scream that rips her throat sore.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she slides down to her ass, hands covering her ears. There are tears and her chest burns and she can’t breathe. The air is too thick and she squeezes into herself, as if it’d make her physically disappear.

She starts rocking. It’s all she can do.

This is a nightmare. A nightmare. A horrible fucking dream.

When she opens her eyes, everything is the same. The fridge door is tossed wide, there’s blood smeared on her counters and floor, and the thick muck you tossed up is spreading across her floor.

But you’re missing.

Bloody footprints lead from the fridge to the where kitchen meets hallway - then vanish. Her bat is gone, too.

“What the fuck?” her eyes bubble with tears and she collapses onto her side, legs pulled tight to her chest, “What the fuck?”

The room smells like death. It’s cold. So very freezing cold.

“Hey,” you look tired, books hugged tight to your chest as you approach Robin and Dustin at her locker.

“Hey,” Robin stares. Eyes almost cartoonishly popping from her skull.

She knows what happened was real. She spent hours cleaning and scrubbing and showering. Unless that was all part of the dream.

Jesus, Hawkins was fucked up if that was passing as a mere nightmare now.

Dustin nudges her with his elbow and shakes his head, then turns to you, “Are you… feeling alright?”

“God, no,” you frown and droop into the locker beside Robin’s, “I’m breaking out and I pulled out so much hair in the shower this morning. I thought I was about to go completely bald.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Dustin leans down to see your face when your head hangs, “You really don’t look good.”

“I’m fine, Dusty,” you pat the boy’s shoulder before turning to Robin, “I think I have to cancel tonight, though,” you pout and if it were a normal day, she’d just want to make that dismal expression go away, “Gonna stay in and hope whatever this is passes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Robin looks into her locker and pulls out a random textbook, she slams the door shut and clicks the lock back into place, “No worries, just…” you looked like something from a horror movie last night, “What happened last night? After you left.”

Dustin figures this conversation isn’t for him and wanders off when he spots Eddie in the crowd - wishing you well as he goes.

You shrug and scoot closer, “Normal stuff. I mean, nothing even happened with that guy,” you shouldn’t be lying, but it isn’t like she’d believe the truth, would she? “He figured I was a virgin and when I corrected him, he - like - demanded that I bring him home.”

But you didn’t correct him. Didn’t have the time. Didn’t get the chance.

Now you’re hoping that Robin figures last night was all just a nightmare - and from the look in her eyes, you know she’s teetering on that edge.

She wants to ask, you know that. You know her. If she wasn’t so terrified of speaking last night into reality, then she would. But asking would make it real. Outside of the gates and monsters and girls with telekinesis, Hawkins was normal and there was a certain level of abnormality that a person could take before they snapped.

And you and Robin both knew that this was just outside her limit. So she doesn’t ask and you don’t tell.

Instead, you yawn and shake your head to keep yourself awake, “Anyway, I gotta go to Mr. Peters’ math. See ya later?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, though. Her lip balm tints her lips a soft red and you like the way it looks. She accepts the kiss you press to her cheek, “See you later.”

In the meantime, you catch Sully Vacks outside of your shared first period. You drag him away from the door by the sleeve of his varsity jacket.

He looks at you weirdly and you already know it’s more about your lack of makeup than the fact you’re a living zombie wanting to take him somewhere private. Well, private-ish.

Sully isn’t a nice person. He dated your fellow cheerleader, Stacey Bennett, for a while and you knew firsthand about the explicit polaroid pictures he’d taken of her without her permission. And you knew secondhand how he shared them with the football team.

You can justify this to yourself. To what remains of your conscience.

“Do you have any plans later?” you tilt your head and gently run a finger over his bicep, “If not, I was thinking maybe we could… hang out?”

You put on the show of what boys like and you watch, half there and half out of control, as he dumbly falls into your line.

But you remember how much he hurt Stacey, and you can imagine she isn’t the first (or last) girl he’s hurt. So you decide that you can justify this meal to yourself.

Like a cheat day - he practically doesn’t even count.

“So,” Sully’s brows draw tight as he looks up at Skull Rock, “you bring all the boys here?” then he looks at you, “Or am I special?”

You simper and loop your arms around his neck, “Which do you prefer?”

“I like to think I’m special,” he leans down, nose nudging yours.

You nod slowly, “You’re very special, Sully.”

He practically collapses into your kiss and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing how desperate he was. Your hands settle over his chest, then sink lower, lower, lower until your fingers are grazing under his shirt.

“Is this okay?” you whisper against his lips, watching your work through your lashes.

Sully’s breath stutters before he nods, “More than okay.”

Your nails scrape his stomach, just enough to be there without hurting, “Good.”

Prey should be at ease before they die and prey should die quickly - it’s inhumane otherwise.

And the news spreads as Robin gets out of the double doors after the final school bell rings.

“Did you hear what happened?” Steve is glaring right at Robin, “No, I am not letting you walk home. Get in the damn car.”

“Steve,” Robin sighs, “how’d you even know I needed a ride? You stalking me now?”

He gives her a pointed look and she relents, throwing open the passenger door of his BMW and climbing in.

“I didn’t know you needed a ride but I wanted to make sure,” his brows furrow as he continues to wait outside the school, “Also heard your little girlfriend wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’s not- “ Robin smiles at the thought though and the retort dies under her tongue, “Also, what happened?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Obviously not, dingus.”

“That varsity kid - Vacks? He…” Steve sounds winded, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide, “His torso was torn open. Literally. Apparently, it looked like something was eating him.”

“Oh my God,” Robin’s hands fly over her mouth, slowly lowering for her to ask, “Do they know what did it?”

“‘What’?” Steve shakes his head, “No. That’s the weirdest part. It wasn’t like a wild animal did because it wasn’t those wounds that killed him,” Robin tilts her head. Steve looks out at the double doors and honks when some of his kids pile out, “Something snapped his neck. He died fuckin’ instantly.”

He puts up a finger to preemptively shush Robin as Dustin leans into the driver-side window.

“What?”

Steve nudges his head toward the backseats, “Get in.”

“No way,” Mike folds his arms, “We have to get Will and go to Hellfire tonight, we can’t just skip it.”

“Eddie will literally kill us,” Lucas tacks on.

“I can name something else that will literally, actually kill you,” Robin pipes up, earning a glare from Steve.

Mike and Lucas come closer to the car and Steve can practically see their hearts in their throats.

“It doesn’t look good,” Steve sets both hands on the wheel, “We don’t know what did it, but… Sully Vacks was more or less turned into a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“‘Don’t know what did it,’” Lucas shakes his head, “Yes, we do! Obviously, we do!”

Steve spots Max in the throng of people exiting Hawkins High, “No. Hopper said it didn’t look like anything we’ve seen, but I don’t want to rule it out entirely,” he drags a hand down his face and briefly wonders when his gray hairs will grow in, “Ask Mad Max if she needs a ride, will you?”

“There won’t be enough room,” Mike points out.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Steve grumbles, “Someone sits on a lap. I don’t care, you’re not staying late and I’m making sure you little shits get home.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Lucas backs away, jogging over to where his girlfriend is sitting on the curb, fiddling with her walkman.

“How the hell did you even hear about this?” Dustin stands straight.

Steve rolls his eyes, “I may or may not have gotten a call that I legally can’t admit to,” his gaze darts between the boys to Robin, “From someone that may or may not have been Hopper.”

“Is El with him?” Mike asks, and Steve hates to see the way his face deconstructs in worry.

“Yeah, she’s with him,” Steve waves them off, “Go get Will and come right back. Do you hear me?” when they walk away with no confirmation, he shouts out the window, “I’ll hunt you all down, I’m not kidding!”

“You’re a regular Mama Bear, Steve,” Robin throws her head back against the rest, mind flooding with thoughts of you. More specifically, if your sudden change has anything to do with the possibility of the Upside Down being open again.

“These kids have seen too much,” Steve grips the steering wheel as Lucas approaches his car, “If possible, I want them as out of this whole thing as possible. If it’s even a thing,” his shoulders are tense and his mouth is distastefully dry, “Hopefully it’s just some psycho.”

But he doubts it.

Lucas leans down, one eye closed when the sun hits it dead on, “Max says Eddie can give her a ride. I’ll hitch with them, too, so your car’s not crowded.”

“Alright,” Steve nods, “Radio in when you’re home. Tell Max, too. I want to know you two are safe.”

“Yes, Mom,” Lucas rolls his eyes, waving off Robin as he walks away.

Will, Dustin, and Mike come upon the BMW. Will shakes his head vehemently, his hand brushes the back of his neck and he continues shaking his head.

Robin takes note of how at ease Will’s body is. As if everything, aside from this new paranoia, was totally fine.

Maybe this isn’t the work of the Upside Down. Which would usually be good - great, even - but it would raise more questions than it answered.

Who slaughtered Sully? Why would they do it? Why were you so suddenly ill? And what the fuck kind of dream did Robin have last night?

The Upside Down was officially ruled out as an option to the spectacle of violence when neither Eleven nor Will felt that it was open. Things were… safe.

You’re just glad Robin excused you from the meeting, on account of you being “sick”, before you could even hear about it. You don’t know how long and how hard you can lie, but you don’t plan on testing it out.

You give it a couple days before you return to Robin’s side at school.

And a good sum of weeks before forcing the whole thing out of your head.

Books hugged to your chest and preppy little cheer uniform on in eager wait for the pep rally and game later, you bounce up to Robin and slap a hand on her shoulder, “Boo!”

She gasps and jumps and glares when she realizes it’s only you, “You’re evil.”

“You’re just easy to scare,” you move and lean against the locker next to hers, “So…”

“So…?” she shuffles a couple books around, then flips down the cover to a mirror plastered on her locker door, peering into the glass.

“Prom is coming up,” you lean in close, grinning as she flounders for lipstick.

“Yeah, in two weeks,” she shrugs, “I know your schedule of tryouts for people to be your date is usually packed, but I am not so lucky.”

You roll your eyes and pull a garnet red lipstick from your bag, handing it to her over her shoulder, “I can only go with the people the general population would approve of, so that sucks.”

It was true, you couldn’t bring a girl to prom in the way Robin couldn’t. Unless it was as friends. But everyone knew that if you brought someone to prom as a friend, then you couldn’t dance the way you would want to dance with your date.

Except Robin, but that was more cowardice to confess than anything else.

“We could just go together?” you watch her apply your lipstick and you can hardly find it in yourself to tear your eyes away.

“Nah,” she sighs and caps the tube, “I don’t wanna screw up your chances of being prom queen.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you accept the lipstick she holds out and replace it in your bag, “You wouldn’t mess up my chances. And it’s not like prom queen is that big a deal to me, you of all people should know that.”

“But this is our senior prom, if you didn’t win then I know you’d be bummed,” Robin shuts her locker and leans back against it. Her face dangles in front of yours like a carrot on a stick, “I might just make Steve bring me.”

“Ew,” your head thunks back on the metal, “I have no idea who I’m going with. All the boys here suck.”

“Are you just realizing?”

You shove her shoulder and huff while she laughs, “As true as that is, I can’t have my judgment mocked.”

“Oh, of course,” she shakes her head, “I’m so sorry, your highness.”

“I forgive you.”

Robin mocks a curtsy and swings her bag over her shoulder.

Things between you and Robin are different. You feel like she knows and she feels like you should know.

Over the same night, with two perspectives, you two are bound into different corners of the same room.

You want to tell her. You want help, you’re tired of fighting whatever it is inside you that tells you to feed. But you don’t want to drag anybody else into this - both for their safety, and yours. If you assume wrong, and there’s no way to help this curse, then you’re already dead.

Robin wants to tell you about her terrifying dream. Or at least, she’s decided it was a dream. She feels like you have a right to know, but you don’t. And also, what a peculiar thing it would be - to tell you about it. You weren’t even acting like yourself, it’d be childish to hold it against you. It is childish to hold it against you.

But there’s a pit in her gut no matter how badly she tries to shake it off.

“Wanna watch a movie together later?” but you’re so sweet and she adores you so much.

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Robin looks up at the ceiling as if it would tell her what’s in stock at Family Video, “Anything specific?”

You hum as you think and she’s always found that adorable about you, “Something cute. I don’t wanna think too hard after what happened.”

“I got you,” she promises, “I’ll get a great movie. No thinking required.”

“Awesome,” you stop outside Mr. Peters’ room, “Alright, I’ll see you at lunch, right?”

“Definitely,” she punches your shoulder, “as long as you remember where the band table is.”

“I remember, I remember,” you swat her hand away and set a hand on the doorknob, “See ya!”

Robin nods dumbly, grinning lovestruck as she waves, “See you later.”

Fifth hour is a mixed bundle.

On one hand, your lab partner is Robin! That’s exciting. On the other, your teacher is Mr. Gordon Vacks. Sully’s father. That’s exhausting.

You wonder, though, if he’d be pressing people to bring justice if he knew what his son was doing with explicit polaroids he took and showed without permission.

Would he even care?

Probably not.

You discovered at a young age that most fathers don’t care what their sons do as long as they can brag to their friends how smart or strong or funny he is.

It might be unfair to lump Mr. Vacks in with such a crowd, but you have yet to be proven wrong (aside from Wayne Munson, he was more of a father than most biological dads in your opinion).

Another study day is laid upon the students. Another day for Mr. Vacks to spend grilling teenagers about if they saw anything, what they heard, where they were, and whatnot without having to worry about actually lecturing.

There’s a sick, twisted glee trapped between the rungs of your ribs every time he mentions his son. It’s bizarre and you don’t like it, but there’s something undeniable about it.

Your hand pressed to your mouth just to hide your growing smile, you act like you’re reading from the study guide while he speaks with Trinity Liú about Sully’s death. She last saw him with Jason Carver.

Good.

A paper pricks the side of your arm and you jump slightly, calming when you see Robin trying not to laugh at you.

You roll your eyes and take the paper.

ouyay okayyay?

“Pig Latin, really?” you whisper and she shrugs, trying not to giggle while you translate.

You pass the paper back.

fine. just worried i guess

As if.

Sully was a bastard.

But did he deserve to die?

Duh. He was awful. He was only going to hurt more people.

Well yeah, but did he deserve to actually die?

Did he?

You’re not so sure anymore. It makes you sick.

Robin passes the paper back.

ouyay ooklay icksay

Huffing, your reply is quick.

write like a normal person

She concedes and crosses out her previous statement. Replacing it.

you look sick

Are you sick because of your cracking mind? Or is it because you’re growing hungry?

You tilt your head and shrug.

i’m fine

Liar.

Though, now that you think about it. It’s been a good month of peace since Sully had to die, and now - you hate to admit it - you do feel weaker. You got a paper cut after feeding last month and it healed instantly.

You look down at your hands now, where you cut yourself removing a staple in homeroom, and it’s still a fine line of puckered, dying skin.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispers.

Not this. Robin doesn’t want to know this - she doesn’t have to know this.

Your eyes flip across the room. Past Robin. Past Trinity. Onto Andy - one of Jason’s best friends. He hasn’t done anything to you other than be annoying, but you know he bullies your friends.

Well, Eddie’s friends that are your friends by association. And the freshmen, who you insist are your friends.

Robin leans forward, brows knit tightly and lips pursed, “What’s wrong? Seriously, you’re being weird.”

“I’m fine, Rob,” she doesn’t look convinced. Not at all, and you don’t blame her. Your hand finds hers under the table and you squeeze, “Really. I’m okay.”

She doesn’t let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of hers.

Robin hates this feeling. She hates distrusting you. She hates feeling like you’re lying - because that’s not you.

You're her best friend. You’re more. You’re her one. Her person.

“I’m here for you,” it's the last ditch.

You nod, “Thanks, but really. ‘m okay.”

And it falls through.

She hates distrusting you.

When the bell rings, you’re quicker than her to pack up. You rush after Andy and she can’t surmise why. You have never liked Andy, never so much as muttered about how he was even cute. Robin wishes she could just look inside your head and see what’s wrong.

Why’re you acting like this?

Or is she being paranoid?

She hates this.

Robin chooses to stay on the sidelines when she sees you pouring the sugar over Andy. She won’t tie you down when you two aren’t even dating, but there’s no chance she’s going to sit there and listen to you hook up a date.

Eventually, you’re back at her side, “Sorry. Had to make plans for tomorrow.”

“You can…” she sighs, “you can go tonight, if you want.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Duh.”

It doesn’t fix what’s between you two - whether you’re hiding something or she’s paranoid - but it makes her beam. Pride and joy and love.

Movie nights are simple and easy.

This movie night is different.

You look awful - dried, bumpy skin and heavy bags under your bloodshot eyes. She doesn’t say anything, though.

“Okay,” Robin stands in front of your TV, holding up three videos, “We have: Sixteen Candles, Footloose, and Flashdance.”

“Uhm,” you wet your dried, cracked lips that persisted no matter how much balm you applied, blinking hazily, “Sixteen Candles.”

“Sucker for Ringwald,” she ‘tsk’s but pops the movie in all the same.

“Says the one who liked Vickie McNulty, that girl’s a carbon copy of Molly Ringwald. Have you seen Pretty in Pink yet? They’re the exact same.”

“Yeah, and I liked her. Past tense,” Robin emphasizes, returning to her rightful place beside you on the couch. She tosses an arm over the back and you drag yourself into the open space of her side.

Robin is warm while you shiver. Your skin is cold - like death. Like Aunt Shauna. She tries not to let it show and brings a family favorite throw blanket over the two of you.

Your eyes are already beginning to flutter shut and Robin can’t help but grin. There’s an adorable quality about you - no matter how tired or sick you look, there’s something in the air around you. Sunshine and bubblegum and a BFF necklace in the shape of a strawberry heart hidden beneath your shirt collar.

Robin checks the clock. The game isn’t for another two hours, she can let you sleep awhile.

But then you’re pawing at her shoulders, lips pouting and eyes pleading. The tactics you usually bulldoze through are now lathering thick over her like cement.

“What, uh,” she blanches, hands coming to entwine with yours, “what’re you doing?”

“Hm?” you simper, for real this time, “Playing.”

“Playing?” she quirks a brow.

You nod, leaning up to kiss her cheek again, but this time it’s different. No more friends and no more giggles. This is want.

Need.

You feel foggy, though. Like your actions aren’t yours and when you realize what’s coming, you also realize that they aren’t.

And when Robin’s caged beneath you on the couch, you’re entirely out of control.

The hunger is just a little too strong.

It’s need that makes you lean down - lips pressing to hers.

It’s want that makes her reciprocate.

Her hands are on your sides and you feel something burn at your skin. It's sparkling. Sensual and smooth. Robin keens into your lips and you feel a little better than before.

But Robin’s brows furrow and she pulls back.

She wants this, but it feels odd.

You don’t feel like you and this isn’t how she wants this to go down. But she also doesn’t want to outright reject you. So she settles for the middle.

A cowardly, stupid middle.

“Maybe not now,” she whispers, eyes avoiding yours.

You jump off of her and nod. You press your lips to gather the lasting taste of Robin’s watermelon chapstick, and you notice your lips are pillowy instead of rough. Your skin feels fuller. Firmer.

You think Robin notices by the way she stares at you. You look down at where you cut yourself removing that damned staple.

Completely healed.

“You can…” Robin clears her throat, “see him. If you want.”

You have to. You know that.

And rather than assume Robin is just conflicted, you accept this as rejection. Because what in God’s name would it be otherwise?

“Right,” you have a little under two hours until the game, “Right. Sure.”

“Sorry- “ Robin stands, hands outstretched for you when you begin walking away.

“It’s okay, Rob,” you pull on your shoes, head too full of thoughts about the next meal to even begin conceptualizing the fact that the girl you love is directly turning you away, “I’ll see you at the game.”

“See you at the game,” she wrings her hands, already regretting her decision, “Things don’t… they don’t have to change.”

“Yeah,” you pause before you leave, leaning over to press a cautious kiss to her cheek, “Bye, bye.”

“Bye,” she waves.

Why did she do that?

It felt wrong. Not the same kind of wrong in how it would if you had been high or drunk, but also not entirely different. It was like something was moving for you. She’s known you for a long time. She’s seen you - studied your movements and mannerisms and she knows how you behave.

She’s not being paranoid, there is something wrong and she’s convinced that the “nightmare” wasn’t a nightmare at all.

So why isn’t she stopping you from visiting Andy?

You wouldn’t hurt Andy. You’re a sweetheart, you wouldn’t. Bizarre happenings or not.

Robin doesn’t know what to do, so she calls Steve. Stupidly.

“What would you do if I told you someone was off?”

A few streets away, you’ve already got Andy on his knees at an abandoned construction site. You’re trying to think of things he’s said before. Things he’s done. Anything to justify this.

“Your girlfriend? Yeah, the whole group knows she’s been off her rocker lately.”

He’s pressing strangely kind kisses up your thigh as you wind a hand in his hair. It makes you salivate in sick and hunger all at once.

“She’s not my- ! Whatever, I’m just saying. I’m worried. I know we agreed that the Upside Down isn’t open but… I dunno. What if they were wrong?”

You kneel down to Andy’s level. You cup his cheeks in your hands - gentle and tender and loving. You bat your lashes and his lips quirk upwards.

“I guess. Maybe it took a new host?”

Your hands wretch his head. Sharp and quick. Prey shouldn’t suffer - it’s inhumane.

“Maybe. We shouldn’t mention this, huh?”

You feel disgusted. Just until your stomach growls and the hunger grows. No longer can you sustain yourself on watermelon kisses and sun-bleached hair and pretty freckles.

“Probably not. That sounds like a one-way ticket and I don’t think we’re ready to use it yet.”

There’s nothing you can think of. Not that you’re thinking while you eat. If you think while you eat then you have to present, and if you’re present while you eat - you think you might go completely mad.

“Right. I gotta go get ready for the game. I’ll talk to you later, Hair.”

Before he can get out a “don’t call me that!” Robin hangs up. There’s a dagger in her gut and she can only rub at the ache building behind her eyes - it’s overwhelming. It crashes over her - unlike the ocean as it fails to build. More like a firework, sudden and unforgiving. Bright. Loud.

It hurts.

Robin wanders to her room and tries to fight off the urge to check if her bat is there. She hasn’t looked out of fear. If it’s still missing…

She doesn’t even want to think about it, so she doesn’t. She thrives in blissful, selected ignorance. But a glance outside her bedroom window, still unclean of blood and split open, shows your car left on the curb. Abandoned. Not even the cherry charm you keep hanging on your rearview mirror is swinging. Completely untouched.

Robin, foolishly, saves her concerns until homecoming that night.

“Hey! Someone’s lookin’ better!”

You turn at the coo and smile sunshine bright at your favorite drug pusher, “Hey, Eds!” you wave him over with a pom-pom, “Thought games weren’t your thing?”

“They aren’t, but post-game athletes in need of recreational fun,” Eddie holds up his black lunchbox and jingles it in front of your face, “they are.”

Humming, you look over his shoulder to where the Hawkins band is lining up in front of the bleachers. Lips pressing and head tilting.

There should be enough time, and it’s not like you’ll have any fun with anybody else. Besides, if you go to prom with Eddie and Robin brings Steve - it’ll be a friendly reunion. A nice reunion. There should be enough time between feeds.

Your face falls.

Jason’s running around the gym. He asks basketball players, cheerleaders, teachers, band members, and stray students alike. Where’s Andy? Where’s Andy? Where’s Andy?

“Hey,” Eddie settles a hand on your shoulder, face gentle but prodding, “you good, bubble-brain?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, airy and tired, eyes fluttery, “Sorry. Just, uhm, worried. I guess. Nobody can find Andy.”

Eddie shrugs and purses his lips, as if he has no idea why that might be alarming, “Probably fucking off somewhere. ‘s gonna work out. He’ll be here.”

Robin bursts through the doors with Steve hot on her tail, she searches for something. Someone. You.

She grins despite the saran wrap bundled relationship you’re sharing and rushes to you. A keyring is looped around her finger, fitted with three keys - each one with a different fruit painted onto it - and a fluffy pink and white ball charm. Robin presses the keys into your chest, hand lingering just long enough for you to cage her hand there with yours.

Your heart thunders and you wonder if Robin can feel it. You wonder if she knows why.

“You left these at my house,” Robin mutters, eyes staying on your glossed lips just a little too long for a friend - for a girl, “along with your car,” her voice is a little raspier than usual, you like it, “You should really keep better track of your things.”

“Right, sorry,” you release her hand and hand the keys to Eddie, “I’ll pick it up tomorrow morning. I’m kinda… tired.”

“Of course,” Robin nods shortly, then takes you by the arm and drags you away from the boys, “Look, bunny, something is definitely up. And- and don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely…” she laughs, hollow, “I’m into you, that way. I like you, like, a lot. I think I’m crazy for you, actually. Just- I wanna get this all figured out before we start anything.”

Nothing will ever be figured out. Not really, anyway.

But you nod slowly because you don’t know how much longer you have to be with her like this.

“I get it, Rob,” you reach out and clench her hand, squeezing with a saccharine smile, “‘m still gonna flirt with you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grins, bottom lip tugging between her teeth.

You’re not dumb - lots of people think you are, but you aren’t. You know that the demon sleeping inside you was satiated by Robin’s touch and you now choose to keep that in your back pocket.

You’ve never gotten full off of mere touch, so the fact it happened with Robin will be a last-ditch effort. A just in case. For the worst scenario. You don’t want her in this more than she has to be. If she has to be at all.

You leave her side, prancing off to the line of cheerleaders in front of the bleachers.

Robin watches, face screwed in wonder. She’s not dumb, either. She can hear Jason asking where Andy is. She knows you were more than likely the last person to see him alive. She knows something’s wrong.

Upside Down host or not, you’re you now. That’s unmistakable.

She watches from the band section as you cheer with the others. It’s you. She can feel it. There are times where she can’t. Where she senses something else. Something off. Like a store-brand coffee or a cheap copy of a dress.

Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s a mix. Sometimes, rarely, it’s that dread from before. When you were keeping her down, she felt it. Darker. Twisted. A thick rainstorm, a deathly hurricane that smothers the sunshine.

But now, as you cheer on the Tigers and subtly wave to her with your sparkly green-and-yellow pom-pom - she knows you’re you. Undeniably and absolutely revocably you.

...

“Thanks again, Eds,” you’re in Eddie’s passenger seat by the end of the night. Your feet kick up onto the dashboard and twirl the ring Robin gave you around your finger, “So, how much did you make tonight?”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Eddie pops you in the thigh with the back of his hand, “And I made a shitload. Haven’t counted it all yet, but - it was a lot. Not that you’re seeing any.”

“Aww,” you lean over the center console, pouting dramatically, “you’re so mean.”

“Go tell your girlfriend about it,” he smiles at you. Big and fake and dumb.

“Oh, you know what- “ you fold your arms, lashes narrowing at the metalhead. Then, your eyes go lax and hands fall into your lap, fingers now picking at a peeling edge of cotton candy tinted nails, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“You two are so oblivious.”

“Well, I mean, I know she does, it’s just…” you look out your window, watching trees skim past the skyline, “I dunno. Maybe it’s the childhood friends effect.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” Eddie shakes his head, eyes lingering on your side profile for just a second longer, “I feel like I’m listening to a bad rom-com,” when you stay silent, he sighs. Over-the-top and thoroughly done, “Even if it is the childhood friends effect, it’s still there, right? You two are still into each other.”

“Yeah.”

But for how long?

How long can you hold yourself together?

“Wanna go to prom?” your voice is a little too distant, a little too caught up in your own thoughts, “I mean, I’ll be with Robin, but we need someone to bring us and I figure you’re going anyway.”

You gesture to the backseat of the van where Eddie’s black, metal lunchbox has been tossed - originally onto the seat but it tumbled to the floor as soon as Eddie started driving. He should really get his driving under control.

“Wow, just call me a chariot next time,” Eddie mumbles, hands knocking on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the radio, “Sure, I’ll take you.”

“Great!” you punch the ceiling of his van, quickly earning yourself a glare that could kill, “Thanks a lot, Eds.”

“Mhm,” he slams to a stop in front of your house and holds up a fist, “Don’t get killed by whatever thing is hunting hot teenagers, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you hope your voice doesn’t shake too much, hope your giggle isn’t too nervous, “You either, ‘kay?”

When you bump your knuckles with his, Eddie then moves to twirl his hair - voice drawling up comically higher to supposedly mimic you, “‘kay!”

“Oh, get a hobby,” you roll your eyes and hop out of the van, “Drive safe!”

“Never!” he shouts through the window, honking twice and speeding away.

You jump at the sound and flip Eddie off as he drives, fully knowing he may not even see it.

A few streets away, Robin is laid back in her bed. Eyes on the ceiling. She feels like she could call. Surely, you’re home. But the idea makes her sick - so she shuts her eyes and lets the thought die.

Her room is so cold.

Grossly so.

Robin doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she falls into a fitful rest on top of her comforters. Cold and restless. Cold and unwelcome.

…

You’ve always been a firm believer that hell is just the day of prom. Over and over again. Even before recent developments that left you exhausted and drier than a bag of prunes without a good feed.

It’s a day chock full of last-minute promposals and athlete douchebags trying to somehow act too cool whilst begging you and your fellow cheerleaders to go with them. The begging is in subtext, but it happens nonetheless.

“You should probably skip that meeting with Ms. Moora,” Robin leans into you, watching as your gentle hands rub your temples, “Don’t look so good, bunny.”

“Yeah, I know,” you’re quiet, eyes scrunched at the volume of the cafeteria, “I feel like hell.”

Robin purses her lips, nodding while taking one of your hands and squeezing it, “Are you gonna be okay to drive?”

You sigh. Shrug.

“Yeah…”

You don’t have much of a choice.

Robin visibly cringes, “I dunno, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’ll be fine, Rob,” you huff, ripping away your hand to cover your eyes, “Sorry. I just. I don’t feel good.”

“I figure,” she laughs dryly, the glee dropping from her face just as quickly as it’d arrived, “Sorry, I’m only worried. You’ve been acting really weird lately, and with the… you know, everything going on. I have a bad feeling.”

“I’m fine, Robin,” you groan and lean back, head tilting towards the ceiling, “Really.”

“But how do we know?”

“The only victims have been boys, right? That’s gotta mean something.”

“Well, yeah, but still. Don’t you care?”

“About a couple douchebag athlete dickheads getting ripped open? No, not really.”

Robin pulls back, eyes wide, “What?”

You pry your hands down from your face, giving the confused Robin a once over, “What?”

“Dude,” Robin shakes her head, “how could you say that?”

Robin wasn’t ever a fan of the Hawkins’ meatheads, but there’s something about the venom with which you said such a thing. The way you’re so apathetic. It’s not you.

“It’s just…” you toss your hands up, “boys! Stupid, asshole boys. What does it even matter? There are a thousand other jocks just like them.”

“Okay,” Robin guffaws in disbelief, “but this isn’t like you. They’re still people. You just… I don’t- “

“People change, Robin,” you rub your cheek and groan at how dry it feels, your stomach stinging with emptiness, “It’s totally not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Robin furrows her brows at you, “I don’t like this change.”

“Well,” you stop yourself.

You cover your mouth as your brain finally catches up to what you just said. What the fuck did you just say?

“I don’t…” you blink, slow and tired, dazed and confused, “I’m sorry- I don’t know why I said that…” Robin leans down to lock eyes with you, taking your hands in hers, “Any of it. I don’t know why I said any of it.”

Robin cups your cheek, gently rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone, “I think you should have your parents call you out of school.”

Your cheeks are sullen and eyes sunken. You look dead.

Something in the back of Robin’s head whispers. Aunt Shauna.

“They’re both at work,” you run a hand over your face, frowning as you pull the hand away, “I could probably just leave now.”

“Will you be okay to drive?” you stand, pressing Robin down by the shoulders when she tries following.

“I can ask Eds, he doesn’t plan on coming back after his stupid lunch deals,” you nudge your head towards the Hellfire table - noticeably lacking in a boisterous leader.

“Alright,” Robin chews her bottom lip, reaching under the collar of her Jem and the Holograms T-shirt, “Hey.”

She holds up her half of a strawberry heart BFF necklace.

You smile, earnest but exasperated, and pull out your own half of the necklace - bending down to click it in place with hers.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Robin wants to go back.

Before your stupid band and before Sully Vacks got killed.

But you lie.

“Yeah, we’ll be okay,” you kiss her cheek, leaving it faintly red in your lipstick’s stain, “See ya.”

“See you later,” she can’t help but feel like there’s something missing.

Torn out and shredded.

You find Eddie at his infamous picnic table in the woods, finishing up a deal with Stacey Bennett. Excitedly, he waves you over.

“The queen of Hawkins High! How can I help you?”

“Can you give me a ride home on your way out?” you sit next to Eddie and plop your head on his shoulder, “I feel like slush.”

“Aw,” he pouts, packing up his lunchbox of drugs, “muck, even?”

“Mucus, actually,” you giggle when he gasps, apparently horrified.

“Alright, get her started for me,” Eddie hands over his keys, and you grin, jangling them as you skip off to his prized van.

Robin can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

It persists even as she gets a ride home from Steve. Even as she gets in her pantsuit for prom. Even as she applies her makeup. It burns, eating at the fraying edges of her brain. Or what’s left of it, at least.

A few streets away, you slam your window shut and shake your head at how long you must’ve left it open. No wonder your room is practically freezing cold. That’s it.

You turn back towards your open closet and pull down the dress you’d picked out with Robin mere days ago. It’s a salmon pink affair to go with her baby pink pantsuit. Eddie will be in his usual attire with the addition of a blazer and aggressively neon pink tie. You hear Steve bought a hideously Barbie pink suit because he lost a bet to Robin.

It’s a beautiful dress. Dips and hugs where you want it to - lacing on the skirt (which falls to your ankles perfectly).

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Absent eyes. Irritated skin. Lips chapped. You look ill. So unlike yourself that it’s hard to believe this face was ever yours. You can’t stop staring, though.

It’s odd.

It’s you.

You’re hungry.

Just to punctuate the damn thing, your stomach rumbles - your head feels light and for a split second, you can’t see. You stumble, one hand flying out to catch yourself on the vanity and the other clutching your dress.

You wish you never went to The Hideout.

You need to feed quickly. You don’t want to think about the people you’d be hurting. Your friends. Robin. Last time was too close a call, you can’t possibly risk it again.

A sharpness hits your gut like you’ve been pierced, you whine and fall to your knees. Your mouth runs dry and you can feel your muscles twitch.

You need to feed quickly.

Eddie had a crush on you last year - you know that. You feel bad because you like Eddie as a friend and want him happy, but that can never be you. Something inside you, though, can’t stop thinking about it.

The way he looked at you. How he’d bend over backwards for you. How he still lets you put your heel-clad feet on the dashboard of his van.

“Hey, pull up here,” you’ve got half of a BFF necklace pulled up to your chin, pressing the cold metal against your skin.

Eddie concedes, looking over at you, “Alright, bubble-brain, what’s going on up here?”

He pokes your temple twice before you catch his hand - he laughs when you glare.

“Wanna check out the abandoned pool house?” you nudge your head in the direction of the aforementioned pool house. Moss bitten and vine slathered. It’s cracking the higher you look and kids like to dare each other to go inside on Halloween.

“Mmm, I dunno,” Eddie rests his elbow on the center console, chin digging into the meat of his palm, “We sort of have somewhere to be.”

“So?” you lean forward, nose at his cheek, grinning when he flushes, “C’mon, there’s fun to be had before prom.”

He backs away, arms folding. He’s trying to smile like this is lighthearted, like he isn’t half considering it and half afraid of you laughing in his face.

“What about Robin?” his brows furrow. Tongue pressed to cheek.

“What about Robin?” you run the half-heart charm over your lip.

“No,” Eddie laughs again, but he’s breathless, “You- no. No way.”

“Eds,” you puff out your bottom lip, “Eds.”

“No,” he’s firmer this time, “Alright, we can check out the pool house, but nothing is happening, do you understand? I don’t know what the fuck your problem is right now, but you’re being weird.”

“Nothing’s my problem,” you roll your eyes and hop out of his van, speaking before shutting the door, “Now, let’s go before we’re late.”

Eddie watches you cross the yard, you stop before the door and turn back to him. Calling and waving your hand impatiently. He reaches into his glove box and pulls out a walkie-talkie Dustin forced him to start carrying (not that he knows why, but when it comes to Henderson, it’s easier to simply go with it). He keys into the proper signal before calling out.

“Harrington? Come in, Harrington. I know you like dressing yourself up, but this is gonna be important.”

…

Robin looks at the walkie, then where Steve is still in his bathroom - eyes narrowed at his reflection and fingers burying in his hair every two seconds.

“Hello,” the ‘o’ is stretched out, “pretty boy, I’ve got serious shit going on.”

It’s Eddie. Robin might not be allowed to get into Steve’s shit, but this seems like a fine exception. So she grabs the walkie off Steve’s desk and tunes in.

“Eddie? It’s Robin, what’s going on?”

“Your girl is actin’ fucking weird. We’re stopped at the pool house. I think you two should hurry here before she decides to leave.”

Robin drops the walkie and darts out of Steve’s room. If she was thinking a little more clearly, a little less pressed for time, a little smarter - she would’ve dragged Steve to his car.

But she’s got that bad feeling and Eddie might be in trouble and you might be the cause.

She fucking knew she wasn’t paranoid. She knew something was wrong.

You were the last person to talk to Andy, and she knew that and she kept quiet because she didn’t want to be wrong. No, she wouldn’t have been wrong - she knows that now and she knew that then. She just didn’t want you getting caught.

There has to be something else. There’s no other option.

Her feet ache in the platformed dress shoes she stuffed herself into - but she doesn’t stop running. Her lungs are fucking burning and her legs are screaming at her to stop.

Something told her it was wrong. She saw you at the end of the hall - she saw you grab Sully’s sleeve and she could feel it when you trapped her against the couch. You looked like she’d never seen you - like you were twisted. Inverted and crushed and ground up and spat back out. No life. No warmth.

She should’ve listened to the whispers.

Aunt Shauna.

You’re not you. You’re not human.

…

“I’m telling you right now, bubble-brain, if you don’t let go - I might think you’re gonna try something.”

“Hm? And if I do?”

“I already told you, nothing’s happening.”

Your hands have found a place on Eddie’s sides, he can feel your nails through his layers of clothes. Your face pressed to his back.

“No fun,” you pout. Your stomach growls - stronger, louder, more vicious. You pry yourself away to clutch at your tummy, “God- fuck-!”

Eddie turns, eyes wide, “Are you…” his hands hover just above your shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“Hungry…” you collapse into his chest, forehead pressing into his neck, “So hungry, Eds. ‘m so weak. Can barely fight.”

“The hell’re you fighting?” he tries laughing, really tries, “I doubt it’s that serious, bubble-brain.”

“Can you help me?” your jaw feels loose. Hanging by a string of muscle, the bones detached. Tongue dry and numb and gut clenching, “You’re a good friend, right? You care about me? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course, we are,” he pulls you back by the shoulders and if you were just a little stronger then maybe you could’ve broken away like you did with Robin, “We can go eat right now. Where do you wanna go? I’ll use that game money to buy you anything you want.”

“Eddie…” you groan miserably, another growl and it rocks through you - a whole-body spasm. You snap forward at the hips as you yelp in pain. It’s like having that stupid bowie knife locked and twisted and dragged through your stomach again and again and again.

Your hands come back up to his sides, beneath the overcoat. Fingertips skimming up his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you bury your face into the crook of his neck, nails digging sharply into his ribs and keep sinking even when he grabs at you and tries pulling away. Even when he screams - even when he rushes you into the wall. You take it and you don’t know how much longer you can, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s desperation and agony and you don’t think you can live like this anymore.

You can’t justify this life - you want to stop but you’re too scared to die.

Or rather, too scared to find out what happens if you stop trying to drown out whatever thing inside you feeds on flesh. At least this way you control the meal. Somewhat.

But now you’re picking Eddie.

Eddie is your friend.

You scream as he does and you hope someone finds you two. You hope they shoot you through the back and pierce your blackened heart.

He bleeds.

“Bunny!”

You dart away from Eddie at the sound of her voice.

Not her. Anybody, sure. But not her. Not Robin. The only one who loves you instead of the cheerleading prom queen, the only one you love. She can’t see you like this.

Her sweet, rasped voice carries outside and you hide in a dark corner; Eddie collapses back into the wall with hisses of pain and Robin smashes through a cracked, spotted window.

Robin crashes in with glass scraping her knees, slicing through the legs of her clothes. Her eyes find you though - just like they do at every party and the cafeteria and friend get-together. She finds you. Under the grime and darkness, she sees you.

“Bunny,” one hand scrambles in hidden view while the other reaches out for you, “you can come out, sweetheart, come on out.”

You try. You move an inch before Eddie gurgles in pain and your stomach wretches.

It’s too much. Why did she ask before shooting?

It should’ve been Nancy that found you.

“Robin!” you wrench back, hands covering your ears and eyes clenched. Your back hits the wall and you slide down to your ass, “Robin, Robin, Robin- !”

Robin runs to you, her shaky hands try and steady on your shoulders, “It’s okay,” she laughs, hollow and dry, eyes heavy, “it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here, bunny.”

“I don’t like this,” you whimper, legs pulling up as close to your chest as possible, “I hate this- “ you gasp and sputter, a scream is building beneath the surface, “I’m not me.”

“You’re you,” she presses a kiss to your forehead and her arms come around your neck, “You’re you right now, right?”

You nod weakly, hands coming down and winding into her overcoat, “I’m me.”

“You’re okay, bunny,” she kisses your temple and gently pries you away from the wall. Your back is exposed, “Everything will be okay…”

You sniffle and bury your face into the crook of her neck, “Robin- I- I don’t know what to do…”

She nods. Silent. Because she knows that if she opens her mouth now, everything will come spilling out.

“Robin, what do I do?”

Robin’s face scrunches and she kisses your cheek, “I’ll take care of it, bunny. Just let me take care of it, ‘kay?”

You go lax in her arms, a smile - finally, a real smile - spreads over your lips and you hug yourself impossibly closer. Her voice, raspy and scratchy and comforting, lulls you in like a siren’s song. And you hurdle towards her song like a lovestruck pirate - you hurdle right towards the whirlpool.

And you drown.

Robin cringes when you screech, but she digs the glass deeper into your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- !”

Your hands scramble to her shoulders and you push and push and push until you can finally squirm out of her arms. You fly back into the wall, nudging the glass deeper. Your head rocks back and thuds into the dirt-caked surface as you scream.

You yank the glass shard from your back and watch the blood glint in the moonlight that leaks through cracked windows. Your eyes hesitantly flutter to Robin and you hate what you’re met with.

Wide eyes and heaving chest. She’s terrified. Terrified of you.

Then you look at Eddie. Bleeding and writhing in pain. His eyes can barely stay open long enough to properly watch you.

What have you done?

You drop the glass shard and it shatters across the concrete floor.

You like Eddie. He’s a good friend and a sweet person - an angel right to his core. If there was no way to justify hunting Andy and Jason - how in God’s name could you do it now?

Your knees ache when they hit the floor - a pain that rings up your thighs and nestles into your pelvic bone. Your forehead rests on the cold stone, dangerously close to the glass and you feel your stomach tighten. It growls and you wrap your arms around yourself.

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, head moving so your chin is on the floor and you’re staring right at Robin, “So, so hungry…”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Robin clatters forward, on her hands and knees, face lowering to yours, “You were full with me, right? Why didn’t you just come to me?”

Your lip wobbles and you can feel the budding fears rise to the surface.

Months pretending. Months wasted trying not to think about it. It’s not real. The missing posters, the blood you scrub away, the voice in the back of your head - none of it is real. The suffering, the hunger, the violence, all because some shitty metal band mistook you for their ethereal virgin. All because they wanted fame more than they valued their fellow man.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, Rob…” your eyes burn and there are tears that drag down your face, “Didn’t wanna risk hurting you…”

“You wouldn’t,” she cups your face, brows furrowing, “We- “

Eddie comes to a stand, still leaning against the wall, still cupping his hands over his bleeding sides.

“We can go.”

You and Eddie both look at Robin, but her eyes are trained on you.

She can’t go through with it. Not you, she can’t lose you.

You’re sunshine and bubblegum and a BFF necklace in the shape of a strawberry heart hidden beneath a shirt collar. You’re her one. Her person. The burger to her fries. The Juliet to her Romeo.

“We can go, bunny,” her hands fret over your face and she lifts you onto your knees, “No more Hawkins.”

“What about the others?”

She shakes her head.

“What about Steve?”

Robin has said it herself. Her and Steve are Platonic soulmates with a capital ‘p’. She isn’t very sappy, but sometimes when it’s his birthday or is feeling especially emotional, she spills it all. To you, to Steve. To anybody who’ll listen.

If you’re her person, Steve is her schmuck. If you were to drop dead, Steve would be your eventual replacement. The mere step-bestie.

They’ve gone to war together, been interrogated and tortured together, almost died together. Steve is more than a brother, he’s the entire family.

Robin steels herself and tries to shrug off the weight she’s slinging over her shoulders as she says, “What about Steve? There’s a million people like him, but… but there’s only one you, bunny.”

You don’t believe her, and you can tell that she doesn’t even believe herself.

“I should’ve never gone to that fucking bar…” you heave, throat tight and stomach aching, “Those fuckers - Robbie - tried sacrificing me as a virgin and now I’m- “ you reach for Robin’s leg, thumb brushing over the exposed red lines of where she cut her knees on the glass, “I don’t know what I am, but it isn’t human.”

“Just stay with me,” Robin picks up your jaw, cradling your head tenderly and forcing you to lock eyes with her, “If I can help, I will. You feel full with me, so just be with me, bunny.”

“What if I hurt you?” you sniffle, eyes wet and body limp, “I can’t- “

“You won’t,” Robin kisses your cheek, “And if you do, we’ll deal with it together. You’re strong, bunny, you’re smart - I know you can handle this.”

Your turn towards Eddie, “He knows.”

Robin’s hands go to your shoulders, pulling you tight to herself, tucking your head into the crook of her neck. She stares at Eddie. Pleading and weak and uneasy.

“Munson, I know you haven’t been around for a lot of Hawkins’ shit like we have, and we’ll explain later - but just- “ her breathing is shaky, she shakes her head, “Please, this wasn’t her. I swear, this wasn’t her.”

Eddie is silent. It’s bizarre. He looks between the two of you.

He doesn’t know where to go. What to say. He wants the old you back, whenever you changed he doesn’t know but he wants you back. He doesn’t even know if that’s entirely possible. He doesn’t know what to say.

How does he laugh this off? How does he wave this away? This isn’t you mistakenly hitting a fence when he was trying to teach you how to drive. It’s more than you passing out on his bed after a late night. Bigger than accidentally missing Corroded Coffin’s gig at The Hideout.

Robin hugs you closer, “I know we’re not best friends, but you have to know - it’s Hawkins. She’s sick with whatever fucked up curse is here.”

Eddie stands up from the wall, he pulls his hands away from his side to inspect the blood there. He’ll live, most assuredly, but he doesn’t know how long it’ll take him to forgive this.

Should he forgive this?

His hand shakes as he points at you - past Robin and right at where you’re trying to hide, “I want an explanation… and- and answers for whatever Hawkins’ curse you’re talking about.”

“Will you keep quiet?” Robin’s trying so hard to sound like she has the power, but it’s all bravado she never mastered. She’s pleading. Begging.

You look at him now. Shaking and horrified. You don’t look like the girl he knows.

“Yeah,” so he submits, hands raising in surrender, “I’ll keep quiet.”

He slides back onto the ground and Robin turns your head to her, she smiles and you try to return it. You really, really do try. But you’re tired and you’re hungry and you want to disappear from his pool house. From the world where you’ve done what you have.

“You’re starving, huh, bunny?” Robin brushes a thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you, “We should take care of you.”

“Do you hate me?” you clutch at her despite the question, desperate to keep her close even if she does, “For the… for what I did…”

“No,” Robin kisses you again, hungrier, harder, “Not at all, bunny.”

Dare she say it, she loves you.

And one day, you’ll tell her you love her back.

“Come on,” she stands and you take her hand. She squeezes - your skin is warm. You’re you, “Let’s get you taken care of, bunny.”

You’re warm.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley fic #robin buckley #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #jennifer's body #jennifer's body au #eddie munson x platonic!reader #i want this out of my drafts so bad #i'm so sick

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greynatomy · 6 months

Text

luck of the irish

katie mccabe x reader

i’m having sm trouble writing rn that i feel like i’m just rambling when writing at this point. hope it makes sense for y’all

part 2 part 3

———

“Come on. Please. For me?” You ask the two people on a video call with you

Your best friends, Selena and Taylor, and you are having a virtual hangout, seeing as you all live in different places.

“What’s in it for us?” Selena asks, taking a sip of her wine.

“Absolutely nothing, but you get to go to England.”

“And what are we gonna do? Sit and watch you ogle your girlfriend for like two hours.”

“Exactly.”

“Stop teasing me. You can’t hardly blame me though, my girlfriend is hot. And y’all are just bitter that you’re single.”

“Hey! I’m not anymore.”

“Shocker!” You say sarcastically. “You’ve been going to your boyfriend’s games so much and brought us with you, now it’s my turn.”

“Sel, you need to get yourself an athlete.”

“I know.” She whines, extending the ‘o’. “You guys need to set me up with someone.

“You might catch the eyes of some footballers if you come here.”

“We’re gonna be in so many news headlines.”

“Just gotta make sure we don’t look stupid in them.”

———

The Arsenal Women’s team are all on the pitch, warming up for their match. All of a sudden, the crowd throughout the stadium starts cheering, confusing all the players and staff on the pitch.

Looking all around, the crowd is watching the big screen. There you are, with your two best friends, all completely oblivious to what’s happening. The three of you were too preoccupied doing the marshmallow game to notice all the eyes on you. Well, to be fair, you all grew up with eyes always on you that you all learned to block it out.

“Stop fucking it up Taylor. You’re like the whole music industry, where’s the rhythm?”

“Fuck you! I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my Mom.”

“Okay! Let’s just try it again okay?”

“I’ll start. One marshmallow.”

“Check it out.”

“Woo.”

Down on the field, Katie watches the big screen, not being able to stop the huge grin of amusement on her face.

“Dude! There’s no way that’s actually Y/N Y/LN, Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift.”

“I mean, if you open your eyes you would see that it actually is.” Caitlin shoves Katie away because of her sarcastic response.

———

Nothing really happens for the first half, but as soon as the second half starts, Arsenal in playing like they’ve got some fresh pairs of legs on them.

“Now I understand why people watch sports.” Taylor says loudly.

“Dates an athlete and is now obsessed with sports.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“But seriously. I’ve never watched a sport on my life until I met Katie. And it’s a plus she looks hot doing it.”

———

We’ve got McCabe, Katie McCabe I just don’t think you understand she plays out on the wing, she hits it with a zing we’ve got Katie McCabe

You started chanting with all the fans, encouraging your friends to join in.

“C’mon guys! Just like I taught you!”

———

Arsenal eventually won from a banger from McCabe, who was now getting interviewed.

“Katie, good game today. You scored the game winning shot, how’d that feel?”

“Oh, em, I was just doing what I usually do. But I’ve actually got my girlfriend here, so I had to put on a bit of a show for her.”

“Oh! Wow! Well, thank you for your time Katie.” The reporter says a bit shocked at the news.

Katie walks into the locker room, everyone is just sat at their cubby, cooking down from the match, when a knock is heard from the door.

“You girls decent?” Jonas’ voice comes through the door.

“Yeah!”

“Alright, well, we’ve got some guests that would love to meet you all.”

You, Taylor and Selena walk through the door being met by the whole team. The team fan girls for a bit, the team’s social media videographer catching it all on camera.

After greeting everyone, you walk over to where Katie is still sat in her cubby and place yourself on her lap, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist.

Her teammates are too preoccupied with Selena and Taylor to notice the two of you, but both your friends know you like to wander off, instantly noticing you weren’t next to them anymore.

Looking around, she sees you with your girlfriend whispering in her ear that has her biting her lip.

“Oh my god! Stop flirting in front of other people please!” Taylor speaks out, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

“You’re just mad cause your man who’s not your man is off playing fake football and not with you.”

“Oh, she got you there.” Selena laughs at Taylor’s offended face, giving you a high five.

“We’re no longer friends.” Taylor pouts, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You’ll get over it cause you love me.” You wrap her in a hug, Selena joining in. “Okay, enough of that. Can we all take a group picture?” You ask the Gunners. “I’ve gotta cook dinner.”

After the photo, the three of you bid farewell to the team, you giving Katie a quick kiss and a ‘see you later.’

“Actually, can I go with you? I’ll just shower at home.” Katie asks, packing her things.

“C’mon. Bye guys!” You wave at everyone.

“See you soon!” Katie leaves after you.

The team was silent for a bit after the four of you left, not knowing how to process that their Irish teammate has a girlfriend and who her girlfriend is.

“That was unexpected.”

“Indeed.”

“How’d Katie get a girl like her?” Beth asks, not quite understanding.

“It’s probably the luck the Irish have.”

“And Y/N is her pot of gold.”

“Damn.”

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccard

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satansapostle6 · 4 months

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content. Violence.

“The Baby Sister”

“Alright. I’m headed out,” Bill Walter announced.

“You driving home?” his sixteen year-old band mate, Rodrick, asked.

“Nah. Sara’s taking me home. For the rest of the week. My car’s in the shop,” Bill explained.

“Wait, who’s that, again? Your girlfriend?” the teenager asked.

“No, no, Becky’s my girlfriend,” he responded, “Sara’s my baby sister. She’s your guys’s age, I think.”

“Your baby sister’s taking you home?” Ben Segal questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yo. Not cool,” Bill frowned, seeming genuinely wounded.

“Wait. No way. Sara’s coming?” Chris grinned at the prospect.

“Hey. Don’t get your hopes up,” Bill frowned out of concern.

The teenage boys, alongside Bill, waited outside the Heffleys’ garage after their band practice, having just walked down the street while sharing a few joints. Chris and Ben were both waiting for Chris Merkle’s brother to pick them up, when an old El Camino pulled up near the sidewalk.

Loud nu-metal music could be heard blasting low from the inside. The driver of the car honked the horn impatiently.

“Is that your sister?” Rodrick pointed at the car skeptically, not quite sure what to expect when it came to Bill’s sister.

“Yeah. Later, guys. Gotta motor,” Bill announced, before Ben quickly grabbed his arm.

“Nope! You’re not going anywhere,” he laughed, I wanna see that hot sister of yours.”

“Okay…” Bill murmured, nervously making faces. “Sara’s not gonna like that…”

The boys heard another loud series of angry honks before they saw the car door open, as Chris and Ben practically rubbed their hands together maniacally. Rodrick’s mouth fell open as he saw Bill’s sister.

She looked nothing like Rodrick would’ve pictured Bill’s teenage sister to look like; she actually looked like a younger, female version of Bill. Sara Walter was almost as tall as her older brother, with the same long, messy blonde hair, only she’d gone one step further and dyed it platinum blonde as some sort of sign of rebellion.

She wore all black, and sported a deep black smokey eye to match. She was only about sixteen or seventeen, but she had a few sizable tattoos on her arms. Rodrick realized Ben and Chris were actually right, despite being complete idiots. She was hot.

“Yo. Bill,” the girl interrupted them, cigarette in hand, gesturing angrily, “You ready, or what?” she demanded impatiently.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, Sara Bear,” he apologized, joining his younger sister in defeat. “Bye guys.”

“Later,” Rodrick murmured, eyes still fixed on Bill’s sister, looking from her back tattoo to her dark grey jeans.

“Hey, Sara,” Chris smiled.

“Hey, Sara!” Ben grinned.

“Shut the fuck up, shit bird,” Sara scowled, shaking her head. “Hey, Chris. How’s your mom?”

“She’s good,” he smiled, grinning at his band mate. “Thanks.”

“Sorry, which one are you, again?” she asked, turning to Rodrick.

“Uh, Rodrick,” he responded as quickly as he could, not realizing she was addressing him.

“Okay, Uh Rodrick,” Sara smiled lightly, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Rodrick smiled, eager to flirt with her.

“You can come meet us anytime, baby,” Ben snickered, earning approval from no one.

“Hey, don’t you go to Crossland?” Rodrick piped up excitedly, having seen her at school before.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, glad she seemed interested, “Okay.”

She turned to Bill, no longer interested in making small talk.

“Come on. These assholes are killing my brain cells as we speak,” Sara muttered, flicking her lit cigarette butt onto the ground.

“Yo, Bill! Wait!” Rodrick yelled impulsively.

“Yeah?” Bill turned to look at him.

“Uh… Emergency band practice! Tomorrow!” Rodrick shouted.

“Really?” Bill asked, not recalling this ever being mentioned.

“Really?” Ben questioned.

“Yeah!” Rodrick nodded. “Three o'clock!”

“Okay!” Bill called.

And so it began.

“Who’s that?”

Rodrick turned with a start, not realizing his younger brother, Greg, who was in middle school, had come out to the garage.

“My future wife,” Rodrick murmured, before realizing who he was talking to. “None of your business, twink,” he spat defensively.

“Mom says dinner’s almost ready,” Greg persisted resentfully.

“Tell her I’ll be in in a minute,” he scowled.

Once the other boys in the band had left, Rodrick Heffley reluctantly joined the rest of his family for dinner.

“Manny, don’t throw food, please,” Susan Heffley said gently.

Rodrick watched passively as his three year-old brother chewed sloppily.

“So, Greg, how was school?” the boys’ mother asked politely.

“Good,” he responded laconically.

“Yeah? You and your butt buddy make out under the bleachers?” Rodrick teased.

“Shut up, Rodrick!”

“Greg!” Susan shouted in exasperation as her husband, Frank, just buried his face in his hands, trying to block it all out.

“But Mom, it was Rodrick!” he gave a whiny protest.

“Enough. Both of you,” she sighed, “Can’t we just talk about something nice for once?”

“Oh, well since you asked, Mom,” Greg grinned eagerly, “Rodrick has a new crush!”

“Rodrick?” Susan questioned, her interest piqued.

“No, I don’t!” Rodrick shouted. “I’m gonna kill you one of these days, you know that?” he turned to his brother.

“What’s he talking about?” Susan asked. “Is there a girl you like?”

“No, Mom, he’s just being a butt.”

After a while, Rodrick started getting into trouble for cursing around the house, so he eventually started finding creative ways to insult people, mostly Greg.

“What, you don’t wanna tell Mom about your crush?” Greg taunted him.

“Say the word ‘crush’ one more time,” Rodrick warned.

“Crush.”

“I’m putting Nair in your shampoo.”

“Thanks for the heads up, genius.”

“Boys,” Frank Heffley sighed. “I had a long day at work, can we please just either get along, or hate each other in silence?”

“Frank!” Susan sighed with disdain. “Rodrick. If you like this girl, you should try making a move. Ask her out. Flowers would be nice,” she suggested.

“Mom, there is no girl!”

“Then whose cigarette butt is out by the driveway?” Greg continued.

“Wait, you like a girl who smokes cigarettes?” Susan nearly had an aneurysm.

“Mom. There’s no girl, and no cigarettes!” Rodrick argued.

“Then who picked up Bill?” Greg raised an eyebrow.

“There better not be any cigarettes!” Frank boomed.

Greg just slowly turned to look at his older brother, a wide, toothy grin spreading across his face.

“I swear to fucking God,” Rodrick hissed under his breath, already at his limit.

The next day at school at Crossland High, Rodrick Heffley actually had a reason to want to be at school, for once. He’d anxiously waited through all of his classes, hoping to be able to go off and find Sara. He knew she spent most of her time outside, and he knew she would occasionally draw outside. That was about it.

The minute the bell rang for lunch, he raced out of math to try and find Bill’s younger sister, hoping she’d recognize him from the day before. After checking the school cafeteria, Rodrick headed out to the courtyard, unable to find Sara anywhere. Eventually, he gave up and retired to the front parking lot of the school. He randomly decided to wandered off to the side, wondering what he should do with the rest of his time. Naturally, he happened upon just the person he was looking for.

Rodrick couldn’t believe that after all that searching, he’d found Sara Walter sitting underneath the big tree not far from the parking lot, cigarette hanging out of her mouth as she lazily drew in a sketchbook, headphones in.

He had no idea how to approach her, not just because she was preoccupied with her headphones in, but also because she was in the same league as girls like Heather Hills, who he also didn’t stand a chance with. But Rodrick figured that as he stood there, Sara would eventually notice him anyways, so he’d better just walk over and announce himself.

This was an effective tactic to use on himself. Rodrick slowly approached Sara, awkwardly clearing his throat. She looked up at him, pushing down her headphones as she greeted him, loud music still playing.

“Hey,” he said nervously.

“Hey. You’re from the band. Rodrick, right?” she asked as he sat down.

“Yeah,” he said with relief.

“Sorry, I’m bad with names,” she mumbled as she drew.

“No, it’s cool,” Rodrick said coolly, “Me too.”

He looked at her as she drew, not sure how to carry the conversation. His eyes eventually settled on her cigarette.

“Can I have a drag?” he asked her.

“Yeah. Sure,” Sara said kindly, handing him the cigarette.

“Thanks,” he nodded, taking a decent drag before handing it back.

“Do your parents know that you smoke?” she made conversation.

“No,” Rodrick shook his head, “I just spray cologne on and blame it on Bill.”

Sara chuckled at his response. “Yeah, fair enough. I used to do the same thing.”

“Do your parents know?” he wondered.

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, “They kinda stopped caring what I do because of Bill. And our dad.”

“Why, what did your dad do?” Rodrick asked curiously.

“Our dad was in a shitty punk band back in the day. He used to be on a bunch of shit,” she murmured as she attended to the details of her artwork.

“Are your parents still together?”

“No. Our dad left. He went to jail when I was two, and then he left again for the last time when I was four. Then my mom married Randy, and had our little brother,” Sara mumbled, not looking up.

“How do we feel about Randy?” Rodrick genuinely wanted to know.

“Randy’s a real fuckface,” she snapped, holding the cap to her pen in her mouth as she made some final adjustments to her work.

“What you drawing?” he asked her.

“Here,” Sara said, passing him the large sketchbook. “I’ve been working on this for, like, two days.”

“Whoa,” Rodrick said, examining the dragon she’d drawn.

It was impressive, like nothing he’d ever seen. It was a large dragon drawn in a very unique, spiky sort of art style, like a lot of modern designs. Something about it seemed vaguely tribal.

“This is cool as fuck,” he stared. “Like a tattoo.”

“Yeah… I wanna become an apprentice when I turn 18.”

“Like, to a wizard?” Rodrick looked at her in confusion.

“No, to tattoo artist,” she said softly, trying to hide her reaction.

“Oh. That makes more sense,” he thought, looking back down at her work. “What’s that style?”

“Cybersigilism,” she told him. “I can do that, and traditional.”

“Cool,” he exclaimed, flipping through the book. “You should do one for me once you get the job.”

Sara looked at him skeptically. “You’d trust me to do that?” she said flatly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, not missing a beat, “Why not?”

“…Because I have zero experience?” she pointed out.

“But you’re a really good drawer,” Rodrick reasoned.

She just smiled at his blissful ignorance. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’d be a good tattoo artist.”

“I don’t care,” he shrugged, “I want you to do it. I think it’d look good enough.”

“You realize it’d be on your body forever, right?”

“A bad tattoo is a good story,” Rodrick shrugged.

“You’re right about that,” Sara said as she crushed out her cigarette.

“Hey, are you coming by later to pick Bill up from practice?” Rodrick asked hopefully.

“Oh,” she said after a moment, “Bill forgot to tell you?”

“…Tell me what?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m gonna join you guys for practice today. My job’s closing early today,” she explained.

“Oh. Cool,” Rodrick remarked, stifling his internal ‘Yes!’ “Where do you work?”

“At this restaurant on the north side. It’s like a bar and restaurant. A lot of rich people go there.”

“Oh, you’re a waitress?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sara nodded.

“Hot,” Rodrick nodded, stopping as he realized he probably shouldn’t have been speaking out loud. “Sorry.”

“The Family Legacy”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #rodrick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk rodrick #devon bostick #diary of a wimpy kid #doawk

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mrshipsmcgee · 2 years

Text

The Scoundrel & The Princess

Steve Harrington x Female

Summary: after an awkward run in with Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington is invited to an awful party where he meets a beautiful stranger.

Warnings: use of she/her instead of y/n, cursing, tooth-rotting fluff, fist fighting, bloody nose, tommy h being an asshat perv, protective!Steve 👀, mentions of babies, kissing (*le gasp*), it’s shitty maybe? Idk I had a lot of fun writing it :) 4.8k!

if you enjoyed, please let me know with a like, comment or reblog! - Cait <3

Saturday March 15th 1986 - 11:15 AM Hawkins, Indiana

Music plays in the fluorescent light filled grocery store as Steve Harrington strolls down the produce aisle, accompanied by, “Henderson - put the bananas down. The list doesn’t have bananas.”

“Well, I want bananas,” Dustin recoils from Steve’s extended arm. “My mom won’t be upset for adding bananas to the list. It’s just bananas. Come on, Steve!”

“Dustin - we’ve talked about this before, I don’t know how many times I have to say it until it penetrates your thick skull and finds its way to your brain, but your mom only gives me a certain amount of cash for a certain amount of food for her perfectly crafted grocery list,” Steve grabs the fruit from Dustin’s grip, his brown eyes remain on Dustin as he sits them down on the display beside him. “Now, come on!”

“Do my eyes deceive me?” a voice rings out, “Or is that you, Harrington?”

Steve and Dustin turn, Steve’s eyes rolling as soon as he sees a familiar freckled face staring back at him, “Tommy H, what are you doing back in Hawkins?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Steve,” the man smiles villainously, smacking his tongue over his lips as his hand points to Dustin, “Oh - you‘re a babysitter now, Harrington? Out shopping for this little guy's mommy?”

“I’m a freshman,” Dustin says with an annoyed shrug. “You douche,” he murmurs.

Tommy’s windbreaker swishes as he crosses his arm, “Where did you end up going for college, Harrington?”

Steve hesitates, looking down at the off white tiled floor before looking over at Dustin, “I uh-“ his eyes glance over to Tommy, “I didn't.”

“So, you didn’t go to college, and now you babysit freshman?” Tommy’s brows furrowed, smiling widely. “What happened, King Steve?”

“He also has a job,” Dustin chimes in. “He works at Family Video.”

“The movie rental place?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head before he looks back at Steve. “Oh, Stevie boy, what has happened to you? Where did King Steve go? You babysit, you work at family video.. I feel sorry for you, man.”

Steve is silent, his face is trapped somewhere between an awkward smile and a grimace before he says, “Well, Tommy - it’s been great seeing you man, but we gotta get going.”

Tommy’s palm smacks flatly on Steve’s sweatshirt covered shoulder as he looks into his eyes, “ Hey, I’m throwing a party tonight, you should come. Bring King Steve, see if he’s still there.. somewhere deep inside of you. It’ll be fun. Hot girls, drinks - who knows what we could get into, Harrington. Or who we could get into.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Tommy gets close to Steve, placing his palm onto his cheek before giving it a light smack, “Cause I’m sure you miss King Steve, too.”

“Steve, let’s go,” Dustin says.

Tommy’s eyes remain on Steve’s, dropping his palm from his shoulder, “Yeah, Steve - go babysit. I’ll see you tonight.”

“See ya,” Steve says flatly, walking away from Tommy and heading towards the next item on the grocery list, ”Alright, we need celery.”

“Steve, you’re not actually going to that party, are you? We could hang out,” Dustin says, following beside Steve as he grabs celery, “You, me, maybe Mike? Is Robin working?”

“I’m still cool, right Henderson?” Steve’s voice is small as he inspects the celery before throwing it into the grocery cart.

“I mean, you mainly hang out with me and Robin nowadays, but I still think you’re pretty cool,” Dustin shrugs. “Screw what Tommy Hagan says.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, looking at Dustin. “Thanks, Henderson.”

Steve made his way through the busy front lawn of the Hagan residence, dodging drunk teenagers as he reached the opened front door - the music from inside booming loudly as he stepped through the threshold. He could feel the burning of eyes on him from all around as he traversed through the familiar living room, directly to the punch sitting on the kitchen counter, scooping a bit from the large bowl and it into a small cup.

“King Steve!” Tommy exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air as he approached Steve. “I thought you weren’t gonna come! Figured you’d be babysitting, or selling movie rentals to hicks.” Tommy leans towards Steve, the smell of alcohol wafting into Steve’s face as Tommy whispers, ”Did ya leave a kid in the car, Harrington?”

Steve is quiet, eyeing Tommy and knocking back the entirety of the small cup of punch in his grip. “I’m kidding!” Tommy yells, before letting out a loud, and quite obnoxious belly laugh, slapping Steve’s arm as his face quickly drops, eyes squinting as he scans the room, pointing at the crowd, “You can have any bitch you want, which one will it be, King Steve?”

“I, uh- I need to pee,” Steve says quickly, tossing the empty cup into the trash can as he makes his way down the hallway.

He enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Propping his large palms on the bathroom vanity, as he stared at himself in the mirror - one hand brushes through his thick locks as he shakes his head, letting out a long exhale. “Jesus,” he murmurs to himself, studying his features in the reflection - “Get it the hell together, Steve.”

He blinks - brows furrowing as he looks past himself in the reflection, over to the moving shower curtain to the right of him. He swallows, turning and gently stepping towards the shower, fingertips carding the side of the curtain before he throws it open, seeing a woman sitting in the tub - her wide eyes making direct eye contact with Steve.

“Hi,” she whispers, eyes darting to the bathtub before reluctantly scanning back up to Steve’s warm gaze .

“Hi,” he says with a small wave, furrowing his brows as he looks down, noticing the stranger’s tear-stained cheeks gleaming off of the bathroom lights. “Are you okay?”

Her arms wrapped around her chest, clutching something in her hand, “Yes, uh - I was trying to find a sliver of solace from this awful party here in this bathroom, but got clotheslined by somebody holding a cup of punch on the way in here. I was just trying to wash my shirt when you came in and… I’m sorry. Uh.. I just need to-“ she stands and Steve panics, realizing she’s shirtless. Slapping his palm over his eyes, he quickly turns on the heel of his foot, away from the beautiful stranger. “Do you, uh.. would you- Do you need my sweatshirt?” He scrunches his face, embarrassed by his fumbling of words.

“Wait, really?” He hears her step out of the tub - “I think I could wash my shirt in the sink. It’s really no big deal-.”

“-It’s totally a big deal,” Steve’s hand remained over his eyes - “It’s way too cold tonight for you to be in a wet shirt.” His hand grabs the back of his collar, pulling the fabric over his head quickly - his fluffy hair bouncing as it recoils - “Here, take my sweatshirt.”

Steve stands in an olive green long sleeve shirt, his right arm extended behind him as the shirtless woman grabs the sweatshirt, pulling herself into the fabric, wrapping her arms back around her chest.

“Thank you so much.” She smiles, looking at the back of Steve’s head, “You can turn around now.”

He slowly turns back to the girl, shyly smiling at her before his chocolate eyes scan back down to the tiled floor, “You can keep that if you need to.”

“Your sweatshirt? No! God no - I could throw my top into the dryer and it would be fine! Do you have thirty minutes to spare?” She asks.

”If that means you won’t be wearing a wet shirt the rest of the night - sure” - he nods, extending his right arm out to her, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

She lets out a small chuckle, taking his large hand into hers - “Oh, I know.”

Steve lets out a mimicking laugh, giving her an inquisitive face - licking his bottom lip before he smiles, saying - “You already know me? That must not be good.” He scrunches his face, “Should I go ahead and apologize? I used to be a real jerk.”

“No! No - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” she shuts her eyes as she shakes her head, still smiling widely as she says - “It’s just - you’re Steve Harrington. Of course I know who you are.. We graduated together. You’re the King of Hawkins High School,” She scrunches her nose, “Also - you stole my babysitting gig.” His head cocks to the side, studying her gorgeous face, continuing to grasp her hand in his, thumb caressing the webbing of her thumb and pointer finger.

And then it hits him.

He remembers her.

How the summer sun’s rays shone down on her, making her look like an angel as she laid on a yellow blanket on the perfectly green grass. Her thick thighs oiled up with sunscreen, her head shoved into a book.

“Hey!” Dustin yells, getting Steve’s attention as he throws a soapy rag at him.

“What?!” Steve turns, lazily spraying Dustin with the water hose.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and let you know that she’s way out of your league,” Dustin’s brows raise as a smile spreads across his face, nodding his head towards the yard over - suds dripping off of his mom’s car as he continues to scrub the sides.

Steve sprays the roof of the car - “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Henderson.”

Dustin lets out an exhausted huff - “She’s as smart as she is pretty. And she’s funny,” Dustin says. “And she was kind of like my sister growing up.”

“So that means I can’t even look at her?” Steve scoffs, turning back to glance at Dustin’s neighbor. “She is really pretty.”

“I knew it!” Dustin takes the soapy bucket in front of him, grasping it in his hands, tossing the liquid at Steve, “She isn’t just someone to date, Steve. She’s the kind of girl you want to settle down with. Hawkins’ own Princess Leia. So, not your type.”

Steve wipes water from his eyes, taking one last glance at the angelic woman reading on the lawn. “She could be my type, you never know.”

“Princess Leia,” Steve murmurs.

“What was that?” She cocks her head to the side, her brows coming together in an inquisitive furrow.

Steve clears his throat, “You should be happy to know that Dustin Henderson speaks very highly of you,” Steve smiles at her, his eyes glancing down at his hand still wrapped around hers and quickly drops it to his side. His chocolate eyes scan back up to her sweet gaze. “He says you’re smart and funny. He says you’re Hawkins’ own Princess Leia, actually.”

“Well, that’s incredibly sweet of Dustin to say,” she sighs. “I miss the hell out of that kid. How is he? I never get to see him anymore.. Not since he got this really cool babysitter,” she eyes Steve, smirking at him.

He blushes, smiling widely as his fingers rake through his thick locks, “Yeah.. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

God, he loved how she said his name. He loved how her mouth had to curl into a small smile whenever she said it.

“-I understand. Dustin thinks you’re way cooler than me, which isn’t true at all. He’ll come to realize that one day,” she bounces her brows at him. “After all, I am the person that introduced him to Dungeons and Dragons.”

He scoffs, “Hey now - we can both be cool. I mean, I am extremely cool - but since Dustin Henderson thinks so highly of you, I’d say we might be neck and neck on the coolness scale.” He’s unable to contain his wide smile as he looks back at the girl. “We should dry this shirt of yours before it gets too late.”

She wraps her arms back around herself, shutting her eyes as she cuddles herself into Steve’s sweatshirt, inhaling slowly, “But what if I want to keep wearing your sweatshirt? I mean - it smells incredible. And it’s so warm.”

Steve’s cheeks flush, grinning ear to ear as he watches her cuddle into the fabric, looking perfect in his clothes - “I mean - you can keep wearing it if you’d like. You could give it back to me tomorrow or- or really whenever you’d like. I think I’m gonna get out of here, though. Parties like this aren’t my scene anymore.”

Her hand reaches out and gently grabs Steve’s, “Would you please drop me off at my parent’s house? My friend that dragged me here left about forty minutes ago with some girl and I don’t have a ride. Please don't leave me here, Steve. This party is awful. If I hear Tommy Hagan’s stupid voice one more time I might explode.”

Steve’s fingers wrap around hers, “Of course. Let’s go right now.” He turns, still holding her hand as he opens the bathroom door - the house packed wall to wall with drunken teens dancing to music. “It’s a little crazy in here, stay close to me,” he turns, gently pushing her in front of him, his hand on her mid-back as the other keeps a protective shield in front of her as they make their way through the crowd.

Just as they near the door, Tommy H.’s voice rings out, “King Steve got the prettiest bitch in the pond!” He hops off of the table he’s on, drunkenly waltzing over to where the two stood, just feet from the door.

“The Drum Major graduates and gets hot. Who knew?” Tommy slurs, shrugging as he smacks his palm onto Steve’s shoulder. “I knew you were in there, King Steve. I knew I could drag you out of this old, tired version of yourself.” His breath wafts in both of their faces. Tommy’s mischievous eyes scan down to her’s, villainously smiling as he looks her up and down, “You gonna let King Steve treat you real good, yeah? What - are you a virgin? No! No - you band kids fuck like rabbits, don’t you - band girl?”

Tommy’s hand reaches up to grab Steve’s collar, his gaze turning as he breathes - “I wonder how many rounds she’ll last you, huh - King Steve? Four? Five?”

Steve grits his teeth together, his arm remains protectively wrapped around her waist as he looks down at Tommy, “We gotta go before it gets too late. Thanks for the invite, man.”

Tommy’s eyes glance back down to Her, “Wait a second.. hold your horses, you two-“ his fingers point to her chest, noticing Steve’s sweatshirt - “This is his.” Tommy’s fingers point to Steve, “You’re naughty, King Steve. You really had me fooled.” Tommy leans down to the woman, inches away from her face as he asks, “Tell me, beautiful. Where did you take it? In your mouth or in your a-“

Tommy is shoved back with force by Steve - the crowd gasping and whispering, forming an open circle at the entrance of the home as the two men stalk towards one another.

“Oh, Stevie-boy! Did I hurt your feelings?” Tommy laughs, jumping up and down a bit as he holds his fists in front of his face - back curled inward as he starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. “What? Ya gonna hit me, King Steve? Come on!”

Steve is silent, staring at Tommy through his long lashes - his hair fallen in his face as his chest slowly rises and falls.

“Do you even know how to fight anymore? Oh wait - you’ve never won a fight in your life, have you?” Tommy mocks, nearing Steve and throwing a punch his way.

Steve dodges the punch, retracting his body before his arm flies towards Tommy’s face, his fist knocking Tommy directly in his freckled nose. Tommy steps back dramatically, grabbing his face before he lunges at Steve again - arms flying around his thighs trying to throw him to the ground.

Steve’s thumbs dig into Tommy’s traps, shoving him away as he rolls up his sleeves, “Like I said, we need to leave. It’s getting late.” Tommy charges Steve again, punching him in the gut this time before he lands another punch to Steve’s nose - blood immediately pouring from his left nostril as he’s pushed back.

“Stop!” The girl yells, stepping herself in between Steve and Tommy - Tommy’s fist hitting her left cheek as she falls to the ground, letting out a small whimper as she holds her face in her palm.

Steve’s worried eyes snap over to where she had fallen beside him, swallowing as his heart raced - drumming hard in his ears as he felt his body burn with an animalistic rage seeing tears streaming down her beautiful face. His nostrils flare, grimacing as he stands - “You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Hagan. If you ever touch her again, I will kill you.”

“Fuck you, Harrington,” Tommy spits at him.

Steve rears back, punching Tommy in the nose once more - this time knocking him unconscious, hitting the ground with a loud thud. A few of Tommy’s friends gather around him and Steve turns, helping the beautiful woman up, “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Dustin was right,” Steve smiled. “That was very Princess Leia of you back there.”

The woman dabs Steve’s bloody nose, standing between his thighs where he sat on the kitchen counter, holding up a bag of frozen peas to her cheek -“What? Getting punched in the face?”

“No. Stepping in to help. It was very Princess Leia of you,” he smiles, his upper lips moving as the wet cloth wipes away the crimson stain. “You were a badass.”

She rolls her eyes, “You’re far too nice, Steve. You’re the one that was a badass back there. You beat Tommy’s ass.”

“He’s had it coming for years now,” he watches her concentrated face as she wipes the last bit of blood from his nose. “Is it bad to say that it kind of felt good?”

“No, I don’t think so - I think you had a real Han Solo moment back there,” she smiled, laying the wet rag beside Steve. “I was hoping to get the chance to call you a stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder.. But as it turns out, you're quite the opposite, Steve Harrington.”

“Wait, who’s Han in the movies again?” He hops down from the counter, now chest to chest with her - his warm eyes gazing at her.

“He’s a real scoundrel. A smuggler. But he ends up being one of the Rebel Alliance's greatest leaders. He’s a real hero,” her shy gaze falls to the ground.

“And what about Leia?” He leans closer to her, “What happens between them? Sorry that I need so much refreshing. Dustin insisted that I watch episodes four, five and six last Christmas break, but it's all a little blurry for me.”

“Han and Leia?”

“Yeah, what happens to them?” He asks, intrigued.

“Well, even though they want to wring each other’s throat sometimes, they fall in love,” she explains.

“Do they get married and have babies?” Steve asks. His tone is almost eager as his chest remains pressed against hers. “What about the hairy thing?”

“Chewbacca?” She asks.

“Yes! Yes - That’s Dustin,” he smiles.

She lets out a belly laugh, smacking her hand over her mouth, “I’m sorry for laughing!”

“What? Why? It’s true!” He laughs. “Now tell me, what happened to Chewbacca? What happens to Han and Leia?”

“Well, in Return of the Jedi - where Luke burns up Vader’s helmet at the ewok camp in the final scene,” she says - “Everyone is happy and celebrating. They’re all there together.”

“That’s a really good scene,” Steve whispers, his nose practically touching hers just as a low rolling of thunder shakes the house, rain starting to pour on the roof of the home. Lightning strikes, followed by another rolling of thunder.

“Jesus, I didn’t realize it was supposed to storm tonight,” she whispers, turning and walking away from Steve - opening up a drawer and grabbing a large black flashlight from it, turning back to Steve, “Just in case! The power is shitty here.”

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, going to grab his car keys from the kitchen counter.

“No! Please stay. It isn’t safe to drive right now.. And honestly, I’m a little freaked out by being alone with it storming so badly,” she makes a face. “I’m kind of a sissy.”

“You are not a sissy,” Steve chuckles, dropping his keys back onto the counter and resting his hip on it, crossing his arms over his chest - “I’m a little scared of storms too. It’s something about control for me, I think. That storm is a hell of a lot stronger than I could ever be, and I can’t control its strength, therefore it’s easy to be scared of it. Ya know?”

“That was deep,” she says.

“Shocker, Steve Harrington can be deep,” he waves his fingers, playfully rolling his eyes at her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just crazy that King Steve Harrington is more than just a pretty face,” she smiles. “You see a gorgeous human - like a ridiculously gorgeous human, and you just automatically assume ‘this person’s gonna be an asshole.’ But you’re not. You’re wonderful,” she says.

Steve’s cheeks burn, smirking - “You think I’m ridiculously gorgeous?” His voice is raspy, stepping towards her, humming - “Huh, Princess?”

“Well, I just…” she shrugs, looking away from Steve before she shakes her head, “Fine.” Her eyes flash back to him, pointing the flashlight to his chest, “I think you’re ridiculously gorgeous, Steve Harrington. Happy?”

Steve brings his hand up to hers, wrapping his gentle fingers around the flashlight and taking it from her grasp, putting it in his back pocket. “Well, yeah-” His hands reach up, gently grasping her hand, “Because I think you’re ridiculously gorgeous..”

She looks confused, blinking a few times, “Is this really happening?”

“What?” He whispers, a small chuckle escaping from his throat.

“Steve Harrington finds me attractive?” She asks.

“And witty, and smart,” he adds with a nod, his left hand grasping hers while his right lazily rubs his thumb along the webbing of her hand. “Do you want to know what else Dustin said about you?”

She nods, her body melting into his touch as he continues, “He said I wasn’t even allowed to look at you because you’re out of my league. He says that you’re not someone just to date.. that you’re someone worth settling down with.”

“Is that really what he said?” She asks, her voice small. Steve nods. She smiles, “Well, that is very sweet of Dustin to say. What do you say?”

Steve chokes out a raspy, “What?”

“Now that you’ve met me, and we’ve spent- uh…” she looks past Steve to the clock above the fireplace in her family’s living room. “-Ya know, the last three, almost four hours together.. What do you say?”

Steve’s stomach drops, staring at the beautiful woman - “I would say that-“

Lightning strikes, the room goes dark, “Shit! We lost power? Come on!”

“You’re trembling,” Steve whispers, holding her hand a little tighter in his, his long fingers rubbing the webbing in between her thumb and pointer finger - bringing her a bit closer to his chest. The two are only inches away, standing in the middle of the kitchen - “Are you scared, Princess? You don’t have to be, I’m here.”

“My hands still have some of your blood on them, I’m sorry if they’re dirty,” she mutters - now close enough to Steve that her breath hits his neck.

“It’s okay - my hands are dirty, too,” his Nike covered toe hits hers. “But you’re still shaking.. So what are you afraid of, Princess?”

“Afraid? I’m not afraid,” she says. “If anything, I think you’re afraid.”

“Of what? The storm?” Steve retorts, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, now able to see the shape of her gorgeous face.

“Me,” she says.

His head shakes, “No - no, I’m not scared of you. Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re the one that’s trembling,” she whispers, taking her free hand and wrapping it around Steve’s. Her touch makes his heart swell, his knees grow weak as he swallows, realizing he is the one that’s been trembling this whole time. “What are you so scared of, Steve?”

“I- I don’t know.. I..” he exhales - his handsome face drops, warm eyes blinking - “I just get this feeling whenever I look at you. Whenever you’re near me.. I just- I want to be close to you. It feels like something is drawing me towards you like a magnet. It’s a little scary.. I’ve never really felt this way before.”

He can hear her swallow, her heart drums against her chest “Y-yeah?”

Steve nods, his nose brushes against hers, “Yes ma’am.”

“Why’s that? This magnetism between us?” She asks.

“Because you are someone worth settling down for. I look at you, and I can see my future staring back at me,” one of his hands comes up and cups her cheek, “I don’t mean to be so forward.. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“What kind of future do you see?” She asks.

“Whatever you want,” he says. “A future where you’re the happiest.”

“What if I said I wanted my future to have at least four kids in it?” She murmurs.

Steve pauses, smiling wide - so wide his eyes screw shut, “Then I guess I would need to go ahead and tell you my future involves six little nuggets.”

“Domesticated Steve Harrington? I’m in,” she laughs. “I like the thought of it. Steve with kids hanging all over him?”

“It’s the dream,” he nods. “Family vacations, only the best of the best for the holidays.. even changing diapers. It’s my dream.”

She’s quiet.

“Too much? I went too far, didn’t I?” He inhales sharply. “I’m so sorry. It was the future talk. I’m sorry..” he turns away, starting to walk towards his car keys.

Her hand grasps his, gently tugging him back towards her - their chests clumsily bumping together as her hand spreads, cupping his face. “You’re not too much for me, Steve.”

“I’m not? He whispers, swallowing back his nerves feeling the nearness of her.

She barely shakes her head, putting her hand on his drumming chest, “Never. Also, It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than talking about babies and vacations to run me off, Steve Harrington.”

His anxieties wash away as his arm wraps around her waist, his palm cupping the nape of her neck. Steve’s warm lips brush against hers delicately, his body relaxing into her warmth - melting into her touch. Just the simple brush of flesh seemed to intoxicate Steve as his lips crashed into hers, feeling as if his knees could come out from underneath him as her fingers ran through his hair.

She breathlessly moans into the passionate kiss as Steve wraps her up closer, pressing his hips into hers as his tongue traces her bottom lip. Their tongues collide as Steve’s thigh presses against her pelvis - her legs spreading a bit as he starts to walk the two of them back, running into the kitchen table in the process.

They part, both laughing, “Are you okay, Princess?”

“Yeah, yeah - but I'm gonna have to stop you before you seduce me into making kid number one already. At least take me on a date first,” she mocks, her nose brushing against Steve’s.

He sighs, “I’ll take you on a date. Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you.”

“How about you take me to your favorite place?” She suggests, still wrapped up in his arms.

He inhaled sharply - “Well - my favorite place is with Dustin Henderson… who is going to murder us, especially me whenever he finds out about me kissing you,” Steve groans.

“Oh god.. Dustin is going to kill us.. I am not looking forward to his wrath.. like, at all,” she sighs. “Maybe we won't tell him for right now?”

“No, that’ll make it way worse,” Steve shakes his head. “What do we do?”

“I have an idea. What about a DND game? I’ll host it tomorrow, it’s Sunday tomorrow - no one should have anything to do. It’ll be fine,” she says.

“Are you saying that for me or for you?” Steve asks. “Because I feel like that was kinda for both of us.” He laughs.

“Wait-“ she looks at him, he can see her brows laced together with concern, “What if you wake up tomorrow and you don’t feel the same way as you do tonight?” She asks.

Steve’s hands cup her warm face, leaving a gentle kiss on the top of her nose, “These feelings aren’t going anywhere.” Steve smiles, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

————

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