#i can't believe i pumped out that many scenes
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nine facts, one lie
summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.
Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]
[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny
Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington.
It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington.
From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.
Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.
Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained.
Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity.
Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask.
You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.
It was impossible to pinpoint what about him grated you so much; maybe, it was how he seemed to have girls in and out of his bed like he was playing a game, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Or maybe, it was that even you, invisible and not even on his radar let alone on his list, could see the appeal.
Even better than easy on the eyes, Steve Harrington is one of those guys that makes you understand the word gorgeous.
It doesn’t help that he’s rich as well, with a huge house with a pool and even a swanky car to pick you up in. A complete daydream. Swept away into sheets softer than yours at home, you’d get to spend a night in the arms of the most popular guy in school and if you’re really lucky, he’ll still pretend to know your name the next day.
What had really stuck with you was gossip you’d happened to overhear, head stuck in your locker as you fished around for your books and papers. Tommy H and Steve were 3 lockers over, at Tommy’s locker, and sharing the details of Steve’s latest conquest.
So was she any good? Tommy had been asking. I always assumed nerdy chicks weren’t as good- they practically cream their pants considering no one’s ever kissed em’ before.
Steve had laughed along too. Yeah, man. She was all over me. Had to keep picturing someone hotter though, you know those geeks aren’t the prettie— Your stomach had curdled and you had slammed your locker door louder than needed, just to shut him up. You were sure they both saw you leave.
It drove you insane. And even though Steve likely knew nothing of your existence — didn’t matter you had once been chem partners, nor the fact you shared English class— he was probably as close to an evil nemesis you’d ever get.
Hence the utter betrayal of Robin’s friendship with him.
Originally, when she’d told you over the phone, gleeful and gossipy, that King Steve had just been hired at Scoops Ahoy, the two of you had snickered. It hadn’t been enough to watch him drift from his other asshole friends, something in you burned deliciously hearing he’d fallen from yet another pillar.
It had only gotten better. Robin recounted countless stories where he had flunked out with girls — you’d nearly lost it hearing about her whiteboard, tallying up his ‘hits & misses’ when trying to score a date. It finally seemed Steve Harrington was somehow more of a loser than you.
On the 4th of July, 1985, Starcourt Mall burnt down — and the strangest thing about it all was that Robin suddenly didn’t seem to mind Steve so much.
They were friends. You’d been a little miffed at her quick change of heart as she doused your gossipy mood in an instant, insisting that Steve wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.
Rather reluctantly, your teasing remarks about Steve were brought to a halt as Robin retaliated each time, urging you to give him another chance. And while you agreed to be civil, especially considering you had to see him every time you visited Robin at work. But what could you do? Old habits die hard.
Fact #2: Steve Harrington is trying to be a better person.
Okay, you didn’t know that one, but Steve certainly did.
It means even though Robin had dropped several warnings and a few premature apologies, Steve was prepared to be absolutely lovely when meeting her other best friend (the other being himself, of course). Robin still seemed tense about the two of your meeting — so far you’d specifically come to visit her at Family Video when you knew Steve wasn’t there.
But a few shifts had been swapped around and on her late night Thursday shift where you always came by to keep her company, Robin was readying herself for the collision of her two friends.
Despite all her convincing, she could tell you weren’t sold on the new Steve she claimed to love and you hadn’t come by when he was there, meaning all your experiences to do with Steve were rooted back in his days of assholery.
It didn’t matter to Steve; he loved Robin and he had lots of practice trying to gain the ‘wow, you’re not a douchebag anymore’ gold star. He had this in the bag.
The janky chime of the door buzzer announces the arrival of someone in the store and being the one at the counter while Robin tends to the shelves, Steve’s head pops up, ready to greet.
“Hello! Welcome to Family Video!”
It sounds far too rehearsed, recognizing the customer service voice you put on at your own job. You nearly smile at the cheery greeting, taken aback by Steve’s handsome grin and his floppy hair, messed from the force of his movement. Then you clock yourself and have to fight off an urge to scowl.
Eyes already searching over the aisles for Robin, you’re just wondering if she’ll come save you from this conversation when Steve seems to realise who you must be.
“Oh, you must be y/n.” His easy smile, hands leaning forward onto the counter that separates you, takes you aback.
In your peripheral, you can see Robin spot you and head in the direction — but she doesn’t come quick enough to stop Steve from bungling the whole conversation with his next sentence.
“Robin’s told me a lot about you. I’m Steve,” His tone is friendly and at your silence, he continues. “Steve Harrington.”
Oh my God. He doesn’t even remember you.
Over Steve’s shoulder, you can spy Robin burying her head in her hands and muttering something to herself. Any annoyance you had pushed down springs to the surface. You school your expression as neutral as possible, though you’re sure your brow crinkles in irritation.
“I know.”
Okay, that was meaner than you intended, especially as you recall Robin’s plea to be civil at the very least. You clear your throat, unsure if you can completely hide your distaste for him.
“We were chem partners, freshmen year.” You remind him, attempting a smile. It might be a grimace. “And I was in your English class your senior year.”
Steve seems to realise his mistake, his cheeks turning rosy and his eyes widening almost comically — fuck, way to go, Harrington. All of his pep talks, amping himself up to be so friendly to you and then he goes and ruins it by not remembering you.
It’s embarrassing. Hawkins is a small town and practically everyone knows everyone, with the exception of popular kids who didn’t think they needed to. He winces, frustrated that his past has come back to haunt him yet again.
“I’m sorry.” He says, more sincere than you’re expecting. Well, you’re not expecting an apology at all — the Steve you remembered would’ve laughed it off, claiming that he couldn’t forget a pretty face and trying to brush over the fact he forgot you at all.
“Seriously,” he reaffirms at the hint of surprise on your features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget your face. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I passed that chem class.”
Robin seems to sense your internal battle, baffled by his apology but still irritated by the fact his memory didn’t deem you memorable enough. She also wants to jump on the spot and say ‘told you!’ because the surprise you’d shown means you hadn’t believed her.
A part of her feels bad, knowing the battering Steve’s taken to his head too many times has undoubtedly knocked a few memories loose; but it’s not that they could explain that to you.
“I’m just shelving — want to come sit?” She offers, taking the conversation away from you and Steve. “We watched Highlander today and I could sit and explain the whole plot to you?”
It’s the usual activities you and Robin did when you came to bug her on her shift. You loved listening to Robin talk as she possessed a unique ability to turn a 10-minute retelling into an hour-long debate. Each subplot in the film needed to be discussed, with bad analogies that came out of left field and made you laugh til your sides hurt. It wasn’t a bad Thursday night all around.
Just as you’re about to respond, Steve cuts in and speaks instead.
“Robs, you’ve only got two hours left. It’s a Thursday, you could take off if you wanted? I don’t mind.”
Robs. Somehow the nickname for your best friend coming from Steve is more jarring than the polite offer he’s extended. Steve’s eyes shift back over to you, offering another weak smile and you wonder if this is a continuation of his apology.
“Really?” Robin’s excitement is evident. Bunking off early means you two will sneak a movie and have time to grab some greasy food for an actual hangout. “I mean- are you sure?”
Steve nods sincerely then cracks a grin, shooting a sarcastic smile at Robin. “What think I can’t hold down the fort for a couple hours?”
Robin is already peeling off her Family Video vest, digging under the counter to pull out her school bag. “I don’t think it, Steve. I know it.”
He laughs, meandering his way back to where Robin has left the returns cart and, furiously, you have to admit he’s being awfully nice. Robin nearly trips coming around the counter, her hand grasping your arm tightly to keep herself upright and she beams at you.
“C’mon!” She says, pulling you out the door, the buzzer chiming again as you both leave the store. Once outside, she pauses and you can feel her stare burning into your temple. She doesn’t say it but you can feel the beginning of an i told you so building in her throat.
“Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” She plays clueless but her grin gives her away. She links an arm through yours.
“Don’t say anything.” You say with a scowl, the two of you beginning to stroll down the stairs out the front. The crispness of the night makes you tug her a little closer. “I still don’t like him.”
Fact #3: Steve Harrington still likes to flirt.
In the beginning, the compliments are because Steve really wants you to like him.
He sees more of you with the change of shifts and perhaps, he gleefully thinks, you aren’t completely avoiding him anymore. You’ll come to see Robin in store even if he’s working as well and inadvertently, conversations spring up between the two of you.
The first time he tries to slip in a compliment casually, he’s not entirely sure what reaction he gets. On this day you’re waiting for Robin to finish out back, packing up some of the schoolwork she’d done in the backroom, and to Steve’s delight, you’ve opted to wait up by the counter with him.
You’ve already exchanged an awkward couple hello’s and now silence falls between you. Steve clears his throat and tries to earn his not a douchebag star.
“Did you get a haircut?”
You blink. Without thought, you bring up your hand and run it over the silky strands — cut fresh from yesterday. Surprise sprouts in your chest at the fact he noticed.
“Yeah,” you nod, tucking it behind your ears. “I did.”
“It looks good.” He compliments, pairing it with a genuine smile. “It like,” he gestures with a hand, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Frames your face better. You look nice.”
For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and the simple act of a compliment from an attractive guy makes your lips twitch into a smile. Robin bundles out of the back room before you remember to say something snarky, like What and my hair looked bad before?
Instead, it hangs in the air and when you leave behind Robin, you really consider smiling over your shoulder at him.
But it ruminates; the compliment loops in your mind until your insecurity unstitches it and it warps into something else entirely. His motivation is the question on your mind.
In what world does Steve Harrington flirt with you?
It has to be a joke. He must be making fun of you because that’s exactly what Steve used to do and if he’s not, that means he has changed and you’re suddenly worthy of his attention.
You recall the locker-room talk, his jeering tone and everything about his compliment turns sour.
Somehow, Steve’s worried he’s managed to make it worse.
His compliments dropped here and there — commenting on film choice, saying he likes your sweaters, all it seems to earn him is scowls. Your scrunched nose and heated glare from your distaste either means he’s worse at flirting than he remembers or it’s a painful reminder that still you see him as King Steve.
He’s not — he knows he is not. King Steve wouldn’t have bothered looking at the film you’d picked out, his comment would’ve been on your body not on the clothes you choose, and he certainly wouldn’t have noticed something as trivial as a haircut.
And because Steve is nothing if not a whinger, he tells all this to Dustin when the kid comes in to visit.
“I mean, I know I was bad but,” Steve cut himself off with a scoff, following Dustin through the aisles. Dustin didn’t even look as though he was listening, eyes trained on the shelves intently. “I apologised for not remembering her, like, an actual genuine apology— and that was years ago! I don’t get why she doesn’t like me, man.”
Dustin, who had indeed been listening to the rant of his older friend, promptly stopped and plucked a film off the shelf with a quiet aha!
“Are you even listening to me, Henderson?”
“Yes, Steve.” Dustin spun, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Steve intensely enough to unnerve him. “From what I’ve heard, you were pretty damn bad so I’m not surprised some people hold a grudge!”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you didn’t remember her. Maybe you did something rude in high school and completely forgot about it?”
Steve waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head in disagreement. Without noticing, you had slipped in the store up front, usual conversation struck up with Robin. However, you’d been quickly distracted as you searched the store for Robin’s other half and were baffled to find him following around a child.
“Looking for Steve?” Robin jibed when she noticed your gaze wandering across the store, your attention going with it.
You ignored the jab, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “He wishes. Is he talking to a kid?”
“Who Dustin? Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Robin warned with a roll of her own eyes, shuffling about some stock room records in her hands. “He’s like Steve’s best friend. He was, uh, in the mall fire with us last year.”
The mall fire. Robin doesn’t talk about it at all, a hollow expression taking over her features that freaks you out far too much to push it. Pushing past your surprise, you decide to focus on the other part of her sentence.
“They’re friends?”
As if to prove your point, the two of them head to the front of the store in the middle of a bicker — Steve lags behind a bit, hands waving dramatically as Dustin calls over his shoulder, tone righteous and just a tad smug.
You catch the end of Dustin’s sentence— “Not every girl has to swoon over you, Steve, you know that right? So what if she doesn’t—” cut off when Steve shoves his shoulder, having spotted you.
Dustin looks as though he experiences a ripple of emotions; annoyance, as he whips around, ready to cuss Steve out for the shove, which quickly turns to confusion at the wide-eyed look Steve is staring down at him with. By the time he’s facing you something has clicked as he looks at you with renewed interest.
“Dustin.” He introduces, stepping forward with one hand held out for you to shake. “Dustin Henderson.”
Unwittingly, you peer over his shoulder and connect eyes with Steve — who gives a shrug in response, an awkward smile on his face. Taking Dustin’s smaller hand in your own, you smile and introduce yourself, unable to keep the hint of confusion out of your words.
“I’m Steve’s best friend.” The curly-headed boy explains, gesturing over his shoulder and Steve’s smile gets a little more awkward. He feels a smidge nervous considering there’s no telling what will fall out of Henderson’s mouth next. Steve’s a little relieved when it’s a typical plea for a ride, spinning back round to him.
“Andddd as my best friend, he’ll be totally happy to drive me to the Byers’ right now. Robin can handle the store for 10 minutes without you, can’t ya Robin?”
He slides the tape he’s grabbed onto the counter as he says it, a silent ask to check it out. Likely under Steve’s account which Dustin says it’s for the employee discount — which makes Steve scoff, considering he pays for it anyways.
All eyes move to Robin who freezes at the sudden attention, papers paused mid-shuffle in her twitchy hands. She narrows her eyes at Dustin and you find yourself watching Steve as he has a silent exchange with the girl — another halfhearted shrug that means he’s happy to take him if she doesn’t mind.
Robin swipes the tape and types the details into the computer hastily, waving them both off. “Yeah, yeah. y/n can always get behind the counter, worst-case scenario.”
Dustin fist-pumps, taking the tape back from Robin as she hands it over. He heads to the door and calls out to you as he goes, “And you’d look better than Steve in the vest too!”
It makes you laugh when Steve scowls, sidling up to you to lean over the counter and snatch up his car keys. He pauses, eyes roaming your face and looking as though he wants to say something to you.
“Steve!” Dustin’s voice pierces the glass and you look to see him waiting on the top step, hands raised, expression unimpressed.
Steve sighs, muttering the word dickhead under his breath and then he’s out the door.
Fact #3: You may have misjudged Steve Harrington.
It’s been just over a week since seeing Dustin in the store with Steve and though you’d never admit it aloud, it has shifted the way you see Steve.
A minuscule shift, you huff to yourself, tiny and not enough to completely dissolve your built in dislike for the Harrington boy. But you find the thought worming into your brain frequently, tripping over it in surprise when you realise you’re thinking of him again.
It’s just… it didn’t make sense.
Just like the flirting, it didn’t compute in your brain unless you rationalized it back to some asshole motive.
But Dustin had introduced himself as Steve’s best-friend, which was sort of weird enough on its own but you figured it had to be some insane trauma bonding from the mall fire.
Even if they had been the same age, Dustin didn’t seem like the company you’d expect Steve to keep— but neither was Robin, you thought after a moment of contemplation.
Robin’s knowing grin outside Family Video a couple of weeks ago that screamed i told you so floats up in your memory; you might have to concede she was maybe, potentially, just a little bit right.
The thoughts weigh on your mind as you wait in the kitchen for Steve’s car to pull into your driveway. A couple months ago you would have outright refused to accept a ride from King Steve and you still weren’t sure if you thanked him for his generosity tonight, whether it would come out snarky or genuine.
But he did offer, unasked.
You and Robin wanted to see a rerun screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that was showing a few towns over. Robin couldn’t drive and neither could you, which meant when she’d seen the poster, it had only been a fleeting moment of excitement before you realised you didn’t have any means of travel.
She must have been moping about it at work that day because it was sometime in the evening after she got off work that your phone rang and she nearly shrieked down the line that Steve would take you both.
So, here you were; waiting for Steve to pick you up.
God, even the sentence sounded odd in your head. A flash of amber headlights on the street grabs your attention and before you can delve into the flip of your stomach, you duck out of the house and slip into Steve’s car.
You take the front seat. Mainly because it would be too weird to get in the back, as though he was your chauffeur — though you suppose for tonight, he is. Steve smiles when you get in and you find it easy to mimic it. Gravel crunches as his tires pull away from the curb, gathering speed as he heads for Robin’s house.
Eyes out the window, you don’t see how he steals glances at you every couple of moments. The air feels tinged with awkwardness and Steve swallows, wondering if he’s allowed to break it. You’ve been a little warmer to him — I mean, hell, you just offered him a smile.
As he pulls the car up in front of Robin’s house, engine idling, he pushes out a breath and dredges up his courage.
Yes, in the beginning, the compliments were because he wanted you to not see him and scowl. Tonight, it’s because you look beautiful and he wants you to know it.
“You look—” Oh god, and now you’re looking at him, eyes a little wide before they narrow in suspicion. “—uh, pretty.”
“What?”
“I mean, you always look pretty!” He amends. “But, y’know, you look lovely tonight. Pretty.” Stop talking.
“P-Pretty lovely.” It falls off his tongue in haste, delivered so terribly he’s surprised he doesn’t cringe immediately after. God, it was like whatever flirting skills he had flew out the window with you.
“No, Harrington, I mean— why do you keep saying these things?”
Steve feels utterly lost, shown on his face as he blinks, once, twice, and doesn’t say anything. Your insecurity bubbles up, mixed with anger at the thought he might indeed be messing with you.
“I don’t know if this is funny to you, to- to like, joke that you like my clothes or- or to pretend to think that I’m pretty but it’s not. And I—”
“Woah, wait — who said I was joking?” Incredulity taints each word, his brows pulled high in surprise. Steve’s stomach twists, feeling his heart recoil at the complete seriousness in your words — you think he’s been making fun of you.
“Well, why else would you call me pretty?” You ask pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Because you are?” It’s faint, Steve’s voice suddenly a lot softer.
You’re not sure you can contain the ripple of emotions on your face, his words sticking you in the throat so you have to swallow thickly. It’s like a switch is flipped, each compliment of the last couple of weeks shifting into a new meaning in your mind.
It’s overwhelming and you find yourself searching Steve’s face desperately, drinking in his sincere expression, brows drawn together as he offers a weak smile. Fuck, you think and along with it, dozens of apologies fester and churn — god, you’d been so rude and—
“Um, backseat please!” A sharp knock at your window scares you, nearly jumping out of your skin and breaking your focus on Steve. When you turn, Robin’s standing on the sidewalk, bent at the waist to peer at you through the glass. You stare at her dumbly for a moment til she wiggles her eyebrows with a grin and it makes you crack a smile, finally reeling yourself in enough to move.
Unclipping your belt, you’re rather thankful to be shoved to the back of the car. Hidden in the dark, you shift to take the seat behind Steve. Your eyes spy a sliver of his neck, exposed skin about the collar of his jacket and it fixates you for a moment.
Because you are? Steve’s words follow you, plaguing you in the shadows of the backseat — you purposefully ignore how it makes your heart sing ever-so-slightly.
Fact #4: Bradley O’Connor is not to be trusted.
“Guess who came into my work today?”
It’s said all gleeful, your hands gripping the counter as you nearly launch yourself over it in your excitement. On the other side stands Robin, doodling in her notebook — or she had been, til your arrival had been announced by the door chime, her ‘Welcome to Family Video!’ cut off by your sudden commotion.
“Um,” Robin begins indignantly, brows raised high. “Half of Hawkins? You work at Bradley’s Best Buy y/n, like the whole town shops there.”
Her sarcasm bounces off you, undeterred in your good mood; it was like the sun was shining just for you today. You didn’t even mind Steve obviously listening in on you two, his hands frozen above the keyboard as he eavesdropped from his seat at the computer.
“Yeah, speaking of Bradley’s...” you grinned at Robin, hoping your hint was enough. It was, her expression shifting into something more enthusiastic.
“Bradley Bradley?”
You nod at her question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to contain your giddy grin. But it’s hard when your long-term high school crush Bradley O’Connor came through your till, flirted like there was no tomorrow, and insisted you jot your number on his receipt.
He didn’t even seem to care that you worked at a supermarket. You knew well that he and all his friends lived in the cushy tax bracket which meant the first job they ever worked would be after college. Kids like you and Robin, stuck working hours in dead-end jobs to help pay rent, were often easy pickings for teasing.
It just made you lean into your naive feelings more, swooning at the fact he didn’t care. You had been too elated in your feelings to notice the piles of his friends waiting outside the store; if you had, it might’ve made you more cautionary.
“Bradley O’Connor?” Steve butts in, swiveling in his chair to question you. The way Steve says his name, tinged in disbelief, makes you narrow your eyes.
“Is that so hard to believe?” You say defensively and chose to not acknowledge Robin’s deep sigh. Eyes widening, Steve splutters for a moment as he shakes his head.
“What? No, not like that! I just mean—him? Really?”
You can’t quite pick what’s hiding in his voice, eyes instead following Robin as she whirls around and delivers a glower that makes Steve reconsider his tone, swallowing.
“I mean—” He starts again, clearing his throat, cheeks a titch pink now. “I didn’t realise he was... your type.”
You stare at Steve, your expression skeptical as you try to pull apart whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. When you can’t figure it out in a moment, you ignore the comment and turn back to Robin and ignore it.
“Asked for my number.” You lean closer to Robin, wiggling your brows as you lead her along the excitement you’d felt earlier today. “Insisted on it actually.”
Robin’s brows manage to raise even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline and you’d be a bit offended if her grin didn’t match your own.
“Oh. My. God.” She says, her pen punching down on the pages of her notebook to punctuate each word. “Oh my god.”
You don’t bother trying to hold back your grin, nodding along, some form of a squeal escaping you — it vaguely occurs to you should rein it in with Steve listening in, but you can’t find it in yourself to curb your feelings for his sake.
“Finally!” Robin manages to break her script of oh my god’s. “You’ve only liked him for—what? Two years?”
You flush automatically at the admission, your grin becoming a grimace as you shoot a glare at your best friend. She means well, but you’re not exactly lining up to let Steve Harrington in on all your secrets.
Your eyes flit over to where he sits, still watching the conversation. As if he can read your unease, he mimes turning a lock over his lips and tosses the key behind him blindly in an exaggerated motion. You’re in a good enough mood that it makes you laugh lightly, breaking back into a smile and comforted that at the very least, Steve won’t go ratting out your affections.
“Hey, as happy as I am for you, aren’t you supposed to be helping your Mom today?”
Like a bubble bursting, Robin reminds you that, alas, the world exists outside the perfect moment of exchanging digits over the cash register at work. Your eyes widen, a little horrified as you spin around and squint at the clock on the wall. Shit.
“Shit.” You verbalize the thought and you’re out the door before you remember to call out your goodbyes.
Steve watches you go, your purple wind-breaker flapping behind you wildly as you all but sprint around the corner and out of sight. It’s a bit too comical and he can’t help but chuckle. The sound draws Robin’s attention and all too suddenly, Steve feels as though he’s been caught doing something wrong as she whirls around to face him.
For a moment, they just stare at each other. Steve wonders if he’ll have to remind her that despite the jokes they both make, he can’t actually read her mind.
She breaks the silence. “What was that?”
“What was what?” It’s genuine confusion, Steve’s head tilting to the right an inch.
“I didn’t realise he was your type.” Robin mocks, her voice high pitch and hands gesturing somehow sarcastically. “That! What was that?”
Steve frowns, defensiveness creeping up in his tone. “That was nothing!”
Okay, so, that sounded way less casual than he hoped. Steve clears his throat, spinning on his seat to face the computer again. It was nothing. Robin was being a vulture, picking at remains, picking at nothing — absolutely nothing.
“Nothing at all.” He mutters, beginning to type again and Robin snorts behind him, voice still doused in sarcasm.
“Mm, for my own sake, I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re clearly interested in her.”
Steve hits a wrong key in his surprise, an annoyed beep! coming from the computer. It sums up how he’s feeling. He turns his head back to Robin, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “What? No, no way.”
“Yes, way.”
“Robin, no. Even if I did—not that I do but even if I— look, I’m not stupid enough to get a crush on someone who hates me.”
This puts out the fiery retorts for just a moment, Robin dimming as she recalls the bitterness you harbor for Steve. Well, harbored — she knows you back to front and she’s willing to bet money that if you stopped hating him for just a second, you’d probably like the guy.
“She doesn’t know you.” She lands on eventually, features softening as she recalls the bitterness on Steve’s face whenever some idiot from high school dragged up his past — usually, in an attempt to humiliate him.
“Look, I’m not interested in her.” Steve reiterates, though a little weak, waving his hands wildly as if it will help drive the point home. “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. “
The door rattles as it’s opened by a new customer. Robin and Steve both cease their conversation immediately, turning to greet automatically — and who should it be Bradley O’Connor, himself. He doesn’t spare a glance at the front counter, sauntering straight into the action movie aisle.
“In fact,” Steve begins, an idea formulating in his mind. He spins back to Robin with a grin. “I’ll happily help her get her next date.”
“Steve, don’t—“
Steve ignores her protest, sidling out from behind the counter and tracking Bradley down to where the rom-com section starts.
“Welcome to Family Video!” It’s a bit cheery and it makes the boy jump in surprise, surprised by the new voice. Steve continues. “Anything I can help you with today?”
Bradley chuckles stiffly, a little affronted at the enthusiasm Steve’s to help a customer. He clocks the double take he does, the glance down at Steve’s name badge giving away that Bradley’s well aware of who he is. Exhaling, Steve hopes he won’t bring it up.
It looks as though Bradley weighs something up in his head, taking another once over at Steve before he speaks. “Yeah, actually. You know what movies chicks dig?”
Steve can tell in the way Bradley says the word chicks that he’s an asshole. Not thinking of girls as people, more like scores: notches in his belt. It makes him tick, jaw clenching.
But he was like that once. Nancy Wheeler had found a genuine spot in him and coaxed it out. You — you could do the same.
So, Steve says, “Yeah, man. Anyone in particular? Usually depends on the girl, honestly.”
Bradley sniffs, one hand nudging under his nose as he skirts his gaze around the store. He lands on Robin, who thankfully, doesn’t look like she’s trying to eavesdrop at that exact moment.
“Do ya know y/l/n?” He jerks his chin in the direction of Robin. “Buckley’s friend?”
Steve nods, glad at the easy segue; now, all he had to do was talk you up. And Steve Harrington was nothing if not a flatterer. He halts a moment later with a frown, realising what a noncommittal date it was. You deserved better than that, Steve thought.
“y/n? You can’t just rent out a film for a girl like that. She’s a total catch, dude— you gotta do the whole nine yards, yanno? Cinema, popcorn, be a gentleman and all.”
He pairs his suggestion with a usual charming smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Bradley seems to pick up on the extra interest and his brows quirk up.
“You got like, a thing for her or something?”
His pink cheeks nearly give him away. Steve, to his credit, manages to not blunder his next response. It’s almost like Robin’s line of fire earlier prepped him for this moment.
“Nah,” he replies, coolly. “She’s just a friend.”
The next words are a little less casual, Steve straightening up as a surprising amount of protectiveness curls in his gut. “And as her friend, I’m just looking out for her.”
Bradley swallows, breaking eye-contact as if Steve could puzzle out his ill intentions if he looked long enough.
“So, be nice and take her out all proper.” Steve lets it sit in the air for a moment, then smiles, a polite way that’s well practiced in his line of work. “Can I get anything else for you?”
It might be the quickest customer Robin’s ever checked out, with Bradley managing to get the film rented and be out the door in under 2 minutes.
Thankfully, Robin is chuckling when he wanders back behind the counter. He had been harboring a thread of anxiety, worried he had really overstepped by thinking he knew best — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. On top of that, Steve really doesn’t want this to bite him in the ass, especially considering it was to help you.
“Don’t—” Robin starts, a smile curling her lips. “—let this go to your head, but that wasn’t nearly half bad.”
Steve tries not to feel smug, settling instead on pleasantly content. He was in your good books after this, for sure.
When you call the store from home, wire twisted in your fingers and talking loud enough in your excitement that Steve could hear it from beside Robin, she makes sure to mention the good word he put in for you.
Fact #5: If you call Steve Harrington from a pay-phone on a Friday night, he’ll pick up.
The bleak cold of the night air isn’t anything compared to the shame that’s building in your chest. You’re trying your best to ignore it, to not give in to your anxious doubts — what did Bradley say on the phone?
It was supposed to be a movie night at his place — that was what he’d suggested when he toyed with your feelings at work, a handsome smirk on his face. You’d tried not to sound disgruntled at the hurried change in plans, instead trying to lean into your excitement that tonight went from casual to a definite date.
Bradley O’Connor didn’t just invite anyone to the movies with him. And he’d said 7 on the phone, you huffed to yourself.
7 o’clock. The showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that was playing at Hawk cinema. Though, he did sound a bit distracted on the phone, his voice sounding distant.
You glance at the clock above the ticket booth. 7.13pm.
Heaving a sigh, you tuck your coat closer around yourself and wonder how long you should wait before it goes from sad to truly pathetic.
Five more minutes, you think, Give him five more minutes.
Because you hopelessly want his flirts, his coy smile, and charming winks to be real; you want to be swept up in a teenage daydream and have it all work out for you for once.
You swallow, picking at your fingers as you dredge up your hopes, convincing yourself he’s coming — because if he doesn’t...it means Steve and his confused tone were fucking right. That Bradley wasn’t the type to go for your type.
You shouldn’t have waited the five extra minutes.
Technically, you think bitterly, you were right. Bradley does show up.
You’re stepping out, wondering if you should brave the walk home in the dark — but a familiar group of raucous boys in Letterman jackets heading for the cinema freeze you in your tracks.
“Holy shit, she actually came.”
It’s not said kind, not in awed disbelief as you’d hoped. It’s cruel — jeering explodes in the group of boys, unkind laughs and snickers resounding off the bricks as they smack each other, all in on the joke. The realisation sinks into your stomach, staining it black.
Bradley looks smugly satisfied — a pompous conceited piece of shit that you should’ve known better than to believe.
You don’t even want to look at him, a hot sting of tears burning behind your eyes. You don’t want to give him a chance to taunt you. Your feet take you forward, barging through the group and smacking your shoulder against Bradley’s shoulder, hard. You hope it hurts.
“Tell Harrington thanks for the suggestion to take you to the movies!” He calls after you like he knows how it rubs salt into the wound. It does; it stings maybe more than the initial humiliation. “Guess he’s not an idiot all of the time!”
The boys laugh, a series of oohs that finally break your floodgate. Tears streak, hot and fast, and you brush them off before they reach your chin, sniffling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The humiliation is coating you, sticky and clinging like a fog and you squeeze your eyes closed as you inhale quickly. You round the corner fast, feet not stopping til you’re at least four blocks from the cinema, further downtown.
You feel dumb. Scratch that, you feel like a fucking idiot.
A stray tear escapes without permission and the next thought is that you want to go home. Blurry eyes scanning the street, you clock the phone booth and head for it, fueled by the urgency of your thoughts: get home, then fall apart.
The glass is cold as you push the door open, creaking and weathered. You close the door and turn, staring at the phone. Who do you call?
Your mom is the first thought. She’d driven you in — though, you’d told her you’d get a lift home with Bradley since he had a car. You’re not up for the coddling you’ll get when she sees the state of you in the slightest. Besides, she’d mentioned heading to a friends for the evening.
Robin is the next thought. And you would, except she can’t drive so all she’d do is ply you with a combination of questions and furious insults directed at Bradley.
Your next thought...No.
You sigh, leaning your head against the glass, not caring about how grimy it might be, and smack your head against it a couple of times. No, no way were you about to call Steve Harrington for a lift.
Not when he fucking set you up. Not when he’d just taken the shred of trust you’d granted him and torn it up immediately. Especially not after crying because you believed a date like that with a guy like Bradley O’Connor was genuine.
You were not calling Steve.
The Harrington household number is easy to find in the paper phone book.
It’s under Steve’s father’s name, some prick with big money who’d likely report you to the police for harassment if he picked up the phone. You stare at it and then at the phone, a frown set on your brow as you weigh it up.
Steve didn’t work Friday night — you know, because it used to be a night to go visit Robin, back when you avoided Steve.
A stray thought floats up, bringing back the words of Robin on the phone as she had celebrated the news. It’s a bitter memory now, made entirely worse as you recall what she had said. Steve talked you up, her voice crackled down the wire, when O’Connor came in. Put in a good word for you.
A new emotion surges in your chest and you’re relieved to shrug off some humiliation for anger. God, you feel even more stupid for thinking Steve would’ve actually talked you up.
As you punch in the number, the keypad taking a bit of a beating, you huff and think at the very least, he can owe you a ride for ruining your evening.
“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”
“Harrington.” You spit it out with venom. On the other side of the phone, Steve recoils a bit, surprised at the tone.
“y/n? I thought you were—”
“I’m on Cavendish Boulevard, right by Tony’s. Come pick me up.” It’s fierce and clipped. You don’t really want to unleash your anger on the phone, lest he leaves you stranded and you have to ring around your mother’s friends just to find her. You just want to go home.
Steve makes a noise of confusion over the phone, a bit slow on the uptake. “But I thought tonight was—”
“Harrington.” you say again, a little softer, your emotions leaking into your voice involuntarily. Fuck, you sound pathetic but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care. You plead, “Please.”
“I’m coming,” He says, voice indicating he’s caught on to why you might be calling. “Yeah, I’m coming, just sit tight.”
Fact #6: When Steve Harrington says he ‘knows a spot’, he doesn’t always mean Skull Rock.
You’re angry.
That much Steve can tell. Steve’s reminded too much of the last ride he gave you when you pop the door, sliding almost uncomfortably into the passenger seat and turning your clenched jaw towards the window.
Unrest torments Steve’s head, unsure if he’s gained enough trust to ask what went wrong this evening. On the other hand, you had called him. At the very least, you trusted him to come and get you.
The tires groan as he drives out of Tony’s parking lot, the hood of the car dipping to the gutter and rolling out onto the quiet roads.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Steve drives slow so his eyes can flick over to you, watching the way you smooth your hands down your thighs, a self-soothing motion. It makes his chest twinge, a tad more worry than he’s probably warranted to considering you are barely friends. If that.
“Depends.” you finally turn to face him, a pinch in your eyebrows. “What did you say to Bradley?”
Steve detects the cynicism of your question in a heartbeat. Even though he knows he was all charm, Robin even affirmed it, he still rehashes the conversation, scrutinizing it for what he had said wrong.
You take his silence as admittance. Scoffing lightly, you focus back out the window, eyes boring into the streets. You’re in the middle of a mutter, something like I was so right about you when Steve manages to find his voice.
“I—” Shyness has crept up inside, Steve suddenly worried you’ll find his comments odd and not endearing. Worse, you’ll think he’s being in-genuine again. You’re just quiet, waiting. “I told him that he should take you to the cinema, instead of just renting a film. That you deserved a better— a proper date.”
He shoots a look in your direction, trying to see how you take in the words. Your shoulders have bunched up stiffly, your body turning further away but he can still see the furrow in your brow, angry emotions emitting out in every direction from you — you don’t believe him.
“I swear,” He continues, more desperate to prove himself. “I said something about— that you were a catch and- and you can ask Robin, I swear to—”
“Steve, stop.”
Horror churns through his gut when Steve realises you’re crying, soft tears dripping off your cheeks. As if you can sense he’s about to talk again, ready to rattle off his insistence, you speak before him.
“If I believe you,” you inhale shakily, pushing your palms into your eyes hard. You don’t want to cry in front of Steve. “If you’re telling the truth, then that means...”
Your teeth chew on your lip, hiding its quiver as you relive the humiliation of earlier all over again. “It means, I was actually stupid enough to believe him.”
Painfully, Steve can feel the embarrassment rolling off you in waves as you bury your face away. He swears under his breath. He’d detected asshole from Bradley two words in but this? This was not even in the ballpark of what he’d considered happening tonight. How fucking childish to ask someone out as a joke.
You seem to be slipping into a ramble, uncaring that you’re pouring your feelings out to Steve — Steve who you hate, or at least you did. Steve who you were ready to verbally pummel a minute ago. Steve who is looking at you so gingerly that you might consider he actually cares about you.
“He- all his friends were there.” You admit, words wobbling and tone revealing your utter mortification. “It was just a big fucking joke.”
For a minute, the car is silent; you stare at the road and watch it get swallowed beneath the car.
“I’m— I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve starts again, feeling like he’s managed to take one step forward and fifteen backward with you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I had no idea he would do that, I swear, I wouldn’t have—“
He cuts himself off, apparently out of words to say, or taking your silence as a cue to shut up. His apology sits in the silence and you know now, he means it. Bradley’s smugness compared to Steve’s sincerity leaves no contest; you’d been too in your own head to realise you’d muddled them up.
You’re faintly aware that Steve has been driving absently, guzzling up gas so you can have a moment suspended away from reality. But he seems to grip the wheel tighter, with more purpose, and instead of looping the block again, Steve picks a route.
You wipe under your eyes again, sniffling through your clogged throat. “Where are we going?”
Steve adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, throwing a glance at you.
“Where I go when I’m upset.”
A snarky retort rises in your mind on instinct, the hurt part that wants to lash out, make someone hurt like you’re hurting. You think about saying something like what does rich, popular Steve Harrington get upset about? when he says, “Helped me a lot after the, uh, the mall fire.”
You swallow the words on your tongue and guilt stains your throat.
It’s a short drive; Steve drives so comfortably that you question how many times he’s traced this route. Too plagued by horrid memories, forced into his car and driving until he’s tired enough to sleep without nightmares.
You can’t say you’re expecting the stretch of road that crawls out to Skull Rock. For a moment you regard him, wondering if he’s daft enough to try to get lucky right now. But the car veers off track, driving down a less traveled path.
He doesn’t stop til you’re surrounded by timber trunks — there’s not much room to open your door when Steve puts the car into park.
Normally, you make a witty comment — “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right? I can’t see how that would make me feel any better.” — but you bite your tongue. You feel too downbeat to be witty now.
Steve rounds the car and pops the trunk, leaning over it with one hand still gripping the top. He rummages for a moment, moving junk around til he pulls out a couple of items: a baseball bat, some bag that clinks noisily, and a few other items, stuffed quickly into the bag. He tucks the baseball bat under his arm.
“C’mon,” he murmurs and waves you to follow him, after shutting the trunk and locking the car. Again, you’re eerily aware that this route is well-familiar to Steve. You stumble to keep up, eyes on your feet so you don’t get a face full of dirt.
Eventually, the trees give way to a clearing littered with various junk, glittering broken glass all around making Steve tell you to watch where you step.
He makes his way towards a rotten tree trump in the centre of the clearing, poorly cut and barely a flat surface on it. Still, Steve digs around in the bag and fishes out an empty beer bottle. You think you can guess where he’s going with this.
Carefully, he manages to balance it on a slanted surface and as expected, he draws the bat out from under his arm and offers it to you.
The wood is warm from being pressed against his side and you curl your fingers around it, sapping it into your hands. He digs around in the bag for another moment, revealing a pair of safety glasses — damn, he’s really prepared.
Steve unfolds them and steps closer, offering them out to you — but you don’t remove your hands from the bat, instead jutting out your chin to indicate for him to put them on for you.
It makes him pause. Steve regards you for a moment, eyes unsure before he steps even closer.
It steals your breath, the intensity of his gaze as he pushes the glasses up your nose, his fingers tracing along the rims and down the arms of the glasses, tucking any stray hair behind your ears. It’s oddly intimate, watching him through the plastic, his expression focused, breath fanning over your face. He looks handsome — the shadows cutting his jawline nicely and you can smell his cologne when he’s this close.
When he steps back, you have to remind yourself to breathe — the scent of him still swirls in your chest.
Even though you know what he’s brought you here for — the bottle, the bat, the open junkyard already doused in broken litter — you still don’t make a move.
Steve gestures to the bottle. “Hit it. Hard as you can.”
It’s a soft instruction; you know if you wanted, you could turn around and he’d drive you all the way home, no questions asked. But then you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrows, wallowing in a pint of ice-cream and sniffling over the phone to Robin.
You turn to face the bottle, lifting the bat, and readying your grip.
Holy shit, she actually came.
The bat connects fast with the bottle, a loud crash pistoling off and filling the clearing — the brown glass dissolves into the night, pieces are thrown in every direction and you’re suddenly very grateful for the safety glasses.
You heave in a breath, surprised by how that felt. It’s thrilling. You whip around to look at Steve and choke on a laugh at what you see — he’s put on a ridiculous pair of sunglasses.
They’re not at all the usual stylish ones he’s worn to parties before. It’s likely didn’t want that pair damaged but still needed to protect his eyes. Instead, these pair look like women’s sunglasses, with big wide round frames. It’s a bizarre sight, Steve Harrington is women’s sunglasses, at night-time no less.
“Nice glasses.” The tease falls off your lips instinctively, a laugh contained in the words.
Back to poking fun at him — a definite sign you’re feeling better. He sighs, playing it up, popping his hip, and planting his hands on his sides.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. “Be thankful I gave you the cool ones. Normally, it’s just me up here anyways.”
It’s somewhat of a lie. He’d bought two pairs of the safety glasses, one for Robin as well, but she hadn’t liked the loud noises of broken glass when he brought her with him.
But Steve thought the stupid oversized glasses his mom had tried to dump — he was going to offer them to Robin but it had slipped his mind — would be a better choice. You wouldn’t be thinking about fucking O’Connor if he’s in women’s sunglasses.
It’s surprisingly effective; a giggle titters out of you again and you cover your mouth as if it’ll help hide the sound. You’re a bit bewildered at how easy it feels to laugh so soon.
Steve pushes the glasses up onto the top of his head, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he narrows his eyes at you. His smile gives him away. He bends and roots through the bag, finding another bottle for you to smash. The sunnies slip back down to cover his eyes as he sets up the next one.
It wobbles precariously on the stump but you don’t wait for it to settle, baseball bat swinging and shattering it in a second.
“Fuck!” You scream and the curse is swallowed up in the splintering sound of glass. Steve whoops, looking almost like a suburban mom, cheering from the sidelines. The scream helped — hell, swinging with all your might and channeling your rage into demolishing a bottle was definitely helping. You don’t feel upset, you feel enraged.
The stump isn’t empty for long, Steve dutifully scoops up another bottle and places it out for you. He pauses, sunglasses back in his hair, and points at the bottle as he fixes you with a determined look.
“This one’s O’Connor.”
You meet his eyes, his brows knitted together and an expression that says he wants you to destroy it because he’s angry with you — angry for you. He steps back.
When you hit it, an earsplitting crack thunders out. The bottle fractures, fragments careening off in every direction. A wild grin sweeps across your face, knowing that whatever comes at school next week— whether Bradley went back to ignoring your existence or used tonight as fuel for taunting — you could just picture how you felt as you shattered that bottle.
“That felt good.” You breathe out, turning back to Steve. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, sinking in to stop from grinning like a lunatic. A delirious laugh wrestles itself out of your chest and you let your head drop back, eyes turning up at the inky sky, laughs petering out.
Steve tries to ignore how the sound lights up his chest like a Christmas tree, some part of him burning with glee with the knowledge you’re feeling better because of something he did.
He watches your gaze rove across the sky, searching for something he doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he should dig out the next bottle or whether this was it — that now, he’d take you home now and he’d be back to just a brief hint of a smile from you if that.
Head dropping forward, you offer back the baseball bat and Steve’s heart sinks.
Reining in his dejection so it doesn’t show, Steve takes it from you and pulls a polite smile; at the very least, he’ll get some credit with Robin for cheering up her best friend.
As he moves to tuck it under his arm, he freezes at your own motions. You’re bending down, rummaging through the bag, and scoring a bottle — this time, a big champagne bottle, left on the bench from the last time his parents had been home. Four? No, five days ago.
You plant it on the stump, hands hovering around it as it quivers for a moment, only dropping them when the bottle finally settles. You step back, look at him and Steve finally understands what you’re doing.
Surprise sprouts in his chest, his lips parting. You’re giving him a turn?
“Well?”
He’s been gawking a bit, he realises and Steve remembers to close his mouth. He shifts the bat out from under his arm and then pulls the sunglasses off his head. He offers them to you, with a nod.
“Swap. I’ll miss the bottle completely with these on.”
“But that’ll make me laugh.” You point out, tone cheeky as you pass them over regardless.
Steve slides them on, a dramatic eye-roll as he steps up to swing. He’s usually only here when his anger is feeling uncontrollable, like hot lava boiling over and burning him from the inside out. He’s calmer tonight, with no emotions running rampant — well, maybe not any bad ones at least.
He scrounges his brain to think of what’s annoyed him this week; Keith, as always. The champagne bottle on the stump, the only bitter evidence his parents had been home in the last week. The agonizing wobble in your voice as you’d cried in the passenger seat of his car.
There’s a familiar burn in his muscles when he swings, another bottle sacrificed to anger and destined to a life scattered in the dirt. You whoop loudly, just as he had, and Steve can understand why you’d laughed at the sight of him in those sunglasses. They’re huge and you look nearly bug-like, shiny round domes of black staring back at him.
“Nice glasses.” He grins cheekily, a copy of your own words. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know you’re rolling them at him.
The bat and safety glasses get passed between you two, equal turns until the bottles run out. Steve’s only sorry he didn’t bring more, drinking in the giddy and wild grin that overcomes your face when another bottle meets its fate.
When you pack it in and stumble back to his car, Steve revels in the closeness you seemed to have gained. No longer three steps behind, your shoulders brush his on the walk and when you stumble over a root, your hand shoots out and grips his arm, steadying yourself. You hold it for a moment longer than you should.
The skin of your hand still tingles as you slide into the passenger seat. The air of the car is more comfortable now, cozy even, as Steve cranks the heat and the trees pass you in a blur as you drive out. Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart is warbling on the radio, the volume turned low and you can’t help but stare at him.
You were so wrong about him.
You were so astronomically wrong about him; it’s the only thing you can think of as you drive home, amber streetlights illuminating the streets of Hawkins. The clock on the dash reads 9.57pm — meaning you’ve been with Steve for nearly two hours. The fact nearly draws an awed sort of laugh, but you press it down til it’s only a smile, hidden as you turn back to the window.
He drops you off by 10.14pm, insisting on buying you a milkshake to complete the night.
Honest, I get one after every time I smash shit. It’s hard work you just did! He’d said as he ordered. One chocolate shake for you, one vanilla, for him. You gotta, like, replace electrolytes and all. The fact you don’t think he’s said it to make you laugh, makes you laugh even harder.
The milkshakes sustain the silence on the final drive home and you quickly understand immediately the importance of the shake. After all the frustration, the sugar is near soothing as the cold sweet dances on your tongue.
The engine idles as Steve brings the car to a halt by the curb outside your house. You eye it, astonished by your reluctance to end the evening and you wonder if Steve can tell.
You don’t know if you want him to notice it or not; reading into your hesitancy feels like a whole new can of worms. The porch light is on, waiting for you.
Home. What you’ve been yearning for since 7.15pm this evening — finally, the roller-coaster of emotions has wrung you out and tiredness seeps into your bones. But you can’t leave without a goodbye. Not without telling Steve what tonight meant to you.
“Thank you.”
You don’t mean to murmur it, but it’s nearly a whisper as you take your eyes off the house to turn to Steve in the driver’s seat.
Steve somehow manages to soften more at the quiet words, an easy smile pulling on his lips. He nods. It means of course like you don’t even have to thank him for it. The car purrs beneath you, filling the silence with a quiet rumble.
You want to say it again, louder because it’s not just a thank-you — it’s thank you, I’m sorry, I was wrong about you, can we start over? I hated you for the longest time but do you ever think you could like me?
The last thought punches a breath out of you and it sets you in motion. You couldn’t be having those thoughts; not with the tension in the air, his closeness so enticing now you’ve tasted it once. You couldn’t be having those thoughts at all.
You’re on the sidewalk, about to close the door before you remember to squeak out a ‘goodnight!’. The walk to your door is short enough that you shouldn’t feel the cold of the night — besides, you’re too warm inside, emotions churning wildly to notice anyways.
It doesn’t help when you reach the porch and peek over your shoulder, the maroon BMW still waiting by the curb, amber headlights shining, for you to make it inside okay.
Fact #7: You’re way too wasted right now.
You’d started with vodka and that had been, what? An hour ago.
An hour ago when O’Connor had made his entrance with his buddies, stupid cheers erupted from the crowd of high schoolers that were stupid enough to worship the likes of him.
Or maybe, you’re the stupid one for hoping you wouldn’t see him tonight.
But if the open invite to Melody Carter’s house for a late-night Saturday party meant the likes of you and Robin could come, of fucking course O’Connor would be there.
You had been only planning on one more drink, the one you’d been pouring when O’Connor showed face, but his smirk across the room had you finishing it instantly. It burned as you swallowed it down, your hands already moving to pour more liquor into your cup.
Two more shots down of — what was it? The label tells you it’s tequila — and you’re thoroughly drunk. Which, honestly, might not be a great move considering the number of people at this party. There are a lot of people here.
What had started as a party for only the senior year had quickly snowballed, kids older and younger showing up. Hell, you were pretty sure you’d seen Aaron Bright pass through the front door, a boy two years out of high school.
Did that mean Steve was coming?
Oh-kay, that had to be the tequila speaking.
But once the thought is in your head, it spins out, unstoppable, careening and building up your hopes before you remember to crush them. You weren’t hanging out to see Steve; quite the opposite in fact.
The bottle-smashing adventure you’d shared with him had been just over a week ago and maybe your thoughts had strayed to him a couple of times. A couple of times might be putting it lightly.
You just— you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.
Without the shield of ‘Steve Harrington is a douchebag’ to give a reason for your scowls, you had to admit he was utterly charming.
You couldn’t tell if it was the shift in your own perception or if Steve really was this nice, each sentence flirty or teasing — either way, it meant you were as good as reduced to blundering through any interaction with him.
So, naturally, you’d resorted to avoiding Family Video instead, which, hey, might not have been your best idea.
Robin had tracked you down after you didn’t show up to two of her evening shifts to hang. Gossip flowed as you divulged her in your Friday night, the prank O’Connor had pulled, and the subsequent tears that had followed. With a guilty smile, you let Robin get wrapped up in her anger and forgive your absences — too distracted to even ask how you’d gotten home.
Technically, you hadn’t lied. You had just... omitted certain facts.
Besides, you were feeling confused enough about Steve all on your own. You had no doubt that adding Robin, the mutual best friend between you two, and her opinion would make it all the messier.
Or maybe she’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Something in your head whispers, the tequila burning a little fouler in your stomach. That you can’t have him. That she knows him and he would never want you.
For good measure, you chase down one more shot.
And that’s how Steve finds you — wasted out in the back garden of a party.
Robin had invited him, halfheartedly during one of their shifts. Honestly, a high school party had very little appeal to him — most parties had no appeal after the events that had transpired in the last couple of years.
But Robin had been a bit adamant as she realised he didn’t have a date lined up like he usually did. He’d winced as she connected the dots, counting on her fingers that it had been nearly two months since he’d used his weekend for social plans. That is, excluding hanging with Robin.
The fact he stopped going on dates round bout the same time you stopped completely ignoring him was completely unrelated. But Steve was glad Robin didn’t notice the coincidence, so she couldn’t grill him about it.
In fact, she was surprisingly mute over his sudden agreement when Robin purposefully mentioned you’d be there. Her twinkling eyes said she knew more than she’d let on.
And at first, it seemed like a colossal mistake to come.
Steve didn’t like alcohol like he used to. The last few years had birthed something in him that hated not being in control of his body, especially when dark corners seem to hold something more sinister, or the lights flickered.
Or maybe it was the fact he hasn’t really been to a party since Halloween ‘84. Steve shoves the memory of that night down, away.
He lasts two minutes in the crowded main room before he’s shouldering out, hoping the garden will provide some relief. It brings lungfuls of fresh air, the natural blanket of the night and you.
You’re fairly certain you came out here to fight the spinning in your head, desperate for fresh air but now, sprawled out on the cool grass, you’re completely distracted by staring up at the sky. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for, gazing into the stars.
A head pops into your vision, Steve’s hair flopping over as he peers down at you. “y/n?”
“Steve!”
Whatever he was expecting, it was not the unbridled glee in your voice. You squirm happily, like a slug in the rain, and if your slurring hadn’t given you away, it’s evidence of how drunk you are. It doesn’t matter that something in his head says she’s drunk, he still finds himself smiling.
“That’s me.” He scans the garden for Robin, assuming the two of you would be together. Concern laces his next words. “Why ya out here on the grass, sweetheart?”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s not sure what it is he’s said, but he’s never seen a reaction like this out of you before; your hands cover your face, giggles slipping loosely out as if you’re hiding a secret.
Sweetheart. You hide the flame in your face behind your hands. There’s nothing to be done for your giggles, loud and drunken, not stopping no matter how much you will yourself. The pet-name brands itself onto your heart, the heat of it racing under your skin.
Steve tries again. “Where’s Robin? I thought you two came together.”
“We did.” You remove your hands to reveal your wide-eyed expression as if just remembering the fact yourself. Man, that must have been ages ago. “She was talking to... to...”
“Vickie?” Steve supplies, with an amused smile.
“Yes!” You snap your fingers at him, expression showing a little bit of disbelief mixed with awe. It shows in your words. “How did you know that, Steve?”
Steve. Not Harrington. You’ve called him by his name twice and Steve’s a little embarrassed by how much he likes it. Likes the sound of his name in your mouth, on your lips.
He shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to get rid of the thought, mind stuck on your lips too long. Stay focused, Steve chides himself. Extending out a hand, he offers it to you with the intent to have both of you track down Robin.
Though, if you’d last seen her with Vickie, there’s a chance Robin would bite his head off for interrupting the two of them. Vickie, apparently, had a hard time believing the fact Steve and Robin’s relationship was entirely platonic in nature. Tracking her down at a party might not help.
He’s pulled out of the tangent of thoughts when you slap your hand into his — and tug.
Steve topples, immediately grateful for his lack of alcohol because, with any less coordination, you’d be squished beneath him. A hand plants on either side of your head, catching himself just above you. You grin, alcohol on your breath and Steve isn’t completely sure whether he’s imagining the pink on your cheeks.
“Uh,” Steve says, before scrambling off you hastily. He wasn’t sure if he could be so close to you without his face growing warm; or worse, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Though spying your amused expression, as if you’d known the closeness would make him blush, maybe Steve didn’t need to be worried.
“S’just,” you say, words a bit mumbled. “s’lay down on the grass. Y’know, look at the stars.”
You point up at the sky in case Steve didn’t understand. The grass is still cool under your back and your head isn’t spinning so much but you don’t really feel like moving. Something in you knows that your limbs will feel like cinder-blocks and movement will send your head back into a tizzy.
Without thinking, your push your lips into a pout and aim it at him. Steve flops down without argument.
“You didn’t tell me why you ended out here,” says Steve, wanting to keep you talking. He’s not entirely confident you won’t just fall asleep if the two of you lapse into silence.
You swing your neck, head lolling to the side to look at Steve. Eyes narrowed, it’s like you’re trying to see if he’s genuinely asking. Whatever you find in your search must satisfy you, because you speak, rolling your head back to peer upwards.
“O’Connor’s here.” You say, bitterness in your tone. “Then my head started spinnin’.”
Steve watches as you tilt your head back towards him, pulling a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “S’now I’m here.”
You’re not sure what convinces you to do what you do next.
Perhaps, it’s because Steve’s expression is tilting too close to pity and you don’t want it; or that you feel lonely enough that you’ll take touch whenever you can, brave enough with the alcohol in your blood to ask.
Or maybe, you just want an excuse to touch him.
“Gimme your hand.” With a gesture of your own, you hold your hand up like you might be asking for a high-five. It wavers, fingers quivering if he looked close enough. After a moment of confusion, Steve humours you.
You feel the callouses first, rough skin scratching against yours as Steve gingerly holds his hand out, letting your press your own against it. It’s warm, warmer than your own and you wish you could twist your fingers until they slotted in with his.
Don’t says a voice in your head, drowned out in the drunkenness. Don’t do this to yourself. Maybe, it’s the voice of reason. It seems you’re very good at building yourself up just to get torn back down.
Hand pressed to hand, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that; you want to touch him, so you ask, and he gives it to you. The alcohol makes it black and white.
You hated him. You did, but now it’s all garbled and wonky and different — and you don’t hate him at all. Not anymore. Every complication you had worked up, all the knots tied in your brain seem to dissolve; hand to hand, it’s easy to admit what you’d been denying to yourself.
“I used to hate you, y’know.”
Steve’s not sure if this will ever get easier to hear. That people he’s grown close to carry reminders, unshakeable memories, of an old ego that still haunts him.
He doesn’t know what to say. He knows you know he’s sorry, that he’s different now. So, he weakly says. “Used to?”
“Yeah.” A smile finds your lips, tugging them up slightly. Steve thinks he could marvel forever at how your lashes kiss in the corner when you smile. It’s aching. “Used to.”
“S’kinda hard to hate you,” you sigh, eyes turning skyward. “I should. You didn’t even remember me a couple months s’ago,”
Steve focuses on your hand against his to deter the twinge in his heart. Your hand is smaller than his and when he curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours. A breath bursts past your lips, loud enough he hears it.
“M’sorry.” he whispers, though he’s said it time and time again.
He doesn’t care; he’ll say it a thousand it times if you’ll keep looking at him like that. Features soft, so different to the glare he’s all but memorised — instead, your eyebrows drawn together like the sight of both your hands, palm to palm, might be the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Steve feels you push back against his fingers, a gentle pressure like you’re trying to hug him back.
“And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Even while drunk, you can’t look at him while you confess. If you look at him, then it’s real and logic will prevail and you’ll rein everything back in.
Looking at both of your hands, feeling the yearning spool in between your ribs — none of it matters. You like him so much that it feels woven into everything else; weaved into the noises of the party, the black of the night, the grass tickling the back of your legs.
You like him so much it makes you sick.
On second thought, that might be the alcohol.
Steve’s response, whatever it might be, vanishes when you rip your hand away and sit up suddenly — emptying to contents of your stomach into a lovely rosebush to your right. Disgusted with the sudden visual aid to what you had for dinner, you groan. The movement has sent your head spinning again, rotating out of the same orbit as Earth.
Steve’s palm soothes down your spine, rubbing warmth as he murmurs comfortingly.
“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, more to himself. “You’ll be feeling it in the mornin’.”
You groan again, eyes sliding shut and tumbling you into darkness.
Fact #8: You’re never drinking, ever again.
You’ll be feeling it in the morning. The last memory of last night curls up like smoke in your head and all you can think is Steve was fucking right.
The sheets feel scratchy as you release an agonised noise into your pillow, coiling in tighter. There’s a pounding in your head, bleeding out of your ears and eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so terrible in your life.
Eyes screwed shut tight, you move slowly and draw your head up. Sneaking a look, relief fizzes in your chest as the recognition of your sheets — you made it home, you’re in bed. Never mind that you can’t quite remember how you got here. A shuffle of your legs tells you, uncomfortably, you’re still in last night’s jeans.
What time is it? There’s sun coming through the gap in the curtains. Daytime. Some sleep-covered murmur escapes you, though even you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean.
Plopping your head back down, you search your memories. It’s an effort to push past your headache to put together the puzzle of last night. Visions of arriving at the party, of drink number one, and dancing with Robin are clear but sometime after O’Connor shows up they begin to get hazy.
You remember the cool grass. The moon. Steve. God, that’s right, he was there — what you might have said to him is anyone’s guess. Another grainy and fogged memory of puking in the bushes. The rest of the night is locked behind a tequila fueled paywall in your brain
Burrowing back into your sheets, the hangover takes priority and you only hope to sleep it off.
—
The next time you wake, the pounding in your head has shifted to the door.
You can’t have been asleep for more than an hour according to your alarm clock, blinking midday numbers back at you as you drag your head up. Thankfully, a large portion of your hangover has been cured with sleep — otherwise, the unending knocks on your door might be the end of you.
You struggle to speak, aware of your sandpaper throat but whatever gurgle you produce is good enough for whoever is on the other side of the door. Robin, judging by the intensity of their knocks.
Lo and behold, Robin bowls into the room once she hears signs of life.
“What did you say to Steve?”
Oh.
That has you sitting up, wincing at the pain it brings and you nurse your head in your hands. “What?” you rasp out. “Nothing!”
That might be a lie. You wince again, searching through you scrambled memories for what she could be referring to and come up short. Robin can read your genuine confusion.
“Why?” The word comes out a bit shot. You clear your throat. “Did he say something to you?”
“Nothing specific,” Robin grimaces a bit. She’s never been the best at hiding her emotions. “He just— he asked if you’d talked to me. Said he was checking if you were still alive. Which, yanno, thank god you are! He said you barfed in Melody’s mom’s rose bush, which quite frankly is hilarious and—“
“Robin.” you moan, trying to cut off her ramble. “Why are you here?”
Robin seems to remember the original reason she was nearly breaking down your door, body jumping like she’s been zapped. “Right!”
She suddenly seems to reconsider herself, ducking her head and beginning a well practiced pace across your carpet. “I know you said you don’t like him, which I get, I know- he was the worst! But I dunno, you seemed to, like, I don’t know? Warm up to him? I guess, he just seemed real bummed on the phone when I said you hadn’t called me.”
A series of emotions jolt through your nerves, none as strong as the elation at hearing Steve had called to ask about you. You push it down with another groan and fling yourself backward, bouncing on the springs of your mattress.
Hands hiding your face, you mumble the next words as if you don’t quite want Robin to hear them.
“I don’t not like him.”
“And I can’t tell what that is supposed mean.” Her pacing hasn’t ceased. Her arms gesticulate wildly as she speaks. “You don’t not like him sorta, to me, just sounds like you like him!”
“Robin,” you whine, well aware of the way she can read you like words on a page. “What do you wanna hear? That you were right?”
Robin halts her pacing, leaning her knees onto the edge of your mattress. You peek at her through your fingers. She’s looking a little more wide-eyed. “Yes. Absolutely. If my two favourite people in the world could suddenly get along, maybe even be friends, I think I’d like to know.”
“We’re not—”
“But that is not why I’m here.” She’s gone serious, brows raised as her voice turns softer. You nearly think she’s taunting you, a hint of a smile hidden in her expression.
“I’m here to discuss the distinct possibility that you have managed to skip the part where we become a cool trio of friends and have traveled into more than friends territory.”
Damn her. She’s too good, unspooling your secret right after you’ve only just managed to admit it aloud (not that you could remember that thought). Dragging your hands down your face, you groan again — there’s no point in hiding it from Robin, especially when she seems to have you all figured out.
“I’m gonna take that as a ‘wow Robin, you’re incredibly smart and totally right’.” She jibes, looking far too smug.
Perplexingly, she doesn’t appear to care that you confirmed Steve had you feeling gooey inside and weak at the knees. You dredge yourself to a sitting position, blankets pooling at your waist, and regard her with as much sarcasm as you can.
“Wow, Robin,” you drawl tiredly, still a bit catty from your lack of sleep. “You’re so totally right.”
“Don’t forget the incredibly smart part.”
You wallop her thigh with your sleeve, halfhearted and not at all mean. She grins. For a moment, you’re monumentally relieved to be sharing this with her — you’re best friends, talking about a boy you like, back to feeling thick as thieves with her.
“You gotta talk to him though, you know that right?”
A sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
—
By the time you’ve rinsed the last of your hangover down the shower drain, washed down with the suds of your strawberry shampoo, the sun is nearing the horizon.
Droplets cling to the ends of your hair, leaving a trail behind you on the carpet as you don fresh clothes. You try your best not to analyse each piece, shoving down any self-doubts and recalling Steve’s generous compliments littered through the past couple of months.
Tonight. It had to be tonight, you decided. Any longer and you’d lose the nerve, crawl back to avoidance because you’re not really sure you want to hear what you said to him in the garden.
You can only imagine it’s some confusing amalgamation of your complicated feelings — mixed with the amount of alcohol you had drunk? It was a stab in the dark trying to guess what you had said.
The plan you have is half-baked at best. The walk to Loch Nora isn’t far — but if your plan goes south, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow and clear your tears on the walk home. Thankfully, It’s still too early for dinner. You can smell the beginnings of it bubbling on the stove as you creep down the stairs.
As soundlessly as you can, you slip out the front door. Warm air greets you. The sunbeams trickle across the sky, dipping lower behind the horizon and painting soft blemishes of pink and orange across the sky.
The other perk of the walk is that you’ll have ample time to decide what you’ll say to Steve; you can deliberate each word, orchestrated so that it can be played down if need be. Minimal cringe and hurt feelings.
You’re running a few options over in your head when the rumble of a car cruising down your road draws your eyes. With a startle, you realise it’s a familiar maroon colour — a car you’d been in just over a week ago.
You watch as Steve parks, evidently so entrapped in his own thoughts to notice you on the doorstep. He’s messing with his hair anxiously, eyes on the ground and when you look closer, his mouth is moving, an indication he’s talking out loud to himself.
He makes it halfway up the driveway before you stumble out to meet him.
“Steve?” You call out and his head shoots up, a little alarmed to see you. His steps falter, the pair of you met in the middle of your drive.
“Y/n. Hi.” For someone who had come to your house, he seems a bit affronted to be seeing you. Acutely, you realise that he’s nervous. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the road. “Were you— is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to intrude—”
“No!” You squeak. “No, I was just... coming to see you, actually.”
“Oh.” Steve blinks. He ducks his head for a moment, clearing his throat but you still spot the pink on his cheeks. “How’s your head? You’d had, uh, a lot to drink last night.”
There’s only a mild rush of embarrassment to your system, a sheepish grin playing at your lips. “Right. Last night- I’m sorry you had to, er, see that. Or rather, thank you for taking care of me.”
Steve smiles back. One hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous motion. You don’t mean to zero in on his large bicep, tan skin on display with his short sleeves but it’s impossible not to — Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
You smile timidly, willing your cheeks to cool.
“Yeah, about that.” He starts, eyes shifting about nervously. He can’t pick a spot to focus, too nervous to look you in the eyes.
Steve’s been throwing around your words ever since you uttered them to him in the garden. And now I can’t stop thinking about you. Tone so sweet, so sincere, your brows drawn together like it hurt you to admit how much Steve had been on your mind.
His stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at your reveal, nerves flaming and relief coursing at the realisation that it was mutual. You’d been on Steve’s mind since even before you’d given him your softest smiles after bottle smashing, sugary grins over your milkshake, a genuineness you’d never shared with him before — and after? God, it had driven him mad.
But then you’d scampered out of the car like a spooked animal. Stopped coming by Family Video and cursedly, seemed to slip back into an old pattern of ignoring him.
Then, the garden.
God, if you hadn’t been drunk, and maybe if Steve wasn’t so surprised by the sweetness you showed him, he might’ve kissed you.
Holding your palm against his, you might as well have been grabbing his hopes and hoisting them out of the depths — that perhaps, your avoidance stemmed from something different this time round.
Steve takes in your shy expression, bottom lip trapped in your teeth, and prays it’s all for the same reason he’s nervous and not instead, because you’re trying to awkwardly figure out how to tell him it was all the alcohol talking.
“What you said…” He’s trying to be nice to his feelings, on the defence in case he’s so terribly wrong about this. About you. “Did— did you mean that?”
The face you pull doesn’t instill him with confidence, his stomach plummeting at your hesitance. Fuck. He’d overshot, as usual, clinging too tightly to the threads of affection you’d shown him.
“I…” You’re unsure where to begin. God, what did you say?
Steve thinks he can garner what reaction that is; it’s the exact opposite of what his heart had managed to convince him. You went back to avoiding him on purpose. He cuts you off hoping to save himself some awkward rejection, shaking his head and taking a step back.
“Don’t worry. It was— you were drunk,” Embarrassment starts flooding in, a hot uncomfortable flush up his neck that makes Steve want to sink into the ground. “I shouldn’t have— it was weird of me to ask.”
He’s rambling too fast to get a word in. You take a step forward as he takes another step back, worried that he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. Never mind that all plans for orchestrating the perfect thing to say are out the window — you have to say something.
“I don’t know what I said!” You blurt, desperate to halt his retreat. It works; Steve stops, taken aback by your words. Oh God, what now? You debate where to start.
“Seriously, I— Robin came over and was talking about how you’d called and— I-I remember some of last night but it’s a bit—”
“You don’t...” Steve interrupts, giving a confused shake of his head. The wind ruffles his hair, strands dancing over his forehead. “Remember any of it?”
Why does it feel like you’ve disappointed him? Despite your initial wish to not relive whatever you’d said in the garden, you’re suddenly dying to remember. Even now, you can feel yourself combing the hazy memories, hoping there’s a stone you’ve yet to turn. It’s fruitless.
“I remember embarrassing myself by puking in the bushes.” You grimace as you say it, heat rising in your face. You can feel your nerves fraying, heart pounding but none of it in a good way. “Look, Steve, does it matter what I said? I-“
“It does.” He says, voice suddenly lower. It rasps, more serious than before. “It matters if you meant it. Do you?”
He takes another step forward, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. The same comforting musky scent as when he pushed the safety glasses up your nose and tucked your hair behind your ears in the woods together, touch gentle and eyes kind.
“You said,” He breathes, his honey eyes hopeful. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
Oh.
It seems to be a habit of yours; rewinding through your actions towards Steve in the past, heavy with regret. He’d still been sweet, checking on you out in the garden even though you’d left him in the dark for a week. After managing to make you forget the worst date ever.
Then you’d upchucked your feelings, so drunk you couldn’t remember it, and then your dinner too. You were a mess; Steve Harrington made you a lovely absolute mess. Fuck, you’d likely ruined whatever chance at something with him.
But then again, here he was.
Still showing up, enough hope to dredge together the courage to drive over and ask you what it meant.
“I meant it.” You say, softly. You feel captured in his gaze, pulled into his orbit with no choice about it. He’s like the sun, gravity pulling you closer the longer you stand this close to him. Your heart feels like it’s made of jelly, each thump echoing out into your limbs. “I— fuck, you made it so hard to hate you. I used—”
“—Used to hate me.” Steve recites the words before you can say them, amusement in his voice. Some of his nervousness has leaked out, shoulders less tight. You can nearly see a glint of his Harrington charm in the curl of his lips. “Yeah, you said that last night too.”
It’s said to poke fun, teasing you for last night’s loose tongue. You groan, head tilting back. “God, anything else I said last night that I should know about?”
Steve steps closer. It makes your breath hitch, your head straightening up and bringing your faces closer still. You’re not sure where this is going, not sure what he’s thinking, if he can hear the thunder of your heart — he hasn’t even said anything that implies the feelings are mutual.
You vaguely wonder how he knew that your words held more weight than they appeared. He’d been paying more attention than you’d expected; knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you meant more than what was on the surface.
This time, you know him well enough to know that his teasing is not mocking. That the Steve in front of you is not at all like the one you’d remembered from the school hallways, the one who’d thrown around shitty comments, had notches in his belt, and didn’t care who got hurt as a result.
He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
The world doesn’t stop spinning, but for a moment, it certainly feels that way. Blood rushes in your ears, blooms under your cheeks, and the words sink in. The wind sounds like the sweetest music, the colour spread across the sky is a shade that could only be called love and a boy is telling you he likes you too.
It faintly occurs that the silly teenage daydream you pictured with Bradley — you’re instead getting with a boy you swore you hated not two months ago.
It makes you like him even more.
He’s earned it, your trust, your affection — your kiss.
Wordlessly, you surge forward at the same time Steve does. You clash, gifting each other an awkward headbutt instead of some swooning kiss. Pain splinters momentarily across your forehead, gone after a moment.
You can’t help it, a laugh bursting from your lips. You’re so nervous. It doesn’t deter you, peering up at him with adoring eyes. Somehow, you still manage a tease. “Were you trying to kiss me, Harrington?”
His hands cup your face, fingers tucked under your jaw, and thumbs stroking your cheeks. His own smile barely contained, elation shining in his eyes.
“I will if you stop calling me that.”
He kisses you before you even get a chance to agree.
There’s bliss hidden in his lips, you think happily. Steve kisses soft, plush lips that mold to yours like its second nature, two pieces of the universe aligning.
You can feel the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his thumbs upon your face and you sigh, content, into the kiss because no one has ever kissed you like this.
He kisses you and suddenly, there is no war-torn battle in your mind. Your hands have twisted into the fabric on his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s unbearable. You want him, completely, embarrassingly, and undeniably. You’ll take anything he’ll give you — you want him to give you everything.
When the kiss breaks, it’s only for a moment; Steve presses another, short and gentle, then another, and another, like he can’t handle not stealing another taste of your lips.
“Steve,” you rasp, chuckling a bit. Your eyes are still closed, like you’re worried it’ll all be some dream if you dare to open them. His nose nudges yours, crushing closer to you, unwilling to relent the closeness he’s finally been granted.
“Let me take you out.” He whispers and it’s enough to open your eyes, lashes crinkling as you beam up at him. Steve drops a kiss on your cheek, thumbs stroking with a tender care that makes you shiver. “Please.”
As if you could say no. You give a minuscule nod but your delight is given away in your smile, eyes bright as you admire each detail of his face fondly. “Yeah, alright.”
It makes him laugh, amusement dancing across his features, and God, he looks so handsome you have to kiss him again.
You do, hands escaping the confines of his shirt and twisting around his neck. Steve hums happily, something you’ll come to learn he does whenever you kiss him first. It makes you gleeful, a shot of pure euphoria tipping down your spine. You shiver, wonderfully.
“Just promise me,” you say when you pull back, breathing a titch ragged. You grin. “Not a movie date.”
Steve grins, one hand leaving your face to curl around your waist. It’s warm, heat radiating into your skin.
“Still no faith in me, sweetheart?” He chides, fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, giving away his joy. The pet name makes your knees weak, a flash of a forgotten memory in the garden breaking through.
“Something tells me you’ll convince me.”
Fact #9: The first fact is a lie.
His next kiss feels like a promise; that he’ll do the work to convince you, just like he’d done the last few months. That he’d be more than happy to. You drink in affection from a boy who’s so sweet on you with a happy sigh.
He tastes like sunlight.
Fact #10: You might just be falling in love with Steve Harrington.
taggin sum mutuals below!
@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @writtenbybelle @hoesbloated @familyvideostevie @lurkymurker @sattlersquarry @steddiesandwich @circesstars @upsidedownwithsteve @raggedyoldwitch @sunshinehollandd @ohschmidts @appocalipse
#this... was so scrummy to write#i can't believe i pumped out that many scenes#i think i started this wanting to prove that i could indeed write a fic past 5k#LO AND BEHOLD 16K LATER#good god i hope u love it#anyways i'm LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!#steeb...come gimme kiss#i deserve to be called sweetheart by my babygirl bf <3#ruby writes#ruby writes steve#steve harrington#steve#harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve x reader#steve harrington fic#steve fic#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#sending a sacrifice (my sleep while i wrote this) to the fic gods....
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@naffeclipse Cryptids and their killing blows. :-]
Mildly hyperfixating on this fic now oop aksgsksh-- It was rad to have an excuse to draw funky creatures and the doppelgänger is always fun! <3 I had planned to draw y/n facing down the doppelgänger as they deliver the fatal wound, but I couldn't get it to look right and I really liked how the cryptid looked, so I left it at that. Ripperoni. </3 Also, there's a scene that popped in my head that I wanted to draw, but my hands wouldn't cooperate, and I am out of drawing spoons, so have a small written blurb:
You stare down the animatronic -- its eyes blank and lifeless, such a horrid contrast to how you'd known them -- then your gaze lifts to the dark shape attached to it, unable to decide what emotion to settle on. Horror? Anger? Betrayal? Despair? What are you supposed to feel after you had caught it trying to hide inside your friend -- no, not your friends, just the animatronic body it had been possessing all this time...
All.
This.
Time.
It had noticed you standing there just a bit too late. The demonic...thing...had stiffened before craning its neck to look down at you with what you don't want to believe is guilt. You don't want to believe that this cryptid, so similar to the one that tried to destroy you, is your friend. You don't want to believe that you'd grown so close to the same kind of creature that caused you so many sleepless nights--
Oh god. It had even been there during your night terrors -- the source of them observing you through each one they'd been present for. The thought makes your stomach twist. You realize distantly that your hands are shaking, grip tightening around the weapon in your hand that you'd just used mere hours ago during your latest hunt, that you'd been so quick to grab after realizing your friend had been missing and fearing that the cryptid hadn't really been killed, only to find that you'd been protecting one much, much worse.
"Heart..." The demon starts, its tone far too close to pleading in two painfully familiar voices overlapping. You cut it off before it can lie to you more, glaring at its twisted form curled over the metal husk that you can't bear to look at anymore.
"Don't," you grit out, trying not to let your voice tremble. "Don't you dare call me that. You don't get to call me any of those little pet names anymore." You swallow thickly and blink back pitiful tears. You're not going to cry. Why would you cry over a cryptid? They'd never cry over you as they tear you to ribbons -- you should know, seeing as you couldn't save everyone on your hunts, after all...
You steel yourself, hardening your glare as you demand, "Why? Why did you do it? Why trick me -- why toy with me all this time? Did you have fun? Did my stupidity amuse you?" Your empty hand raises to your forehead and you rap your knuckles against your skull, frustration now clawing its way to the forefront of the whirlwind of ugly emotions stirring in your chest. "Goddammit, how could I have been so oblivious? Right in front of my face -- so goddamn obvious!" A wry laugh forces its way out of you. "What an idiot I am! It's a wonder that I haven't managed to get myself killed yet!"
The cryptid's grip on metal shoulders tightens, its second set of hands twitching and fidgeting restlessly. It rasps out your name, leaning forward slightly ever so slightly. "You are not a fool. We never meant to--"
You jerk back and raise your weapon, cold metal glinting in the moonlight. You point the barrel of your pistol to the middle of its chest. Your heart is pounding and you can't seem to calm it. The demon flinches and its gaze flicks toward your chest. Heart. Of course.
"Don't. Move." Your face twists up in an odd mix of terror and rage and it's all you can do to keep yourself from immediately pumping this creature full of silver bullets, not caring in this moment if they will or won't kill it. The betrayal, fear, and outrage you feel are all-consuming. "If you move a single inch closer to me, I won't hesitate to shoot. When we first met I told you I'm a cryptid hunter, right?"
"I take care of the scary things."
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It funny because BOTH Teen Titans Go and Johnny Test actively have new episodes/movies being made based on them to this very day, while the VAST majority of those ‘LoRe ShOwS’ from the 2010s have ended by now. So it actually, OBJECTIVELY looks like jack fucking shit was killed off for an entire decade. Almost like specific genres being killed completely for a set amount of time just doesn’t fucking actually happen in the entertainment. At all. Because how the FUCK would that even work.
What else is different about the universe you live in where Teen Titans Go and Johnny Tests didn’t obviously outlast those evil lore shows (whatever the hell that’s even supposed to MEAN)? And instead its Owl House and Amphibia that are still having new episodes/movies being made about them to this day??
Personally. I also think the future of animation looks horrible. Cartoons are constantly being cancelled or pulled off of streaming services, the unique and creative cartoons that ACTUALLY came from indie/outsider animators (I.E. those lore based shows you need to hate so much) have all been dropped in favor of cheap garbage that can be pumped out indefinitely because nobody gives a shit about making them any good, and constant layoffs/shutdowns are plaguing animation departments at multiple studios in general. Which are all BAD things that lead to animators and cartoon creators/writers being fucked over by companies as hard as they are right now.
I don’t even know what to say to you in that regard. It just seems like you don’t really give a shit about animation, REALLY don’t like any of the real world indie creators or people who actually want the medium to prosper, and are just towing the line of what Lily/Ginger have said nearly every fucking day for YEARS by now because you don’t actually have any ideas yourself about what the hell you’re even talking about when it comes to the animation industry. The unions for animators and those working on children’s cartoons overall weren’t even A PART of these most recent strikes you fucking moron!! I don’t even think that those can be called any type of animation “takes”, because you clearly know so PAINFULLY fucking little about cartoons or how the animation industry works at all. While getting all of your information about them from the like 3 fucking terminally online losers that you have an extremely unhealthy parasocial attachment too!!
Dang @ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense looks like I got one of your guys.
What I find the strangest thing about this act is the implication that modern animation is cheap, when it is the complete opposite now. Like, have you seen Spiderverse, Puss in Boots, Nimona? Even preschool shows have upped their game. That can't be cheap or easy.
Also there's a lot of assumptions on my personal life or my knowledge of animation here. Now I won't pretend I am an animation expert or industry expert, but I know quite a bit. I've studied in depth on some of the behind the scenes stories of animation, to the point where I cracked the story of what happened to one of the most obscure pieces of lost media (which btw expect that post in about 3 days). That takes time and effort out of my life studying this stuff to understand where things went wrong or right.
Also I do like indie animaton, and I do like people who actually want the medium to prosper, but a lot of people forget that animation, like all mediums of fiction, needs variety to prosper. You can't have every animated series to be a serious, lore telling show like how you can't have every movie to be a superhero action flick, or every book to be a dystopian novel (just for example). Variety is the spice of life. You also have to ask, did people make so many lore telling epics because they truly believed they were making a good story, or because it was the latest trend? I think something like Steven Universe did want to tell a story, but something like Amphibia it's a bit more questionable.
Also last bit, to define a lore show. Lore shows are shows that favor bits of pieces of lore drops and mystery instead of telling a good story. It's a term I came up with after my fascination with FNAF's history. FNAF used to be a game series with a good story, but after some time it became obsessed with hiding as many secrets as possible. Doing this for so long has hurt FNAF in the long run, where people dislike how many mysteries don't have a plausible solution, how bare-bones the story is, and how far it has come from its original roots of telling a simple ghost story.
My current list of lore shows are as follows:
Adventure Time at some point, Steven Universe, Owl House, Star vs., Amphibia.
I am not saying of course, that lore is a bad thing. I love a good mystery, or else I wouldn't have followed FNAF for as long as I did. But there's a good line to draw when having a good mystery over a good story. Or having story be there, but not be the total focus of everything the show revolves around.
Here's a list of shows I think have good stories/lore, but have other things that make the shows good that keep them balanced:
Modern spongebob (no, really), Gumball, Kim possible, American Dragon, Regular show, Clone high s1, Gravity Falls
Of course, I probably spent too much energy to answering someone who probably wanted to get a rise out of me instead of a thoroughly thought out answer, but there you go.
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Meet the Mods!
Akamine_chan created The Fandom Snowflake Challenge back in 2012 as a way to remind herself “why I loved fandom so much”. Over the years the challenge itself has come to mean a lot to many of us, so by way of introduction some of the mods for this year have written about what The Fandom Snowflake Challenge means to them and why they are excited about it.
Muccamukk: Mucca mostly writes fic and reviews, usually in western media fandoms, and can never turn her back on a kink meme. She's been participating in the Snowflake Challenge off and on since year one, helping mod for the last five, and there still hasn't been any cake.
Misbegotten: I'm Misbegotten and this is my second year as a Snowflake mod. Fandom has been my happy place for many decades. My sad place too, but what's life without variety?
Sparrow2000: Hi I'm Sparrow2000 on LJ, DW and A03. I've made my fandom home in the Buffy 'verse for the last 20 odd (sometimes very odd!) years and it's where I write. I read in any fandom that catches my eye and I'm an avid reccer because I believe spreading the love keeps our fandoms alive. I've taken part in the snowflake challenge every year since 2014 and it never fails to energise my fandom joy. I'm thrilled to be helping out behind the scenes for the third year running and can't wait to see how everyone expresses their own fandom love this year.
Tjs_whatnot: Oh Snowflake, how I've missed your optimistic and cheery fandom energy! I've exhausted those resources pretty early on last year, so a refill is in desperate need! I've been part of the Snowflake family for ages now but I learn something new each year, so it's a new challenge each time. I can't wait to get reacquainted with the other old timers and meet some new, fun fandom faces. LET'S DO THIS!! ♥ ♥ ❤ ❤
Queer_scribbling: Hello, I'm Briar. I've participated in the Snowflake Challenge the past few years, but this is my first time helping out as a mod. For me, this challenge is a welcome reprieve from the doldrums of winter, and I hope the sense of community - lurkers, likers, commenters, and more - will help all of us to start 2024 on a high note.
Summerstorm: Hi! I'm Lix, and I'm back as a Snowflake mod after a few years off. These days, my fandom participation is mostly reading fic, playing ttrpgs (new this year! because I finally got good meds! I use a calendar now entirely to keep track of games?), and screaming on Discord about actual play shows, but I care a lot about those three things. Fandom is a load-bearing pillar of my life, and honestly I don't know what I'd do without it.
Pebble_in_a_lake: Hello! I'm pebble, a lifelong sci-fi and comic book fan. I've participated in snowflake challenge several years now, but this will be my first time pitching in as a volunteer. I love the fun and positivity it brings to the community each year as everyone shares their love for their different fandoms. Whether you're participating, commenting, or lurking, I hope you all have a very fun time. :D
Spikedluv: Hello to all returning and new Snowflakes! I love Snowflake and I’m thrilled to be part of the group bringing Snowflake to you again this year. The best thing about this challenge is that it reminds me of all the great things about fandom. The feeling of community. The comments and feedback. The squee that comes with discovering new fandoms and new fic and new friends. And while Snowflake only lasts for one month, these are things we can take with us into the rest of the year. As I’ve said previously, Snowflake has taught me that I need to be the change I want to see in fandom and gets me pumped up to go forth and be a more active participant.
Seleneheart: I love Snowflake because it is such a marvelous way to start the New Year - to know that I''m not a lone voice crying out in the wilderness, that there's hundreds of people who love fandom and they are all right here!
This is my sixth time to be a mod for Snowflake, and every single year I've come away with new friends, new ideas, and new connections with old friends. Some people I see all the time during the year, and some I see only during [community profile] snowflake_challenge - all of you warm my soul. I can't wait to get started!
Pronker: Hello there, I'm Pronker (DW, FFN, tumblr, twitter, theforce.net and AO3) and this is my second time modding in seven years' participating in the best challenge ever. :) I love to launch a new year with fellow fans' enthusiasms and creativity. Favorite fandoms: Hogan's Heroes, Penguins of Madagascar, Star Wars, Constantine, Greek Mythology, Star Trek TOS, Laredo, and my very first one, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. See you soon!
Dizzydrea: Hi everyone! I'm Dizzydrea on DW and AO3. I've been in fandom for over 20 years, so I've seen some stuff. I only found out about Fandom Snowflake a few years ago, but I look forward to participating each year, though this is my first year as a mod. I'm a writer, up to about 50 fandoms now. I read a lot, too, and I like to comment as a way of paying it forward. I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with this year.
Cornerofmadness: Hi everyone! I'm excited to be back for another round of Fandom Snowflake. I'm Cornerofmadness on DW/LJ/AO3. I've been around fandom for decades, since the paper zine days of the 80s and 90s and been in online fandoms for more than twenty years so I've seen a lot, the good and the bad. I think that's the thing I like best about this challenge is we see so much of the good here. I'm probably best known in the Buffyverse, Fullmetal Alchemist, Prodigal Son and now The Owl House but I've had a toe in many fandom waters and hope to dip them into many more.
Vriddy: Hi! I'm Vriddy, a huge fan of Fandom Snowflake since I discovered it a couple of years ago and very excited to be part of it from the volunteer side for the first time this year! I'm mainly in anime fandoms at the moment, and looking forward to sharing all kinds of fannish joy with everyone this month. Such a wonderful way to start the year, I hope you all have a great time, too!
Tellshannon815: Hi again, back for another round of Snowflake, looking forward to seeing what you all come up with, discovering new fandoms, and hopefully making some new friends!
Turps: Hi, I'm Turps and I've been taking part in Snowflake since the very beginning and joined in as a mod a few years ago, and enjoyed the process so much I'm back for more.
Snowflake always gets my fannish year off to a great start, but what I love the most is how low-pressure it is. Some years I've managed to complete every challenge, and others only a couple. Sometimes I've done a challenge but not linked at the comm, and that's fine.
I've made some good friends due to Snowflake Challenge, but also see and read posts from people I only see once a year, and I love that. It's like meeting old friends who I have a quick natter with before heading off into the virtual distance, and I'm looking forward to doing that again.
As you can see the challenge means so many things to the mods, and to everyone who has participated before, and will hopefully also be meaningful to anyone joining us for the first time this year. You’ll find us all wading through comments, welcoming everyone, answering questions, keeping the peace, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to flag one of us down.
Tomorrow starts the first of the fandom challenges, so hope you all are ready for some fun times! Feel free to do any challenge that strikes your fancy (or all of them), or leave a comment on someone else’s challenge response at anytime.
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Tis true, I be a fellow Filipino. Also yeah, Ganon from the new Zelda game, kinda wild how I phrased killing the boss of the game.
Okay, I may have a writing prompt, but lowkey playing with fire with it. For the spider-man au, how does Enid’s “falling” to catch Wednesday scene play out as such all spider-people must go through (Gwen Stacy, MJ, Gwen Stacy…again, MJ…again, and Spider-Gwen). Like how does that scene go, and what’s going through her mind? (I’m gonna believe that Enid catches her…please)
YOOO MGA COMPADRE
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it happened too fast and honestly, Enid wasn't thinking too much on it moments before.
They did this so many times. A lil chase between rooftops with Black Cat lingering just a moment more and Enid not at all speeding up until the end.
Its immoral, she knows. To play with food criminals but there's something different about this, about them.
Black cat isn't at all lethal, she doesn't kill and sometimes a little chase to keep the adrenaline pumping in the late nights does something to Enid. Its all fun because in the end, she takes back what's stolen and ends up spending time with someone that isn't out to kill her once.
Its all fun until a prickling on her skin makes Enid leaps a bit too hard just as an explosion occurs.
Then they're free falling to the ground below, several buildings high because of course Black Cat enjoys the scenic route and who is Enid but someone who chases?
Black Cat shouted something and all the hero could do was watch as the world lit aflame.
There's a beat in her ears and its roaring as they fall.
The gap was so tiny, Enid notes. Her fingers barely brushing onto the back of that leather suit and if she had her claws out, she could dig her nails into a grip and a hold so tight- but Enid doesn't have her claws out, she never can when chasing Black Cat.
So she watches and then she moves because she's starting to be aware that the gape between them is growing and there is something in her head screaming of an outcome she can't handle.
Then they're on the floor in an ally.
Enid can hear screams and commotion in the background, she can smell the lingering dust in the air. She should help, a part of her hisses but then her grip is tight and she doesn't move.
She presses her head onto the living breathing body of Black Cat instead. Its achingly familiar and Enid can feel the way Cat's breath stilts, her body relaxing the more they stayed like this.
Her nails are sharp and she's aware of the way it could easily tear into Cat's clothes, so she tenses her arms and pulls her so close that it feels like she's trying to meld the two of them together.
"next time," Enid breathes then she sniffles. "Don't get too far, kay?"
Black cat's arms circle around her waist in reply.
"Okay."
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pump up the volume (1990)
director: allan moyle
costume designer: michael abbot
production design: robb wilson king
set dec: tina treglia (peterson)
cinematographer: walt lloyd
BEING WEIRD ISN'T ENOUGH not sure why i like this pin, but i like it.
this film takes place on the cusp between the 80s and the 90s, but i loved that these kids drove these 60s/70s(?) cars, i think to signify that they were low income and couldn't afford modern cars? but i love the atmosphere in this shot.
not the greatest screencap, but i adored everything janie (lala sloatman) wore. the cat-eye glasses, the oversized pink pearl earrings, the ponytail scarf. even though i related to nora's artsy side, i wanted to be janie.
mark (christian slater) is like two different people. at home, he wears cool retro bowling shirts embroidered with the name "dick" and sasses his parents, but at school he wears bland clothing (like he wants to blend into the background) and acts all shy.
i also just really loved mimi kennedy as mark's mom, marla, using a teacup to ash her cigarette into, i just thought it was so posh!
again, loving janie's dangly statement earrings, and the colour combo with her floral bolero (?) and sweet pink dress. i didn't love nora's (samantha mathis) outfit as much, but i was intrigued by the piece she wears over her dress. it ties at the back of her neck, and i think again on her lower back, so it's like a... halter vest? the turtle necklace is pretty dope, and though you can't see it in this shot, she is also wearing purple and white striped tights.
paige's (cheryl pollak) bedroom is a dream! the floral wallpaper and the white bed are so lovely, but the seafoam green radio really makes the colour scheme pop.
man i wish i had a teacher this cool! ellen greene as jan emerson (do they call her miss emerson in the movie? i can't remember), wears the coolest outfits, and she is introduced in this amazing mustard suit accessorized with a turquoise bolo tie! the look is amazing, but it also alerts us that this film takes place in arizona.
paige, doing her WASP thing in an oversized sweater over a blouse, with a string of pearls. it's the necklace that does it for me.
i mostly just wanted to see how many celebrities i could identify in this shot: keanu reeves, johnny depp, george michael, kirk cameron, corey haim, richard grieco... (stole this image from imdb as it was much clearer than my screenshot)
i forgot that plaid wallpaper was a thing and i think it's due for a comeback. particularly loving the plaid (shirt) on plaid (wallpaper) in this scene, so cozy, like a cabin!
so many things to love in this scene: number one, the heart curtains; number two, the kitten sweatshirt (the kittens look like they might be puffy and i can feel it in my mind); number three the "homework causes brain damage" sign on the wall--classic! number four, the clear lamp filled with gumballs? and the cow hanging from it! number five and six, the blue radio and the clear phone! i want one!
did you notice that the tissue box in the highschool staff room is the same as the tissue box in the depressed student's room? do you think it was the same box?
nora's room reminded me of my own room in highschool-- walls plastered with images, and plenty of candles. i think nora might have been one of the prototypes for the manic pixie dreamgirl.
Believe It Or Not I Care
mazz's (billy morrisette) denim and leather look is good.
an example of one of mark's drab shirts, but also nora's completely adorable velvet blouse with a peter pan collar! also, i'm learning that the next time i wear a collared shirt, i need to add a long statement necklace.
so this scene is near the end of the film, and i loved mark's shirt here. i also realized that it's more of a cooler, bolder look than he has previously worn to school, so i think it's supposed to symbolize mark coming out of his shell and revealing more of his true self at school/in public. look at me, i get things.
finally, loving this floral blouse and braided leather suspender on miss emerson. i would probably wear this.
BONUS here's a picture of drew barrymore at "an event" for pump up the volume (according to imdb), i'm assuming it's the premiere, just looking cool and badass. i need that jacket.
another bonus: this adorable promo photo of christian & samantha <3
anyways, most of these pics are my own screenshots, but you should check out higher resolution images on imdb. i couldn't find any articles about the wardrobe in this film, but i did find this 30th anniversary article that was interesting.
#pump up the volume#1990#nineties#nineties films#christian slater#samantha mathis#allan moyle#lala sloatman#mimi kennedy#cheryl pollak#ellen greene#billy morrisette#drew barrymore
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This is either going to be a jackpot or the biggest (and possibly last) mistake of Yuma's career.
We're about to go up and visit the CEO, but Kurumi needs to pause a moment to go, "Wow, this hideous fucking abomination is way more gross and disgusting in person."
I feel you, Kurumi. If we do wind up needing to hurl Makoto from the top of this tower, I trust you'll have my back.
Security's only tight when they don't want you to be assassinated. Makoto's not on good terms with the guy who makes those sorts of decisions. This is an act of passive-aggression.
Oh, no, I had that backwards. Other way around. Since the people who would provide security are in the pocket of the power-hungry general that covets Makoto's throne, their presence in his living space would be an intolerable threat.
Did you design the tech yourself or have R&D do it? Because if someone else made the machines then that presents as much of a threat as human security.
Makoto doesn't merely have an extensive spy network feeding him information on every time someone takes a shit in Kanai Ward, but he also feels the need to flex said knowledge by introducing other people to himself on their behalf.
It's a subtle power-play. Everything about this scenario has "power-play" written all over it.
Like the way he's lounging casually throughout this scene as if to seem unassuming and hapless, but he's nonetheless in Full CEO Attire. As if to say, "Even relaxed and letting my guard down, I am still in full control of this conversation."
He has automated security, and we rang a doorbell. He knew we were coming up here. He's glamour-posing on purpose.
That's so obvious that I have trouble believing it. A secret lab inside Amaterasu HQ isn't a secret lab. That's just a lab. Having a lab in the building where labs would naturally exist makes it a lab. That's not secret, it's just classified.
Just like that, he's trying to turn the conversation around. Now he's pressing us to find out how much we know, rather than us pumping him for information.
That was a dangerous level of information to disclose, Yuma.
Oh, we should not have introduced him to Kurumi. If things with Makoto go south, we've given him a primo arm-twisting hostage to snatch up.
Right after bragging about knowing everything that goes on in this town, then telling us the "secret" lab is just a normal research lab in Amaterasu HQ.
Yeah, I don't trust a word he's saying. This was a mistake.
Now that he's weaseled out the extent of our knowledge, he's trying to downplay it. HEADLINE: Company CEO has looked into it, and decided company has done nothing improper!
Assuming, of course, that the lab you're going to take us to is the lab. I'm getting so many bad vibes about this.
So that means we can't bring Kurumi or Vivia, who we're due to hang out with in this chapter. Sucks. But sure. Show me what you've got.
Oh, I'm sure you do. Can't go now; You need some time to move the jaws of the trap into place.
Watch, Makoto winds up being the victim for this case. XD
RED FLAG. The suspicious man wants us to separate from Kurumi and tell no one where we're going before we come meet up with him. Would you like me to bring my own body bag as well?
This is going to get ugly.
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Hey girl!!!! I'm back again after what feels like ages! But I was on my "thirsting on f1 drivers" phase and couldn't read anything else for a couple of months. Anyways. I just binged read the last 3 chapters and WTF was that smut? I'm so loving how Y/N is dirtyyyy. I was as shocked as Yoongi.
Ghostbusters trio is the best thing ever, Namjoon opening up and bratty Jungkook (I see what you are doing there). But it made me crazy that they didn't seem to care about the new couple, Tae was the only one to meet my expectations.
Alice is a genious, if I was ever jealous of her with Hoseok, I don't remember. And I was just expecting her plan come into action after the last smut. I was fully believing that someone would arrive accidently when they were finishing and hear everything!!!
I'm not even mad at the cliffhanger this time. I went through so many emotions while reading this last chapters, that Seokjin's confession would be too much right now.
Lastly, if you were ever in doubt about writing smut, it was totally pointless cause you rocked. Talented, that's what you are! Love you and can't wait for the next chapter. (I'm gonna update myself now reading the asks you answered while I was gone)
HIII OMG I've missed you!!! 🥺 ooo I do NOT blame you for the f1 drivers thing 😉
HA I've unleashed my inner freak with the smut!! I know many readers have been waiting quite some time for the steamy scenes, so I didn't wanna disappoint LMAO 💀 I also love how dirty Y/N is, you can tell she's been waiting to jump Yoongi's bones jkdsafj
I love our ghostbusters!! I'm seriously so pumped to keep writing about all of their adventures. I think that over time with their investigations, it will give Namjoon and Jeongguk the opportunity to grow closer to Y/N, as they are some of the more distant hybrids. HA bratty Jeongguk... I love him, I can't wait to see him get all tender in the future. And finally, we get some background on our mysterious Namjoon 🥺 Those two are more concerned with their own hobbies than romance at the moment, which is why I think they were so nonchalant about her and Yoongi. Although, Namjoon may be harboring some secret wolfish jealousy. We'll see!
Alice is the friend we all need! While she flirted with Hoseok in the beginning, I highly doubt she'll do it any more because Y/N disclosed her feelings for all of the boys. Can you imagine how awkward it would have been if they were caught while Yoongi was balls-deep 💀 Of course, it's going to be unavoidable in the future that the others will be around while she's intimate with one in particular. I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it LOL 💀
Classic Dana cliffhanger! This time, though, I think it was necessary, like you said. The next chapter will open up with that scene, picking right up where we left off, so that's something to look forward to-- romance and feelings and our sweet Seokjin 🥺💕
dkaslfs THANK YOU for the compliment about the smut writing 💜💜 I was initially nervous about writing it (I've done it before, but not as descriptive or drawn out) so I'm really happy you liked it 💕 Definitely more where that came from!
Love to you and I'm so 🥺 to hear from you again! Hope you have a nice rest of your March and we'll meet again in April 💜
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i was tagged by @stannisfactions for this! I was really happy to meet you this year through the helaemond server :)
1. What is your AO3 account?
I'm dragonsoftheeast on there too.
2. How many words did you write total in 2022?
75, 742! I can't believe it. This really is my most productive year, after not even writing anything in 2021, since during COVID I focused a lot on my original work. I definitely got into a creative groove this year for fic though.
3. How many fics did you publish in 2022? How many multichapters vs oneshots?
I wrote 3 multichaps and 14 oneshots. Incidentally all of those oneshots were for Vikings seasonal challenges, so...
4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?
My longest fic was not born, but raised, my Elite novelization, which I finished this year. I'll get to the other two seasons at some point, I think, though that fandom was already pretty dead by the time I got there (tho Netflix keeps pumping out seasons). My shortest fic was more, give me more, give me more, a nice romantic scene between Bjorn and Thorunn. I have a really fond thought for this fic, but it really broke my mental barrier of, a fic needs to be a certain length in order to be publishable.
5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?
My most popular fic was Fire Made Flesh, which is kind of crazy because I only started it in November. My least popular fic is i don't ever think about death (it's alright if you do it's fine).
6. What fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?
Honestly, I never expect any fic to perform at all. I guess it would have to be dropping glasses just to hear them break, though, because I love writing from Thorunn's POV and I thought I did a really good job with it, but it didn't really get that much attention.
7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?
someone's gotta go now! I wrote that in such a panic to meet the deadline of the challenge, literally the day of. I love writing death scenes, so I sort of fell back on that in desperation, but it apparently hit some people. But honorable mention to in all chaos there is calculation. I know Freydis is an unpopular character, but I was glad to see some people liked me exploring her headspace.
8. What was your favorite fic you wrote from 2022?
I mean, it's sort of a toss-up. I'm so proud of Fire Made Flesh. It's my first attempt at a proper epic fic since 2015, and I'm so much more prepared for it now than I was then, and a much better writer too. I feel like I've really sort of found my balance between planning ahead and gardening with it.
However, I wrote a catty conversation between Daemon and Aemond in High Valyrian in second son, and I was SO into that.
9. What was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?
This is always really hard. But this is really random, but Aerea. The horror and the lore, combined together? Lovely. I think of it all the time.
10. Tag your friends to do this year-end fic review as well!
Well, this was actually quite therapeutic. I didn't really realize how much I had actually written this year. 2022 me certainly kicked it into high gear! Anyway, anyone can do this if they like, but I'll tag @carladuquette, @volvaaslaug, @ivarthebadbitch (just wanna say, sometimes I stare at that gifset you made for Glory and Gore for an embarrassing amount of time), @strawberrycordate, and @yani5688-blog to do this too.
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arc 2: electric boogaloo.
Lance is an incredibly proud person. Most of what he's achieved in life has come from him fighting for it and refusing to accept what's given to him on a silver platter - it's what he enjoys, keeps him looking towards the future and beyond. In fact his position within the clan is the only thing he has to accept but more often than not, he wishes he could pass that onto somebody else.
His recent string of losses, on live TV no less, has been sitting heavy both in his heart and mind. He's been champion of Johto for a long time, even longer in Kanto, so of course he realises that his time is coming to an end. It's a sad realisation, one that he's tried training harder for to make his final battle one that everybody will remember. He'll go down with a fight. The regions have to be protected by somebody strong enough. he won't give up.
Since both his losses since the masters eight many trainers have attempted both leagues. Some didn't make it past the other elites but those who did, got promptly wiped out by Lance. His training had payed off at least. And then comes the news that SATOSHI wants to take on the Kanjoh league again. The newly crowned world monarch. Though thrilled and honoured that he'll be fighting as champion for Satoshi's home region, Lance already knew what the outcome would be - a gut feeling - and one he was not disappointed in.
So when he does lose and Satoshi rejects the title - allowing Lance to keep it if he so wished - he can't deny the pit of anxiety which appears after the crowds have all left and he's alone. He doesn't believe he's earned this continuation of his reign, that all these losses over the past year have clawed at his confidence (it tears it apart, leaving bleeding wounds in his soul) believing that he's not worth this title anymore. Of course this isn't spoken about. It's new to him, to feel that way.
IF ANYBODY WISHES TO CLAIM THIS TITLE I URGE YOU TO TRY. DREAMS CAN BE MADE IF YOU CHASE THEM - BELIEVE IN YOURSELF AND YOU CAN ACHIEVE ANYTHING.
The scene replays over and over in his mind. Mocking almost. Though they're his words and he fully believes in them, it does little to pump him up like it once did. He needs to become better - the regions deserve better. He needs to give them a reason to believe that he's made for this still too. And maybe - deep down - he doesn't want to give this up so soon. But if he loses one more time? He makes a promise to himself that he'll step down regardless, focus on protecting the regions in other ways.
#i SHOULD make various verse tags but EH .#we'll get to that eventually :)#ooc. » electric type enthusiast.
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...
I haven't known how openly I can talk about my reactions to 3Hopes's story and characterization changes away from FE3H, since 3Hopes only released 4 days ago.
But if anyone can't take spoilers, maybe it's safer to not read this post. I just have some angst to vent about Claude below:
Golden Wildfire was so hard on Claude, and I weep for him. ;_;
So many times, events chipped at his ideals and forced him to compromise his values. Multiple times in Golden Wildfire, events pushed Claude to kill, whereas Verdant Wind Claude might have spared people or avoided battles. Yet at the same time, was he really forced? Couldn't he have taken another breath to think and spare more people?
Sure, Shahid tried to kill him a few seconds ago, while Claude was in the middle of trying to talk him out of fighting…But giving up after only one try? I get that narratively, the adrenaline is still pumping and the finality of killing Shahid is the usual emotional conclusion to a story like that, especially after he spurned Claude's first try in that scene at mercy. But we love Claude because he would circumvent the usual violence of a war story. And I think that killing Shahid, created some real dissonance in Claude, since he had to go against his own ideals of talking out conflicts vs killing. It may have been the beginning of a slippery slope for 3Hopes Claude to become less avoidant of killing, than FE3H Claude.
I think Judith's death really had an effect on Claude too. I believe he said she died because he hesitated to send more troops to reinforce a battle. Because she died, he decided to help the Empire defend their hold on Garreg Mach, instead of breaking their pact to help/spare the Kingdom. The things we love about FE3H Claude: 1) he avoided killing, in favor of non-violent conflict resolution; and 2) he didn't initiate unnecessary battles/wars. But he went to honor his pact with the Empire, simply because he didn't want to repeat the (feeling from the) same scenario as Judith's death. (Though, if you recruit Byleth, does Judith still die? I haven't seen how the Secret Route effects other parts of Golden Wildfire yet.)
On top of that, Golden Wildfire Claude doesn't have the emotional support to help him not slip away from his less violent ideals. Everyone commenting on 3Hopes talks about Byleth's influence on the Lords and how Byleth's absence as the 3Hopes Lords' confidant, changed them. But 3Hopes also changed the relationships between the Lords and their closest companions. I wrote a post a while ago about how each Lord has a completely loyal subordinate as well as a "rival" that constantly challenges them, but stays close to them. In 3Hopes' Azure Gleam, Dedue and Felix become closer support systems to Dimitri (according to those who pay more attention to Blue Lions). I imagine 3Hopes' Black Eagles' "triumvirate" is the same. But in Golden Wildfire, they become split. After losing to Bergliez's rescue, Claude loses both Lorenz and Ignatz, since siding with the Empire would be the best way for them to survive. Claude then has to go onto several battles with only his partial "triumvirate". Hilda is still proactively in support of Claude, in both battle and emotionally, but some of their Supports are just her chiding him for not relying on or opening up to her more. Whereas, FE3H Hilda and Claude supports had them emotionally bonding so quickly, Claude was already asking her if she wanted to meet his parents. Lorenz gone and Hilda noticing that Claude wasn't letting her fully in, it was painful to watch. Also, not only does Claude not have Byleth, but Shez notes that they are ineffective in really comforting Claude or getting close enough to him to really feel they've sufficiently helped him during his emotional troubles. In the scene after killing Shahid, Shez tries to bond with Claude, and Claude takes on the same fragile tone of voice as a Byleth Support scene in FE3H, when Claude admitted to Byleth that he can feel hopeless to achieve his dreams (but stargazing helps). 3Hopes Dimitri and probably also Edelgard are running around with the triumvirate emotionally supporting them all along the way, while Claude's support system falls apart in 3Hopes. It's a wonder he hung onto as many of his ideals as he did, and didn't become a Fallen version version of himself (as per Fire Emblem Heroes terminology).
So by the time Claude gets to the end of Golden Wildfire, he kills Rhea, even though he really could have done more to push for a non-violent resolution. I'm glad he still tried to talk her into surrendering before the final boss battle, since it was more an attempt than the similar final boss Rhea battles in Edelgard's FE3H AND 3Hopes routes. But still, he didn't try as hard as he should have. As hard as we expected him to. But maybe I'm still stuck on the level of pacifism taught to me by Vash the Stampede, the strategic refrainment from battles in Sengoku Basara 2009-2011, and the dedication to non-violence and "empathy as Strength" from series like Natsume Yuujinchou. Maybe for a Fire Emblem, Claude simply trying to talk things out, though too briefly and only half effort in effectiveness, is still technically an inclination towards relative non-violence. Still, given the care for humans that Rhea has shown (despite how she loses rationality at any indirect slight regarding her mother), I think she could have been talked out of the harmful systems she had built up. Edelgard started a whole war in multiple AUs to fight those systems, and both FE3H and 3Hopes Claudes had expressed being against the same problems in the Church. But Rhea just gets so intensely defensive and irrationally enraged when it comes to Sothis, she ends up going against whatever good she has in her. She even preformed weird Crest Stone experiments on people, just to see Sothis again---which she admits were wrong, during Verdant Wind. Despite the bad that the Church as done behind the scenes, there seems to be no FE3H epilogue (in routes addressing the Church's corruption) where Byleth taking over the Church doesn't solve the bad aspects of itself. Maybe it's just wishful, but that, combined with Rhea's demonstrated care for people (while she's rational), encourages me to believe a peaceful resolution could have been talked out with her. So it disappoints me when 3Hopes Claude just killed Rhea in the end.
We all expected better of Claude, but I guess he proved to be just human. Still, I love him for trying though. Especially since Trying was more than some other people in other timelines. And it's not like he went full-on Fallen Claude. He still maintained a lot of his values at his core, and his characterization still emphasized his awareness and regret of people's deaths---even enemies' deaths!---to make his retained ideals believable. Claude hesitating THAT much to battle and regretting THAT much to kill, makes any faith in his continued striving for non-violent conflict resolutions believable. Because all of 3Hopes Claude's angsting over faltering in his ideals, creates the sense that he wouldn't just give up on all those ideals unless it was ABSOLUTELY necessary.
Though, I will admit that as much more willing to kill and battle, as 3Hopes Claude is, vs FE3H Claude, FE3H Claude still had his share of unnecessary violence too.
Some say he never should have gotten involved in the war between the Empire and the Kingdom. But as he explained in Verdant Wind and as was proven in Crimson Flower, it was only a matter of time before the Empire would want to conquer Leicester too. And in the meantime, the Empire was already chipping away at the southern territories in Leicester, forcing Gloucester to ally with the Empire. Even in FE3H, Claude would have been naïve to think that the war wasn't already coming for Leicester. Anyway, the war had already started; FE3H Claude was being an appropriate level of proactive without warmongering.
But I don't know how much to blame Edelgard's death in Verdant Wind on meta reasons or on Claude compromising his morals. It's really unfair that a lot of cutscenes in Verdant Wind just reused cutscenes and thus, story beats from Silver Snow. I don't know if it was to save data space, production schedule time, or if they honestly thought those were appropriate inclusions in FE3H Claude's story. But since those cutscenes didn't bother to even include Claude in the background, I doubt the latter. It's really unfair, since both Dimitri and Edelgard got to be in all the major plot points of their cutscenes and preform key actions. But in Verdant Wind, Claude and Byleth finally reach their supposed end of the war, in defeating Edelgard, and Claude doesn't even get to be part of her death scene. They could have really talked, since they have so many ideals in common. But instead, it just becomes a Byleth and Edelgard scene only, so the cutscene can be reused for Silver Snow. The scene could have integrated more of Claude's reluctance to kill. Before entering the Imperial Palace, Claude had a whole limited animation scene where he explained his reluctance to kill Edelgard, but he would only do it if she was a threat to his friends. Then afterwards, he has another limited animation scene where he ruminates on not enacting a peaceful solution to avoid Edelgard's death. He then expresses regret on Hubert's death as well, since his letter proved he was willing to trust them (but only after the Empire lost). Within the death cutscene, Edelgard has one line where she declares that she must be killed or else the war will not end, and I think that was supposed to stand-in as enough reason for her to be a threat worth killing. But really, she was exhausted and defeated, not a threat. So many war stories take a defeated commander prisoner, force them to order their armies to stand down (even Code Geass did that), etc. Even if Edelgard refused any of that, Claude still could have kept closer to his non-violent ideals, by taking her prisoner in secret, so that her army would at least believe they no longer had a leader to fight for. In my headcanon, they could have eventually talked it out, while she was captive; maybe even convince her to form an alliance to root out the corruptive aspects of the Church, without large scale warfare, if not work together against the Agarthans too. It's overly idealistic, but that's why I'm the type of person who loved FE3H Claude. He held that potential for idealistic values, even during a time of war. And yet, sometimes it feels like even FE3H subverted the ideals Claude was supposed to stand for, to multitask cutscenes, give this war videogame more levels, and whatever other meta reasons.
It's so strange for FE3H to have not allowed Verdant Wind to go full-on idealistic, when it ended with a "pure evil" villain final boss in Nemesis, had them fight the "cartoonishly" simply evil villains in the Agarthans, and ended their story route with Claude shouting the most idealistic speech. "Yet we have the strength to overcome the walls between us! To reach out our hands in friendship and open our true hearts to one another! That's how we win!". If there was ever a line to be used in a Golden Route, where all the Lords/nations resolve their conflicts without conquest and work together as friends, it would be in a route that used dialogue like that to punctuate the final battle cutscene. If FE3H is a story of the tragedy in former friends battling one another, then a route that contains a speech like that, should have them rectifying the tragedy and working together against greater evils.
Maybe it would be just more idealism, but in the back of my mind, I still hope for at least an anime FE3H adaptation, with a Golden Route, where all 3 countries work together to fight the Agarthans/Nemesis, convince the Church to stop their harmful systems, and have a story theme built around that final speech from Verdant Wind Claude.
Maybe this is just a random thought addendum: When my grandmother was in World War II, she had a strict personal policy of not killing outside the heat of battle. She would get spies caught among her company and prisoners taken from the Japanese enemies, and as commander, she refused to kill them. She told her son, my dad, that everyone is just trying to do what they think is right to protect their families. She even personally taste tested the POW's food, since he assumed all the food they gave him was poison and he refused to eat. She was a high commanding officer. She didn't have to do that. I always respected that idea that even in the most dire times, like war, a person could still hang onto compassion and "humanity", and not just let it slip away, and instead still used it whenever they had the chance to hang onto it. …Maybe that was a random thing to write. But I can't help but be suspicious if that's partially why I loved Claude von Riegan and this idealistic image of him in my head.
I don't want to give the impression that I didn't like 3Hopes or Golden Wildfire. There were still a lot of great characterization and story fixes that I did like and had been wishing for since FE3H. 3Hopes still had a lot of warmth and more time humanizing Claude. Despite how much I just wrote about the times and reasons he let his ideals fall to the wayside, I think Golden Wildfire still did a lot to solidify how much still striving for those ideals mean to him, especially through showing how much it hurts him when he fails to enact his ideals, and how much he frets about not living up to those ideals. I think I just wanted to angst about the accumulated little points of dissonance, at least once.
2:07 AM 6/29/2022 EDIT:
000000000000000000000000000
12:09 AM 6/29/2022
JUST saw this scene!
"Fire Emblem Warriors Three Hopes - Shez & Judith tear Claude a new one for callous disregard of ally"
by Joy Happiness
(https://youtu.be/KkI_BOCoSTs)
I don't remember this from the Golden Wildfire route!...I'm only familiar with the version that doesn't recruit Byleth though. Is this from the Golden Wildfire route that recruits Byleth? Or is this from the Scarlet Blaze route??? I heard the fandom mention something about Claude betraying the Empire, but I hadn't seen it in Golden Wildfire. Is this scene about the "betrayal"? Is it from Scarlet Blaze???
I will say that OBJECTIVELY, I agree with Claude's decision. OBJECTIVELY, it's the smart move to not use troops to save an ally that has the potential to likely become a future enemy anyway. Though emotionally, I think 3Hopes Claude should have relied on his army to successfully save Randolph's army and done his best to honor his pact, emotional reasons are subjective, and can be disagreed with. Meanwhile, letting an Empire force die, to present less possible threat to Leicester in the future, especially in this way that makes any direct malicious intentions uncertain, is killing 2 birds with 1 stone. Objective decisions are objectively correct.
It does sting to hear Shez throw into Claude's face, all his ideals about not wasting lives unnecessarily. Maybe 3Hopes Claude hasn't been close enough to anyone in 3Hopes to really talk about his dreams and the non-violent future he wants for Fodlan, but we know from FE3H that Claude dreams of non-violent conflict resolution, and therefore, values saving people from unnecessary war and death. But in terms of character arc, having the moment where another character reminds a protagonist of their original path/dreams, that they seem to be losing sight of, is very a classic narrative device.
I will say that this scene seems to continue the characterization changes in Claude from 3Hopes taking away Claude's opportunities to form closer bonds with people. 3Hopes Claude doesn't have Byleth, halfway through Golden Wildfire he loses Lorenz for a time, both Hilda and Shez note that they can't seem to get Claude to emotionally open up to them,...3Hopes Claude hasn't learned to trust other people, as much as FE3H Claude. FE3H Claude opens up to Byleth, learns to trust people in his Supports, has more instances of avoiding unnecessary deaths/battles... But here in 3Hopes, this scene pretty much says that Claude caused excess deaths because he didn't trust this comrades enough (to survive fighting to rescue Randolph). This excess death of their Imperial allies is a direct result of 3Hopes not giving Claude as many chances to form deeper trust with his friends.
I really appreciate that the majority of comments on this vid are acknowledgements that 3Hopes Claude's character changed vs FE3H Claude, because he didn't get his time in the Academy learning to trust people. Everyone usually forgets, that behind Claude's playful tone in Part 1 (of either FE3H or 3Hopes), he actually came from a background that necessitated that he trust NO ONE, that he had to gradually learn to trust people during his time in Fodlan, and his speech at the end of Verdant Wind's final cutscene ("Yet we have the strength to overcome the walls between us! To reach out our hands in friendship and open our true hearts to one another! That's how we win!"), demonstrates the culmination of his growth as a character (who learned to trust). I was afraid that treading the comments section on this YouTube vid, would be thorny, as a Claude fan, especially since the description of the vid itself was just name-calling Claude. But in reality, it wasn't just a collection of Claude-hate. It was acknowlegement that some Claude fans asked for a Claude just like in 3Hopes. A Lord just as morally-gray as Edelgard and Dimitri. One that fit the original concept the game producers had of a more devious Claude.
12:30 AM 6/29/2022
Oh! Here it is! It really is in Golden Wildfire! GASP!!!
"Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes Playthrough Part 14 [Golden Deer] - Clash at Ailell"
by CGInferno
(https://youtu.be/aZ5zo8MKoMU)
How did I miss this? I thought I saw all the cutscenes and essential gameplay dialogue from Golden Wildfire. o_o??? I guess I shouldn't trust my memory from multiple all-nighters, binging playthroughs of a game that I can't play myself. ~_~;
12:46 AM 6/29/2022
I still love Claude and still believe he could be best at negotiating and governing between peoples during peacetime. But the more I see of 3Hopes, the more I see that FE3H Claude is MUCH better than 3Hopes Claude in that regard. I mean, if 3Hopes claude is not trusting his troops/friends, how can he trust people's potential to be their best selves, enough to negotiate with and convince into understanding each other's differences? Isn't Claude's whole world view based on his inherent defiant personality, fighting against the world's repeated demonstrations of how horrible people are, by him resolving to maintain hope in people's potential for becoming their best selves? I still believe that 3Hopes Claude still has those ambitions for a world where people understand each other and work together instead of going to war over disagreements.
But 3Hopes Claude has gone down a slippery slope. More and more, I see parallels between 3Hopes Claude and FE3H Edelgard. (Or at least, what I've seen of Crimson Flower.) When Golden Wildfire ended with Claude killing dragon-Rhea, I had my first inkling that Golden Wildfire was flipping Claude's role or story beats to be more aligned with FE3H Edelgard. Then when I saw 3Hopes' Secret Route's Support conversation between Edelgard and Claude, I was surprised to hear Edelgard state that she had plans to only capture and not kill Rhea (whereas Claude was willing to kill Rhea). That's when I had another moment of thinking Claude and Edelgard had flipped, because now 3Hopes Edelgard was talking more like FE3H Claude. After my all-nighters binging and marathoning 3Hopes playthroughs, there seemed to be a steady accumulation of story moments, pushing or demonstrating Claude to accept blood on his hands, and go down a slippery slope to more easily accepting excess death/battles: first starting with killing Shahid, later with Judith's death, attacking Fhirdiad, killing Rhea, and I think a few more events before Judith's death that I can't remember right now. When all those events started accumulating, I thought, "This must be like what the Edelgard fans went through in FE3H Crimson Flower." I'm a Code Geass fan. I still love Lelouch. So I know that it takes a gradual but steady stream of situations "forcing" an anti-hero to accept killing/war as seemingly the "only" option at the time, each time---all while simultaneously portraying the reluctance, regret, and angst which the anti-hero has concerning those "forced" killings/battles---in order to build and maintain sympathy for a character, regardless of the severity of the excess deaths/wars they cause. I assumed something like that happened in Crimson Flower, but because I wasn't as interested in Edelgard, as I was in Claude, I never bothered to confirm. (Of course I'm going to going for the happy, sunshine, meme House in FE3H, where they ended the war with the power of friendship! I'm not the same emo I was when Code Geass released. Now in this phase of my life, I need pure-hearted, sunshine, meme Lord!) I just took all the Edelstans' word for it, since they repeatedly compared FE3H Crimson Flower to Code Geass. Well, I guess it's Golden Deer's turn, with 3Hopes. Because---goddamn!---is 3Hopes Golden Wildfire ever _CHOCK-FULL_ of Claude angsting about unnecessary battles, excess killing, and worrying about the war dragging on too long and therefore costing more lives.
Before I saw this "betrayal" chapter with Randolph's death, I saw the numerous cutscenes expounding on Claude's regrets for war, and thought 3Hopes was just giving us all the characterization we knew was going on in FE3H Claude, off screen. But now I see, 3Hopes was ensuring that we still sympathize with 3Hopes Claude as a protagonist, despite his gradual slippery slope into more excess killing/battles, after he had to kill his brother Shahid and didn't have the same emotional support that he had in FE3H.
(Even 3Hopes Dimitri got more emotional support systems in 3Hopes! Dedue and Felix were always by his side. And guess what? 3Hopes Dimitri never became the Delusional Prince Boar. ...I guess that really does make 3Hopes Claude a "Fallen" version of Claude.)
But perhaps all these 3Hopes cutscnes of Claude angsting over the excess death/battles, also serve to show how Claude is trying to hang onto his more benign choices. He's not going to just fall completely down the endless chasm of his slippery slope after killing Shahid.
1:19 AM 6/29/2022
Next chaper of Golden Wildfire, after "betraying" Randolph in "Clash at Ailell", is "Love and Loss". First cutscene with the Golden Deer, is Claude is re-establishing the roundtable conferences. When I saw these conferences in later chapters, even after having already seen the chapter where Claude became Leicester's king, I thought they were just functioning in the most efficient way to get input from everyone. It was how Leicester always conducted decisions before. I thought it was habit, easy to reutrn to, even after making Claude king. But now that I see these conferences specifically getting reinstated after Shez and Judith chewed out Claude for "betraying" Randolph because Claude didn't trust his comrades(' competency), it feels more like this scene is about showing 3Hopes Claude's growth. FE3H Claude's character arc was about growing to trust people, and it was so gradual, that most FE3H fans missed it and said that "Claude didn't even have a character arc", "he's a boring character", "nothing changed about him during his story". But 3Hopes is deliberately making it clear that Claude is making changes within himself. They're having this scene, specifically spotlighting the reinstatement of Roundtable Conferences, showcasing how drastically Claude is taking Shez's and Judith's recommendations to put more trust in his allies, and even changing the proceedings of past Roundtable Conferences by including his commoner allies too. For all those people who said FE3H Claude didn't have any character growth, 3Hopes is slapping us in the face with this.
(I'll admit, that if I remember correctly, even I thought FE3H Claude didn't really change. I likely thought he was one of those already-individualized characters whose story function was to effect other characters or the world positively, influence them to their own growth/change, rather than going through any growth/change himself. Like Wall-E or Date Masamune from Sengoku Basara 2009. I heard other people's analysises comment that FE3H Claude's character arc was through him growing to trust people, and I just took their word for it, because his "Friendship" speech during Verdant Wind's final cutscene was extremely compelling evidence.)
1:38 AM 6/29/2022
I honestly don't care to hear Fleche's reaction to Randolph's death.
I may admire Claude's goodness, ideals, and dream to be compassionate as much as possible. But I never said that _I_ was like that. I am a malicious son of a bitch! ...That's probably why I admire unbelievably idealistic characters like FE3H Claude, Ky Kiske, Natsume Takashi, and Sengoku Basara 2009 Date Masamune and Sanada Yukimura.
1:43 AM 6/29/2022
I guess I'm continuing reactions to this vid.
Leicester declared war on the Central Church and the people didn't panic or revolt? Is this why in one route Leicester copied the Empire and established an Eastern Church? Now this is an interesting commentary on Dimitri, actually.
Whenever Dimitri and Claude talk about abolishing the Central Church, whether in their Secret Route Support scene or while establishing their alliance during Azure Gleam, Dimitri keeps circling back to being unable to stop supporting the Central Church, because he's afraid that the people will fall apart without it. He's afraid that their religion is too ingrained into them to abandon the Church. He's afriad that without a central authority like the Church (or it's power to bestow sovereignty), the people would actually start fighting among each other, probably to grab their own power, and tear the Kingdom apart. Though Dimitri's core reason to be unable to separate from the Church, despite his want to, may actually be his characteristic Survivor's Guilt from the Tragedy of Duscur. Dimitri has always been characterized as selfless, blaming himself, and thinking he is unworthy---especially during FE3H, when he hallucinated ghosts to manifest his guilt. But even 3Hopes Dimitri has some of this guilt motivating him. 3Hopes Dimitri talks about feeling too guilty to remove those from power, tying the Kingdom to the Central Church, because even those people are "human". By which, he means that he recognizes their humanity too much to feel he has the right to punish or hurt anyone. (I do wish he'd recognize that some authority figures who abused their power or even some rich nobles who passively maintained the Church's systems, are privledged enough to withstand being brought down a peg, while the peasants who suffer from abusive systems more urgently need the king's help.) But Dimitri keeps saying he can't sever ties with the Church because the people are too attached to it.
But Leicester's people are a SECOND example (after the Empire's Southern Church) that the state can separate from the Church without the people falling into disarray. This Golden Wildfire scene keeps describing the Leicester people as staying calm in the face of Leicester's declaration of war against the Central Church. I wonder if the Azure Gleam route ever confronted Dimitri with examples like this. …Though I doubt even that would be enough to overcome his ingrained guilt, enough to separate the Kingdom from the Central Church.
2:03 AM 6/29/2022
JUDITH: "So you've finally decided to rely on your friends a little."
Well, I guess that confirms what I thought this scene was about. For all you people who complained that Claude "didn't have any character growth moments in FE3H", is this good enough for you?!? 3Hopes had to make Claude unnecessarily kill people and betray technical allies, so that his turnaround in this scene could stand out more obviously. Is this obvious enough for you!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? The man has trust issues! That's his character arc! Emblazon it onto your memories this time!
---That includes me. In FE3H, I thought Claude was just one of those already-admirable, with no where else to grow characters, like Date Masamune from Sengoku Basara 2009. And I was fine with that because I love admirable, idealistic characters, who just stand as the ideal to strive for, through harrowing times that make lesser people degenerate into less moral versions of themselves. But I guess some people did complain about FE3H Claude seeming that way. Continuing 3Hopes addressing a lot of the complaints and feedback that people had after FE3H.
(I just realized that also like 3Hopes Claude being a less admirable version than the previous FE3H Claude, Date Masamune from Judge End was ALSO a less admirable version than the previous 2009 Sengoku Basara version of Date! O_o! LOL)
#random thoughts#reactions#3hopes#spoilers#claudeVRkhalid#story analysis#character analysis#relationship dynamics#angst#maybe dwelling too much on the angsty parts and over emphasizing the angst
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Story generated entirely by AI
fantasy/fiction only
Tim had always been the handsome one in the small town of Willow Creek. With his chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and muscular physique, he was the object of desire for many. But despite his good looks, Tim was a kind and humble young man, loved by all who knew him.
However, one fateful night changed everything for Tim. He had been at a local bar with his friends, celebrating his recent promotion at work. After a few too many drinks, Tim got into a heated argument with another patron, which quickly turned physical. In the chaos, Tim accidentally struck the man with a bottle, causing a fatal injury. Panicked and confused, Tim fled the scene, not realizing the severity of what had just occurred.
It wasn't long before the police caught up with Tim and arrested him for the murder of the man at the bar. Despite his protests of innocence, Tim was sentenced to hang for his crime. As he sat in his cell, awaiting his execution, he couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness and despair. He would never see his family and friends again, and his life would end at the young age of 28.
Just before his scheduled hanging, Tim's best friend, Richard, came to visit him. Richard had been with Tim since childhood and was the only one who truly believed in his innocence. As they sat in the dimly lit cell, Richard could see the fear and sadness in Tim's eyes. He knew that his friend was not ready to face his death, and he wanted to do something to ease his pain.
'Tim, I know this is a difficult time for you, but I want to help in any way I can,' Richard said, placing a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder.
Tim looked at his friend, grateful for his presence. 'Thank you, Richard. I just can't believe this is happening to me. I don't want to die.'
Richard's heart ached at the sight of his friend's despair. He knew he couldn't change Tim's fate, but he could at least offer him some comfort in his final moments. 'Listen, Tim, I know this may sound strange, but I can help you ease some of the tension before your execution.'
Confused, Tim looked at Richard, wondering what he meant. Richard could see the question in his friend's eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. 'I can help you…cum before you're hanged. That way, you won't have to suffer the embarrassment of cumming during your execution.'
At first, Tim was taken aback by Richard's suggestion. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He didn't want to leave this world with the shame and humiliation of ejaculating in front of everyone. And if anyone could help him with this final act, it would be Richard.
Without saying a word, Tim nodded, giving Richard his consent. Richard immediately got to work, helping Tim lie down on the small cot in the cell. Tim's hands were still bound behind his back, so Richard had to improvise. He began rubbing his friend's bulge over his athletic shorts, causing Tim to let out a soft moan.
As Richard's hand moved faster and faster across the fabric of Tim's shorts, Tim couldn't help but feel a surge of pleasure. His fear and sadness began to fade away, replaced by a sense of euphoria. He closed his eyes and let out a loud moan as the sensations overwhelmed him.
'I'm gonna cum,' Tim gasped, just as he experienced an earth-shattering orgasm at the hands of his best friend. Pump after pump of warm cum erupted into his boxer briefs and seeped through his shiny gym shorts. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such intense pleasure, and he was grateful to Richard for giving him this final release.
Just as Tim finished his orgasm, two guards burst into the cell, interrupting the moment. They immediately began dragging Tim out of the cell and towards the gallows. Tim begged them to at least let him change his shorts, but they refused, stating that there was no time.
As Tim was brought to the gallows, his legs trembling with fear and adrenaline, the cum stain on his shorts was clearly visible to all witnesses. Some gasped in shock, while others snickered and whispered to each other. Tim's face turned red with embarrassment, but he also was so overwhelmed by the thought of being hanged his embarrassment only lasted so long.
The executioner tightened the noose around Tim's neck as he trembled, breathing heavily. As the trapdoor opened, Tim's body dropped, but instead of a quick and painless death, Tim's execution turned into an excruciatingly long demise. The drop was not long enough to break his neck, and Tim struggled and kicked as he slowly suffocated to death.
As Tim's body convulsed and his face turned purple, the crowd watched in horror. Some could not bear to look, while others couldn't tear their eyes away. And as Tim's lifeless body hung from the gallows, the cum stain on his shorts was a lasting reminder of his final moments on this earth.
Richard watched from a distance, tears streaming down his face. He had lost his best friend, and the guilt of not being able to save him would haunt him for the rest of his life. But he found solace in knowing that he had given Tim one last moment of pleasure before he left this world.
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Why Halo: Reach (campaign) is a trainwreck.
A lovable trainwreck, don't get me wrong, but a trainwreck nonetheless.
So Halo Reach is one of those games that leaves a community divisive, it was the first halo game to not have a universally loved reception among the community at large. I think it's a fun game, a really fun game, I adore it's multiplayer and the hours my friends I spent dicking around in forge world. It also has the best armor system Halo's ever had to date, infinite can suck my ass--I'm not paying 15 dollars for a shader. You ain't D2, you can't pump and dump my wallet.
ANYWAY
Reach is such an interesting case, out of universe, as it feels like such an out of character move by bungie. Let's consider for a moment, that the same company that tried to stop the release of fall of reach WEEKS before it's release, was notoriously uncooperative with ensemble studios(people who made Halo Wars), who had a game director undercut the books of the series he was making(And it was Staten, if you could believe it. It's on an old 2000s podcast.) decided--"YES, LETS GO DEEP INTO THE LORE, OUR FAVORITE PART OF THIS FRANCHISE. WHILE WE'RE AT IT, LETS USE THE SPARTAN-IIIs"
??????
Does this not feel weird to anyone else?
If you look at vidocs for reach, and other behind the scenes content, it's said that they wanted to do their own thing, and ignore the books. which if that's what they want to do, sure, fuck it.
Then why did they include First Strike references (radio logs you can hear on certain levels/maps) or HAVE NOBLE TEAM BE ALL IIIS
This is the thing that gets me the most. Halo Reach, legit, feels like Bungie's last middle finger to microsoft at certain points.
Reach is the home of the Spartans, well the IIs really. It's what gives the planet, and it's destruction, such significance to characters like Chief, or Fred, or any II. That was their home, that's the closest they have to a childhood burning at the stake.
So why, do tell, DID YOU MAKE NOBLE TEAM IIIs
THEY HAVE ZERO CONNECTION TO REACH
THEY GREW UP ON ONYX
What also confuses me here, is that it's not like they gave a shit about how many IIs were in Red Flag. THEY MADE THE GAMES, THATS THEIR LORE. THEY COULDVE JUST MADE UP IIs. The reason that First Strike can be such a gut punch at certain points, is because the IIs are watching their homes burning all around them, and they can do n o t h i n g about it. It's tragic, and it makes their survival in the remnants of the glassed planet even more perilous.
I love First Strike, if you couldn't tell. If Ghosts of Onyx didn't exist, it'd be the best halo book. I'm not gonna defend this opinion because it's right.
And Bungie wrote entire CVs and A FUCKING MESSAGE BETWEEN KURT AND MENDEZ in the leadup to Reach. They did all this legwork for the pay off of having characters unrelated to the conflict they were fighting.
also, I know Jorge is a II, I WILL GET TO JORGE.
Reach was planned, in development, as this giant military campaign first . Check the vidocs/behind the scenes videos, I think Marty O'Donnell is the one who says it.
(also marty was the dude who had miranda and johnson die in 3, he edited that in, check the making of Halo 3. Who kept letting the audio director fuck with the script?)
There is a big, big problem with making the battle of Reach a military campaign, however.
In FOR, the kicker about the battle of reach is that it wasn't even a battle. The Covenant overwhelmed the UNSC's fleet and flooded the planet groundside, the battle was incredibly shortlived. I think only a day. Chief went from having near 30 of his siblings living and in the field, to being the only spartan in active combat.
First Strike keeps this narrative too. The Spartans never get to fight their valiant last stand. The loss of the fleet makes the different splinters of Red Team retreat to their various fallback points. Fred, Kelly and Joshua kill an invading army of covenant, sure, but the rest of the Spartans prevent were handling a variety of what-the-fucks
I do think that a theme that carries from book to game is fighting in the face of hopeless odds, which I like.
In the game, Reach is invaded by a smaller covenant fleet and ONI just....never tells the rest of the planet? It's the long night of solace, a big cloaked super carrier, and a few destroyers. (Unironically, the lore for this is that the Shipmaster of Solace came to reach on the search for forerunner artifacts, realized he was in way over his head, and just tried to get his fleet to 1-man all of reach before the prophets got too mad.
which is funny, in retrospect, because right after he eats shit--Thel shows up in the big boy fleet. I wonder how that conversation went down with the surviving officers.)
In FoR, they bring the IIs back to Reach to prep for Red-Flag and to get them the Mark V upgrade. Same thing with the pillar of autumn.
This happens by August 27th. Chief was already on the planet beforehand for a few days to debrief highcom about Sigma Octanus IV, that's beside the point. It's to be assumed that there were a sizable amount of IIs on Reach in the weeks before, since they were being pulled from a variety of fronts, and slipspace travel means everyone would've gotten there at different times. Chief was also leading a force of 12 Spartans at Sigma Octanus IV, the battle right before reach, so I assume they came with him.
August 30th---OOPS, ALL COVENANT
The battle starts as FoR-First Strike say it does on the 30th, AND THAT SAME FUCKING DAY THE PLANET IS LOST.
---------
In Reach, the game, the covenant were found on reach JULY 24TH. THAT IS WHEN THEY PRESS THE "OH FUCK, WINTER CONTIGENCY" BUTTON. If you go by the game, it seems like there's just all out warfare across the planet after that point. The mission after is Noble Team defending Castle Base from a Covenant Corvette
(also, like, it's goofy as fuck to think that no one outside the select military participating in these engagements did not, or hear about, the giant space marine animal firing death from above. I doubt the covenant gave a shit about which humans they turned to ash knew about them, after their presence was found out.)
So most of Reach's Campaign happens, including the huge fucking battle at Szurdok Ridge. You know the battle that had scarabs and scorpion tanks casually duking it out in the background, same battle that they used a MAC round in atmosphere in?
By August 13th, 60 percent of the UNSC fleet is recalled to defend reach. Not too long after that, Noble Team kills the super carrier. Then what I assume is Thel's fleet shows up as in the cutscene it shows a massive fleet entering the system immediately after the solace's destruction. After that is the battle of new alexandria, which ends august 23rd.
The game and the book link up on August 30th, as Noble team delivers the other half of cortana.
(Halsey split her into two so she could continue her forerunner research, also, halsey never talks about meeting Noble Team in First Strike. Jun literally escorted her to Castle Base. In her journals that came with Reach's deluxe edition, I think there is a few pages of her freaking the fuck out about them. Not-so-concidentally Eric Nylund also wrote that Journal.)
343 tried to link the game and book stories together, and the result was--
Oni predicted there was a 67% of reach being found, just let it happen, no I am not joking.
The battle of reach up until where FoR picks up is just on one side of the planet, somehow they contain it so the planet doesn't freak out. I do not know how, the covenant were fucking EVERYWHERE.
ONI also let the long night of solace pally about, they were mad when Noble Team blew it to high hell because they wanted to use it for Red Flag.
THEY BROUGHT ALL THE IIs BACK TO REACH, MID INVASION, AND JUST DIDN'T TELL THEM UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE???? ALSO, IF THE PLANET WAS BEING INVADED BY THE COVENANT, WHY DID YOU NOT USE ONE OF THE MANY ORBITAL MAC CANNONS.
This is a GOOFY retcon, I swear to god.
It takes them like, an entire fucking month, to get the fleet to Reach. I'd also like to mention, KEYES LEAVES THE BATTLE AND LANDS ON REACH SO HE CAN PICK UP CORTANA FOR THE LAST MISSION. CHIEF WAS LITERALLY NAPPING DURING THIS. I'M SURE HE WOULD'VE LOVED TO HELP NOBLE SIX AND EMILE OUT IF THEY WOKE HIM THE FUCK UP.
@zitasaurusrex
I apologize if this was hard to read, and tbh I probably also missed stuff li-WAIT I FORGOT
IN HALO REACH THEY HAVE A SEVEN PART RADIO MESSAGE STORY ABOUT BETA RED, SPLIT ACROSS FIREFIGHT AND MULTIPLAYER MAPS. THE SPARTANS WHO WERE LEFT TO DEFEND THE GENERATORS. THEY'RE CHATTING ABOUT THEM AS THEY'RE PUNCHING UP TO THESE TANK SQUADRONS BAREHANDED. BUNGIE, BUNGIE, THIS IS ALREADY A MESS, WHY ARE YOU INCLUDING THIS.
Edit: I realize I never got to Jorge.
I think it's stupid to have Jorge be in noble team because it SHOWS they thought about the concept of what reach being invaded would mean to a II. They just didn't care enough to expand on it in any substantial way.
#halo reach#lore#lore rant#I'm gonna strangle bungie so help me god#why do I like both halo and destiny to death#these people are terrible at making games#i wrote this tired
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Entry 03: April 28, 2077 (水)
Jackie and I at the start of our day, before everything went up and down and sideways all at once.
This has been the craziest day of my life. It made the day before it look like nothing. I’m trying not to show it on the outside, but inside, I’m shivering. I don’t even know where to begin, and I certainly shouldn’t be writing the details and names down. So I’ll just say this: today was the day I lost track of how many people I’ve killed. Braindead scavs and psychos who gave up their humanity long ago, sure. But still...people. I can't keep going at this rate, I'll catch a stray bullet and that'll be the end of V. But if it feels like the walls are closing in one way or the other—it also feels like maybe this is just what it means to have made it as a merc? One of the biggest fixers in N.C. has brought me in on a huge job. It could be the (final) stupidest thing I’ve ever done, or it could be just the beginning of a ride all the way to the top of the city. It’s intoxicating...
And speaking of intoxicating…I met someone. A girl named Judy. I melted into a puddle when I first laid eyes on her, but I couldn’t let it show. It has to be strictly professional. At least for now. If I live long enough, I’m gonna make a move. But she sure is prickly, I can tell that already. A little intimidating, but soft. Like Juliana was. I wish I had a photo of her to share, but like I said, pro is pro.
I can’t believe I’m laying here in bed, listening to the city outside my window, when I should be thinking about the slaughter I barley escaped. I got burned when a chemical barrel exploded. Fuck! The city really is as gnarly as the old timers told us it was.
I also got some new chrome. How could I almost forget about the permanent cutting of my own flesh? That tells you how much happened today. Vik gave me some neuroblockers to take, and I’m still sore. Probably would’ve been dead though if it weren’t for the new optics. I’m getting better at quickhacking, too. That definitely gave us the edge even when we were outnumbered. I got hacked, though. Come to think of it, is that why I feel burned? They overloaded my nerves? Shit, is that going to heal?
I guess this is why DeShawn asked me if I wanted to live to be old and trampled or burn out in a ball of glory by the time I’m thirty. I still have three years…
Maybe it was a little inappropriate to mug for the drone after leaving a grisly scene like the one at All-Foods you might hear about on the news, that I *definitely* didn't have anything to do with...but the adrenaline was pumping hard and I have to admit, I was pretty proud of how Jackie and I handled ourselves.
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Tied Up
(warnings: gn!reader, sadist!reader, sadomasochistic themes, sub!Hongjoong, ball gag, shibari, marking, biting, collars, leashes, handcuffs, vague spit kink, temperature play [ice], handjob, cum play, overstimulation, dacryphilia, degradation, praise, voyeurism, threesome turned orgy [implications of it], mentions of San and Yunho)
*more and taglist after the cut*
note: @woowommy is the reason I changed my original idea to this
---
Hongjoong was perceived as a tough, strong willed leader. Not the crying and drooling mess that he is right now.
He looked like he got fucked, even though you haven't don't much. You traced a finger over the bruises, bite marks and hickeys on his skin, the dark purples and red a beautiful contrast to his skin. With ropes tied around his body, handcuffs on his wrists and a ball gag in his mouth, he was rendered defenceless. Your hands moved from one place to another; from his collar and leash adorned neck to his messy and cum stained thighs.
Tears streaked down his cheeks as you hold an ice cube against his nipple as well as in your mouth as you suck on the other one. He squirmed under you, his cock twitching against his stomach. The ice in your hand and mouth melted, making you pull away from his now slicked and puffy nipple. You took another ice cube into your mouth giving his other nipple the same mouth treatment.
Hongjoong babbled nonsense behind the gag, his vision blurred with tears as he tries to follow your movements. Drool spilled down his chin and neck, making him feel all the more dirty. You pulled off his nipple, leaning back to inspect the mess he's created. You took another ice cube, carefully circling it over his tip.
Hongjoong's hips jolted, a muffled cry leaving his mouth. You laughed as you slowly rubbed the melting cube along his shaft, smiling at how he tries to move away from the intense feeling. You straddled his thighs, wrapping your hand around him, pressing the ice cube into him. Hongjoong choked out a scream, your hands plus the ice made had him cumming in seconds.
"Such a mess baby, a filthy little mess." Hongjoong whined, his eyes glassy as you stroked him through his orgasm. "Always such a good whore for me, aren't you?" You chuckled at how Hongjoong bucked into your hand, your thumb dipping into his slit. Before you could utter another word, the door handle started shaking and rattling and before you knew it, the door clicked open.
Wooyoung stood there in shock at the scene in front of him, slowly blinking as if he couldn't believe his eyes. You turned around, blocking Hongjoong's dick from Wooyoung's view. "How did you even get in? The door was locked." Wooyoung simply held up chopsticks his eyes trailing over each hickey and bruise on Hongjoong. His cock twitching in his sweatpants as he stared a little too long at Hongjoong's restricted mouth.
"Lock the door or get out." Your stern voice made Wooyoung's cock jump, a grin finding its way onto his face as he enjoyed your dominant side. Patting the empty space on the bed beside you, Wooyoung sat down, awaiting your next command. You caressed Wooyoung face gently, making him shiver from how cold your hand was. "You can behave for me right, Youngie?"
Wooyoung gulped harshly, nodding his head as he felt his cock press against the thin material of his sweats. Wooyoung looked back at Hongjoong, seeing the tear streaks, the hickeys and the mess of his cum up close. Hongjoong felt ashamed but he couldn't deny that having Wooyoung eye him like a piece of meat doesn't make him hard.
He simply can't deny it because his cock was already half hard just from feeling Wooyoung's dark gaze on him. You pumped him to full hardness, watching as he whimpered and shook under you. "Can I-" Wooyoung gestured down to your hand, making you pull away and replace your hand with his. Wooyoung smirked at how easy it was to get a reaction out of Hongjoong.
Hongjoong started crying again as Wooyoung stroked him quickly, his thumb dipping into his slit every once in a while. "Fun isn't it?" You chided as you got up, washing your hands of the drying cum. Walking back into his bedroom, you shifted to be behind Wooyoung, who had moved even closer to Hongjoong. Wooyoung questioned what you were doing, but focused on the shaking mess in front of him.
You tugged at Wooyoung's sweat pants, making his gasp sharply when you dove your hand beneath it. You wrapped your still wet hand around his throbbing cock, making Wooyoung let out a loud moan. With the help of the water, you stroked him fast. Wooyoung tried to match his pace with yours making Hongjoong writhe uncontrollably. Wooyoung whined loudly, his head dropping as he bucks his hips into your hand.
"Such good boy toys, behaving so well." They both cried out at the praise, making you smile against Wooyoung's neck. You left sloppy kisses on his skin, thumbing over his head as he came. Wooyoung whined loudly, his cum staining your hand and his sweatpants. Hongjoong's back arched deeply, cumming on his stomach for the umpteenth time. Both boys slumped in their positions, letting out short whines like puppies.
You pulled away from Wooyoung after giving his a soft kiss to the cheek. Walking over to Hongjoong's side, you reached behind his head, unbuckling the clasp. As soon as the gag left his mouth, Hongjoong let out a loud whine, his figure trembling with the aftermath of so many soul shattering orgasms. Wooyoung pulled his hand away from Hongjoong, staring down st his cum coated hand.
You looked at Wooyoung, then his hand, wordlessly telling him to do it. Bringing his fingers up to his lips, Wooyoung's cleaned the cum off his hand, making Hongjoong whimper softly. "Both of you did well,"
You pressed a kiss to Hongjoong's cheeks, making him smile weakly as he laid limp against the bed. You gestured to the door, making both Wooyoung and Hongjoong freeze. San and Yunho stood by the door, watching as you pushed them both around. They both had obvious tents in their pants, smirking as both boys eyes them up and down. While Hongjoong and Wooyoung were too busy in eye fucking San and Yunho, you grabbed a extra collar, quickly making your way behind Wooyoung. Without too much fussing, you managed to tighten the collar around his neck, leaving a soft kiss to his shoulder.
"But I'm sure you can be even better for your masters."
---
@a-soft-hornytiny @berryberry-joongie @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @hanatiny @hyetiny @latte-fairytaekwoon @multidreams-and-desires @minhyukmyluv @serialee @strawberry-joong @vocalyunho @yungisstar1117 @yunhofingers @yunhospuppy @yunsangoveryonder
#ateez smut#ateez smut drabbles#ateez smut imagines#ateez x reader#ateez hongjoong smut#ateez hongjoong smut drabbles#ateez hongjoong smut imagines#hongjoong smut#hongjoong smut drabbles#hongjoong smut imagines#sub!ateez#sub!hongjoong#ateez wooyoung smut#ateez wooyoung smut drabbles#ateez wooyoung smut imagines#wooyoung smut drabbles#wooyoung smut imagines#sub!wooyoung
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Hi, why do u ignore me?
You think I'm ignoring you? Oh, honey...
believe me, I'm trying my very best to answer all these asks. but please know that:
I am a mom. I have a two-year-old baby I have to take care of.
I am a wife and a freelancer. I have chores to do, my husband needs me, and I have a job I need to deal with.
I barely have any free time to myself, and the little time that I do have, I use it to work on my fics because I know there are people waiting to read more about my stories and I don't want to disappoint them by making them wait too long. but even writing a 3k chapter can take 5 hours for me to do it, so you can imagine just how many hours i needed to write down long chapters like TLS or NLMG.
70% of these asks are people asking me to write headcanons, what if scenarios, and fluffy/smutty scenes. As much as I am grateful for them, and as much as I want to answer them all, it will take so much of my time and brainpower to write these down because english is my third language and I struggle every time I have to write something in english.
I realize that you requested me to write a fic with toxic eren. I have stated many times that I don't and I never will accept requests but I do try my best to answer some because I really love you guys and it makes me happy if I can answer your request and make you feel happy in return. but I can't always come up with great ideas to write. this is why it takes longer for me to answer these kinds of messages because I'm not a machine who can keep pumping out fics. I feel burned out. Sometimes, my brain stops working and I can't think of anything to write about. and you're asking me to write about toxic eren when I have said many times that I hate the idea of eren being toxic.
All I'm asking is just please... please be patient. Don't come to my DMs to ask me about your request. Don't spam my inbox with it. It's never my intention to make you feel ignored and getting messages like this saddens me.
#honest to god i'm just trying to make everyone happy#but i do have a life outside of tumblr#and you're a writer too aren't you?#why don't you try and write something for yourself and maybe share it with us this time?#i'm sorry if i sound rude but i'm really really really tired of getting messages like this#please understand that i'm here to have fun with you guys#i write for free#i'm doing as best and as fast as i can#please be more patient#and don't do this to other writers#seriously#also i find it funny that you send me a request when you comment about how disgusting historia is in MY blog#when i've stated that she's my favorite character haha#but anyway everyone is allowed to state out their opinions i guess#i'm gonna take a week off tumblr#i think it's better instead of lashing out my frustration over here hehe#goodbye guys I'll come back with a new chapter of NLMG#kana answers stuff
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