#So when people are like. But what about 'Platonic Soulmates'? I'm like. What about them? They're already here? That's the default-

[astonmartinii]

insta au req about reader and charles being best friends and a rift comes between them because of his girlfriend(or whoever!!) and reader and max finally get together and she shades ferrari and charles purrrrr (if not i totally get it queen love u loads)

into the arms of another | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

after charles leaves her out in the cold, y/n falls into the arms of another.

part two part three

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, arthurleclerc and 506,823 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: dumb and dumber: vacation edition

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user1: they're really just the definition of no thoughts behind the eyes

user2: it's crazy cause we all know you have to be smart to drive an f1 car and she has a literal degree in architecture but they are always in the most insane situations ever

charles_leclerc: that's my private jet don't call me dumb

yourusername: *rented, dumbass

liked by maxverstappen1

user3: they're friendship goals like perfect example of platonic soulmates and male and female friendship

arthurleclerc: so like what does a man need to do for a feature on your instagram?

yourusername: soz arth, step ur aesthetic up x

user4: oh to be besties with an f1 driver

user5: wait so like all the leclercs and their gfs went on this holiday, right?

user6: yeah arthur’s and lorenzo’s gfs have posted about being there

user5: so it’s kinda muggy that y/n refused to post the girls?

user6: not really she’s posted with the girls loads i think y’all just want an excuse to be mad at her

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,231,907 others

charles_leclerc: summer spent with the best people

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user8: no y/n ....

user9: did yall see that tweet about the girl who met y/n in corsica when charles left her stranded on the beach to walk home on her own

user8: what ???

joristrouche: love you brother

charles_leclerc: best mate

user10: the vibes have shifted, the atmosphere is weird and the absence of y/n is the centre of it

user11: i fear i've seen this film before and y/n is defo getting iced out because charles in back in a relationship

user12: noooooo i thought he'd matured past that after the last time he fucked y/n off for a girlfriend

user13: babes please stop expecting so much from men

liked by yourusername

pierregasly: you look sunburnt calmar, did you leave it at home cause y/n isn't there to remind you?

charles_leclerc: she's here and i have been putting it on the sun just has it out for me

yourusername: i tried pierre, believe me

user14: well this is fucking awkward

user15: charles is not beating the allegations of forgetting about y/n while in a relationship LOL

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,034,667 others

maxverstappen1: simply lovely to win my home race again. the orange army never disappoint and i'm so thankful for all the support here this weekend

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user20: call me a conspiracy theorist BUT he thanked the orange army and the support separately i.e. Y/N Y/LN

user21: now you bitches usually jump to conclusions, but i'm hearing you this time

martingarrix: next set just gonna be super max on a two hour loop

maxverstappen1: i'll be there

user22: i'm sorry i'm new here why is y/n being in max's garage such a big deal? who is she? (gen.)

user23: y/n is charles' best friend, they've known each other since childhood and she's supported him through all levels of karting and single-seaters. though they haven't interacted too much in the public eye, max and y/n have known each other for as long as charles and max have. charles is a bit notorious for dumping y/n to the side for his girlfirend any time he's in a relationship and being inseparable once he's single again. after he ALLEGEDLY ditched her at a beach in corsica over the summer, y/n hasn't been seen with him or interacting with him online and was then in max's garage.

user24: maybe i'm messy but i genuinely want max and y/n to be together

yourusername: the red bull catering was defo worth breaking the cost cap

maxverstappen1: you're welcome any time

user25: can someone please check charles' pulse

landonorris: he looked like a cartoon with steam coming out of his ears earlier

user26: LANDO WHAT?

user27: tbf i think that's just a general side effect of driving the ferrari

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 542,987 others

yourusername: hard ball or soft serve

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user28: in my professional shadow identification opinion, i have deduced that it is in fact max verstappen

user29: ur so delusional (i believe you)

charles_leclerc: so that's who you've been getting our vanilla and chocolate cones with

yourusername: i'm not entertaining this argument over the internet charles you know where i live

liked by maxverstappen1

user30: she's so much better than me i'd rip him a new asshole right here right now

arthurleclerc: please come to dinner on sunday, carla can't come and i don't wanna fifth wheel plsssssss y/n

yourusername: sorry chickie i've already got plans but give mama my love

arthurleclerc: noooooo what could be better than mama's sunday lunch

yourusername: i promise i love those dinners but i've had enough experience seventh wheeling you guys and would love time with someone who loves me for me

liked by maxverstappen1

user31: yall i feel like i'm in the family group chat in this comment section this feels illegal to see

user32: max is so sly with the comments he's liking but that's MY petty king

f1

liked by yourusername, alexalbon and 1,304,783 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

f1: oops. charles leclerc takes championship leader max verstappen and himself out of the race at the first corner. the two did not mince their words, verstappen saying: "i tried to stay out of trouble but trouble came to me"

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user33: the way i RAN to twitter

user34: i'm not a verstappen fan but that quote goes so hard

user35: i'm all for leaving the drivers' personal lives alone but lord the tea is piping and sky cutting to y/n in max's garage? OOP

user36: no cause someone at sky has been watchign too much drive to survive because putting "charles' childhood friend" on her name banner as she's in max's garage was pure cinema

user37: charles be chatting mad shit for the man at fault

user38: leclerc drove into verstappen and perez and thought he'd manage to get out of the blame again LOL he's such a joker

user39: i think it's a good thing that y/n is skipping that dinner

user40: the way charles' gf wasn't even there this weekend and he was clearly looking for y/n in the garage

user41: the drama is too much for me to keep up with

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 603,487 others

yourusername: only 16 years in the making but we finally got a clue

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user42: i'm going into cardiac arrest

maxverstappen1: finally now i can comment freely about my unbelievably sexy, smart and hilarious girlfriend who i love and defo haven't pined over for ten years

yourusername: awwwww maxy, if it makes you feel better i've liked you for that long as well

user43: hmmmm idk this all seems a bit fake

yourusername: babes i still fancied him when he was a lanky, spotty teenager

arthurleclerc: i can confirm this

user44: the way y/n was always so nice and constantly hyping charles and his gf in their comments ... where's charles

user45: tbf she is dating his rival

user44: oh please we all know they never hated each other and have been good friends for years, charles is just being petty

danielricciardo: never thought i'd see the day when max would grow some balls and finally ask you out

yourusername: i thought you were meant to be some great wing man, i didn't see you helping

danielricciardo: i didn't want to get ran over by charles, no thank you

user46: i'm so sad i want bestie charles and y/n back

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, martingarrix and 1,409,875 others

maxverstappen1: some girls might want to ride a ferrari but mine wants to ride a red bull

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user47: THE CAPTION? THIS MAN IS SO UNHINGED

user48: mad max returns and in the form of shady instagram captions

yourusername: but you didn't even let me drive :(

maxverstappen1: babe i love you but you don't have a license and that's a very expensive car

user49: wait don't make me depressed didn't charles say in an interview ages ago that he was going to teach y/n to drive? did this never happen?

yourusername: sorry to ruin your day but i'm still illegal on the road

landonorris: so no photo credits? i watched you guys kiss for so long to get that shot

yourusername: i didn't hear you complaining on the day

maxverstappen1: let him be lonely in peace

landonorris: that's really not the save you think it is but thanks mate

user50: i am so happy that y/n is happy but the way charles can't be happy for her relationship like she always is for me is so sad to me

user51: i get that the charles and y/n situ is sad but she's clearly happy with max leave them be

fin.

note: hope you enjoyed my love, i hope this was kinda what you were envisioning, i'm happy with it but would be up for a part two if people want it lol xx

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen

[shotmrmiller]

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john price x f reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain price

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve and Eddie lay on the floor of Steve’s living room, staring at the ceiling fan as it moved on the lowest setting. They were both equally high, floating together like they were laying on clouds.

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?" Steve asked.

"Anything, man," Eddie said.

"I like more than one thing," Steve said. "So much more."

"More than one thing of what?" Eddie asked.

"You know how some people like one thing and the opposite thing, but some people like one thing and the opposite thing," Steve said. "I like more than one thing, you know?"

"Like some people like Star Wars and some people like Star Trek, then there are people who say it's the same thing," Eddie said. "Which is bullshit. Some people like both of them, like me."

"You like Star Wars and Star Trek?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, problem?" Eddie asked.

"Nah, man, I'm friends with other nerds," Steve said. "I also like Star Trek and Star Wars. I also like basketball. I like so many things. Is that weird?"

"Nah, man. I don't have a problem with basketball, not anymore," Eddie said. "There's just so many things out there to like, you know. Gotta keep my mind open."

"I think there's a word for what we are. I just can't think of what is," Steve said. "My head is so foggy."

"Yeah, I think your ceiling fan just turned into a helicopter, man," Eddie said.

"Oh, man. I do not want a helicopter in my living room," Steve said.

"You're right. It is better that we're both sober," Vickie said.

Vickie and Robin were sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them.

"Told you, highly entertaining," Robin said. "Don't worry, once they sober, they'll remember that they're boyfriends and that this is the fifth time they're coming out to each other."

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something else?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"Like sometimes, I don't feel like a man. Sometimes, I feel like a woman, but other days, I also feel like a man, and like other days, I don't feel like a man or a woman," Steve said. "Is that crazy?"

"Nah."

"Okay. Okay. We are encroaching on a territory I didn't know existed," Robin said with wide eyes.

"What do we do? Do we pretend like we didn't hear that?" Vickie asked.

"I mean, I think so. I don't know," Robin said. "Yeah, I think so. He's got to be the one to come to us on his own with that like he came out as bisexual. So, yeah, I think we just forget."

The next morning. . .

Robin walked downstairs and into her friend's kitchen. He was standing at the counter, drinking coffee. Robin stared at him, her heart full of affection and love for her platonic soulmate.

"Good morning, Robin," Steve said.

"It certainly is, good that is," Robin said, her eyes filling with proud tears.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Robin sobbed and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, no matter what shape you come in," Robin said.

"Uh, okay?" Steve asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Like if you ever decided to become. . . Astronaut shaped, I think it would be cool. Stars are beautiful, you know, and it's a beautiful thing because we're all made of stardust. And if even if you didn't want to be an astronaut, it would still be beautiful stardust," Robin rambled.

"Robin. . .did you wait until this morning to smoke weed? Why didn't you smoke with us last night?" Steve asked.

"I wanted to see what you and Eddie talked about when you guys were high," Robin said.

"And?" He asked.

"So many wonderful things," Robin sniffled. "I'm so proud of you, and just so you know, I'll support whatever decision you make."

"What if I decide to shave all my hair off?" Steve asked.

"Even then, I'll still love you," Robin said.

"Even my eyebrows?"

"I still love you. . . Dingus."

Robin kissed his forehead and skipped back upstairs to Vickie, leaving Steve with the same wave of affection that hit her just moments ago.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #genderqueer steve harrington #genderfluid steve harrington #robin buckley #lesbian robin buckley #stranger things vickie #bisexual vickie #rovickie #rockie #rueleigh writes #robin & steve #platonic stobin #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates

[lovebugism]

forgive me for what is likely a basic ass request but... steve has a crush on eddie's best friend? smut optional but encouraged :) (love, j.d. aka mypoisonedvine)

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (i)

part one | part two

summary: steve harrington took extra care to avoid the local freaks of hawkins. having shared custody of a fourteen-year-old forced him into a bitter friendship with one, he's steadfast in his refusal to befriend the other. that is, until you start working at the groove beside family video. steve claims he only fell for you because you tripped him. (17k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, protective eddie, canon divergence TW swearing, bullying, some smooching, talks of insecurities, reader is doubtful of steve's intentions because steve used to be a dick <3

a/n: this request has been sitting in my inbox for ages. ages, i tell you! i wrote the outline the day it was sent in and ended up turning the blurb request into a full on 30k+ word fic. i'm sorry for the wait j.d. (and to everyone else who's been waiting patiently for me to put this out). i quite literally put my heart, soul, pussy, and so, so many hours into this. please enjoy! feedback is always appreciated! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

It would be a total disservice to call you Eddie’s best friend.

It wouldn’t even feel right to call you his platonic soulmate or his sister from another dimension. Not when the two of you are essentially an extension of the same human being. It’s a twin flame on steroids — your mirrored souls make the rest of Hawkins believe in some sort of higher power. There’s no way it wasn’t destiny that placed the two of you together at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.

Your entwined spirits could’ve been a beautiful thing.

It’s too bad you’re both total fucking freaks.

Unfortunately, being a couple of metalheads who spend their free time creating fantastical worlds in silly little board games hasn’t become cool yet — for some sad, strange reason. It leaves you and Eddie as the town’s token social pariahs. The kind of misfits you only spot when you care enough to look — laughing too loudly at the lunch table or sharing a cigarette in the alleyway between school buildings.

The kind of weirdos who get your attention without trying. The kind that people only look at when they need something to make fun of.

With that being said, everything Steve knew about you came from the people that hated you.

Tommy Hagan said that you and Eddie had been fucking since the seventh grade, that the two of you had gotten close between blowjobs and fingerbangs in the old chemistry classroom. No one’s quite sure where it came from, but they believed him without thinking twice. You and Eddie tried to squash the rumor for years before leaning into it full throttle.

“And these are the freaks,” Tommy announced when he approached your lunch table. He was giving Billy Hargrove a grand tour of the high school, or rather the shithole, and detoured like you and Eddie were some kind of sideshow attraction. Him and his goons ogled at you like zoo animals.

Steve idled some feet away, not as interested in the bit as the rest of them. He was even less interested in entertaining the new kid on the block thateveryone else seemed to be obsessed with.

“Hey, Tommy...” Eddie sing-songed through a mouthful of PB&J. You’d given him the other half of your sandwich, because you always give him the other half of your sandwich. “Hope you’re not comin’ back to ask for a handy again. I already turned you down, remember?”

A dumb grin took over the boy’s freckled face. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned over to the California boy. “I wouldn’t get too close to them. Don’t know where their hands have been, you know? If I had to guess, I think Punchy got Munson’s rocks off in the janitor’s closet before lunch period.”

Neither of you were particularly fazed by the laughter that erupted all at once and threatened to swallow you whole. Instead, you smiled with bits of grape jelly smeared on your chin. “I bet you think about it a lot, don’t you, Tommy?”

You really lived up to the nickname. Punchy. You weren’t entirely sure where it came from — your fierce temper, perhaps, or maybe your intense personality. Either way, it suited you.

Vicki Carmichael once said that you bit a guy on a date one time. Barry Jenkins, a tennis douchebag who thought the world revolved around him because his dad owned a string of local laundromats. He took you on a date in his mom’s Impala and assumed making out in the backseat gave him free rein to stick his hand up your skirt.

The asshole sported a red mark on his neck the next day.

When people asked you about it, you smiled with all your teeth in place of any real answer.

Carol Perkins loved to comment on the state of your wardrobe, telling anyone who would listen about the time she caught you rifling through the $1 bargain bins outside the thrift store. She liked to joke that you were stealing from them. “Because she can’t even afford a couple measly dollars. It’s kinda sad, honestly. I feel a little bad for her,” you overheard her saying once.

You were smoking a cigarette in the stall and watching through the crack of it while her and her friends touched up their lip gloss. 

“Wait, really?” Tina wondered, stopping mid-swipe of mascara through her long lashes to gape at the girl beside her. Because, god forbid, they don’t have someone to make fun of.

Carol snapped bright pink bubblegum between her teeth. She looked offended, almost — manicured brows furrowed and shiny lips snarled — like the idea of her taking pity on you was insulting. “No,” she snapped in response.

You’re pretty sure it’s the only rumor about you that’s got any bit of truth to it. Or any rumor of hers, really. The thrift store was great and all, but you firmly believe that your best pieces come remanufactured straight from Eddie Munson’s closet.

So it isn’t any wonder why the two of you seem to dress so similarly — all leather jackets and distressed jeans and hand-me-down t-shirts that are either too big or too small. The both of you take little care in your appearance, wearing only what you feel good in. And sometimes that means wild hair and baggy clothes that swallow you whole.

To make it worse, you and Eddie even talk the same. You’re both loud and brash and have very little awareness of personal space. You aren’t scared to make a scene or use your voice when you think it’s being stifled. And when you love someone, they know it, because you won’t leave them the hell alone.

These are all the things that Steve hated about Eddie. So he hasn’t quite figured out why he’s so damn in love with you. 

But he is. 

Quite dreadfully so. 

Head over heels and stumbling since the day he met you for a second time.

It was the spring of 1986 and The Groove had just opened up. Steve had heard murmurings of a record shop taking over the empty outlet adjacent to Family Video but had no idea it would nearly run them out of business. The shiny, new music store attracted all of their usual customers. People were more excited to buy new cassettes than rent movies they’d seen a thousand times already.

Steve didn’t mind, though. He liked it best when the store was empty. But all of his friends — a closeted lesbian, a basket case, and a couple of fourteen-year-olds — seemed to have the same affliction that was plaguing the rest of the town. 

He tried not to be offended when Robin said she was going to spend her break next door and not with him in the closet-sized break room. 

He failed.

Robin spent her half-hour and then some meeting you. She returned forty-five minutes later with a blushing face and a bleeding heart. Suddenly, there were two people in Steve’s life that couldn’t seem to shut up about you. As much as it annoyed him, he let her gush about you anyway, because that’s what best friends do, after all.

But Steve knew you once upon a time. Or he thought he did.

You were a loudmouthed metalhead who wore all black to blend in to Eddie’s shadow. You created fictional characters because it was easier than making friends with real people. You were strange and awkward and mean and gauche — the total opposite of this heavenly, mystical creature Robin was making you out to be.

But then it became this whole… thing.

With Robin and Eddie constantly talking over him about you, the rest of the kids were as confused as Steve was. And as they so often tend to do, the group decided to take matters into their own hands and make the short trek to meet you formally. Steve figured that their answer would be final. When those teenagers hate you, you know it. He learned that the hard way

They’re gone for a little over an hour and come back with a thousand stories and various tapes they say you gave to them for free.

Lucas has got a new Beastie Boys cassette and a proud smile on his face as he recounts the promise you’d made him about catching his next basketball game. “And she said she really liked my ranger,” he brags less than humbly, telling the older teens about how you’d heard stories about his track record in Hellfire campaigns. There’s a sudden suaveness to his voice as he bounces his brows up and down at them.

Max scrunches her face in disgust. She clutches a Kate Bush tape close to her chest, like it’s a prized possession she never wants to let go of. She rolls her eyes at her boyfriend (or maybe ex-boyfriend, but Steve can never keep up these days) and makes her own conversation with Robin. The two girls are the only ones with more than half a brain cell between them, or so they claim.

The redhead tells her that she plans on bringing her broken skateboard over to your store soon. She says the thing’s been wobbly for days, and Robin nods along like she knows all about it. “Well, apparently, she has some tools and knows how to fix it. Said the trucks just needed to be reinforced or some shit, I don’t know, I’m just glad it’s getting fixed.”

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks her, confusion contorting his words along with his features. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “I could’ve fixed it.”

“You don’t know anything about skateboards,” Max monotones.

“Okay, but you don’t even know this girl! She’s a total stranger, Max. That’s dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes. “She’s nice, Steve. Way nicer than you—”

That makes him scoff.

“—And you’d know that if you got to know her.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to gush about you next. His opinion, for a reason Steve has never been able to place, arguably means the most to him. And the kid is just absolutely fucking beaming about you. He holds a Star Wars orchestral vinyl in his hand —  the brand new one he’s been talking about for weeks but couldn’t afford. 

He talks of the collection of DnD figurines you were painting behind the counter and the promise you made to make one for his bard come the next campaign. 

Dustin gazes at Steve, wide-eyed and nodding like he’s as amazed by the revelation as Steve is.  “She’s cool, Steve. Like… really cool.” 

The boy thought that Robin just had a crush, that Eddie was just being Eddie and overdramatizing all of his stories about you. But you’re everything they said you’d be and then some. The kind of stranger you meet that takes your breath away, that makes you sad in the understanding that you’ll never see them again. Dustin is grateful you don’t have to be a stranger anymore.

You sounded… nice. More than nice. They painted you out to be a fucking angel, the way you took care of a bunch of kids you barely knew for the better part of an hour. You weren’t the freak everyone made you out to be all that time ago.

They talk a great deal about your looks, too. Dustin, mostly. Lucas had received a glare and a half-hearted punch on the arm from Max when he said how pretty you were — even though she ultimately agreed with him. The curly-headed boy uses too big words to describe the renaissance painting you are, all heavenly morose and beautifully strange.

“Hey,” Eddie scolds from the sidelines, mostly playful. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Bring it down a few notches, ‘kay?”

Steve is silent for the rest of the day after that. He’s not pouting about it like Robin keeps saying he is, just reserved in his reminiscence. 

He can’t tell if he’s intrigued or annoyed. They talk about you the way people used to talk about King Steve — with a borderline obsession for someone they don’t really know. And deep down, he knows he’s just jealous. Jealous that no one talks about him that way anymore. Jealous that none of the kids have ever talked about him that way.

It leaves him skeptical and wanting to see the real thing for himself.

Steve opts to meet you on his lunch break the next day with a tight chest and sweaty palms, like a part of him knew it was going to change the trajectory of his life for the foreseeable future.

The door dings with his arrival. The record store smells like earth and nostalgia, a bit like flipping through the pages of an old book. Vinyls sit in rows and in towers that rise to the ceilings. Colorful cassettes, of which there are thousands, have nooks and crannies of their own. Posters decorate the walls along with various patterned records — there’s hardly a blank spot in the entire store.

And when Steve sees you for the first time, he only sees the back of you.

You’re in all black, just like he imagined you’d be. A sliver of skin at your midriff is showing from where your too small shirt has ridden up your torso. And your hair is as wild as ever, though a little longer than he remembers. You’ve haphazardly pinned back the ornery strings with a sparkly pin, but it doesn’t do much to tame them.

A breeze of warm wistfulness washes over him at the sight of you. A reminder of a life that used to be his, that you were a part of only passively.

It’s your smile that does him in. Maybe because you’ve never looked at him with it. As far as Steve’s concerned, no one’s ever smiled at him the way you do, and you barely even know him. You hadn’t seen him in over a year and if you shared any words in the past, it wasn’t anything more than snarky one-liners. But here you are, looking at him with sunshine anyway.

“Hi,” you beam with the warmest grin he’s ever seen, swiveling in your chair to face him. “Welcome in.”

He’s too stunned by the sight of you to respond. He just stands in the doorway, all wide-eyed and gaping, like he’s the first to see an angel on earth. And it’s strange because you’re far from perfect. 

You’re blousy and a little disheveled, like you’d been running late that morning. The lack of makeup allows your imperfections to shine through in a way that makes you somehow more alluring. And you’ve got paint splattered like freckles on your cheeks, the culprit being the figurines you’re painting behind the counter. If you know you’re dotted with shades of red, blue, and green, you don’t show it.

“Can I help you find anything?” you ask him, still kind even though he’s acting like a fucking weirdo. That’s supposed to be your thing, not his.

Steve grasps for something to say but comes up short. His lips part and then close again in an embarrassing pattern that resembles a fish out of water. It makes sense, though; it’s a bit how you’ve made him feel just now.

When he realizes he can’t make out anything intelligible, he shakes his head. “Uh… nope.”

He’s leaving before he even realizes he’s leaving. The door dings again and he’s on the other side of it, long legs carrying him the short distance to Family Video at record speed. 

He swings and slams the egress shut in quick succession, as though the ghost of you had been chasing him. He leans against the glass pane and exhales a heaving sigh, eyes squeezing shut as he recoils at what he’d just done.

He always knew that King Steve had died some time ago, but this was a new low.

Robin watches from the front counter with wide eyes. “…Did you forget something?”

Steve sighs a big, hopeless sigh, then peeks his eyes open. “My dignity.”

“She’s cute, right?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her brows bounce in time with the smirk on her painted lips.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” he answers, all mad because it’s obvious. “She’s fucking— she’s beautiful.”

“Aw. Look at you,” she sing-songs and tilts her head to her shoulder. “I think your heart grew three sizes today, Stevie.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I never find out 'til I'm head over heels.

Steve, all caught up in his boyish misery, has no idea that he’s enraptured you in a similar way.

You hadn’t cared very much for the guy in high school. You didn’t really know him then, and you didn’t particularly want to. King Steve was rich. King Steve was pretty — too pretty. King Steve got attention from pretty cheerleaders and overaggressive douchebags alike.

King Steve didn’t need any affection from the local freakshow.

But, by some strange turn of events, he’d managed to make nice with your best friend. 

The way Eddie talks about Steve, his words always dripping with a distant venom, it sounds like they still hate each other. Maybe they do. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that they hang out far too often not to be friends.

If you were still in school, you probably would’ve judged him for it. Being friends with the boy whose buddies made your life hell certainly warranted some degree of ridicule. But now, having graduated and trying to move on from it all, you can’t find it in yourself to. 

High school might as well have been a lifetime now. There’s no use in holding onto old ghosts.

If Eddie could let that shit go, so could you.

He drops by after school to keep you company like he always does when he doesn’t have a campaign to prep for. It’s his favorite pastime, perhaps a close second to Dungeons and Dragons. He gets to hang out with his best friend and swim in an ocean of music while he does it. As far as freaks go, Eddie Munson considers himself the luckiest.

He likes to hear you talk about everything new you’ve gotten in while he rifles through the old stuff that isn’t selling as well. You happily let him take what he wants for free. And what he doesn’t take, he doesn’t pay for either, because you cheat the system with your employee discount and then wipe the record from inventory. Just to be safe.

“I love having a criminal for a best friend,” he jokes every time, without fail.

Eddie stays by your side until the sun sets. He parts only to flip the sign at the door to closingfor you, then plops himself back on the counter again. His legs hang off the side of it, sneakers occasionally thudding against the wood when he kicks them back and forth too hard. He scans the back of an old Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl and bobs his head to the rhythmic bass as the song fills the empty store. He’ll take this one home, he decides.

You keep on painting like you have been all day, breaking only to assist customers or stretch your aching spine. The forest dragon had been far more work than you expected — made of pretty purple leaves instead of scales and blowing blush-colored flowers instead of fire. The little piece of clay has resulted in a day of back-breaking work. 

You’ll be damned if Eddie’s next campaign isn’t the most stellar looking one yet.

Focusing on that makes it easier not to bring up Steve. 

You want to. You just don’t know how. 

Eddie’s friends were Eddie’s, and you don’t get involved where it doesn’t concern you. Besides, you did sort of give him shit for hanging out with The Hair way back when. The last thing you want is him taking the piss out of you about it.  

You don’t want to sound like you care too much. Even more, you don’t want it to be obvious that you’ve been thinking about the boy all day — making yourself sick as you stew in what could’ve run him out like he did.

“Saw your friend today,” you remark, feigning a sort of absentmindedness, as you swipe your brush along the petals of your dragon. “King Steve.”

“Oh, you met him?” Eddie wonders, more intrigued by your words than you expected he’d be. He says it like you didn’t already know the guy — like this new Steve was a totally different person you needed to be reacquainted with to really know.

“I wouldn’t say met him exactly. He just, like, popped in for half a second and ran out.”

With your back facing him, you don’t see the shit-eating grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. 

Eddie was waiting for Steve to crack and finally see you. He knew he’d bite after the way the kids had talked about you — Dustin, especially. Because even though he claims he doesn’t have favorites, he’s got a very obvious soft spot for the boy. And he knew Steve would like you because everyone likes you. When they’re not clouded by judgment and high school hierarchies, at least. 

He’s still got no idea how a guy that trips all over himself at the sight of a pretty girl could’ve ruled Hawkins once upon a time.

“Fucking idiot,” Eddie laughs to himself, already gearing up for the shit he was going to give Steve the next time he saw him. 

But you see the boy before Eddie does. Steve comes back the next day, an hour or more after opening, less frazzled than the day before. The nearly twenty-four hours he had to prepare himself for the angel he was going to see allowed him not to make a total fool of himself when he stepped into the store again.

And you wouldn’t say it out loud — hell, it’s not even something you want to admit to yourself — but you’d been hoping he’d stop by again. 

You thought Robin would come by and drag him with her, or that Dustin and his friends would come around before Steve dropped them all home. Frankly, you didn’t really care what brought him back. You just wanted to see him again.

Steve’s different than the boy he used to be. Enough that it was obvious from a measly thirty-second interaction. He used to be a charmer who could talk his way out of anything. Not to you, of course, he wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to you. But then he stops by out of nowhere, in rare form, stumbling all over himself and looking like he didn’t recognize you at all.

You’re still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

He’s mystified you in a way he probably isn’t used to. Most girls like the hair and the arms — the super buff, super strong arms that fit so nicely in his uniform — or the fact that he’s got money and a reputation that precedes him. But you’ve never given a shit about any of that. 

You’re more enchanted by the way nothing could even begin to conceal the soft, shy boy that King Steve had apparently turned into.

The door chimes above his head when he enters. The scent of earthy nostalgia is already familiar to him — lavender, sage, and something deeper. Steve considers it progress when he plants himself a few feet away from the door this time. If he runs out again, he’ll have to make an embarrassingly longer escape.

You turn away from your nearly finished figurine to greet the new customer. The practiced smile unconsciously widens at the sight of him. “Hi!”

“Hey,” he smiles with a curt nod. He regrets the half-wave he gives you the second his hand shoots up.

“You gonna run off on me again?” you tease and swivel in your chair to face him completely.

You’re wearing a Hellfire shirt that’s just slightly too big for you. It probably belonged to Eddie before it belonged to you. And you wear a corset-looking thing over top of it, a sheer number with a lace embroidery and a ribbon that’s tied in a bow at your belly. It doesn’t cinch you in the slightest, though, more for decoration than practicality.

“No that was… I just—” Steve huffs out a laugh as he tries and fails to come up with an excuse. He figures anything is better than the truth — that he saw how pretty you were and his brain forgot how to work because he’s the lamest person on the planet. 

So he chucks a thumb over his shoulder and fibs. “I left something back at Family Video. Had to run back.”

“It’s okay. I was just teasing,” you assure. “Uh— Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No. Not really. Just… new records to add to my collection, you know?”

“Oh, you collect vinyls?”

He doesn’t realize that’s what he’s just said until you repeat the words back to him. 

He’s kind of just talking out of his ass and hoping something sticks. That line does, apparently, because you’re beaming at him instantly. He’s scared to say no because then you’ll stop smiling. And he can’t have that.

“Yep,” he answers with a nod. The stack of records collecting dust in his den has to count for something, right?

He can’t find it in himself to regret his little white lie when it has you lighting up like a christmas tree. 

You toss your paintbrush down when you rush from behind the counter to meet him. You seem to have forgotten that you’d just dipped the thing in purple paint. The thing splatters shades of lilac all over the limestone bench. And, in your haste, you nearly smack yourself with the leaden slab as you raise it to pass by.

Steve’s eyes widen when you narrowly dodge the weighty thing — then jumps, startled by the dense thwap that echoes through the small store when it slams back down again. He’s almost worried that it might’ve busted the hinge. 

You cower at the loud sound but move on with a commendable finesse, too focused on him to care about anything else.

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to collect, but records are so expensive, it’s crazy,” you ramble as you walk up to him, totally unthinking in the way you grab his forearm and usher him to the back of the store. 

Your sheer black skirt swishes at your ankles as you walk. The dainty fabric is patterned with sparkly stars and crescent moons. He notices you wear a pair of dark shorts underneath for modesty. Steve tries his best not to stare at your ass. He almost succeeds.

“We actually just got in a couple of Dio records — The Holy Diver, you know, the one that just came out. I’m pretty sure there’s only, like, a couple thousand of these things in the whole world — which is totally fucking bonkers if you think about it,” you explain in one breath, laughing, before stopping abruptly in your tracks. Steve nearly runs into you when you turn around to face him. 

You laugh again, a sadder one, this time at yourself, as you bring your palm to your forehead. “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t even know if you like Dio. I mean, of course, you don’t, right? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… rambled like that.”

You’d just been so excited and Steve had just been so different that you forgot who you were talking to. Hawkins High Royalty, Prom King, Biggest Flirt and Life of the Party in the yearbook. 

As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson is your only friend. He’s the only person in the whole world you can be yourself around and never get self-conscious about any of it. 

But sometimes you have moments like this one with a total stranger. Moments where you lose yourself in the conversation and your own jumbled thoughts. Moments where you talk and talk and talk until something thumps you on the head and you realize how annoying you’re being. This time, it’s the musky smell of his cologne that knocks you back to Ms. Click’s history class. The crisp breeze of bitter nostalgia makes you shiver.

Steve can see the way you get so suddenly aware of yourself and how the cognizance of the moment makes you writhe. He tries to bat away the lingering insecurities with a smile. 

“Love ‘em,” he responds with a nod. He raises his brows and scoffs, grins and crosses his arms over his chest. “I mean, Dio? God, they’re like… top ten bands of all time, at least. Maybe even five.”

That isn’t totally true. He doesn’t know much about the band to have an opinion, but he’s pretty sure he might’ve said he hated them once. That was only because Eddie wouldn’t stop talking about them, though. Steve could learn to like them, if it means so much to you.

That’s exactly how he justifies spending $60 on four records. 

He tells himself that he’ll listen to them and think of you, that it’ll be a solid conversation starter the next time he sees you. 

You had a whole damn rack dedicated to all your favorite bands — “I put it together myself,” you’d bragged with a proud smile. S it’s a wonder Steve didn’t walk out with the entire damn store. Because you just kept on smiling and talking, so happy to have someone to care about what you had to say, and he ate up every second of it.

He’ll have to work overtime to keep his pockets from hurting, but it’ll be worth it. Because he’ll get to keep talking to you and indulging in all the things you seem to love more than life itself.

You’re still rambling as you ring him up. Steve notices you haven’t stopped yourself like you did before. His lack of dismissal has made you more comfortable, it seems. He likes that.

“I think we’re also gonna get a couple cases of Def Leppard cassettes tomorrow, which is super sick. I think I might have to start collecting, honestly. Tapes are whole lot cheaper than records, you know,” you tell him as you scan and bag all his vinyls. “And it’s also, like, a fucking stellar album. I don’t think I’ve stopped listening to Photograph since it came out.”

“Photograph. Right. Love that one,” Steve nods with a kind smile as he props his elbows on the counter. He doesn’t particularly care that he’s not entirely sure what you’re talking about, or that he’s never actually heard the song. He’s starting to realize you could talk for hours and he wouldn’t get bored.

“Oh, is that your favorite too? Eddie’s more of a Foolin’ kinda guy.”

Despite the fact that he’s never heard the song or this album in his life, he nods anyway. 

He sort of spent the first eighteen years of his life faking just about everything — it kind of came with being the King of Hawkins High. It’s a talent that hasn’t yet left him, it seems, lying through his teeth to impress people. It’s almost become a second nature to him.

“Foolin’s good, yeah, but I think Photograph is obviously better.”

“Obviously, right!” you exclaim with a sunshine-coated laugh. “That’s exactly what I told him! But he’s way too hard-headed to be wrong about anything, so…”

“Well, I’d like to put it on the record that I firmly agree with you,” Steve replies so smoothly that his tongue must be dripping with honey. It’s so easy for him to fall into King Steve mode — when he isn’t forgetting how to speak and running off, that is.

You’ve learned a lot Steve in the past half hour. He likes metal, but leans more toward rock. Particularly all the metal and rock that you like. He hasn’t once had a differing opinion than you, besides telling you he heard Eddie playing a Metallica song once that he didn’t particularly care for. The second you tell him it’s one of your favorites, he backtracks instantly, blaming the Munson boy for being too sloshed to play it properly.

And you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you just now either, with his chin toward his chest as he peers up at you with warm amber eyes. He’s the charmer that he always was. It makes you remember, again, just who you’re talking to.

“We have a lot in common, King Steve,” you lilt with a playful grin.

He deflates at the use of the old nickname. You see the light in his eyes flicker for a just moment before he’s ducking his gaze away from you completely. He tries to brush it off with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not— I’m not really King Steve anymore…”

“No?”

“Nope. Just… Just Steve these days.”

When he looks back at you, he finds you nodding at him, almost in approval. 

Most people are upset to find that he’s changed so much. They hate that he’s no longer the recklessly stupid dumbass they used to get drunk with. 

Not you, though.

“Cool,” you mumble, smiling softly, as you hand him his bag and receipt.

“Uh, I’d love to, you know, come take a look at those tapes when you get ‘em in,” he says as he walks backward towards the door, finally making the brash offer he’s been thinking about this whole time. “Maybe I can bring lunch and we can—”

“Well, Hellfire’s been doing campaigns during lunch recently. And Gareth’s out sick, so I’ve been subbing for him, you know, so…” you interject awkwardly, shifting your weight on your feet. You hate to turn him down, but Eddie might just kill you if he has to get a substitute for the substitute.

“Oh…” he nods, softly puckering his plump pink lips that you can’t seem to stop staring at.

“But I don’t think they’re coming in until late, anyway,” you add quickly. “So, you can stop by at closing, if you want?”

“No, yeah, that’s cool. So cool,” he replies, a little more flustered than he’d been just moments before. He’s just happy that your rejection wasn’t a total refusal.

You try to bite back the wide grin threatening to take over your mouth. “Okay… I’ll catch you later, then, Just Steve.”

“See you,” he waves right before startling himself when he backs into the basket of clearance tapes sitting just beside the door. He barely catches the thing before it tips over completely. He flashes you a shaking smile afterward and finds you covering your mouth with your hand while you try not to laugh too loudly. 

He wishes you’d just went ahead and laughed at him. He wouldn’t have even cared that you were laughing at him, if it meant he got to see you smile.

And even though he’d just gotten done making the biggest fool of himself, he walks back to work feeling like the coolest man alive. There’s a foreign strut in his step that hadn’t been there before he saw you. It doesn’t leave him when he realizes he’s gone slightly over his break and that Keith is manning the counter in his absence.

The man mumbles a monotoned goodbye to the customer he’d just checked out.

She turns around and Steve realizes he recognizes this girl — Mindy or Mandy or maybe Monica — from Mr. Kaminsky’s class way back when. She did all of his homework for him before and after letting him fuck her on her twin-sized bed in her all pink room.  That’s when Steve was conquering girls like they were Mount Everest, way before Nancy, when King was a title he wore with pride. 

But he’s still so stuck in his head with thoughts of you that he doesn’t even see Mindy-Mandy-Monica or the flirtatious wave she throws his way.

“You’re ten minutes late,” Keith scolds, with his dead tone and his deader eyes.

Steve only shrugs, uncaring if it came out of his paycheck because — “I just got a date with the hottest woman on the planet,” he boasts with a puffed out chest and too smug smile.

It doesn’t lessen Keith’s anger, just diverts it. Because he knows exactly who he’s talking about. And so does Robin, as she pops her head out from behind the man from where she sits at the computer. “No way,” they chorus in disbelief at his words.

Steve nods. “Yes way.”

“Eddie’s gonna kill you,” Robin remarks with the shake of her head. 

He knows she’s right. He just doesn’t care. 

Eddie’s always been protective of you. Everyone knows that. But the two of them were friends now — or somewhat good-natured acquaintances, at the very least. He would’ve been mad about a year or more ago, if King Steve had decided to suddenly woo his best friend. 

But it’s different now. He’s different now. Eddie knows how much everything’s changed, it’s just a question of if he’s willing to rehash old wounds.

It’s a good thing Steve knows how to take a punch.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Don't take my heart, don't break my heart.

Steve finds you again the next day less happy than he’s gotten used to.

The record store is dim and the red sign at the entrance has been flipped to closed, but the door is left unlocked — for him. The warm scent is a distinct contrast to the frigid spring night, a cozy high hemp and lavender, but your absence is noticeable and terribly heavy. 

Steve lingers in the doorway, his shadow looming like a giant before him from the moonlight streaming in from outside. 

He calls for you in the emptiness.

“Uh… Punchy?”

He’s relieved when you answer. The “back here!” you shout to him is muffled and far away. He follows the sound of your voice, filled suddenly with a childlike consolation. 

The yellow fairy lights dangling over his head guide him through the aisles of cassettes and closer to you. Through a cluttered backroom, Steve finds you standing just outside an opened door — left ajar, for him.

The smile you flash when you see him is as dim as the closed-down store. It lacks all the sunshine you usually look at him with, shades of stormy gray rather than the usual yellows. 

A look of concern flashes across his features — furrowed brows and inquisitive twinkling eyes — as you take a drag from the lit cigarette caught between your pointer and middle finger. You muster your best grin, but it flickers like a shoddy radio signal. 

“Punchy, huh?” you tease.

Steve’s brows pinch together as confusion floods his features. It takes him a moment to realize what he’d said and the nickname he’d used — and he doesn’t want to be dramatic or anything, but he kinda wants to die. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to hold on to an old high school monicker. And, fuck, if you hate it half as bad as he hates being called king, he deserves a slap to the face right about now.

You laugh instead of ball your first. He’s able to smile meekly in relief. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I… I don’t think I even realized it came out.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure when you see him getting all apologetic. “Eddie still calls me that all the time, so… Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Steve tries to move on, but it’s hard to when you’re so obviously gloomy. He hates how reserved you’ve gone in your quiet, not talking up a storm like you had been the last time he saw you. Now you’re just… a storm. It’s a little like sitting next to a rumbling rain cloud.

The rumbling rain cloud beside him takes a drag of her cigarette.

“You okay?” he asks and sounds like he really cares.

You didn’t think King Steve was capable of caring about anything other than his hair, but he looks down at you like he can feel every blue bolt of your doom and gloom. He makes you feel seen in the void of your sadness despite all the years you spent being invisible to him.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just the tapes. They didn’t come in,” you answer with a shrug. Smokes leaves your mouth and lingers in white clouds in the air. “So I’m a little bummed.”

“Oh…” is all Steve says and his pink mouth forms a too pretty ‘o’ shape that you can’t draw your gaze from.

The following silence makes you momentarily cautious. Insecurity runs cold over you because no sane person gets this about upset over a broken promise of a couple cassettes. It’s stupid, you know it is, but you were really looking forward to them. It’s like promising a kid the most metal present ever and then snatching it out of their bare hands.

Now, over the course of a couple hours, you’ve managed to convince yourself you won’t remember happiness until you get those stupid tapes.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him for a reason he can’t place. You shift your weight on your feet and peer at him from beneath your lashes. “I know you were looking forward to them, too.”

You extend your hand and offer him the cigarette between your fingers like it’s an olive branch. He takes it from you with a distant smile, then opts to laze against the brick wall like you are. He stays a respectful distance on the other side of the entryway. 

“It’s okay. They’ll come. If I’m being honest, you know, I was kinda more excited to see you.”

His admission is brazen and a tad bit brash, even for a certified ex-douchebag. It lacks all of the usual honey-coated flirtation that usually tints his tone when he’s talking to a pretty girl. Because he wasn’t trying to make you swoon — though he certainly wouldn’t have minded if you had. This wasn’t some romantic advance, just a proclamation of his own personal truth.

A flash of shock contorts your features. “Really?”

“Of course,” he answers, breathing out a laugh that exits along with the smoke in his lungs. “I love talking to you. You’re… You’re cool, you know? S— Super cool.”

His face screws up at his stuttering, and he shakes his head at how the words sound leaving his mouth. His cheeks glow cherry red beneath an orange street lamp. 

“Super cool, huh?” you repeat with a giggle that’s bright enough to illuminate the velvet night. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

Steve scoffs when he passes the cigarette back to you. Because, lately, that’s all he’s been hearing about you. From Eddie, from Robin, from Dustin — every good thing a person could say about someone else, they all say about you. 

He’s starting to understand why.

Because you’re sweet. Like, pure sugar poured on the tip of his tongue kind of sweet. You’re bright like sunshine and soft like summer rain. You’re a shot of pure espresso for a boy who thought his life was at a dead end. He’s not entirely sure how he ever could’ve thought you were some deep, dark, devil-worshipping freak.

“I don’t believe that,” he dismisses with the shake of his head.

You breathe out a sharp exhale and a puff of nicotine-coated smoke. “I’ve been the town pariah since I was eleven, Steve. Everyone thinks I’m some kinda delinquent who’s in a cult because I play a dumb board game. So, no. No one’s ever thought I was cool before.”

“Still?” Steve wonders with a twisted face. “You graduated, like, a year ago. Are... Are people really still on your ass about that?”

“A little,” you answer with a shrug, trying your best not to look as affected by it all as you feel.

Steve feels his chest swell with the fiery urge to protect you. The same one he gets when Dustin tells him about the assholes at school that are bothering him. He wants to defend you from the same sort of assholes that he used to be. The impulse is borderline primal, rooted somewhere deep and far within himself, because god knows he’s got a terrible track record when it comes to winning fights.

“Shit, Punchy… I’m— I’m sorry.”

You sputter out a laugh at the apology, louder when you realize he’s using the nickname again.

He can’t relate to any of this. The trials and tribulations of being persona non grata everywhere you went were certainly lost on him. Steve might’ve lost his touch somewhere down the road, but he’ll always be crown royalty — the kind of guy you think fondly of when your wonderyears are long gone. But you? You’re lucky if people don’t cross to the other side of the street when they spot you coming.

Perhaps that’s why his words warm you so much. Because, despite all that, he’s trying to make you feel better anyway.

You give him a tender smile and a dwindling cigarette. 

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s whatever, you know? I think it’s because I still hang out with Eddie all the time. Like, people see us and remember what fucking freaks we used to be,” you say with a laugh, then start to ramble without thinking. “We saw Tommy Hagan at Melvald’s the other day, and he looked at us like we caused him severe PTSD or something, like, he looked terrified. I honestly felt a little bad.”

Steve smiles, wide-eyed, equal parts intrigued and unsettled by the reminiscent glimmer in your eye and the daunting giggle that spills from your lips.

“But I wouldn’t leave Eddie, you know?” you blurt, suddenly serious, like you’ve taken offense at the very thought. “Not even if it meant people stopped being so mean. ‘Cause I love him and everything… Even though he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he’s a total pain in the ass,” Steve agrees and flicks the butt of the cig between his fingers. “He loves you too, though. I can tell. The asshole never shuts up about you.”

“He talks about me?” you ask, voice fragile and pitched higher than normal.

Steve doesn’t like the way you say it. He hates how you look at him even more, with a scrunched up face and eyes that flicker with embers of shock. Like you don’t believe it, like you think yourself unworthy of it.

“You’re all he talks about,” the boy assures, feeling so suddenly brave and wanting to make you feel brave too. He hands the cigarette back to you. “I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d never shut up about you either.”

The contorted look of confusion on your face untwists itself, and your features fall flat with disbelief. A smile pulls slow at your mouth. Your eyes glitter an orange gold beneath the streetlight. They flit over to the boy beside you just long enough to take the stick from him.

“Steve Harrington…” you lilt, almost scoldingly so.

It makes him smile. “What?”

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he retorts playfully. “Who’s to say I was flirting?”

“So you weren’t then?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs with a knowing, practiced smirk. “Can you blame me?”

You don’t seem impressed by his not-so-subtle attempt at flirting, and he isn’t at all used to that. The bravado and the puppy dog eyes are his one-two punch — any other time, he’d have a phone number tucked safely in his pocket by now. But you’re not biting.

“I’m so not your type,” you dismiss with the shake of your head.

“Yeah?” he challenges, shoving himself off the brick wall with his shoulder and making the short trek over to you. He plants himself next to you, leans with one sneaker crossed over the other, and smiles with a playful twinkle in his eye. “And what’s my type?”

“Nancy Wheeler,” you answer without missing a beat. “Pretty girls.”

“Well, I think you’re very pretty—”

“Not like her,” you interject with a foreign firmness that Steve hasn’t seen from you until now. You’re still smiling at him, though, still kind but looking like you don’t believe him. Like you think this must be some kind of sick joke that he’s taking too far.

You can entertain Steve. You like Steve. Mostly because he’s totally different from the douchebag you remember him being — the douchebag you were expecting him to be. 

You find that he’s terribly clumsy and not overtly good with words. He says dumb jokes that don’t come out right and smiles in relief when they make you laugh anyway. He’s soft like peach fuzz or a fluffy cloud, mushy like warm chocolatey gooey goodness, and not at all like you remember him.

But then he does this. He morphs into something else, changes shape right in front of you. He smiles at you with little of his dumbassery behind it — all smirks and faux longing gazes with the intent of making you swoon at his feet. He grins down at you and all you see is the teenage boy who would’ve never looked at you that way four years ago. Hell, not even one. 

It reminds you of who he is, who he used to be, and who you are now. 

You haven’t changed so much since high school. You’ve matured a little, sure, but there was never an asshole exterior that you felt the need to outgrow. You’re still loud at times, unaware and ignorant of the world around you. You still play lightsabers outside Eddie’s trailer in between lengthy Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. You still pretend like the lingering glares from all the people you used to know don’t bother you. 

They do, though. They always have.

You look at Steve and you see this butterfly — someone made of rainbow colors and mostly mature. He’s growing, and you’re stuck in the same cocoon you’ve been wrapped in since freshman year, still fumbling around and trying to figure out where you fit.

He’ll always be the pretty butterfly he always was, with his pretty little iridescent wings that catch the light and all the attention. He’ll feed off the applause he gets while you’re sitting on the sidelines. The girl who’s destined to stay bundled in her cocoon forever only hears all of his praise — never watches, never receives.

“You and I are completely different people, Steve Harrington,” you declare with a grin that tells him you’ve already made up your mind.

The boy doesn’t get it, though, why you seem so upset by the idea. Him and Robin were completely different people. Him and Dustin were, too. The two people he adored — tolerated — most in the entire world weren’t a single thing like him, and it was better that way.

You don’t seem to share a similar philosophy, though. You take a drag from your mostly gone cigarette and mourn what could have been; if only he had been the town freak or you had been born the pretty girl next door.

“That doesn’t have to be such a bad thing—”

He’s abruptly cut off by the sound of muffled rock music and the bright yellow headlights of Eddie Munson’s van. The two of you shield your eyes when he whips into the desolate parking lot and parks in front of you. The sudden intrusion feels like being blinding like the sun after you’ve found such comfort within each other in the dead of night.

The stifled Def Leppard song — or maybe Poison, Steve can never quite tell the difference — is brought to a sharp halt when the engine shuts off. The headlights dim. The metallic slam of the driver’s side door sounds so much louder in the darkness.

Eddie rounds the front of his van and eyes the two of you rather suspiciously. The boy inhales deeply, puffing out his chest and splaying his hands on his hips. “…What’s going on here?” he squints at you.

You give him a terribly manufactured sunshine smile and bat your lashes his way, like you’re pretending to be un-innocent. “Nothing…” you sing-song.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you, then turns his attention to Steve. They’re not really strangers anymore, but he still feels the need to treat him like an outsider anyway.

“Harrington,” he says in the place of any real greeting. “Don’t you have other shit to do? Like, I don’t know, a shift as the mannequin at the GAP or something?”

Steve can’t find it in himself to get self-conscious about his fitted-sweatshirt, khaki-slack combo when the insult comes from a guy in a decade-old leather jacket, unwashed t-shirt, and ripped jeans.

“Very funny,” the brunette monotones. 

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” you ask when you turn and walk backwards towards Eddie, like there’s a gravitational pull dragging you to him.

You say it to be polite mostly, but you’re hoping for an affirmative — a promise that you’ll have another night like this one, where he sees you just to be seeing you. Hell, you’ll even take a nod if that’s all he’ll give you. And when he does, he gives you a tiny smile that almost makes you trip over yourself.

Fuck, you think to yourself, like your brain is talking to your heart. We just agreed not to do that.

Before you get in the van, you walk by Eddie and bring your cigarette up to his mouth. You coax the stick between his lips with your pointer and middle finger, opting to let him take the last couple of hits because he never turns down a free smoke.

The passenger door shuts once you’re tucked into the seat of it. The sound it makes punctuates your absence. Steve feels all of its emptiness.

He eyes Eddie from the distance, immediately noticing the darkened skepticism dancing in his dark eyes. 

The boy’s always felt the need to protect you. When the entire town got spooked about stories of some satanic panic and started treating you like monsters, he wanted to shield you from the boogeyman everyone turned into. 

Steve wasn’t one of them, the bad men. But Eddie loves you and it’s made him doubtful.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Steve feels the need to say, as though he’d been caught with his pants down and not just sharing an innocent cigarette with a friend.

Eddie takes the final few puffs of it and exhales rather dramatically, lips pursing to blow it in his direction though it’s too far away to hit him. The boy throws the filter to the concrete and extinguishes the ashes with the toe of his dirty sneakers. 

He waits until the white smoke has fully dissipated to speak.

“Damn right, it isn’t.”

That’s all he says. He doesn’t even look at Steve when he says it, or when he rounds the van and hops into the driver’s seat next to you. Steve squints when the too bright headlights come alive again in time with the roaring engine and dated rock music. His tires screech when he speeds out of the back parking lot. 

The tin can he drives nearly tips over when he turns too sharply onto Main Street.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to get a good look at you before you’re gone completely. It makes him all boyishly upset, knowing the hours without you will be most agonizing, but the empty feeling is eclipsed by the warm relief of not getting clock cleaned by Eddie Munson.

Damn right, it isn’t. Four words. That’s all he gets. But they’re daunting and coated with a lingering foreboding that feels almost like a threat.

So, by all accounts, Steve probably should’ve known there was no way Munson was ever going to back down that easily.

Eddie comes back the next day, a thundering storm cloud of the boy he usually is, head wild with curly hair and a million thoughts. 

The door dings far too gently for such an aggressive arrival. Metal bangs against metal as the handle collides with the window pane. He stomps to the counter in several quick strides, dark eyes darting around the half-empty store — obviously searching for something.

Robin, manning the front counter, is entirely unable to be threatened by him. The all black, chunky metal rings, and crazy hair stopped being so intimidating when she found out you called him Eddie Spaghetti. Now, it’s all she can think about when she sees him. 

Even as he stands ahead of her, obviously upset, all she sees is a very cartoonishly angry Eddie Spaghetti, and it takes everything in her not to laugh.

“Where’s Steve?” the boy finally wonders when he realizes the boy’s not in the front.

“Uh, he’s in the back, I think. Why?”

Eddie doesn’t humor her with an answer. He just storms past the counter and makes a b-line for the break room.

Robin watches him over her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to go back there!” she half-heartedly shouts, but makes no further effort to stop him from doing so.

He finds Steve working beneath the dim yellow light of the back room. There’s a warmed-up container of leftovers on the small round table on one side of the room and a stack of unorganized tapes on the counter on the other. Steve multitasks between both and hums something summery under his breath — The Beach Boys, maybe.

He’s too distracted to notice Eddie’s abrupt appearance. It’s the subtle click of the shut door that gets his attention.

Steve’s confused at first. His head snaps over his shoulder like a ghost must’ve closed the door on him. He realizes that it’s just Eddie, and he’s so innocently relieved that it’s almost humorous, then confused all over again. His brows pinch together and through the chicken tender jutting out his check, he mumbles: “You’re not supposed to be back here—”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Eddie interrupts in a monotone.

He swallows. It’s as thick as the tension that settles between the two of them, made heavier by the lengthy silence. He crosses his arms over his chest, stands up a little straighter, and bares his neck when he lifts his chin. “I want you to leave her alone.”

Steve scoffs and chews through his mouthful. “Leave who alone?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Eddie squints with an unusual sort of seriousness. “I don’t want you messing around with her anymore, man. I’m, fucking— I’m so fucking serious right now.”

The clarification makes Steve laugh. He shakes his head and goes back to piling the myriad of tapes into organized stacks on the counter. “We were just talking, Eddie. I don’t need the lecture, okay?”

“We both know it’s never just talking with you.”

“What? Are you in love with her or something?” he retorts, trying to make a joke of it.

Eddie, for the first time in his life, isn’t amused. “Oh, god, get over yourself, dude. I know what kinda guy you are, alright? I’m not gonna let you hurt her.”

His words hit Steve like a pot of boiling water. It prickles his skin, leaving blisters and burning red blotches in its wake. He’s all but on fire with his anger, less offended by the accusation than by the person it comes from.

Steve and Eddie aren’t friends by any means. They’re just two guys with shared custody of a bunch of teenagers, bonded in their want to keep them all safe. But through their lighthearted animosity, is a sort of understanding: neither of them are the assholes the entire town claims them to be. Eddie isn’t apart of some satanic cult. Steve isn’t a douchebag that uses women as accessories. And that’s just a silent agreement they’ve both come to on their own terms. 

But now here they are, talking like it’s 1984 all over again and they’re strangers who hate each other’s guts.

“No. I’m not gonna hurt her. Because we’re just friends, Eddie.”

The boy just shakes his head. He scrunches his nose like he’s wincing, then laughs — a big, dramatic laugh that fills the tiny break room. He begins to pace, waving an accusatory ringed finger Steve’s way. “No, see… That’s the thing. I don’t think King Steve is capable of being ‘just friends’ with a pretty girl.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a heavy huff. He comes to the conclusion that Eddie’s just projecting and that there’s no use in arguing his case. He shoves a black VHS tape into its designated sleeve and slots it in with the rest of them, muttering under his breath, “I’m not King Steve anymore…”

“What?”

“I said, I’m not King Steve anymore!” he yells, a bit louder than he intended to.

He drives a tape onto the pile with an unexpected aggression. It hits the wall with a resounding thud. His arms flail wildly at his sides when he turns to face Eddie again. “God, you guys act like people can’t change! I’m not the asshole I used to be, alright? Jeez…”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in the place of any real reply. Deep down, he knows all that. He knows it’s all true because he would’ve never befriended him otherwise. Steve Harrington — the king, the rich kid, the douchebag — turned out to be a pretty damn good guy. 

And maybe if Eddie didn’t love you so much, he’d be able to wrap his head around all that.

But does. So he can’t.

He saw you two together the night before, sharing a cigarette behind The Groove — albeit a little too close for his liking — and suddenly, it was junior year all over again.

You’re stressed out about the ACT and college acceptance rates, none of your clothes quite fit you, and you’re trying out bold things with your makeup that don’t quite fit you either. You grin wildly up at Eddie through the vibrant lipstick smeared on your lips, laughing at his half-hearted attempt to cheer you up. 

And Steve is a senior, standing on the other side of the hallway — with his pretty clothes and prettier hair — and he lets all of his friends laugh at you. They make fun of your un-styled hair and the way your shirt makes your boobs look, and Steve doesn’t find any of it particularly funny but he lets them mock you anyway.

Eddie sees you together and forgets about the man Steve is now. All he sees is a boy who never stuck up for you, for either of you, who let his best friends make your lives hell because his reputation mattered more.

And it wasn’t like it was his job to defend you, because it wasn’t. Not really. It’s just that you would’ve done it for him, if the roles were reversed. Eddie, too. Neither of you would’ve let a lamb be led to the slaughter quite like that. It was the Hellfire motto, after all — to protect the little sheep from the creeping wolves.

That’s where the difference lies. It’s where the mistrust settles deep and where the root of all of Eddie’s worries lingers.

But Steve has done more to prove himself than Eddie likes to give him credit for. 

He takes care of a bunch of kids like it’s his job. He runs Robin to and from school most days out of the week, on time each morning — which, for a guy who showed up late every day for four years, was definitely saying something. He even comes to Eddie’s shows when he’s not too busy working the graveyard shift, never minding that he sticks out in his collared shirt and slacks — a pretty boy amidst a crowd of freaks.

Fuck. Steve Harrington was a pretty alright dude.

But you’re better than alright. You’re better than good. Better than perfect. 

If you got your heart broken, Eddie thinks he’d feel all of it times a thousand.

Steve’s been through his own kind of heartbreak, though. He’s slapped a bandaid over his own bleeding heart, and it’s made him soft. The good kind of soft — the kind where he sees a bug on its back and has to flip it over because it hurts too much to let it suffer. Eddie knows he’ll be that kind to you. Kinder, even.

“Yeah, you better hope so, Harrington,” the boy concludes with a slow nod of his wild head. He steals a chicken tender from the styrofoam box it sits in, like it’s some kind of power move, and waves it at him like a condemnatory point. “I hear you do anything — anything — to her… And your ass is grass.”

Eddie takes a hearty bite from the strip, then tosses it back into the container again. He spins on the ragged heel of his sneaker and stalks out of the break room, punctuating his absence with the slam of the door. The ancient thing gets lodged and doesn’t quite shut all the way, so he has to double back and shut it fully.

Steve is left dumbfounded, in more ways than one.

“…He just ate my chicken,” he mumbles to himself with a frown settled deep between his brows. But there’s a lingering tension in Eddie’s storming out — a tangible fog within his words that settles something heavy in the Family Video breakroom that doubles as storage. 

It feels almost like a blessing.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Won't escape my attention...

The more time you spend with Steve, the more confident you get. 

You visit him at work more often, caring less and less about bothering anybody when you realize they all wanted you there. You let yourself ramble in front of him, too, not stopping yourself nearly as often as you used to. Steve guesses you started to believe him somewhere around the millionth time he promised he liked hearing you talk.

You turn to glitter in his presence, becoming more unapologetically yourself and glowing with it — with all the things that used to make you insecure, things that King Steve would’ve made fun of you for some time ago. Everything you were scared made you too different, is why he liked you in the first place.

And Steve gets to watch it all play out right before his eyes. You inch slowly out of the protective shell you’ve built around yourself and bloom like springtime flowers. He’s grateful he gets to witness it, even more that you feel comfortable enough to do it all in front of him.

You’re hardly as timid as you usually are when you saunter into Family Video. Rather than tiptoeing in and apologizing for intruding, you burst through the front door with a beam and a high-pitched squeal. You’re as bright as every star in the galaxy combined; even dressed head-to-toe in black, you’re more blinding than the sun. 

Eddie’s leather jacket, either stolen or unenthusiastically lent from the boy himself, swallows your upper half. You wear a piece of Metallica merchandise beneath it. The thing is cut up to your ribcage. The jagged edges in the fabric, likely from a dull pair of kitchen scissors, tells him the chop was intentional.

A leather skirt clings effortlessly onto you, revealing the pudge of your stomach and the curves of your hips. The thing is donned with two spiked belts and several chains hanging loosely at your waist.

Steve is dozing at the counter with his chin propped on his first when you walk in. He’s half-asleep until he sees you. The shot of espresso that walks in makes him instantly forget how tired he is.

“Guess what?” you ask with wide, sparkling eyes as you skip to the counter with your hands behind your back.

Steve always hated that question. Usually, it came from Dustin or Robin — or, god forbid, both of them — followed by a “No, seriously. Guess.” It left him with no choice but to humor them until they ultimately caved and told him something he couldn’t have guessed in a million years.

He isn’t so annoyed now, though. In fact, he smiles. “What?” he replies.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, as though in a futile attempt to conceal the wide grin on your face, and take your hands from behind your back. You flash him the cassette tape you hold in the palm of them, a blue and yellow thing with the angled Def Leppard logo printed on the cover.

“No way!” Steve finds himself exclaiming like he’s the number one fan of the rock and roll band. He isn’t; never has been, really. But he is a fan of you. All of his excitement, all of his bright and shining smiles — they’re all for you.

“They came in last night— when I was off, of course— and I opened this morning and there was a whole damn tower of these tapes! I’m the one who does the tape towers, okay? Plus, I’ve been doggin’ my manager for weeks about the things, so I can’t believe they came in and no one told me, you know?”

Steve gets lost in your rambling right along with you, nodding because he never wants you to stop talking. His twinkling gaze follows you back and forth as you pace in front of the counter. You gesticulate wildly with your hands, nearly elbowing a customer when they get too close to the line of fire.

“And she was all like ‘I can’t control when they come in,’ And I was like ‘well, you can’t control when I come in either, I’ll be taking a long lunch now, thank you’—” you recount, albeit at a slightly louder volume that shocks anyone who doesn’t know you. People shoot you lingering side eyes from over the aisles.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s even happier that you don’t seem to either. You feel comfortable enough with him now to stop caring about the rest. When you stop yourself, you do it because you’ve said everything you need to say, not because you feel like you’ve annoyed him in some way. 

“Anyway,” you conclude with a sigh. “I wanted to run it to you personally because, besides Eddie, you’re the only person I know who cares as much as I do.”

You smile sweetly at him, peering at him through your lashes, so suddenly timid — no longer the boisterous girl lighting up the whole room. Steve notices that you do that a lot, go from loud and sunny to shy and glimmering. Eddie does it too, sometimes, but it’s not nearly as cute.

“My wallet’s in my locker,” he tells you when you hand him the tape. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder with his free hand. “Let me go grab it. I’ll be, like, two seconds—”

You reach over the counter and take him by the arm, wrapping chipped maroon nails around the crook of his elbow to keep him from straying too far. Shock coats his features at the suddenness of your touch and the way it makes him buzz.

You scoff. “Are you serious? I’m not gonna make you pay, you weirdo.”

“No?”

“Of course not! It’s a gift.”

“Well, gee, Punchy. Considered me flattered,” he concedes with a faltering smile.

You laugh at his half-hearted attempt to be charming.

He rests his crossed arms on the counter and leans over the top of it in an effort to be the slightest bit closer to you. He gazes up at you with honey eyes and raised brows and a big, dumb smile. “And, you know, flattery... it goes a long way with me.”

You arch an un-manicured brow at him. “Does it, now?”

“Yep. So much so, I’m willing to break a few rules and let you pick out a couple of movies. On the house.”

It’s dumb and it’s sweet and so terribly innocent. He wants to give you so much than that but he’s got about eighteen dollars to his name, so all he can do is offer you a few measly VHS tapes. It has you beaming like he just offered you the world.

“Steve Harrington,” you scold playfully. “I didn’t know you were so naughty.”

He falters. His resolve slips and, for no more than half a second, his brain forgets how to work. 

He’s not quite sure how you manage to do that to him all the damn time. You make his brain shortcircuit and his belly quiver and his vision swim. He’s known you for a while now, long enough that the lovesickness should’ve well worn off.

Steve’s worried that there’s no cure for you, that he’s in it for the long haul now — upset stomachs, heart palpitations, and all.

“Well, I’m full of surprises,” he shrugs and sways on his feet. “What’s your poison, Punchy? Molly Ringwald? Robert Downey Jr.? The John Hughes type?”

You can tell he’s joking. You squint over at him and rest your elbows on the counter top your face-to-face. 

The wintergreen mint on his breath makes your head swim. 

Your rouge-tined lips are so close he can taste them — he wants to, desperately so. 

You don’t miss the way his gaze flits to your mouth, lingering there for no longer than a blink.

“Try Night of the Living Dead,” you challenge. 

“That is so dreadfully on brand for you,” he manages to reply without much stuttering. He’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all, with the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“I’m nothing if not predictable.”

Steve doesn’t respond as he leaves the counter to get what you asked for. Silence is easier than saying that you’re the most surprising thing he’s ever met in his life.

When he returns, he brings the entire film franchise with him. All three movies are stacked in his arms and he scans the backs of them, hoping Keith won’t notice that they’re being rented free of charge.

“Have you ever seen them?” you wonder.

He shakes his head. “No. I saw one of them at a drive-in a long time ago, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention, if you know what I mean—” he answers with a soft laugh, quick to cut himself off. It was supposed to be a dumb joke, but both of you know what he was insinuating and it makes everything awkward. 

Robin would’ve slapped him on the back of the head if she were around to hear it. 

He would’ve deserved it.

“Well, you missed out,” you scold, not quite meeting his gaze. “They’re actually pretty good.”

“I’ll try and watch ‘em sometime then.”

“Tonight?” you offer suddenly.

Steve furrows his brows. “…Huh?”

“I mean, like— I don’t know… I thought maybe we could watch them tonight,” you stammer with your eyes turned down toward the counter, where you draw invisible patterns onto the granite with the tip of your finger. “Like, together… if you want.”

Steve is momentarily speechless. He’s spent weeks plotting how he was going to ask you out. It would come to him in waves. He’d feel like he’d concocted the most perfect, foolproof plan right before realizing there was no way in hell he could ever go through with it — all in the same fleeting thought. 

But here you are, biting the bullet for the both of you. 

He’s grateful. He thinks he’s dreaming.

“That sounds…” Steve trails off with the mindless nod of his head. “Yeah. No. Totally. That sounds… really cool.”

A wide smile pulls at the edges of your lips. You purse your mouth to the side in attempts to conceal it. “Cool,” you murmur all cool-ly, like his affirmation isn’t heaven to your ears.

“Uh, not to sound like a total douchebag or whatever, but my dad— he’s got this theater room and everything, and my parents are almost never home,” Steve rambles as he puts all three movies into a paper bag. Then his eyes go wide and his face glows cherry red. “Not like that! I didn’t mean it like— That sounded really weird… I’m sorry—”

You giggle at him, at the way he can pretend to be so suave, and then reveal all the marshmallow fluff he tries to keep hidden a moment later. “It’s okay, Steve. I got what you meant.”

He writes his address on a yellow sticky note with the Family Video logo printed in green at the very top. His handwriting is boyish and sloppy, the sign of a boy who never did care much about school. Some letters are connected, others far apart; some written too big, while others are too small. You find it endearing, but Steve knows it’s just because his hand was shaking something fierce.

He leaves his number written at the very bottom. Just for good measure.

“No funny business, alright, Harrington?” you joke, waving a ringed finger at him as you walk backward out of the store, heading back to your own job.

Steve bites back a smile. Once upon a time, he was all funny business. No girl was ever going to invite King Steve over and not expect some heavy petting. And he wants so badly to kiss you — fuck, he wants to kiss you all the time — but the want to spend innocent time with you eclipses all of those boyish feelings.

He yearns to be close to you. Like magnets. Or a moon and the ocean’s tide.

“No funny business,” he promises.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You keep your distance with a system of touch.

It isn’t until you arrive at the front gates of the Harrington home you realize you’ve never been in the suburbs of Hawkins before.

You grew up on the very outskirts of town, where there were more trees than people or houses. The block was half rundown already and horribly secluded. The only interesting thing about it was the winding trail through the woods that led to the anterior of Forest Hills trailer park.

That’s where you spent the bulk of your time, practically living with Eddie and Wayne in their one-bedroom trailer, until you felt guilty enough to go back home for a day or two. Your parents would inevitably remind you why you ran off in the first place, and then the cycle would start all over again.

It was all just far enough away from Hawkins that you could pretend like the town’s bullshit didn’t exist. The freak from the wrong side of the tracks didn’t belong on Maple Street or Fairview Road or Laurel Avenue. That was for people who could afford new shoes every school year, who could go clothes shopping and not feel guilty about cutting into their food money, who were set up with trust funds before they were even born.

But here you are now, on Fairview Road, seven o’clock sharp, and standing in front of the biggest house you’d ever seen. 

You ring the doorbell and flinch when it’s louder than expected. The chime is light and jaunty. You wonder if it’s been programmed for the change in season.

Steve answers no more than a couple seconds later. He swings both French doors open, arms spreading wide like the smile on his face.

He’s traded in his slacks for comfier jeans and his vest for a form-fitting sweatshirt he’s bunched at the elbows. You realize, then, that you’ve never seen him without the forest green Family Video jacket. It makes him look naked, almost, like a totally different person — no longer the dork who works a measly nine-to-five with his best friend and visits the freak next door on the off chance his manager won’t dock his pay for it.

The vest had humbled him to a certain extent. Now he just looks cool. Like the boy people would either praise or avoid like the plague, for fear of getting in King Steve’s path — just a little bit more mature looking now, with his chiseled jaw and scruffy chin.

It makes you feel a little stupid from where you stand on the porch ahead of him, wearing the same thing he’d seen you in earlier that day. He’s got no idea you spent the past couple of hours agonizing over what to wear. For the sake of not seeming crazy overzealous, you opted not to dress up. Now you’re scared he thinks you just didn’t care enough to.

But you do care. So goddamn much that’s it scary. 

You never had to worry about what you wore or what you looked like before you left the house, about what you had too much of and what you lacked. Now, it’s all you can think about.

If Steve notices anything at all, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps on smiling at you, too happy to see you to care about what you’re wearing. He’s just glad that you showed up.

Truth be told, he had a six-pack and Robin’s number on speed dial on the off chance you canceled on him. He was preparing himself to wallow in self-pity and spend the rest of the night ranting to his best friend about the bleeding heart he had for you. Because, as far as he was concerned, you were far too good to be true. 

You were beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. You treat him like you’ve known him for years, like he didn’t spend so many of them avoiding you in attempts to keep some measly title that didn’t mean shit. You were too perfect. Sometimes, Steve gets scared that he just made you up.

But whether you’re a dream come true or the real thing, you’re standing on his front porch anyway, with a smile and a bottle of grocery store wine. 

He saves the beer in his fridge and the wallowing for another day. 

Steve escorts you through his lavish living room and to the downstairs area that’s got a movie screen hanging on the walls and a couple of leather couches sitting in front of it. The coffee table in front of them holds a myriad of glass bowls — popcorn, various candies, and more popcorn.

“You planning on throwin’ a party down here, Harrington?” you tease with a soft chuckle, trying to conceal how your heart’s about to burst at the mere sight of it all.

“Well, I just— I didn’t know what you liked, and I didn’t— I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, you know,” the boy stammers out. He brings the palm of his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “So I just… I got… everything.”

“It’s a good thing a like everything then, huh?” you smile at him as you pluck a Red Vine from its dedicated bowl. You rip off an inch or two with your teeth and then talk as you chew: “I hope you’re prepared for all of this shit get eaten, Harrington. I can get quite ravenous.”

Steve nods to himself and tries not to smile too big. “Sounds entertaining… Maybe I’ll just watch you instead of the movie.”

It was supposed to be a joke. 

But then you settled down next to him on the couch, keeping a respectful distance but sharing the same fuzzy blanket, and he has to physically force himself to drag his gaze away from you. 

He was right about what he said before, you were far more entertaining than the black and white film projected ahead of him — grabbing handfuls of popcorn at a time and quoting the movie through the mouthful. 

It’s a tad bit barbaric, the faintest bit off-putting, and otherworldly levels of endearing. It leaves him virtually unable to take his eyes off of you. 

He didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but you keep on proving him wrong. 

He’s starting to realize he doesn’t know shit.

You’re slowly coming to the same understanding.

You’ve heard stories about Steve. Usually from gossiping cheerleaders standing in circles at their lockers or whispering in the back of a classroom. Doomed as the freak and all but banished from the inner society of Hawkins High, you became an observer. You were so invisible that people sometimes didn’t realize they were talking right over you, sharing secrets they wouldn’t want someone else to get a hold of. 

But apparently you were the exception. Because you weren’t a someone to them.

They talked about how kind he was, how well endowed, how they were meant to go on some stupid date but missed their reservation because Steve got a little too handsy beforehand, and how they spent the rest of the night with their hands shoved down each other’s pants at Lover’s Lake. 

You were seeing, firsthand, how much he’d changed. How he made his promise of no funny business and how he was sticking to it — no teasing you about the whole thing with a knowing smirk and flirtatious honey eyes, no urging to close this distance between you, no tiny touches on your arm or thigh in the hopes of heavier petting.

He spends the entirety of the first movie perfectly respectful. Just like you’d asked him to be. 

And it was nice, knowing that you weren’t wasting your evening with some asshole who was only spending time with you in the hopes of you putting out later. But it leaves you the faintest bit empty. Hungry. You long for his touch like a missed meal. Starving and feeling it all.

It’s not even heavy petting you want, you just want to feel him next to you — to press yourself into his side and to warm yourself with him like a blanket. 

But you weren’t a pretty cheerleader or a girl dripping in expensive clothes and daddy’s money. You were the weirdo, the freak, the loudmouth nerd, Punchy — all names you wore proudly, like lit-up signs or steel armor. 

Until now. 

Now you think if you weren’t Punchy, if were you someone different, then maybe he’d want to touch you more.

The first hour and thirty-seven minutes of your favorite movie are strangely agonizing. 

Your hands itch with the desire to touch the boy next to you, and they busy themselves with the bowls of candy and savory junk food splayed out on the table in front of you. It’s mindless more than it is anything. You’re absentminded binging does nothing more than half-distract you from the thoughts raging rivers in your skull.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it until your hand falls into an empty bowl of popcorn and finds nothing but kernels at the bottom of it. 

It makes Steve laugh, thinking you were just too into the movie to notice — having no idea it was him taking up all your brain power. 

He leaves to fix more snacks for you while you slip the second VHS into the movie player. He returns with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and two beers after the wine bottle has been sufficiently emptied. When he plops down next to you again, it’s in the same spot he’d been sitting in all night — a couple of excruciating inches away.

Under the guise of sharing the popcorn in his lap, you make the too bold decision to slither in at his side. It’s innocent at first — your thighs just barely graze and your elbows bump when you dip your hands into the bowl. And it’s still innocent some thirty minutes later, when you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder with your legs curled up behind you.

Steve tenses when he feels your temple pressed against him, but only for a moment before he relaxes again. It makes him all suddenly warm and self-aware of every movement he makes. He tries not to breathe too heavy or shift too often, for fear it might jostle you too much. He doesn’t want to stop feeling you against him like this, even if it’s got his skin prickling with a searing form of anxiety.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep,” he jokes.

“Of course not. It’s way too riveting,” you scoff, even though he can feel you cuddling further into him. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt when you look up at him. He turns his head to peer down at you and his nose nearly grazes your forehead. 

He finds you with a certain glint in your eye. It’s borderline playful, like it so often is, but coated with a sweetness that drips over him like honey. “You like it so far?” you wonder.

“Yeah,” the boy nods quickly. He couldn’t tell you what had happened the past two-and-a-half films, but he could tell you how your jaw tenses when you chew and how your smile curls just before you laugh out loud and how your eyes widen every time you quote the movie. “It’s really good. I like it.”

You beam at him before turning back to the projector again. You shift to get more comfortable against him. “Good.” 

By the third movie, you’re somehow even closer.

Truth be told, Day of the Dead wasn’t your favorite in the trilogy, so it left your mind wandering to far off places — namely, the pretty boy sitting beside you. He goes to put the tape into the projector, feeling immediately cold without pressing into his side, and when he returns he tries his best not to beg you to cuddle against him again.

“My shoulder’s gettin’ real cold over here,” he tries to joke. 

You see right through his beckoning, though. It makes you happy to know he wants it just as much as you do. 

“Just say you wanna be next to me, Harrington,” you tease like you aren’t happily obliging him. You snuggle into his shoulder and rest your head against him while your arms curl around his bicep.

“I wanna be next to you,” he repeats, a playful smile on his lips though his gaze softens with sincerity. “Is that so bad?”

You shake your head against him in reply. Suddenly as mushy as the boy beside you, you turn to look up at him. “Not unless it’s bad that I wanna be next to you, too…”

“Nah. It’s not bad,” he assures in something short of a whisper. “Guess I’m just glad I’m not the only one that’s so far gone.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by that. He doesn’t have to.

Perhaps it’s the admission that this boy is so far gone for you that gives you a sudden burst of confidence. Maybe it’s the comforting feeling of being seen, of knowing you’re no longer alone in your similar far gone-ness. Each feels like rays of sunshine to your skin and has you pressing your lips to his wanting ones without much thought. 

The plump pink of his mouth are magnets for yours. They meet and lock together with little effort, almost destined to do it. It’s a soft, meager, and lingering little peck that sucks you both in a little too easily. It’s hard to pull away from him, but when you do, your lips click in protest.

Then there’s a look, then a deafening silence that says more words than either of you were capable of forming in that moment. His amber eyes dart between both of yours, asking a question without saying a goddamn thing. One that you answer with your own softening gaze. 

And it’s almost better than the kiss itself, the swirling feeling in the pits of your stomach, the knowing of what’s about to happen.

A silent plea and a blink later and his lips are on yours again. 

It’s an awkward mess of yearning mouths and tangled limbs as the both of you fight to find purchase on one another. Your fingers knot in the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling him impossibly closer, while his grip the bare skin of your waist from where your shirt had ridden up. His touch makes you buzz, like a static shock or a bolt of lightning.

Steve makes several observations when he feels you melt into him like honey on toast. He notices how you press yourself into him, like you won’t be satisfied until you’ve swallowed him whole, and how it has you kissing him like you’re scared he’ll pull away — like you’ll open your eyes and he won’t be real. 

You’re as domineering against his mouth as you are in real life, still as all-consuming and overpowering as the girl he’s gotten so familiar with.

He doesn’t realize how you’ve settled so intently on top of him until his back meets the pillowy cushion of the leather couch. You don’t either, until he exhales a sharp gasp against your cupid’s bow. Then you part from him, for the first time in several minutes, breathing in the oxygen your lungs had just begun to scream for. 

Steve finds you with kiss-bitten lips and glassy eyes that look upon him with a softness that he didn’t know existed until now. He smirks with his own swollen and pinker mouth like he isn’t glowing red beneath you. 

“I thought you said no funny business,” he manages to tease through bated breaths.

You don’t bother to make up excuses for yourself. You’re already on top of him, all over him — you’ve already kissed him like you would’ve died if you hadn’t. Now, you’re straddling him, caging him between your legs and under your torso. You’ve settled on top of him with a comforting weightiness, like you’re building a home in the familiarity you’ve sought in him.

“I lied,” you mutter with a lazy shrug. A sly smile pulls slowly at your lips until you’re all but beaming sunbeams down at him. He revels in your warmth. “’S not my fault you’re so damn cute.”

It’s easier to blame it on him for all the reasons you’re attached to him like a magnet to his metal, your moth to his flame. You part his lips with your mouth, rut your tongue against his own, reveling in the foreign familiarity of it all, and then blame him for the way you can’t seem to stop any of it.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. The way his hands find purchase on your hips, petting the warmed skin there and sometimes squeezing to pull you further down onto him, tells you that he has a similar yearning to melt with you. He lets you kiss him all slow, allows you to taste all of him, and doesn’t rush you in your process. It’s comforting, tender. Free.

He’s not used to being on his back like this. Usually, he’s the one taking control. It’s his mouth that does all the work. So, it’s strange to be under you and to have you above him. But it’s more pleasant in an even stranger way not to be rushed — not to have to do all the work. His mouth opens so obediently for you and finds an effortless rhythm with your lips and your tongue. 

It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done in his life, kissing you. 

He delights in every ounce of the warmth and unfamiliarity you press to his mouth, and tries to shove down feelings of unworthiness that simmer in his chest while you do so.

You don’t part until your mouths are numb and tingling with it. 

Your lips are more vibrant in their color, aflame and swollen from being so ardently kissed and sucked and bitten. Neither of you mind making out like a couple of teenagers. It’s comforting to know that things won’t go further than a couple soft touches on burning skin. It was never supposed to be anything more than that, anyway. It was just about being close to each other.

You’ve almost succeeded in your effort to melt into the boy beneath you, when you hear the distant sound of a door opening and closing again. Muffled voices follow — unknown to you but obviously familiar to him. 

You part from him without thinking, like you’re a couple of kids again who’ll get in trouble if your parents ever found out what you were doing down here. Steve groans at the loss of you and in annoyance at the sound of his parents. His heavy eyes fall shut and his head leans back to the couch cushions as he fights to swallow down all of his anger.

His parents never really come around these days. They’ve got a bigger home in the city, closer to his dad’s work, and they choose to stay there most days of the week — month. 

They used to make excuses for why they left their only son behind. It’s five minutes from your dad’s firm. There’s more opportunity for your mom’s real estate business. Oh, don’t be so selfish, Steven, you’ll finally have the place to yourself. It’s a win-win for all of us.

Steve didn’t want their excuses. It was actually easier with them gone. 

But they come around every now and again, whenever it’s most convenient for them, and treat their arrival like something that needs to be celebrated. Like they aren’t supposed to be with their child in the fucking first place. And they somehow manage to pick the most inconvenient times for him, like they know he’s in a bind and want to see him struggle to get out of it.

Usually, it’s when he’s in between paychecks — when they want to take him out to some fancy dinner he could barely afford anyway, but especially when he’s hardly making it until payday. Now, it’s when he’s got the prettiest girl he’s ever seen on top of him, and he’s all hot and half-hard. Steve doesn’t want to let them ruin the moment, as good as they are at it.

“It’s okay. They won’t come in here,” he assures when he feels you tense at the unexpected company. “My mom will go to the bedroom and my dad will go to his office. We’re good, I promise.”

You figure he’s right. The voices grow more and more distant. Heeled shoes click up and up the stairs while heavy stomps head the opposite way. But you’ve already been so woefully knocked out of your stupor that you’re scared it’s too late.

Your lips are numb and the credits are rolling and you’re on top of this beautiful boy and you have no idea how you got there.

It’s almost frightening, the way Steve had consumed you mind, body, and soul by just existing next to you. You become dreadfully hyperaware of the whole thing — of who you are, who he is, and what you’re doing. You lose all your softness and turn to ice, hardening and shrinking back into yourself.

“I should—” you start before clearing your throat when the words come out heavier than expected. “I should head out anyway.”

“Oh,” is all Steve can say. “Right.”

You stare down at him, chest still pressed against his, nose nearly touching the tip of his own. “I just— I have to open tomorrow and everything, so—”

“No. Yeah. Yeah, I— I get it.”

You make tricky work of untangling yourselves.

His legs twist with yours when you both try to rise from the couch at the same time. Then your ring gets stuck in the fabric of his shirt, but not before his belt buckle gets somehow caught in yours. It’s like fate is protesting the imminent parting, but neither of you are paying attention to the signs.

He walks you to your car and chuckles under his breath as you scurry to the front door. 

You’re not-so-distantly terrified of running into his parents. They probably wouldn’t mind that he’s sneaking around with a girl, surely that they’re used to, but you’re almost certain they’re not used to girls like you. Girls with wild hair and leather skirts and chunky boots and too bold makeup. 

You’re not the girl next door. You’re the girl parents warn their sons about. “Leave that girl alone,” they say. “She’s nothing but trouble.”

You tell him all of this on the short trek to your half-broken-down car when you catch him laughing at you about the whole thing. You say it in jest, lighthearted and trying to make a joke of it. But there’s an underlying melancholia to your tone that reveals every truth you’re trying to evade.

“They don’t care enough about me to give a shit about a girl I’m with, I promise,” he confesses with a laugh that sounds more like a sad scoff than anything else. His chocolate eyes turn gold beneath the yellow street light. He smirks at you. “Besides, I don’t know if I told you this or not, but my middle name is actually trouble, so… I think we might be a match made in heaven.”

You roll your eyes at his attempts to flirt with you, though his lack of finesse makes you smile. “You’re an idiot, Steve Actually Trouble Harrington.”

“You really know how to say goodbye, don’t ya?” he grins when you reach the curb where your tin can car sits. 

“Yeah, I’m pro,” you shrug with a teasing glint in your eye, then you beam. “I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”

“Totally,” he nods, suddenly forlorn at having to leave you like he hadn’t just spent the past four hours with you.

Themetallic click of your car door opening sounds much louder in the emptiness of the suburbs. You glance at the boy right before you sink into the driver’s seat, feeling your heart swell with something short of yearning — anticipation. 

You weren’t actually a professional at saying goodbye, you find, because you’re realizing how hard it is to leave him.

“Steve!” he hears you shout from across the lawn when he’s halfway up the drive. 

He turns around, expecting to hear you tease him some more or tell him you were having car troubles. Neither would’ve shocked him. You’ve got a smart mouth and a shittier car. But you keep on surprising him, all but launching yourself into him before kissing him harder than he’s ever been kissed before.

Steve tenses against you at first, then relaxes again in record time. He sighs in the comfort of having your body pressed so intently into his and your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him somehow closer. 

You feel the breath of his exhale fan against your cupid’s bow. It makes you smile, and he feels the expression contort against his lips. His hands rise to the widest part of your hips without thinking. It’s all muscle memory now.

And even though he’s spent the better part of an hour kissing you, this one is so obviously different. This wasn’t just to pass the time. This was more than just to feel him — it was to tell him something. He hears every word you don’t say, but rather press like a stamp to his mouth.

He’s breathless when you pull away. You meet his flushed face with a mischievous grin.

“What was that for?” he wonders breathlessly, but doesn’t waver with his hold on you. He quickly notices that yours doesn’t either.

You shrug in response. “‘Cause you’re pretty.”

“Yeah, well…” he tries to play off like he’s not blushing like crazy. “You’re pretty too.”

Your beam ebbs into a teasing, tightlipped smirk. “Stop flirting with me, Steve Harrington.”

You shove him away with a rougher hand than you realize before you walk away from him. Steve rubs at the ache in his chest with the palm of his hand.

Your playful teasing and your lingering kiss is the only thing Steve has to remember you by when you turn on your chunky heeled boot and head off down the driveway again. He’s frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you and reeling at how you manage to drive him crazy without trying.

Your eyes find him again just before you duck into your car, and you see him still looking at you — mouth agape and eyes wide like you’re some kind of rare find. You figure you must be, in some way. Girls like you aren’t supposed to like guys like him. Vice Versa. Tale as old as time.

The boy stays locked in his stupor until the sprinkles whir on. The spurts of freezing cold water spray all over him and his pretty hair and expensive sweatshirt and his vintage jeans. “Shit!” you hear him swear as he rushes for cover on his front porch. 

He’s quickly soaked and freezing cold, but he smiles anyway when he hears the sound of your giggling behind him. It’s as animated as your personality and spills from your mouth like so many rays of sunshine, just a little too loud for the quiet midnight suburbs. 

It’s perfect, he realizes. You’re perfect. 

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #st oneshots #stevie oneshot #punchy x steve

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Tarot Reading: What Are Their Thoughts and Fantasies Of You? 😍

Hi and welcome or welcome back to my blog for another Tarot reading. I felt called to do a love-based reading, regarding what your person is currently thinking and fantasizing about when it comes to you. Now, you can make this fit into something more platonic if you like and if it resonates. But, I am strongly getting the vibe, for the majority of you, that this will be about romance.

Before I even start, I can already tell that some people who seriously fumbled are coming through. Today's collective message seems to be: they fumbled the bag (aka you) and they know it. It also seems like a lot of my fellow feminines are recognizing their worth and no longer putting up with anything low-vibrational or that doesn't honor them. And I love that for you guys!

Past people will most likely come through, so if you're over it and don't want to hear it, I understand. But, if you need some closure or confirmation or validation of your intuitive hits, then this might be the reading for you! Whatever the case, your free will always matters. Just because I am telling you that someone wants you back or is coming back doesn't mean you're fated or obligated to be with them.

As always, a) this reading is timeless and b) only take what resonates. Pick the picture that you feel most drawn to. It's okay to pick more than one. Then, see what your pile(s) has to say!

PS: I have gotten into the habit of not taking reversals, so I won't be for this reading. That's my preference for now, as it helps me channel more clearly.

PILE 1

PILE 2

PILE 3

PILE 4

PILE 1

Ten of Pentacles

(clarified by: The Hierophant)

Death

(clarified by: Eight of Cups)

The Lovers

(clarified by: Ace of Wands)

Ten of Wands (back of the deck)

Pile 1, this is some heavy duty energy here! Your person, first off, feels like they have a very "head in the clouds" side to them. Fittingly, for this reading and its pictures. Not to say that they can't be grounded because they do have that energy, too. But, they are a MAJOR daydreamer and I think they spend a ton of time thinking about you. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is the channeled song here. "I'm in Heaven! With my boyfriend" Or girlfriend. Whatever applies. That's like their energy toward you. Except I don't think you guys are actually together. So, this Heaven is just in their head.

Oh, but here's the thing: they might actually have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Or a spouse. I feel, for most of you, this third party is a relatively new or not too serious relationship. But, they are TIRED. Very unhappy in it. And I get the vibe that they had an opportunity to choose between you and this other person. And, well, we can see how that ended up! Omg, you know what just came through? Like how, on The Bachelor or some other dating show, the person is picking between two final contestants. And they pick one and hurt the other. But, the joke is on them because that person they let go was so much better or loved them so much. That's how this person feels about you. For some of you, they may even make that analogy in their head and fantasize about picking you instead on their own "dating show". Lol your person has a very colorful imagination!

You know what I also see? Tiffany Pollard, aka New York, aka Mother of Reality TV. The scene where she's rejected in Flavor of Love 2, in the finale, and crying in the limo. But, then, she goes on to get her own dating show and become even more of a star. That's how this person thinks of you. They know they lost somebody amazing, who they see as a real soulmate, all while they're investing their time in... Okay, I don't want to say "the real loser" but that's what this person thinks, deep down, about who they're with. Yikes! They don't actually like them very much. They may have only gotten with them to rebound from you or make you jealous or find some replacement for you. But, you cannot be replaced or duplicated!

Yeah, they actually compare this person a lot to you. They are actually much more attracted to you. Very sexually drawn to you. I am not picking up anything shady right now, as far as them wanting to "step out". But, um, let's just say, when they're with this person, in bed, they're often thinking of you. If you guys have been physical, they definitely replay those memories. I think it's very hard for them because they want to do what's right and they don't want to hurt this person. But, they are not at all over you and, essentially, they wish you were the one by their side.

I have to be honest, though. They pretty much made their own bed. Not just because they didn't pick you but because they are STILL staying stuck in this situation that they don't want to be in. This person really, really idealizes relationships and commitment. I actually get the feeling that they initially idealized this third party and the life they could have with them. Until they got with them and that shattered. But, they still feel a need to stick it out for... reasons. They definitely take a "sunken cost fallacy" approach to relationships, believing that they just can't break up with someone once they've invested time and energy into it.

Your person could have their Sun, Moon or Rising in the signs of Taurus, Gemini or Scorpio. They are this odd mix of flighty and inconsistent yet very rigid. A need to be in control. Maybe this relationship gives them that. If this person isn't with someone, I think this may not be your pile. Because it's such a strong message. You most likely know about it, too, and know it's mostly for show. Your person fantasizes about this perfect relationship they could have with you, instead. It's like every "couple moment" they have with their person, they imagine what it'd be like with you. They feel like you are done with them, though, or wouldn't want them anymore. They could be right! Maybe you've moved on or they're very paranoid about you being with someone else. They could be grieving the loss of this connection heavily, especially if you're the one who walked away.

I do think they'll circle back, in some way, probably when they end this connection with the other person (because I don't see it lasting too long). You've most definitely made a huge impact on them and have made them want to change their old ways. But, will they? Right now, it's very slow progress, if at all. They spend more time daydreaming about being a "better" version of themselves to win you back than actually working on themselves. So, if you take them back, use your discernment. Also, be aware of how much they can build a potential partner up, unrealistically, in their head, to a degree that is impossible for said partner to live up to.

/////////

PILE 2

Queen of Cups

(clarified by: The Moon)

Knight of Swords

(clarified by: Wheel of Fortune)

Ace of Swords

(clarified by: The Chariot)

The Hermit (back of the deck)

Pile 2, your person hardly knows what they're thinking. I get the feeling that they often don't WANT to fantasize about you because, when they do, it's all consuming and overwhelming. I definitely feel like this is a "separation/no contact" situation that your person doesn't know how to navigate. They are all over the place these days and very troubled, no matter how they try to appear on the outside. No matter how they try to fool themselves (and they are experts in self-deception). They are not as okay as they want to come across to others right now.

We have a lot of signs here that they could have personal placements in: Cancer and Pisces as well as any of the Fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) and also the sign of Virgo. This person is being pushed to do some soul searching. "For the first time in their life" is what came through. That might be you or their Guides. But, yeah, this person is STUBBORN and has spent a very, very long time clinging to old ideas and, honestly, their own bullshit. Interestingly, I am not getting a lot of "fantasy" out of this pile. No, your person is being pushed to finally wake the fuck up.

A big message coming through, in regards to you, is that they are finally realizing what they had "wrong" before. But, I put emphasis on "wrong" because that's how they see it, in their black-or-white mind. They are often way too judgmental, too logical and disconnected from their emotions. It's not like they don't have emotions, in spite of how they may act. In fact, I get the vibe that, deep down, they actually don't let anyone see that. Including themselves. You got hurt in the process here because they may have been emotionally unavailable or denied their love for you or played around with your feelings. Whatever it was, it caused this separation that you two are most likely in. And I can see your person taking some real accountability for that. Sorry, Blame It On Me by Akon is your channeled song. So, the lyrics may be a message from your person.

However, I don't think they're truly ready to come forward yet. That pride of theirs is pretty absurd. They are less in ego than they used to be but still approaching things in an ego-based way. They don't want to embarrass themselves, especially if they fear you don't want to talk to them or be with them anymore. Actually, they fantasize about all of the potential outcomes of your next conversation. I think they do that to alleviate their anxiety but it just makes it worse. Even though they can picture you being open and reasonable, they can also picture the conversation going horribly wrong and that kind of shuts them down and makes them want to hide.

I also think they see you as this Queen of Cups figure. So, you may have placements in Water (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces). I think you were very vulnerable and emotionally open with them, last time you talked, and they weren't very sensitive or understanding. They daydream about going back and redoing that conversation, especially since they can actually understand what you were talking about now. They view you as a very spiritual person, most likely because you've discussed it with them. You might have even discussed it in regards to your relationship, as in saying you think they're your twin flame or soulmate or telling them about synchronicities regarding this connection. But, that wasn't something they were equipped to take seriously then.

And I am not saying this person has necessarily grown leaps and bounds since. But, they have started awakening spiritually and you played a major role in that. Maybe they're getting into Tarot readings or astrology for the first time. Something I am getting is that they wish you two were talking so you could teach them about all of what they're (cautiously) exploring. They feel like you have some mysterious wisdom and knowledge that they don't and they're craving access to it. Because they feel like it would give them much needed solutions or answers. They're still approaching it from a more "rational" perspective but they're slowly opening up.

They also dwell a lot on your connection and they, too, might be convinced that you're divine counterparts. I can see someone looking at one of those twin flame communities online and trying to learn more and connect the dots. They are truly just trying to figure out the language you speak. If they still have texts or DM's or emails from you where you communicated your feelings or spiritual insights, they read them a lot. They believe you're psychic (and I do, too!). You somehow have just known certain things about them and it had them SHOOK. It still kind of does. But, I honestly feel like they don't plan on doing much of anything right now. I think they either a) expect you to just use your "mind-reading skills" (their words, not mine) to automatically know what they want from you or b) for the Universe to just magically bring you back to them. They are trying to develop faith in the Universe but aren't recognizing that they still have to make their own choices. They can't hand their free will over, in this regard. Also, just because you already psychically know what's going on with them doesn't mean that they shouldn't take that step and voice their true feelings.

/////////

PILE 3

Six of Pentacles

(clarified by: Two of Cups)

Page of Cups

(clarified by: Three of Cups)

Seven of Pentacles

(clarified by: Knight of Wands)

Eight of Wands (back of the deck)

Pile 3, you have some different vibes than the others. This could be romantic but, for a lot of you, I am feeling like it's more platonic. This is someone who is or was a very close friend. I am getting "best friend breakup" as a message. So, this is very likely someone who was once your bestie but you had a falling out. Maybe you drifted apart but I get the sense that there was some sort of major disagreement or conflict that caused this breakup. In any case, I feel like your person fantasizes a lot about making it better. Making it up to you somehow. I feel like they were the ones in the wrong, in terms of whatever went down. Not to say you're perfect but I think you tried your best. I also think there's some sort of "energetic debt" here, as I call it. It's like you gave and gave so much to this person and their unfair treatment of you makes them feel like they owe you something. It could actually be money. Or maybe they want to help you financially. They also could just owe you some sort of apology or explanation.

Yes, the apology is a big message. Apologize by One Republic may resonate. There is kind of an eagerness from them, too, in this regard. I feel like, without you in their life, things have gotten kind of boring or stale. I will be honest. It feels somewhat like they want you back in their life for their own gain. They felt like they really, really benefited from having you close. So they think and daydream about being close to you again. Things going back to the way they were. Little do they realize that things can't truly go back to how they were then. You aren't the same person you were then. I feel like you may have indulged this person a lot or you were constantly trying to make them happy or comfortable.

Definite people pleaser or overgiver energy coming from you. I always have a pile that I have to give this message to. But, I give it with love. You might have realized that a huge part of this relationship, whatever it was, was built on your kindness and generosity toward them. Because of this, that's a major reason why they're missing you. "Nobody can make me feel the way you do", they think. Well, obviously! There is no one quite like you. BUT, what gives me pause is the question of how much this person actually loves you and how much they just love how you make them feel. With them, there's a thin line between the two and I don't think I am telling you anything you haven't already perceived. I think you know this person's agenda.

That doesn't mean that they don't have real love for you because they actually do. They're just very self-absorbed in how they express it. The connection between you two was also real and went deep. Like, past life connection deep. I think you two shared your emotions with each other in a very vulnerable way. You definitely did, anyway. They did to some extent, actually more with you than they do with others. But, they have a very wounded inner child and they sort of looked to you to provide them with a certain healing, support, or comfort. You made them feel safe, which is why this connection ending was like the rug being pulled from under them. I think you both might have had inner child wounding and maybe saw yourselves in one another in that way. But, you grew and healed greatly. They're not quite there yet.

There is a significant Water emphasis here (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces), so this person could have placements in any of those signs. Their energy is kind of funny. It's sensitive and vulnerable yet closed off. Their ego is like a shield and they keep their defenses high. In some ways, they have tried hard NOT to think about you, in the past, or maybe still do. They try to act like all is well, like they're thriving and have their mind on other things. But, this is not only bullshit. It's a facade of "confidence" to compensate for their immaturity and insecurity. For some of you, this person has tried to emerge from this as "the winner". It's silly for many reasons, especially since you don't even care about that. You're in your own lane but they are trying to barge into yours, while acting like they're not. If this is a former friend, they have taken this breakup as hard as a romantic ending. They treat you like an ex that they loudly claim they're over but think about all the time.

I definitely feel like this has had social ramifications. Like mutual friends have gotten involved. But, while this person may have played the victim, I feel like people from your social circle have either stayed neutral or inevitably took your side. I don't mean to drag this person but they can be exhausting and lack the self-awareness sometimes to know when they're being the asshole, all while pointing the finger at the other person. But, most people have peeped their game. I get the sense, for some of you, that you also kind of broke up with your mutual friends or social scene, too, once things ended with this person. Maybe you feared that they had too much social influence and others would turn on you. But, in actuality, their childishness is making people turn on them.

Best Friend by Doja Cat and Saweetie is coming through. That's how this person idealizes you, which is funny because they're also a low-key to high-key hater of yours, especially these days. You are the one who hyped them up, like that song, and they fed on it. The funny message about this, too, is that Doja and Saweetie were more so performing a best friend bond for the song. If I'm not mistaken, they're cool and they're friends but not actually besties in real life. This person is more so in love with the aesthetic of you as a close friend and the way you made them look good. I get the impression that a lot of you are highly attractive and very charismatic and that's a big reason they kept you around.

Again, not trying to villainize them. It's just that their energy is so... surface level. A bit of depth there but I wouldn't be shocked if they want you back to just show off your bond to your mutual friends again. "Hey, look, the dynamic duo is back!" Obviously, use discernment here, in terms of how genuine they are because I do think they can be super-charming and influence people when they want. They think back a lot to your past social life together. For most of you, it involved partying, going out, drinking. They may look at that time as their "glory days" or even the last period of their "youth". They had less worries and concerns, partly because you were with them. So, they romanticize this period a lot, possibly looking at old pictures or videos on social media regularly. I do think you two had a lot of fun together. You're a blast to be around and their life is significantly less fun without you.

/////////

PILE 4

The Lovers

(clarified by: Queen of Swords)

The Sun

(clarified by: Six of Cups)

Ten of Swords

(clarified by: Page of Pentacles)

Wheel of Fortune (back of the deck)

Pile 4, this isn't just about one person. This is about a few people/handful of people and it is hard to pinpoint it. I wouldn't be surprised if you were drawn to the other piles because they have more specific messages about a certain individual. This is more about a pattern in your life that I feel is highly karmic. I would say that your Guides are drawing attention to it but it's not like you don't know. You are well aware of these patterns and pushing through the effects. Essentially, you are on the healing journey that you were always meant to be on, whether you have just started it, after some difficult relationship experiences, or you are persevering through it.

Something I feel called to say is to please not make excuses for someone or rationalize or romanticize their toxic behavior because you think they're your twin flame. I don't want to be harsh but the truth some of you may be dealing with right now is that a certain someone who you thought was your twin flame really isn't. I don't believe in the "false twin flame" label and this person is likely a very important soul connection. But it doesn't mean they're your twin. It also doesn't mean that you have to sit around, waiting for them to heal or mature or put in effort or commit. You could be selling yourself short by doing so. And hey, don't shoot the messenger! Lol some of you needed to hear that, from your Guides, but some of you have already had this epiphany.

Yeah, I am being redirected from talking about what they're thinking. This is about you! You know why? You have put more than enough effort into disappointing connections in the past. It's time to give that love to yourself! You are being represented as this Queen of Swords (doesn't matter if you're male or female, it's just your energy). You could have your Sun, Moon or Rising in Air: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius. You are definitely feminine while also being shrewd, assertive, and with a savage side. You know how to get a little cutthroat when needed and when to cut people out. Whatever your current love situation is, your Guides trusted and knew that it was only a matter of time before you leveled up and moved on.

I'm hearing Why Should I Be Sad by Britney Spears. An absolute bop! (Her Blackout album is pop perfection, if you didn't already know) Anyway, that's your energy right now. You could cry right now over so-and-so but you've done enough of that. Or maybe you do need a good cry or two still. It's okay! But, I think, even as you're sobbing, in the back of your mind, you know there's only so much time left for that until you bounce back like the bad bitch you are. Your Guides are applauding you and so proud of you. I am getting the message that they never have to do much with you. You don't require a lot of interference. You still need help, of course, but you are so wise and smart and strong that you learn a lot of your lessons on your own, especially in love. You reach your threshold in terms of nonsense in relationships and then you're out. I am also sensing that they do sometimes give you "rude awakenings" (like this reading maybe lol). But, the good thing is that you actually pay attention and learn what you need to, instead of just ignoring or getting defensive at the truth like so many people do.

Yet, you still have a heart and it's complex. I feel like, in spite of that resolve, you might still look back at the past, at people from your past, and idealize the connection or romanticize it. But, then, you come to your senses. It's a cycle and a process, so be compassionate and patient with yourself. And don't try TOO hard to move on or get over someone or you won't be truly dealing with your feelings. Still, you have reached a point where you are definitely through with certain people and where exes, people who were once so appealing, are not nearly as attractive as they once we're. It's like you met them drunk, at a bar at 1 AM, and now you're meeting them again, sober, in the light of day, and they look very different now.

As far as what they're thinking of you? Well, they are pretty scared of coming forward. You have a certain bite when you're displeased that can scare some love interests. But, the ones who are scared are usually the ones who need to be called out or held accountable. Even when you do so graciously or civilly, you can hurt some feelings. But, it's worth it to be honest. I am definitely sensing one or two people from the past, who have put you through plenty of disappointment or heartache, as well as a more recent love interest who you would like to leave in your rear view. But, of course, just take that how it resonates.

You are highly desirable, even though you are seen as intimidating (maybe even because of that, at times), and you have plenty of options. But, I hear you thinking, "Do I, really?" Not out of self-doubt but out of a distaste for those who are coming forward or want to come forward. Again, you are leveling up and don't have the tolerance for what you used to tolerate anymore. I can definitely see a new powerful soulmate connection coming in for you this year. One that will actually be healthy and mutually satisfying. And this will happen because you have released these karmic or stagnant connections. You are making space for someone that will actually be fulfilling.

So, it may be exhausting now but please keep going forward and don't look back. It's time. You gave those past people enough chances. And, yes, they will be absolutely kicking themselves once they realize they have missed their chance. Some are already doing that. Because I am picking up a karmic vibe, they will experience the repercussions of not learning their lesson and growing as well as the intense regret of losing someone as awesome as you.

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile reading #channeled reading #channeled message #channeled song #pick a card #love reading #tarot love reading #pick a picture

[kodaiki]

꒰ 12:37 P.M. ꒱ ❛ hogwarts bbf!dan heng x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘, leaning against a stone column in the corner of the courtyard, the air around you crisp with the chill of winter. there's a chatter of voices among them as the hour of lunch passes you by. fellow students pass by, their footsteps muffled by the layer of snow from the storm a few nights prior. the atmosphere is hushed, the winter silence broken only by the distant sounds of laughter and the occasional gust of wind. lunch hour is in full swing, and while your housemates are likely warming up in the great hall, you're out here.

you would be –correction, should be – in the great hall, probably enjoying some warm food with your fellow house buddies and not freezing to death but alas, procrastination is your rival once again, taunting you as you scribble down the best you can your homework for herbology without any distractions. you gnaw your lip through your struggles, your hair falling in front of your face, slightly swaying from the brisk winter breeze painting your nose pink.

your quill moves across the parchment as you work on your herbology homework, your breath visible in the cold air when you take a deep sigh. the crunch of footsteps drawing near makes a presence known to you, but still, your eyes remain focused on your task at hand.

“and what’s my baby sister up to today?” a deep voice chimes from above you paired with a chuckle.

“work, go away,” is your curt response as you barely look up to meet your older brother’s amused glance your way.

“but where’s the fun in that?” blade muses, stepping closer to your sitting figure, his feet crushing the fallen leaves beneath his feet.

it’s when you look up to glare at your seventh year brother when you notice the other pair of eyes looking your way, quietly standing behind blade. your brows raise and eyes widen at the sight. when your eyes meet, the guy quickly averts his gaze and instead, turns his attention to grass.

"hey dan heng," you murmur a light greeting, your tone a blatant shift from the way you’d spoken to your brother. your chin dips into the striped scarf around your neck showing off your house's colors as you feel the winter air tickle your nose.

blade, in turn, rolls his eyes at the obviousness of your tone and softened gaze.

"hey," dan heng replies curtly, offering a nod of acknowledgment. blade swings an arm over his shoulder, shaking dan heng slightly as he hoists him closer, to which he makes a sour and slightly uncomfortable, expression.

"oh, now that i've found you, dear baby sis, we could probably use some advice," blade drawls with a sly smile on his face. in return, your face twists into slight confusion as you tilt your head to the side in question. it seems that you're the only who doesn't know what he's talking about because dan heng quite literally freezes, his throat bobbing slightly.

"advice about what?" you raise an eyebrow, now no longer the slightest bit interested in your homework due in a few short hours.

"well, the yule ball's coming up in a few weeks," blade begins, wiggling his brows knowingly. you nod along, scratching the side of your head, briefly glancing at dan heng, wondering how he could need advice from you of all people. "do you have a date?" your brother then asks. you can't tell if it's a genuine question or if he's looking for a reason to tease you.

"no, i don't," you answer simply, glancing back down at your homework. you miss the way blade turns to look at dan heng. "so, what advice do you need?"

"well, as you're well aware, i'm probably going to ask kafka, my near and dear best friend,” he drawls as if it’s obvious. your eyebrows raise, well aware of his platonic soulmate bond with the purple haired student. though, over time you truly wonder if it’s platonic or not. “but dan heng here is busy beating himself up wondering how to ask his crush," blade finishes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he smirks knowingly, clearly enjoying the revelation that he just dropped on you.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and your eyes widen slightly at the implication that dan heng has someone in mind to ask to the yule ball. not only that, it must mean he has some form of a serious crush on someone, period. the air seems to thicken with an unspoken tension as you process blade's words. the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball takes on a new significance, and a strange mix of emotions swirls within you.

"dan heng, a crush?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual even though your mind is buzzing with curiosity – and maybe some buried jealousy.

blade chuckles, enjoying the reaction he has stirred. "oh yeah. he's been overthinking it for days, probably even longer. poor guy doesn't know whether to go for a grand gesture or something simple. it's like watching a potions experiment gone wrong."

“oh,” you say in acknowledgment, glancing at dan heng with your softest-least-obvious smile his way. he rolls his eyes at blade's tone of words, obviously speaking as if he isn't standing right beside him.

“so that's what brings us to you, y/n. personally, how would you-” blade begins to ask in a light-toned, almost nonchalant voice when he's nudged in the gut by dan heng. “hey, rude,” blade grunts at him, but brushes off the elbow to his side. “how would you want to be asked to the ball? i can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears when he’s pacing around our room.”

“i don’t pace,” dan heng quickly cuts in and it’s the first time he’s spoken since he and blade arrived at the courtyard.

“sure you don’t,” blade rolls his eyes. your brother turns back to you. “so? how’d you wanna be asked?”

you swallow back the lump in your throat and avert your gaze to the parchment of your unfinished herbology homework, though your mind is no longer focused on the intricate details of magical plants at the moment. the subtle revelation that dan heng has someone in mind for the yule ball has captured your attention, and you can't help but wonder who the lucky girl might be, though it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

you have no reason to feel this way, of course. as far as you're concerned, dan heng is your older brother's best friend. you've only ever been around him for reason of association since blade just loves to tease and poke fun at you, and you've always seen dan heng as a reliable friend. yet, as you continue to feign interest in your herbology homework, the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball lingers in your mind.

"well," you begin, tapping the quill against the parchment thoughtfully, as you attempt to push whatever negative emotions are bubbling in your system, "i suppose a simple and sincere approach is always nice. maybe a heartfelt note or even a private conversation."

blade feigns a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand for dramatic effect. "bo-oring...and here i thought you'd go for something more grand and romantic. you know, like a surprise invitation under the stars or a magically enchanted message."

"well, those can be nice too, but sometimes simplicity holds its own charm. it's the thought and effort that count the most." you recall earlier in the week when march 7th was asked to the yule ball with a grandiose sign and flashmob in the middle of lunch. of course, she adored it, but you couldn't imaging sitting through that without feeling a little second hand embarrassment.

dan heng seems to be listening intently, though he's doing a poor job of pretending not to be. you catch his eyes briefly, and this time, he doesn't look away as quickly. there's a subtle warmth in his gaze that you can't quite decipher, but you offer him an encouraging smile.

blade, ever the perceptive older brother, grins knowingly. "i think that's some solid advice, don't you think?" he asks, nudging his friend beside him. it's almost like blade is staring through dan heng, and you can tell there's probably something you're unaware of that they're mentally communicating about.

dan heng, still recovering from the unexpected topic of asking his best friend's younger sister for love advice of all things, stumbles over his words. "i, uh, yeah. simple is good, got it."

"see? even dan heng agrees. thanks for the wisdom, dear sister." he offers a salute of gratitude as he turns to leave with his friend.

"hey, dan heng?" you ask before the've left ear shot. the two boys turn around to glance at you, blade raising an eyebrow with an imperceptible expression on his face.

"hm?" he hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. you have to look away for a split second before you start to blush.

"good luck," you smile brightly. "no matter how you ask them, i'll sure they'll love it and say yes." the words tumble out before you can think. by the time you've said them, your cheeks are a warm pink, something you brush off as the cold winter air from sitting outside for too long.

"thanks, y/n," he says, offering a smile of his own, enough to illicit your brain to short circuit, which you don't have to recover from immediately because the boys then walk away. blade, of course, manages to sneak a teasing smile your way, well aware of what's probably going on in your head.

with that, blade drags dan heng away, likely to impart more "wisdom" in a less public setting. you could only assume what blade was busy whispering in his ear that makes him push him off while blade laughs. you're left alone against the tree, the courtyard now quieter as the lunch hour comes to an end.

the revelation that dan heng might be preparing to ask someone to the yule ball lingers in your thoughts. as you finally gather your books and stand up, ready to head inside and get warm instead of staying out in the cold for too long.

the day passes as you go through the rest of your classes. you hand in your poor attempt of your unfinished herbology homework, receiving a raised brow from professor sprout. still, she seems to give an equally as understanding expression, chalking up your less-than-ideal attempt having do with the excitement that relates to the yule ball.

you walk through the halls of hogwarts, hugging your books close to your chest on your way to dinner in the great hall, a much needed meal waiting for you after your long day. your eyes are trained at the tiled floor ahead of you as your mind is too preoccupied to focus on everything else. the corridors seem unusually crowded, filled with students excitedly discussing their plans for the upcoming event.

as you turn a corner on your way to your common room, your scattered and distracted thoughts make you unintentionally collide with someone, causing your books to scatter across the floor. flustered, you start gathering them, apologizing profusely without looking up. "sorry!"

a familiar voice responds, "no worries. i should have been more careful, too." you glance up, and there stands dan heng, a small smile playing on his lips as he bends down to help you collect your books.

"oh, hey again," you greet in a slight breathless tone, unsure whether you should feel more or less embarrassed that you collided right into him. "thanks," you say as he helps, feeling a strange warmth in the air as your hands accidentally brush against each other while reaching for the same book before you both quickly yank your hands back.

"no problem," he replies, handing you the last book. there's a brief moment where your eyes meet, and it feels like time stands still. there's unspoken tension, you think, and its palpable.

dan heng was never a man of many words, you know. then again, one glance from him can hold a million words. despite not being of many words, you never felt any less close to him than your own classmates who've talked your ear off on countless occasions. it might be an inappropriate crush, having one on your older brother's friend, but it's not like you can do anything about it now.

before you can say anything more, dan heng takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. "well, i better get going."

"right," you mumble, still caught in the lingering atmosphere between you two.

you watch as he turns away to leave you in the empty hall, but just as he's about to walk away, you notice him hesitate and pause in place. your face expresses confusion when he turns to face you again and looks back at you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"everything okay?"

dan heng seems to struggle with his words for a moment, his gaze shifting as if he's trying to find the right way to express what's on his mind. it's a side of him you haven't seen before, and it leaves you both intrigued and a tad concerned.

"yeah," he finally says after a moment, his voice a touch lower than usual, like he's in deep thought. "i just wanted to say, um, about the yule ball..."

"oh! did you ask out who you wanted to?" your brows raise as your curiosity is piqued. your curiosity must be a masochist of sorts because why on earth are you so eager to find out something that will without doubt potentially ruin your night?

dan heng chuckles softly. "not quite," he says quietly. "i was just going to ask, did you really mean what you told blade and me earlier?"

"about what?" your head tilts to the side as you scrunch your eyebrows and a thoughtful frown is on your face.

"how you'd like to be asked," he clarifies. "something simple?"

"oh," you smile shyly. "well, yeah. i'm personally not one to love grand gestures of affection with the attention it garners," you laugh lightly to yourself. "why?"

"just wanted to make sure i'd get it right when i asked` you."

"hm," you hum to yourself with a nod, barely registering his words. a few seconds pass and your head jerks up a bit to meet his serious gaze, your face displaying perplexity. "wait, what?"

at your lost expression, dan heng smiles (smiles!) with an amused laugh through his nose. "the advice wasn't for me to ask someone else, y/n." he reveals in a . when you're still too shocked to say anything, he asks instead. "would you want to go to the yule ball with me?"

your heart skips a beat at the unexpected question. for a moment, a long moment, you're frozen in place, trying to process everything he just said. the realization dawns on you that the secret crush you harbored might not be so one-sided after all.

the courtyard conversation wasn't merely about hypotheticals for dan heng, you knew that, but not to this extent! not to mention, your brother blatantly asked you how you'd like to be asked (on behalf of all girls, but still) to the ball. you feel a little bamboozled, to be quite honest, but in the best way.

the air is thick with anticipation as you meet his eyes. the warmth in them is more evident now, and there's a vulnerability that you never expected to see from someone as composed as dan heng.

"really, me?" you ask, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

"of course, you," he says like it's most obvious answer. after a few seconds, his expression turns serious, "if it's uncomfortable for you or if you don't want to, forgive me-"

"no-no, that's not it!" you quickly cut him off before he can finish, waving your hands in front of him. "i'd love to." you beam.

relief washes over him, and a smile breaks across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "yeah?"

you nod in confirmation, still smiling widely. you jut your thumb in the direction of the great hall. "i was just heading to a late dinner. you wanna come?"

dan heng wordlessly nods with a smile and falls into step with you as you both begin walking through the long corridor.

"so...earlier today with blade..." you trail off, breaking the comfortable silence as you recall the courtyard conversation.

"all his idea," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "he knew i wouldn't have just asked so he just had an idea of his own."

"did blade know the whole time?" you ask.

"he's only been bothering me about it since the start of fifth year."

you pause in your step. "fifth year?" you ask, shyly peering at him through the corner of your eyes as you walk toward the great hall.

"yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck as his ears go red. "apparently i wasn't subtle enough for your brother to notice. it took him a while for me to admit it..."

you laugh, recalling on your own side how your own brother taunted you for staring extra long at his friend. was he playing matchmaker this whole time? "does that mean we'll have to thank him at some point?" you can only imagine the shit-eating grin on his face, all by his own behind the scenes doing.

there's a brief silence between you two and you come to the same answer.

"no."

"absolutely not."

.... so that's the first fic im back with! i know im rusty so pls let me be...plots will get better i swear <3 ty for reading! also we just gonna go w dan heng and blade being besties it's an alternate universe ok

#blade is def ooc but idc hes my baby so ill write him that way <3 #im so so rusty so dont look if its bad :") #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng #dan heng x fem reader #hsr dan heng #star rail #star rail x reader #star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr timestamp #dan heng fluff #honkai star rail x reader

[findafight]

QPR stobin in their forties, married since, like, '87, finding out about qpr language. They see someone mention it or just stuble upon it on the internet and go oh!! That's us! That's what we have! :) Because they're still involved with lgbtq activism, and are like oh!! These young people have words for what we are isn't that amazing!

I think Robin would find out that sometimes people call their queerplatonic partner "zucchinis" absolutely hilarious and never refer to Steve as anything else. He's her zucchini. Her sweet yam. Her pumpkin pie. Steve giggles at it and says "because we're fruity!"

They don't get divorced to get married to their romantic partners because that's a hassle and also they don't want to. What would happen to the children. To the cats. To the fish the cats long to eat that they are expressly forbidden from eating because their mother and father are cruel and deserve jail for a thousand years. They are each other's PERSON, no romantic relationship will change that. This causes some stir when it's revealed Steve is Eddie's partner and also Steve has a wife. Eddie Munson, beloved queer metalhead/rocker is a homewrecker?? They try to explain! They do!

Steve is like 'okay well we were best friends and soulmates and very queer in the 80's it was just easier to get married especially seeing as I wanted my parents to have nothing to do with anything incase I died, so no brainer. We already lived together, it didn't really change anything except we were able to adopt!" "But don't you want to marry someone you actually love?" "I love Robin more than anything else besides our children??" "Not...what about Eddie?" "Yeah I love him he's my partner. But I don't want to marry him I'm already married to Robin." "But you aren't in love with her" "not romantically no. We're what the kids call 'zucchinis'" "I'm sorry what" "zucchinis! It's what some people call a queerplatonic partner! Like, a life partner that isn't romantic but is still the most important person! Rob thinks it's a very funny name and I gotta say, with the unconventional nature of this type of relationship I agree it fits."

Steve gets on twitter and is like "sorry to everyone who doesn't understand platonically spending your whole life with someone but I'm different" and then logs tf off and lets people freak the hell out in the replies.

And Eddie is like yes my partner is married. No he's not cheating. Yes we were together when he got married. No I'm not jealous. Yes I knew he was getting married I know you know this I was the best man. No he's not getting a divorce to marry me now same sex marriage is legal. Yes I'm fine with it. No it's not a problem. Yes I understand ya'll don't get it. No I don't actually care you don't get it. Yes Robin and Steve are the most important person in each other's lives. No I'm not hurt by that they were like that when I met them. Yes I love him. No I'm not worried they're actually in a secret heterosexual relationship that's ridiculous and stupid this interview is over.

#qpr stobin #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steddie #give me unconventional relationship with rockerstar eddie!!! give me qpr stobin!!!! #i get that people want romantic ships to get married but i think that eddie wouldn't really want to get married #and also they were young (queer) adults in the 80's thats prime time for anitconformist queerness #also also if stobin were to get lavender married i doubt they'd get divorced bc they love each other too much #someone might being it up after same-sex marriage is legalized and they'd try to talk about it but get too upset because itd be too #much like a breakup. they cannot be separated they'll be too sad (not to mention how legally and financially their lives are entwined) #finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #this post probably makes no sense but whwtever im emo about qpr stobin #stobin #platonic with a capital p #steve and robin

[raticalshoez]

Man, there is just something so fascinating to me about the Boat Boys because I think their relationship has always been akin to like...the rockiest of waters (pun intended). I've just been thinking so much about it...

In 3rd Life, funnily enough, one of their first interactions was just them riding a boat together. In Last Life, Joel ended Etho's series. Even before being soulbonded they've had that sort of "me and the bestie/can't stand his fakeass" dynamic.

If anything was evident in Double Life, it's that they had fun together. It's safe to say they probably weren't the most loyal to one another, mainly due to Etho and his Bdubs withdrawal, but it would be wrong to say that they didn't enjoy each other's company. They both have the urge to cause chaos, but one's more upfront about it and the other is more subtle. They complimented each other and balanced out the other, and when the time came around, they died together poetically.

Limited Life was definitely...a season for Joel and Etho interactions. This season was filled with animosity, and constant jabs, and bitter callbacks to a past life. Boat Boys this season were just killing or insulting each other left and right, not finding a moment of comfort or piece around each other.

Then there's Secret Life. This one in particular makes me kind of insane because there's both the animosity and bite to their words when they're interacting with one another, but there was also sincerity. For a brief moment, these two were able to express genuine care that they still had for one another, and that's just crazy to me. Both Joel and Etho's characters don't know sincerity and always deal more mushy, heartfelt things awkwardly, so this was CRAZY for me. And it always hits harder for me because I've always just imagined Joel and Etho's relationship to just be a very strong, platonic bond. They have people who they are definitely closer to; Joel has people like Lizzie, Grian and Jimmy, and Etho has people like Bdubs, Cleo, and Tango. Those are people that they tend to naturally gravitate towards, but the two of them will always end up crossing paths. And well, that's what being soulmates is really about, right? It's not really about romance; it's about being bound to find this particular person in every universe, no matter what.

Out of all the people on the server, I never expected it to be them. Etho and Joel, the two guys who never seemed to be able to let go of their soul bond when everyone else had moved on to some capacity.

It's like how Martyn never left winter. It's like how Jimmy and Tango will always be each others' ranchers even though they no longer reside at the ranch. It's like how Scar and Grian know monopolies better than anyone. Cleo will always be caught up on BigB's betrayal and Lizzie will remain bitter about Cleo's destructive tendencies towards her home. Impulse will never let go of Bdubs' betrayal. It's the way Scott seems somewhat attached to literally ALL of his exes. The lifers just cannot be normal about each other and every new season adds to their insanity regarding one another.

If you've reached the end of this, I commend you. I'm not adding anything new to this conversation, I'm just yapping and blabbling about the Minecraft series that changed my life and altered my brain chemistry. These worms eat at my neurons everyday and I just HAVE to tell somebody, ANYBODY about my insanity.

#trafficblr #ethoslab #smallishbeans #double life smp #secret life smp #have i just become a boat boys fan account what is this #i blacked out and i just has words on my screen #will anyone even read this thing all the way through or will i just appear mentally ill #it is 2 am and i am just lying in bed writing this on my phone #boat boys #forgot that tag again

[antimony-medusa]

This is verging on discourse, but I have to say, as someone aroace with the emphasis on the aro, it's a trifle disheartening to ever try to look for queerplatonic relationships that look like mine within this fandom. QPRs can cover a broad spectrum of experiences, and it always seems that within MCYT what a QPR looks like has calcified into this one depiction that is very close (but not actually crossing the line) to shipping, just without kissing or sex! With emotional connections that are very similar (but not quite) to romance, hitting many of the same beats. And that just doesn't reflect my experience at all. Personally, I have more fun reading about straight ahead romance than a qpr that hits almost all the same notes, but just doesn't quite go there, that never digs into an aro or ace experience that I recognize, and that is always what I seem to find when I go cruising the tags.

For one thing, QPRs are not just an ace thing, and they definitely don't have to be a sexless thing! You can be aroallo and in a QPR and have sex, or you can be ace and in a QPR and have sex for the sake of your partner, or just for fun! Sex is fun for a lot of ace people, including those in QPRs, and using QPR eternally to mean "sexless" cuts off a large swath of the population that DOES have sex, for whatever reason. And there are tons of ace people who are extremely fine with kissing, including people who are sex adverse, so using a QPR are a shorthand to mean "sexless and also kissless" is only depicting a very narrow slice of the experience.

And QPRs in practice often look very different from romance, including with people who are romance-adverse, and who don't want any of the trappings that normally come with romance (marriage, specific terms like "love" or "darling", metaphors or positioning like "half of my heart" or "soulmate"), and I just never get to see that. A QPR can be two people who sleep in seperate rooms co-parenting a kid! (Or more than two people!) A QPR can be people married together and sharing a bed and holding hands at the movies and calling each other "darling", or it can be people who signed legal paperwork together who call each other "bro", and those are BOTH valid QPRs. But I only ever get to see the one that looks so close to romance that it's alienating to me, while people tell me that I should be happy to be depicted. (I'm not depicted.)

And I'm also frustrated because I have read QPRs that are sharing all the same hallmarks-of-romance-but-no-sex that I would theoretically have a problem with, but they also ring as true to me because people actually talk about what the relationship is and isn't to them, and I go Yes! Not me but I am on a similar wavelength! But so many people just go "QPR" but never unpack the actual ace/aro/aroace experience, so again I'm left with something that is using all the romance and affection tropes that I've come to expect over decades of living in an amonormative society, just slapping a "but it's platonic" on it at the very end. Where's people making assumptions about your relationship that you have to consider whether to correct or not? Where's the inside jokes? Where's the intimacy negotiations and teasing each other about what you want in terms of touch+? Where's the doing life together in a non-romantic way? Where's the epic friendship? Where's the aro experience? (If we're mutuals, you probably write all of these things, and I'm not complaining about you, you're good.)

And it's hard to escape the feeling that at least some of these people are writing QPR because they're afraid of shipping, as I see the tags scroll endlessly by, not because they actually want to depict the a-spec experience.

Some of it is just people not used to writing affection outside of the romance tropes in our society, and some of it is that so many guestures of affection in our society get romance-coded when like, holding hands is not inherently romantic, I know. But sometimes, man, I want to tell people that it's okay to romantically ship, they don't have to keep it platonic, if they're going to write something that is so similar to shipping but has a giant "don't worry, these guys don't fuck" stamped on it.

I don't know, maybe there are even less people like me than I thought. Or maybe the people like me aren't writing fanfiction (lol).

I don't know. QPRs are more varied than they get depicted, and the a-spec experience is special to me and I wish it got written in its diversity. It's frustrating to see only ever one type of QPR, one that is exclusionary to me. I wish I could see the tag and not know exactly what that relationship looked like, or saw something that I felt was strongly influenced by what the characters are, instead of the same sort of sexless romance-lite every time.

#discourse #fandom meta

[astonmartinii]

hi, i was wondering if you could do one of y/n dating carlos but people start realizing she flirting with charles in the comments, at the beginning in a very discreet way, but after a while she and carlos break up and when the new season starts she’s with charles

all is fair in love and war | charles leclerc instagram au

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

y/n is happy in her relationship with carlos but all that time in the ferrari garage might have her eye wandering

(obvs no intentions to demonise anyone, this is a work of fiction and purely for entertainment purposes)

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 55,607 others

tagged: yourbff1, yourbff2

yourusername: no one i'd rather play mermaids with than you two xx

view all 9,231 comments

yourbff1 always the best time with you guys <3

yourbff2 platonic soulmates for real

carlossainz55 my pretty lady

yourusername thank you baby

charles_leclerc i thought i was your baby ?

yourusername just cause you act like a baby doesn't make you mine x

user5 what is going on here lol

user12 not them flirting under her own boyfriend's comment i can't

user34 god i wish i was her

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 112,309 others

carlossainz55: let's go spa - the second half of the season is a go!

view all 13,405 comments

scuderiaferrari let's go smooth operator

yourusername good luck baby

charles_leclerc where's my good luck

yourusername i'm literally sat with you right now

user33 the hair routine is a need not a want

user19 charles and y/n once again flirting in the comments - am i the only one who finds it weird?

uer13 i mean a bit? but also like the comments are clearly jokes

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 452,091 others

charles_leclerc: monza ready 🇮🇹

view all 14,562 comments

pierregasly you clean up well calmar

yourusername part time driver, full time model

charles_leclerc you'd know all about being a model

user48 i know there's weird vibes with carlos and y/n but like as far as we know they're still together so ^^^ that is still weird

user20 call me a bad person but i want charles and y/n to get togetehr

user1 no cause their vibes have always seemed much more suited than hers and carlos

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff1 and 60,076 others

yourusername: the only man i'll ever need is mauricio (even if his hair has ruined 50% of my wardrobe)

view all 11,066 comments

user47 this caption... something is off

user60 carlos hasn't liked either and he just posted on his story so he's been active on the app

charles_leclerc but does mauricio have a boat?

yourusername you got him there

user8 okay but like at this point does she just come with the ferrari seat?

user3 tbf i wish i could be with both carlos and charles

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 223,098 others

carlossainz55: time well spent with family ❤️

view all 15,203 comments

user44 okay i'm going full conspiracy mode, but y/n has always visited carlos' family with him and the fact she's not been seen at a race since she was left at the airport... i think they've broken up

user11 noooo they were my faves but i think you might be right :(

scuderiaferrari can't wait to see them back in the garage

landonorris where was my invite?

user2 y/n rn^

f1wagsupdates

liked by user1, user2 and 220 others

tagged: yourusername, charles_leclerc

f1wagsupdates: charles and y/n y/ln seen together in abu dhabi - this comes just weeks after her and carlos' break up... do we think that all those flirty comments mean they did actually cheat?

view all 13 comments

user35 they defo cheated but it's also charles so like i'd also be tempted

yourusername people can just be friends you know

user45 so true !! also like carlos has already been spotted with a new girl multiple times all the way back to when he left her at the airport, but for some reason he's the victim ???

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff1 and 61,207 others

tagged: yourbff1

yourusername: despite popular belief i am a single woman

view all 10,455 comments

charles_leclerc doesn't have to be for long

pierregasly man, you're playing a dangerous game

yourusername maybe we like a bit of danger

user32 yep i'm officially on the charles and y/n train

user10 i know we've said they're probably just joking but i genuinely hope they get together, they seem like they're good for each other

carlossainz55

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 429,561 others

carlossainz55: no better way to do winter break

view all 14,034 comments

user13 they're so so cute

user55 omg maybe carlos might actually have a girlfriend who doesn't constantly flirt with his teammate

user30 the way that she's still be demonised for harmless comments when he was seen with isa way before carlos and y/n broke up and got with her officially within a week of the breakup

comments have been limited on this post

yourusername added to their story

[caption: pasta day is my favourite day]

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 709,822 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: all is fair in love and war

view all 94,034 comments

user56 HOLY SHIT

user21 AHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername i'd fight this war all over again to end up with you

user48 I KNEW THEY WOULD BE CUTE

user88 okay now i don't feel so bad for rooting for them

f1wagsupdates

liked by user5, user9 and 330 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1wagsupdates: though controversial in the way it came about, i for one love this relationship - what do you guys think?

view all 14 comments

user11 carlos did this and way sooner so i am defo a fan of this relationship

user49 they slay i don't care what anyone says

user2 i love it and she's a smart queen cause she doesn't even need to buy any more new merchandise

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 98,134 others

yourusername: made the super long journey to the garage next door

view all 17,560 comments

user31 she's so so pretty

charles_leclerc thank you for making such selfless sacrifices

yourusername good thing you're worth it

user41 i need to meet her

user10 the shady hand covering the other one

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 1,023,671 others

tagged: yourusername, scuderiaferrari

view all 21,067 comments

user46 SLAY CHARLES

yourusername pretty boy with a pretty trophy - i'm so so proud of you xx

charles_leclerc you're much prettier than my trophy baby

user90 parents

carlossainz55 happy for both of you

charles_leclerc thanks bro

yourusername it was unorthodox but we're both happy now and that's all that matters

note" hope you enjoyed, this ended up so much longer than expected but i had a lot of fun writing this !! my asks are still open for any other requests xx

#f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 8-Not Soulmates

Adrien smiled as he looked at the calendar. Tomorrow was the day that soulmates would be revealed to everyone who was between sixteen and eighteen. It had been three years since last time and he was excited for when it was his turn. If anything, he was hoping that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was his soulmate. Marinette was his friend, but she was also kind, creative, smart, and she made tasty pasties. He also thought she was a bit cute. All he wanted to do was protect her from guys that could hurt her.

Adrien turned at the sound of his door opening and saw Natalie.

"Hey, Natalie." he spoke, "Is there a change in my schedule?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow." she answered, "How are you feeling?"

"Excited." Adrien declared, "I sort of have my eye on one of my friends. I hope it's her."

"Even if she isn't, don't be disappointed. The person with you mark is waiting for you." Natalie stated.

Adrien glanced down at her hand. It was bare or covered with makeup.

"What about your soulmate?" he questioned.

"I had my eye on someone, too." Natalie replied, "We weren't a match. They matched with one of my friends and they had a family. I'm very happy for them."

"How did you-" Adrien began.

"Handle it?" Nat asked, "I was sad and upset, but I saw how they interacted. They were right to be paired up. I know my soulmate is out there and I haven't stopped looking."

Adrien nodded his head as she left the room.

Adrien got out of his car, excitedly. He immediatley spotted Marinette and made his way towards her, ignoring the people calling out his name.

"Hey, Mari!" He shouted, "Excited about today?"

"Yes!" Marinette smiled, "My soulmate is gonna be here next week!"

"Huh?" Adrien spoke outloud.

"Oh, right." she giggled, "My soulmate is my best friend, but he's in the United States. They actually set an alarm for the time I woke up so they could talk to me about my mark. We found out we matched!"

Adrien grasped the strap of his bag. He felt like the ground was going to fall out from under him.

"Oh." he whispered.

"Yeah." Marinette smiled, showing off her soulmate mark on her hand.

Adrien saw a sword and a needle with a piece of string that formed an X .

"He said he immediately thought of me when he saw the needle." Mari continued, "But he wasn't sure."

"Th-That's great." Adrien managed to say.

"Of course, we have to see if it's romantic, but-" She concluded.

Adrien looked at her confused, "What do you men?"

"Can I see your hand?" Marinette asked.

"Huh?" the model spoke, confused, "Uh, sure."

Marinette pressed their palms with soulmate marks together. He watched as his mark glowed a light blue.

"Blue?" he spoke.

"Mine was blue too." Marinette declared, So we could be considered platonic soulmates. We're friends. Blue is for friends. Red is for enemies and Gold is for lover. Even if Damian is only a platonic soulmate; he's still my best friend."

Adrien lowered his hand and nodded his head.

'At least it's not red.'

"Hey." Luka called, walking over, "How are you? How's the search?"

"My best friend is my soulmate." she excitedly told him.

"Damian?" Luka asked.

Adrien looked at the musician in shock.

'Luka knew about him and I didn't? Why?'

Marinette nodded, happily.

"He set a timer for when I wake up and asked." Mari recanted, "He didn't think he would match mine. He was just gonna give me a pep talk before I came here and freaked out."

Luka laughed, "Well, he has helped you out, a lot more than I ever did."

Mari lightly smacked his chest, "Damian just has a lot of older siblings to ask for advice."

Luka noticed the model's confused look and nodded his head towards him.

"May I?" he asked.

Marinette simply nodded.

"I can see you're confused, Adrien." Luka declared, "Marinette went through a difficult patch the last couple of years. Damian has many older siblings while he…..is not so great at socializing. When it came to Mari, he's reach out for help from his family or his friend to get an idea of what was going on, what he could do, or say to help her."

Mari smiled, "He's sweet."

"To you and only you." Luka smiled.

The conversation ended abruptly as the bell rang for school to start.

"We should get going to class." Adrien spoke.

"Yeah." Luka agreed, "Pretty sure teachers are just gonna let us go half way through. Don't know if anyone would pay attention today."

Marinette laughed as they entered the school.

The school couldn't handle the chaos. There were too many students on their phones, people yelling, fights breaking out because couples were breaking up or accused of cheating. Adrien walked out of the school and entered the car. He could feel Natalie eyeing him in the mirror. He just shook his head and sniffled. He was grateful that she didn't say anything on the way home. Adrien got home and collapsed in his bed. Natalie must have said something to his father because his meals were brought to his room and he wasn't bothered for anything scheduled.

Adrien watched a week later as Marinette ran up to some guy and hugged him.

'Must be her soulmate.'

He watched on as they placed their palms together and their marks glowed gold. He turned away as her soulmate lifted her chin up and kissed her.

'It hurts so much.'

As he walked towards the school, he heard whispers:

'Is that Marinette?'

'That must be her soulmate.'

'Man, I thought she was going to get with Agreste.'

'Yeah.'

'Didn't she like him or something?'

'Pretty sure they had a falling out.'

'They don't really talk anymore.'

'Someone said they say him crying when he didn't match with her.'

'Yeah right. He could have anyone. Why her?'

'They were friends years ago.'

'Well, something must have happened. Haven't seen them together for awhile now.'

'She probably got tired of him saying she was a great friend.'

'True. If I had to hear how much of a friend I was to my crush, I would have moved on, too.'

'That new guy looks like he's already in love with so that works in her favor.'

Adrien pulled out his phone and texted Natalie to bring the car back to the school and meet him toward the back. When the car pulled up, he quickly got in. Before she could say anything, he broke down sobbing. Natalie was shocked but nodded for the driver to take them home.

'She's not my soulmate and it's my fault. I stopped paying attention to her. Luka knew about him. When did she get a new best friend and why from the US? He listened to her. He helped her. I called her a friend and the universe punished me for it.'

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

#daminette december 2023 #daminette #adrien agreste #adrienette #adrien crushes on marinette #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #soulmates #not soulmates #luka couffaine #platonic adrienette #romantic daminette #friends to lovers #mochinek0

[llamagoddessofficial]

So, I wanted to know a little about how you see soulmates? I honestly want to see your take when it deals with HMF Sans in particular while it deals with a particular Soulmates AU. Usually, whenever I write Soulmates AU... to add DRAMA to the setting, I'd like to the soulmates the ability to feel the other's pain.

I want to know how'd HMF would think during the incident that caused his head to cave in while dealing with a universe akin to how I would write a soulmates AU. Would that change anything about what happens?

This is a very good question!

I like to write Soulmates as a resonation between Souls. It may be two Souls who are extremely similar to one another, so similar they hum the same tune. It may be two Souls that are different in the perfect way, singing like a harmony. In physical terms it's a mutual feeling of comfort and ease that you just can't explain. It can be platonic or romantic; Soulmates may be couples, but they may also be best friends.

Monsters place a lot of cultural importance on Soulmates, because their Soul constitutes so much of their being. Monster Soulmates feel the attraction a lot stronger than humans do. For Monsters it's super obvious, and for humans, it's a gut feeling.

Though definitely a good start to a relationship, being Soulmates doesn't guarantee a perfect happy ending! Relationships are still relationships, that require work and love and patience. Soulmates are still individual people. They can fall out with one another, if either party won't put in the leg work.

-

A personal note on this; I know some people make Soulmates a super big deal in their writing, the mega crux of relationships, if you're Soulmates you're guaranteed to be in love forever. And that's totally fine! I just don't really gel with that idea. Like... what about the rest of me? What about my personality, my hobbies interests, my wants? I'm more than an arbitrary magical link with someone. When I read 'we're Soulmates therefore I love you' I start to think stuff like "Would this person not love me otherwise? Would they even LIKE me if we didn't have this magical link? Do they actually care about me, or do they just start caring because they think they need to?" I feel that I wouldn't want to be with someone who only suddenly starts liking me because magic told them to.

In most of my stories, I don't make Soulmates a big thing. In a lot of them my characters aren't even Soulmates at all. It's why I like @recklesslycaffeinated's spin (in Six Ex-cell-ent skeletons) so much; the skeletons are her Soulmates but they love her for reasons outside of the Soul stuff. Sans even makes it clear to the Mc in the sequel that being Soulmates doesn't guarantee a relationship at all, it just guarantees some kind of connection, and being Soulmates with her is just a bonus that makes him feel comfortable. I love that take.

#as for hmf - he and the other horrors feel soulmate connections very intensely #they feel a LOT of things very intensely #he might find it overwhelming? #he would definitely take things too fast with his soulmate #he might freak a human out because he can't stop his feelings and he can't stop wanting to be around them #if he could feel his soulmate's pain it honestly probably wouldn't impact him much ksjfhskdjf #his head wound means he's constantly in a little pain anyway

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

So...anyone remember that version of the Rejected Soulmate AU where Danny turns Tim into a Halfa against his will and Tim developed picture powers and trapped Phantom in a painting?

Well I do and I'm about to make it everyone else's problem.

When Danny is finally released from the painting he is not okay. He had been trapped in an attic where pretty much no one went to and then everyone outright avoided for years.

He was essentially stuck in solitary confinement for Ancients know how long. People don't just walk away from that and get to be perfectly sane afterwords. Whats more was that Dannys core was damaged right before being picturefied. Usually the damage sustained would have been nothing more than the equivalent of a skinned knee but being surrounded on all sides by the essence or not only another ghost but another Halfa...well...when two ghosts mix thier essences together they can create a new core.

A baby.

Unfortunately for Phantom both of them were Halfas and Danny had no access to human requirements such as food and water.

Phantoms body couldn't handle the strain of a pregnancy and he had a miscarriage. Worse still, he was constantly surrounded by Tim's essence so he just...kept getting pregnant and kept having miscarriage after miscarriage. When Danny was released he sobbed. It wasn't unusual so hear sobbing or crying from what was dubbed "Dannys room" all around him were the empty cores of the children he had lost, splayed across the floor without a glow and without a life. He looked up at the wall he had been hanging on and saw a distinct discoloration where his portrait used to be. For the love of the Ancients, how long had be been trapped there??

Danny eventually managed to calm down and went over to one of the boxes that hadn't been touched since Alfred stopped coming he tried not to think about that and quietly dumped the contents out onto the floor and used the box to gather up the so many far too many cores.

He would hold a funeral for them all at a later date, but for now he needed to escape the manor.

Sneaking down the stairs he kept his senses sharp. There seemed to be no one in the manor and it appeared to have been that way for quite some time. Alfred would rise from the grave himself if he knew how much dust had accumulated in his absence.

Danny walked past a puddle on the living room floor absently noting the large stain on the ceiling that periodically let a drop splash down into the dampness below. What had happened here? Clearly Tim hadn't died the rest of the way anytime soon after locking Danny up and throwing away the key, so what was up with the manor? How long had Danny been gone? Did they abandon him along with the house? That thought sent his stomach churning.

He knew Tim didn't want him. He had been okay with that so long as he played with him. Most soulmate bonds were platonic and Danny wasn't above pestering someone for attention. Red Robin had almost always seemed annoyed by his presence though and never really gave him a chance even when he seemed to be having fun with whatever "mini game" he had constructed (he made sure to base them off of Reds own hobbies and likes) he had seemed to be holding himself back. Tim never opened up to Danny.

Now Danny was the one trying to avoid Tim as he slipped out one of the manors secret passageways. Thank you old school money and your paranoid aristocrats. He wondered it Bruce even knew of all the secret passageways the Phantom had scoped out in Wayne Manor as he slipped out of a bush behind some old house on another property. Judging on how he had to phase his way out of the hidden door and under the bushes roots he'd go out on a limb and guess no one had used this one in quite a while.

He decided to still stick to the shadows. Even if he had escaped the manor it didn't change the fact that if Tim didn't already know he escaped he would soon enough and would be out looking for him with the rest of the furry patrol.

What about Hood? Did he still hate him? Danny wasn't even sure what went wrong. One day they were friends and then the next he wouldn't even look at him. Did Tim say something? Would he stoop so low? Either way he didn't think Hood would help him. He could feel Hoods Ecto-signature over in the direction of Crime Alley so he couldn't have been trapped for two long, right?

Wrong. So so wrong. According to the date on the electronic billboard he had been trapped for 133 years. Ancients. In other news Tim Drake had been attacked and fallen into a coma not too long ago, which would explain why Danny was free and not being chased. That and his collar that hid his ecto signature. Every day he's thankful for it.

Now would be the best time to leave Gotham. Now while everyone is distracted and Tim can't shove Danny back into his own private Hell.

By the time Tim realizes Danny is missing he will already be long gone.

#rejected soulmate au #braindead rejected soulmate au #rejected soulmate #prompts #fanfiction prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #red robin #yum #tim drake #tw miscarriage #tw pregnancy #miscarriage #tw: unexpected pregnancy #tw: pregnancy #tw: miscarriage #solitary confinement #immortal danny fenton #immortal tim drake #immortal Jason Todd #halfa tim drake #halfa jason todd #tw: angst #angst #ive come for your hearts #and i will bruise them #danny is terrified of tim #like he has legit nightmares of tim finding him and putting him back in that painting

[stevesbipanic]

We're back with another soulmate AU cause I'm a sucker for them.

Steve had never known a time when the names of his soulmates weren't on his wrists. One platonic, one romantic. Some people were born with two romantic although rare, some born with two platonic, some with just one and some with none.

Steve couldn't wait to meet his soulmates, as a kid he told his mother that his soulmate was going to be the prettiest girl in the world and that his best friend would be the coolest guy ever.

He knew his parents weren't soulmates, his mother's soulmate had died when she was young and his father didn't have anything in his wrists. It didn't matter to Steve though, they weren't around much now that he was older.

He waited all through high school to meet his soulmates, Tommy and Carol had met each other in middle school and he wanted what they had. As the years went on, his parents grew distant, his world became more about popularity, he slowly forgot about his names. He went through girls with the hopes of filling the void inside of him.

It wasn't until one Nancy Wheeler didn't fall for his charms preferring to wait to meet her soulmate did it feel like a knock to the head. He found a friend in Nancy a friendship he didn't even regret once he was pulled in by proxy to a whole other world under their town. He held Nancy as she cried losing her platonic soulmate Barb and met her romantic soulmate Jonathan.

He felt more like himself now that he was hanging around friends that cared about each other rather than their images. He adopted a gaggle of children who also needed protecting from the monsters on their doorstep and started thinking about soulmates again.

Nancy helped him graduate, barely. He didn't want to leave Hawkins without the kids or Nancy and Jonathan and so he started working at Scoops Ahoy. Where he met his soulmate, finally. Robin Buckley was funny and loud and smart and beautiful. Steve didn't want to rush into anything in case he was wrong and by the time he had gotten up the courage to show her his tattoo there were Russians and blood, so much blood.

High on Russian drugs he confessed to her, told her about how she was everything he'd dreamt of in a soulmate when he was little. How she was funny and amazing and that he loved her. He hadn't expected Robin to start crying, words tumbling out how she's not what Steve wants, not what Steve deserves in a soulmate, that she can never love him the way he wants. That day Steve discovers who his platonic soulmate is. From that day they're inseperable.

Steve doesn't know how he went through life without Robin once she was in it. She got on great with all his friends, called him out on his bullshit, comforted him through nightmares and was always there for him. She taught him that it was ok to like boys and girls and that his romantic soulmate will love him despite his King Steve days because she loves him too.

After already having one soulmate in danger from the Upside Down he never dreamt that the first time he'd hear someone say his other soulmates name it would be attached with "murder". Slammed up against the walls of the boathouse, Steve didn't think he'd ever seen anyone as beautiful as Eddie.

"Soulmates huh?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Well, I know Dustin's one is definitely platonic, since he's a kid. Wonder what ours is?"

Steve wanted to tell him that he wanted everything with Eddie, but he knew his past, and knew that Eddie knew too. So he let himself hope, let himself laugh with Eddie, let himself be close. Nothing had been harder than leaving Eddie and Dustin there as distractions but he had a job to do.

As he'd held bloody bandages desperately to Eddie's wounds and begged him to stay awake, he wished he'd told Eddie everything he'd been thinking, how he was everything Steve had wanted and more.

"Please, Eddie! Stay awake, just hold on a little longer!"

"I think I figured us out, sweetheart."

And those were the last words Steve heard from his soulmate before Eddie had gone limp in his arms.

Steve held on hope for weeks beside Eddie's hospital bed. He had traced Eddie's name on his wrist over and over, memorising it. The tattoo had stayed dark and clear, Eddie was still there, he was still alive next to Steve.

Steve could've kissed Eddie as soon as he saw his eyes blink open but didn't want to injure him further.

"I figured us out too, Eds."

Little Steve had been right, his best friend was the coolest person he knew, and his soulmate was the most beautiful person he'd ever known.

#stranger things #soulmate au #steddie #steddie soulmate au #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #stranger things season 4 #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #ficlet #fluff

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Tw body image

"My God, your hands are big, Harrington. Is there anything else about you that's big?" He asked, talking about Steve's feet.

They were hanging out at Steve's place, waiting for Robin to show up so they could all watch a movie.

"Why? Do you want to find out?" Steve smirked.

"Yes!"

Steve would blink in surprise at him before they both moved at the same time. Steve went to his belt, and Eddie moved down to take off his shoes. They both froze.

"Yes, that too, but first, your feet," Eddie said.

"So, you don't mind that my hands and feet are so big?" Steve asked blushing.

Eddie looked up and noticed his hands were carefully hiding his stomach. Eddie frowned and took his hands.

"Is this why you've been wearing sweaters lately? Are you worried about your weight?" Eddie asked.

"It's not too much, is it?" Steve asked. "I've never been this insecure about my body before. I guess with bat bites and the fact that my dates lately haven't really liked them, it just made sense to let myself go. Now that I know that I like you, I've been worried that you might not like all of this."

"You like me?" Eddie asked hopefully and then shook his head. "Okay, that can wait. First of all, you didn't let yourself go so strike that from the record. You made more of yourself. Second of all, I fucking love that there's more of you. In fact. . ."

Eddie reached out and bit him on the stomach.

"Ow! Why?" Steve asked.

"Oh. Uh. Right. I have to disclose the fact that sometimes I tend to bite the things that I like. It was a real problem for me when I was in kindergarten and trying to make friends," Eddie said. "I, uh, like you. Like, really like you."

Steve looked down and smiled, biting his lip.

"Sorry, I can't stop imaging a tiny Eddie going around biting people trying to make friends," he said.

"Yeah, laugh it up, big boy," Eddie scoffed and paused. "Is that a problem? Do you want me to stop calling you that?"

"I love it when you call me that," Steve said. "You really don't have a problem with this?"

"Baby, it doesn't matter how big or small or if you suddenly become a floating ball of energy, it's your fucking heart that I love - I mean, uh - yeah, we haven't even been on a date but fuck it, I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie said.

"I love you too," Steve said.

Eddie was still on his knees and holding Steve’s hand in his, gazing lovingly at him when they heard Robin walk through the door.

"Okay, let's get this hangout on the road. I kind of double booked you guys. I've got a date with Vickie - what the fuck?" Robin asked. "Are you proposing to my best friend? Without my permission?"

"Wait, do I really need that?" Eddie asked.

"No, she's fucking with you," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "And no, he's not proposing. He did tell me he loves me."

"About fucking time, Munson," Robin said and plopped down on the couch, causing them to stare at her. "What? Oh, make out later. We promised we'd hang out so we're hanging out. I hope you understand that I'm also a priority in his life, Edward."

"I'd figure that out a long time ago that you two were a package deal," Eddie said. "Part of the reason why I love him so much is how much he loves you."

"Smart man," Robin said, smiling softly.

She watched as Eddie sat down on the couch and pulled Steve into his lap, lovingly caressing his stomach. Yeah, her platonic soulmate was in good hands.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #bi4bi #robin buckley #robin & steve #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #platonic with a capital p #tw body image

[mccn-bcys]

JUST A TOUCH OF YOUR HAND

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.

warnings: angsty marc, fluffy jake, soulmate au, DID (I don't have DID so I'm basing my knowledge off of what is in the show, please correct me if anything is wrong), I'm also not a Spanish speaker (I used Google translate please correct me if it's wrong)

authors note: as stated in the warnings, im not a Spanish speaker so pls correct me if it's wrong. I also do not have DID and am using knowledge from the show. There will be a part two to this soon, but I figured I'd go ahead and give you all a taste! I really hope you like it!Let me know what you think! Please like and reblog guys!

word count: 1,817

when the black stain on their knuckles first showed, all three boys weren't sure what to make of its meaning. at first, they thought it was from holding their soulmate's hand, but that didn't make sense. the stain was just on the knuckles of their right hand. 

it wouldn't be until years later, as they all started getting older, till they started having their own opinions about it. and after the boys were all aware of each other, they would discuss it. well, jake and steven would discuss it.

marc didn't want to talk about it. 

steven wasn't fully convinced that he was destined to have a soulmate. maybe a platonic soulmate, but certainly not a romantic soulmate. surely they would've shown themselves by now, right? so steven decided it best to not romanticize the stain. he just settled on maybe it was a fist bump. or even a lighthearted shoulder punch. some sort of friendly gesture. 

jake was the opposite. this man may have a reputation for being bad and mean and evil, but jake lockley was a huge romantic. he was obsessed with love. of course, the only people who knew were marc and steven.

he loved the idea that there was someone out there that was made for him. he liked to believe that they would love him despite the things he's done, despite his past, despite having two other people that shared his body.

he'd played the scenarios around in his head. there was the classic accidental brushing of his knuckles against you, maybe as you passed in the streets. he imagined that when he'd feel you brush his knuckles, he'd stop and turn, grabbing your hand and stopping you, and then it would be love at first sight. something out of a rom-com, marc would scoff. or maybe for some reason, he would be gently stroking your face with his knuckles. or maybe you dropped something, like papers or books, and you both bent down to pick them up and reached for the same book at the same time, your hands brushing each other. 

jake would spend hours, just staring at his hand and the stain on it. whenever he thinks of his soulmate, he can't keep the giddy grin off his face. sometimes steven likes to indulge in jakes fantasies, just a little. but the fantasies piss marc off to no end. but all jake wanted? he just wanted somebody to love and somebody to love him.

marc didn't want to indulge in any fantasy, romantic or platonic. he'd convinced himself a long time ago that it was just a joke. he'd stare at the stain on his hand, but instead of with a smile like jake, he'd stare in disgust. disgust at the mark, at the world, at himself. 

see, marc had come to the conclusion that the stain was from a punch or some kind of hit. he convinced himself that he'd only hurt you from the beginning, whether on accident or on purpose. but he had no intention of finding out.

he could never hurt you, whoever you were, if he never touched you. he made it a point to not touch anyone. he'd even stopped doing work for khonshu, so he wouldn't risk punching or hitting his soulmate. 

he didn't deserve a soulmate anyways, romantic or platonic. he had done too many horrible things, there was too much blood on his hands. and he knew it was all his fault. he didn't deserve someone to love. he wasn't worthy of love. he was a monster. a killer. he always had been. 

so when he was walking down the streets, head kept low, as he made his way to the grocery store to pick up some milk — because jake had forgotten again — he thought he was going to die.

it was busy on the street. everyone must be getting off work and trying to get home. marc had really tried. tried so hard to squeeze through everyone without touching anyone.

"this is just ridiculous, mate," steven scoffed lightly. marc could see him throw his hands up in exasperation from the reflection of the window across the street. "do you realize how extremely unlikely it is that we'd brush against them on the way to get milk?" 

"not taking any chances," marc grunted, determined. 

"are you scared you're going to accidentally punch someone on the street? plan on fighting anyone who bumps into you?" jake rolled his eyes. he thought this whole "no touching" thing was a bunch of shit. 

jake had always tried to tell marc how ridiculous his thinking was. that even if their soulmate didn't like their night-time jobs or that they didn't want 3 soulmates in one, at least they'd be able to meet them, know that there had been someone for them. 

and marc knew he was right. but that's part of what scared marc. what if they didn't accept him or his alters? what if they only wanted one of them? what if they didn't want to deal with their past? their baggage? marc didn't want to risk it. 

"when you front, you are more than welcome to touch people on the street. but I will do whatever the hell I want while I front," marc scowled at his alter.

"mate...you could have worded that a bit better," steven cringed. 

and marc was going to respond, but before he could even start to think the words, he felt it. 

someone's hand brushed against his knuckles. against the stain. 

and marc was ready to just brush it off. maybe turn around tell them to watch where they were going and keep walking. but none of that happened. 

as soon as the person made contact with him, a shock went through his body and left a tingling sensation on his knuckles. he stopped dead in his track. jake was screaming at him to let him front — a request marc was adamant on denying. steven was suddenly nervous. 

but marc? marc was terrified. if he turned around to look at you, it would only make it more real. marc knew it was you. knew it was his soulmate, otherwise jake and steven wouldn't be freaking out. 

"oy, pendejo! si no los miras ahora mismo, nos tiraré de un edificio!" jake threatened, but it was falling on deaf ears. 

"marc...you don't have to talk to them, but a glance couldn't hurt," steven tried pleading. 

but how it could hurt. because if he looked at you, he'd be ruined. he'd want to talk to you. get to know you. but that came with the risk of you getting to know him. because what if you didn't like it? like him? or his alters? his past? his present? he didn't want to know what he could have with you if it meant he might lose you. 

he had wanted to just keep walking. he tried so damn hard to just keep going. act like it didn't happen. but damn it, lockley had gotten enough control and kept their feet glued to the ground. 

"míralas!" jake insisted causing marc to let out a groan. 

"fine, but just a quick glance," he finally caved, receiving an excited cheer from jake and hopeful sound of agreement from steven. 

taking a deep breath, marc finally turned around and for a second time, was frozen in place. even jake and steven were speechless. 

you were beautiful. the way the sun was hitting your face right now? breathtaking. and you looked just as stunned as he did. 

you had been dreaming of this moment since the stain appeared on your wrist. you — unknowingly like jake — had gone over every scenario possible for the black spot on your wrist. imagined what it'd be like to finally meet your soulmate. imagined what it'd feel like when they touched you for the first time.

never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it happening on your way home on the streets of london. never had you pictured being stopped on the sidewalk, staring at your soulmate just feet away as the world seemed to go on as if nothing was happening. 

he was so handsome. his golden skin shining in the sun as he stared at you in awe. as if his whole world had stopped. the way his curls framed his face. and his eyes. oh they seemed to hold a storm. he seemed to be going through so many emotions at once. 

you both stood there, staring at each other, seconds seeming to pass like hours. you weren't sure what to do and neither was he. neither of you had prepared for this. 

"hi," you finally said. it had been quiet, breathless, especially with the noise of the city, but he heard you loud and clear. 

"hey," he said back, making you relax a little. you were worried he wasn't going to speak to you. 

"are you—" you both started to ask, which made you laugh a little. oh what he'd give to hear that sound again. he didn't even know your name but he'd give you the world if that's what you asked for. 

"sorry," you quickly apologized before continuing, "do you mind?" you asked, gesturing to the stain on his knuckles, to which he lightly shook his head no. 

truth be told, marc was terrified to move. no sudden movements, he didn't want to scare you off. you sounded so gentle, so kind. jake was begging to front. but marc wanted to be selfish for just a bit longer. 

he watched as you took your stained wrist and brushed it against his knuckles again, both of you jumping slightly at the shock feeling coursing through you again. you beamed up at him. 

that's it, he was a goner. 

you introduced yourself, seeming a bit shy. all three boys repeated it in their head, loving how it sounded. marc had even repeated back to you and you were already addicted to how it sounded rolling off his pretty lips.

"i'm marc," he said, quietly, as if his name alone was too much information. 

"marc," you repeated gently. like if you said it too loud, you'd break whatever spell you two were under. he loved how you said his name. 

"well, I've just gotten off work, do you want to get coffee or a drink?" you offered, wanting to immediately get to know the man in front of you. 

and before he could turn down the offer, he found himself saying "yeah, i'd like that." the hell was he thinking? he should just go get the milk and go home. forget you and that this had happened. but that felt impossible now. he doesn't think he'd ever forget you. 

so before you both know it, you're walking side by side, going to get coffee, an easy silence falling over you as you walked together.

.

edit (bc I forgot my taglist):

taglist: @leoluved @howaboutcastiel @sir-knight-slytherdor

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

#moon knight #jake lockley #moon boys #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fluff #moon knight x you #mr knight #mr knight x reader #soulmate au #part one #my beloved moon boys #must protect them #angsty marc #jake is a big sap