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hoshigray · 3 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote.

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now.

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project.

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off.

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right?

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!”

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?”

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.”

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?”

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment.

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall.

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment.

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch.

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh. God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off.

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.”

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress.

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy.

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat.

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you.

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face.

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute.

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him.

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.”

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at.

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face.

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again.

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra.

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly.

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze.

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out.

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air.

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip.

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…”

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him.

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more.

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud.

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more.

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!”

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.”

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.”

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts.

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs.

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on.

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit.

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second.

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!”

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough.

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm.

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly.

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you.

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?”

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips.

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you.

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi.

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders.

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness.

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two.

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him.

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.”

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!”

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other.

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves.

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you.

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least — there might be something going on with you and Y/n?”

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy.

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said.

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you.

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two.

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome.

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him.

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter.

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry.

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

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gubsbuubs · 4 months

Text

Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid imagine #mgg x reader #mgg smut #spencer reid x you #mgg x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg

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grugruel · 4 months

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Little Bit

Pairings: roommate!bucky x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Moving in with your bestfriend always seems like a great idea, until something inevitably breaks you apart. . .

He grabs my jaw, 'I fucking hate you.' He breathes, and I smile against his lips.

'No you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.'

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angsty rom-com vibes, praise (reader calls bucky good boy once), I love you's, choking, creampie, rough sex, pinv sex, semi-public masturbation, swearing.

A soft blue light shone through the windows, the neon sign across from us coloring every reachable piece of the flat a hue of blue.

Sitting on our shared couch, moved in just a week ago. I lay my head in my hands, I too was colored blue.

'How do we fix this?' He asks, sitting in the armchair across from me.

'Us?' I move my hands from my face to look at him with a faint smile, that doesnt quite reach my eyes. The light hitting him somehow fusing into purple, I turned my attention outside, searching for any type of red light.

'How, do we get rid of the flat. . .' He corrects me, forcefully shoving his finger into the coffee table, punctuating the words.

A tinge of sadness sinks it's teeth in me, moving to gnaw on the edges of my mind. Just a few hours ago, he'd still been my best friend. Since childhood, in fact. And now?

'We can't, you know that. We already signed the contract.' I sigh, 'Besides, neither of us have anywhere else to go. Or do I have to remind you?' Crossing my legs, I lean against the back of the couch, Meticulously searching for that red. Perhaps it was just the anger swelling inside him, pushing outward, seeping into his skin and tinting it red. Mixing with the cool of the blue, however, unsuccesfull in calming him.

He clenches his jaw, 'You, don't have anywhere to go.' He points an accusing finger at me, 'I- On the other hand–'

'–Have nowhere to go.' I finish his sentence for him, exhaling it in a whisper, 'We only have eachother now, ironically enough.' I flash my eyebrows upward, the words tasting bittersweet on my tongue.

Reality seems to set in as he too, leans backward and looks out through the window. Now seeming more lost than angry. Nonetheless, he blames me, for. . . what happened. I reach out for him, gracing his knee with the tips of my fingers–

But he pulls back, yanking his knee out of reach for my touch and faces away from me completley. Turning his head over his shoulder, I feel him retracting within himself, tugging all previous feelings and memories with him. He closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath, 'Dont, I don't know you.' His voice was cold, 'You're nothing more than a roommate, a stranger im forced to share a home with.' Completley devoid of emotion.

My eyes stung with tears, and I hurry past him. Rushing upstairs to the loft, shutting myself in my bedroom.

That was a few weeks ago, the anger and sadness had settled. But in its wake, annoyance and spite had developed.

It felt very much like living with a sibling you hated dearly, a nemesis, your rival. Yet still loved, because of your ties.

'Just get out already!' I groan, stomping my foot into the floor from pure frustration. I felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but he just brought it out of me.

'I'm. Using. It.' He shouted, voice slightly muffled.

'For fu-' I stopped myself, but closed my eyes instead. Reminding myself to be the better person, 'I. Need. It.' I threw his punctuation back at him, 'I have to shower, youre making me late!' I shouted back through the door.

We both had a date, at the same time. Bucky was occupying the shower, it felt like he delayed just to make me late.

Eventually, the door opened and steam poured out of the opening. A cloud of buckys scents wafted in her face, and from it he emerged, with only a towel around his hips. With his bare upperbody on full display.

It's not like I hadn't seen him without a shirt before, but that had been as friends. Buy now that we weren't friends anymore. . . Well, I couldn't help but feel a little something.

He smiled smugly, 'Your turn.'

Oh how I wanted to scream at him, how could someone be so self-satisfied? I frantically gesture with my hands for him to move past me, and the second he did, I threw myself inside.

Finally, the water flooded down my body, every drop doing its duty in soothing an unwelcome ache. Stress and worry washing off of me, sliding into the drain, everything was perfect in this short, shielded time.

It would be over in a moment, when I rejoined the chaos that was my life.

But for now, my hand slipped downward. Quickly finding the source of my ache, and releaved it, rubbing it away in massaging circles. Doing my best to stifle my moans– When involuntarily, an image of Bucky popped up in my mind.

His towel around his hips, the low "V" on full display, his muscles rippling, torso stretching, showcasing his body and toned abs in all their glory. But what if those big hands had grabbed my waist, and pulled me close. What if he sank inside me, how heavenly it must feel. I bit my lip, my fingers moving faster. Realising too late that I was only spurring myself on, I came quickly, doing my best to stifle my moans. Toppling over, I leaned against the shower wall as I caught my breath. Praying I had been quiet enough.

When done, I hurried and dried myself off, then stepped out the shower a wrapped a towel around my torso. I took a quick look in the mirror, making sure that my actions were in no way visible on my face, then opened the door and re-entered the apartment.

The sun was just beginning to set, it was late in the day and the neon light had yet to come on. Golden light filled the apartment as–

Bucky fell onto the couch. . .

Almost looking like he'd jumped over the back of it.

I looked at him strangely, myself acting like I hadn't just touched myself to thoughts of him. 'You ok?' I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded, and grabbed a pillow, pressing it against his abdomen with an unreadable expression on his face, 'Mhm.' He hummed, 'Just fine, why would't I be?'

A violent urge to strangle him grabbed ahold of me, anger nipping at my skin, I was starting to tire of his passive-agressiveness. I inhaled through my nose, and exhaled through my mouth. Calming myself before I answered, 'You're right, how silly of me to ask. I don't even care.' and headed to my room.

What I did not see, was his eyes following me, lingering on my rosy cheeks and wet hair. Roaming over the bare parts of my skin, noting the way it was riddled with glistening water droplets. Nir had I seen, how he'd walked past the bathroom door earlier and somehow heard my moaning, or that he'd stayed and listened, intently. Sowly becoming more and more aroused. I did however, see a glimpse of him "smoothly" covering his tracks when I opened the door, the old run and jump maneuver. By some miracle, I didn't put the pieces together. Because I had not seen his erection either.

I put on my long, sleek, red satin dress.

It fell perfectly over my body, clinging to every curve. Paired with a pair of nude heels, my legs looked magnificent thorugh the slit too. I walked downstairs, expecting Bucky to make some snide remark, but he was nowhere to be found.

I figured I'd at least let him know im leaving. Presuming he was in his room, I approached it, and could indeed hear him inside.

But I wasnt to sure what to make of the sounds. My subconscious instics must've kicked in, because I reflexively took my heels off and snuck closer. Muffled grunts and slapping came from the other side of the door, they were, lewd almost, kind of like–

My jaw dropped. My name, I heard- I heard my name. He just moaned my name. Surely, this wasnt real, I scoffed internally. He was pranking me, right? Maybe it was an actress, or crush who shared my name? He was gonna open that door any second, jump out and tell me how stupid I was to think such a thing. Yet, something tightened inside me, a dull pulse flaring up.

There was a final groan, then the sound of a zipper. I blinked, frozen. Until I heard footsteps, and forced myself to snap out of it.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit! I quickly tiptoed over to the window, pretending to look outside. Realising I still had my heels in my hand, I had to alternate between putting them on and acting nonchalant.

The creaking sound of his door opening rang out behind me, and I yelped, my head whipping over my shoulder to look at him, taken completely off guard.

His eyes went wide as he met mine. His expression made it very clear that he'd expected me to be gone by now. 'Oh–' he clenched his jaw to keep it from falling. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looked around nervously, 'Thought you'd gone.' He said, irritation lacing his tone, 'Since you were so stressed about being late and all.' He remarked, narrowing his eyes.

God, the gall on this man.

I put my other heel on, and turn around completley, 'Stress that you caused, you mean?' I pointed out, the final rays of sun warming my back as I looked at him, 'Dont worry, I'll leave you to it.' A giggle bubbled up in my throat. I had to suck on my bottom lip to stiffle it and hide my smile.

I turned on my heel and fled, not sticking around to see his reaction.

I couldn't keep him off my mind, surely it was not me he meant, I heard wrong. He hates me, for gods sake!

At that thought, my date picked me up, and the night was pretty uneventful from there. We had dinner and drinks, but something else was occupying my mind. I was just replaying the way my name sounded falling from Buckys lips, the way he breathed it, moaned it. My core ached at the memory.

My date no doubt thought me distant, but it couldnt be helped. I was desperate for the feeling of a man inside me, for bucky more specifically. So I laid my hand on top of my date's, 'How about we take this to my place?' I asked, smiling seductively.

Eagerly, he agrees.

Arriving back, we stumbled into the apartment. Kissing enthusiastically, as the colorful light had returned. Bathing us in a dark red light. Faintly, it illuminated our path upstairs as I grabbed his hand and pulled him to my room. We'd been too busy to notice Bucky, already standing in the kitchen.

Who hadn't had a very succesful date either, the only difference being that he did not bring her back to their place. He respected their home, but apparently she did not. A feeling of anger bubbled up inside him, but it felt different. Not like it had that first night of their fight, now, he almost felt threatened. He scoffed, surely not, noo–

The red switched to green, and his brain thought it before he himself came to the conclusion, was it. . . Jealousy? He furrowed his brows, disputing with his his mind. Never, he hates her gut. Hes been teasing and annoying her, because he hates her. Simple as that. Earlier, today was just a moment of weakness, a man doing his manly obligations. That was all, he told himself and looked outside, the green light poking fun at him. Calling him out in ways he did not appreciate, it was nauseating.

He had to talk to her, go up there and put a stop to it. This was his apartment too, he had a veto.

He marched firmly up the stairs, the green contrasting the red hot anger on his face as the sounds of laughing grew stronger. He reached for the door handle, when he heard their moaning.

Her moaning more specifially, the sound of skin against skin, of a creaking bed and the way it thumped against the wall. His mind blurred the sounds of the other guy, and instead focused on the sound of her, her labored breathing, her whimpering and mewling. Wishing he was that guy right now. He could've listened all day, but snapped out of it. Shaking his head as he realised the immorality of it. He couldnt just barge in on them, he'd tell the guy to fuck off the second they were done. He nodded, yeah. . . His hand fell to his side as he took a step back–

She moaned, so beautiful. Humming, 'Ooh, fuck, thats good bucky.' The words slipped from her lips befor she could stop them.

Buck froze, they all froze. Blinking, he did a dubbel take. Huh?. . . Huuuh?

'I'm, uhm–' She tried.

'What did you just call me?' The guy questioned, 'Is- is that your roommates name?' Dumnfounded, he pulled himself off of her.

Bucky couldnt believe what he was hearing, he snickered 'Holy f— shit.' Unable to controll himself, he burst into pure laughter as he ran down the stairs. Covering his mouth in the motion, spite pouring out of his ears. 'What a marvelous, marvelous day.' He declared openly, throwing himself on the couch, arms splayed over the back. Waiting for the next scene to unfold.

The man, clothes in hand came rushing down the stairs, and noticed Bucky watching him, 'You him?' He asked.

Nodding, 'Uh, huh.' Bucky hummed, confirming the mans suspicious as a cocky smile spread across his face.

'Fantastic.' The stranger hissed, and muttered under his breath. '. . .Some competition. . .' Then fled the apartment, throwing his clothes on in a hurry.

Bucky laughed, 'So good,' and sighed with content, shaking his head in disbelief.

A second later, I came bounding down the stairs, a sheet pulled around my body. 'Did he leave already?' I asked, sprinting to the door.

Grinning, he answered, 'That he did.' Slanting his head in observation as he took her disheveled appearance in.

I run my hands through my hair in frustration, 'Shit!' My head then snapping to Bucky as he's just sitting there, snickering and looking at me smugly. 'What?' I ask, but he only shrugs, smiling stupidly. 'Wipe that smile of your face, you big idiot.' I shout, 'Where's your date, huh?'

Flinching, hes taken aback 'I didn't bring her home! Its called common curtesy!' He shouts back. Both incredibly sucessfull in riling the other up, immediately getting kn eachothers nerves.

'You jealous or something?' I throw my hands in the air, laughing incredulously.

'I don't need to be, I heard you, you know.' He smirked, 'Up there.' Nodding to my bedroom. And my blood runs cold, embarrassment prickling my face. But I clear my throat, trying to control my emotions, 'You were listening?' I quirk an eyebrow, the corner of my lip tugging.

'Wha– of course not! He protests.

'No? Well, I did.' And now it's my turn to grin, 'I heard you, too. Earlier today.'

His veins freeze, 'I don't know, what you mean. . .' Bucky begins–

'Yes you do.' I saunter toward him, getting right in his face. 'Just admit it.' I hiss, humouring myself.

Grabbing my jaw, he breathes 'I fucking hate you.' But I smile against his lips. The neon sign turning pink, painting us both in its lovely rose colour.

'No, you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.' And drop my sheet, stark naked underneath.

In a hurry, he crawls back on top of me, lining himself up with my core. Teasing, he slides his member up and down my folds, 'Fuck' I moan, and he slides in. Immidietly setting a gruesome pace, hitting my cervix with every thrust.

He looks at me with awe in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. He lools teribbly pained, 'I do, I do love you.' He whimpers, as if the sight of me and the the truth he'd refused to accept hurt him.

In a clash, his lips met mine. Feverishly our mouths clash together, tongues waisting no time in tasting the other. His hands glide down my sides, until they grab my ass and he lifts me into his arms. I gasp and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling on his hair, making him grunt. He walks us into his bedroom, and throws me onto the bed with a yelp, then crawls on top of me. Kissing his way up my body until our mouths found their way back to eachother. I unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt, hastily pulling them both off of him. He sits back, and zips down his pants, kicking them off. His size was more than enough.

He groans in my ear, snaking his hand up to my throat and as he leans on the other. Nuzzling my face softly, his hand toghtens around my throat, lightly choking me as his hips slam into mine hard into mine.

My hands roam his back, sinking my nails into his skin whenever a particularly rough thrust sends a spirit breaking ache through my body. His lips trace their way down my jaw, specking it with kisses, whispering 'I love you.' In muffled moans against my skin.

I grin, and run my hands through his hair 'Good boy.' I whisper–

He whimpers, 'Fuck.'

The snap of his hips falter as the both of us are reaching our orgasm. He kisses his way down my throat, meanwhile adjusting his hold around it. 'I love you.' He mutters between every kiss, when he finally falls over the edge. His seed spilling inside of me as he does his best to keep thrusting, helping me to reach my own climax. With the chole of his hand, member inside me and his muffled I love you's. The knot tightens in my stumache, and I topple over too. How could I not?

'I love you too.' I whisper, and I feel him smile against my throat as he squeezes it one last time. 'Good, it was too hard to stay mad at you.'

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfiction #bucky imagjne #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #enemies to lovers

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haknom · 1 month

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THIS MUST BE MY DREAM — YANG JUNGWON

∿ 📋 SCORE SHEETS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Jungwon was living his best life at Earl View Academy. He was scoring the highest marks, dominating every exam, and ranking the top one out of every student. See, he was living his best life at Earl View Academy before you came along, destroying his reputation because of your similar level in academics. It had to be a dream, there was no way someone could compete with him. With that said, he immediately renamed you as the new student to his one and only arch nemesis.

∿ TOP RANKS ✂️ academic-rival!jungwon x fem!reader (ft. jungwon from enhypen, baekseung from epex, and minji from newjeans)

∿ EXAM REVIEW ⟡ insp by doctor slump, long fic, academic rivals to lovers, rivals to lovers, highschool au, nerds to lovers, fluff, crack, and angst.

∿ 📔 STUDY NOTES ୨ৎ swearing, bickering, mentions of pills (painkillers), skipping meals, fainting, crying, being sick, and mental health issues, lmk if i missed anything.

∿ NUMBER OF EXAM QUESTIONS 🎓 14980 words

∿ FEEDBACK . . . and with that said it’s finally done!!!!! took me two months cs i took so many breaks …. happy belated jungwon day? LMFAO… and tysm to @soov for proofreading all the way !!! love u rei <33

∿ STUDY PLAYLIST 🎶 click here!

RANK ONE.

In Earl View Academy, everyone wanted to live Jungwon’s life. He was a son everyone wanted—not his words—and that made him feel good about himself. Even if he was quite the goofball, he still aced all his assignments while having fun.

His life was perfect.

“Jungwon!” His friend, Baekseung called, gaining his attention almost immediately. The boy looked over at his brown-haired friend with a smile, pausing the movements of his pencil gliding against his notebook.

“Hm?” He hummed, waiting for his friend to continue talking. Baekseung took a seat on the window sill beside Jungwon as Minji walked into the classroom.

“Did you see the banner they hung up? It has something to do with University, I believe.” He said as Minji walked towards them.

“Here.” She held out her phone, showing the boys a picture of the banner. It showcased a brief description of what to expect when applying to the University of Seoul and the date of submission—February 9th of 2024.

Jungwon’s birthday.

It was perfect timing, almost as if it was destined to be. His reputation at school and his relationship with his teachers would easily help him get accepted, right?

“The acceptance rate is 40%, which isn’t all bad, but many people apply, so…” Minji explained, turning off her phone, and shoving it into her back pocket. Jungwon tapped his pencil against his chin to a random, yet consistent rhythm in his head.

Jungwon’s friends always enabled his confidence. He was aware of his smartness, but they made it seem bigger than it really was.

“Although a lot of people apply, I’m sure you’ll get accepted. Your application will catch their eyes immediately, trust me.”

Jungwon bit back a smile at Baekseung’s words, sending him an amused nod instead.

“I’m sure it will.” He replied, returning his focus to his notes. Before his friends appeared, he was working on a few equations, to make sure they stuck with him for their test.

It was his way of studying; learn the materials in class and study them like his life depended upon it.

It worked like a charm every time.

“I don’t get how you understand these things.” Baekseung said while peeking over at his work. Jungwon smiled, letting out a chuckle.

He never did, it wasn’t anything new.

“See, you start with your values, then you write out your formula and substitute your variables for your numbers—”

“Enough! You lost me at the word ‘values.’” He exclaimed, causing both Jungwon and Minji to laugh.

“Hey, when you get accepted into the University of Seoul, don’t forget me.” Baekseung pleaded and leaned in with his hands desperately clasped together.

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Jungwon dropped his pencil, letting it lay flat on his notebook, and placed his hands on top of Baekseung’s.

“You have nothing to worry about.” He said, playing along with Baekseung’s act.

“I don’t get how I was pulled into this trio,” Minji said, cringing at the sight before her.

“Yeah, me neither.” Baekseung smiled at Jungwon, then, removed his hands from underneath his, and returned to his spot on the window sill.

“Oh well, here we are now. You love us, right?” Jungwon teased, the cringing expression never leaving Minji’s face.

The two boys stared at her in silence, waiting for her response. They wouldn’t let her off the hook if she didn’t open her mouth to say anything.

“Fine. I do.” She replied, earning bright smiles from her friends in return. She shook her head, a small smile making its way to her face.

It was impossible to avoid their faces. Even if they weren’t trying, they still managed to swoon her over with one look. They were unstoppable together.

Jungwon went back to studying as Minji and Baekseung playfully bickered over a past memory. It was a common occurrence, nothing new.

“I heard they’re selling Yakult in the cafeteria today!” A classmate said to their friend, gaining the three’s attention immediately.

They stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. They gave each other a look that only they could understand. There were no words shared, only their eyes held their words.

Soon after, Baekseung and Jungwon got up from their spots, following behind Minji who led them out of the classroom.

Yakult was their favourite thing ever. It was something all three of them could agree on—that they tasted delightful. Other than that, they all had different tastes in a way.

“Finally, they’re bringing it back!” Minji cheered, happier than ever. Baekseung, who stood in the middle, wrapped his arms around the two to pull them in closer.

“Do we have a plan?” He asked as Minji scoffed.

“Do we even need one? Just do whatever your mind tells you to.” She said and he nodded.

“Smart choice.”

The two conversed alone just as they did back in the classroom, except Jungwon wasn’t studying. He could’ve been included in their conversation right now, they weren’t excluding him at all.

He just didn’t pay attention. He didn’t even take note that they were talking because it all sounded muffled to him.

All he paid attention to was his homeroom teacher who walked down the hallways, lips moving as if he was talking to someone, but Jungwon didn’t know who.

Once he walked past, it was then revealed. A girl stood fairly behind his homeroom teacher, catching Jungwon’s attention.

He had no clue who she was, nor had he ever seen her face before, he ‘didn’t’ even care about what her name was, what time she arrived, what foods she liked, why she was wearing their school’s uniform, or what she had for breakfast.

All he cared about was how pretty she was, and fine, maybe what her name was too. Previously, if someone were to tell him about another being heaven-sent he wouldn’t understand them.

Now, he really does because she, she was heaven-sent to him at least.

“You okay?” Baekseung asked, looking over at Jungwon’s dazed figure. He shook Jungwon with the arm that rested over his shoulder, startling the poor boy.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m okay.”

Well, he hoped he was.

“Sweet, if I’m not wrong, lunch starts in about 3 minutes. Therefore, I believe we’ll be first…” Baekseung paused, his voice growing quieter at the sight before them.

“… In line.” His words were almost like a whisper. He was practically speechless at the line. At least 20 students were already waiting for their Yakult’s.

“Yeah, um, maybe we do need a plan,” Minji said, regretting her previous words. There was no way they’d get through a line like this one.

“Maybe? We 100% need a plan.” Baekseung said, his arms slipping off their shoulders.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine if we just wait. It can’t be that bad—Woah! Okay. Maybe it is bad.” Jungwon’s reassuring words were cut off by his shocked ones.

The line extended even further. How was that even possible?

“Hey, Min, what time is it?” Jungwon asked Minji as she checked her phone that previously sat in her back pocket.

“11:37 AM.” She replied, still flabbergasted at the number of students waiting for their Yakult’s.

“Do you think that will be enough time to visit the nearest convenience store and then come back?” Jungwon asked, desperate for an escape. He was still craving a Yakult, but they wouldn’t get one at this rate.

“It’s 27 (81 Fahrenheit) degrees Celsius outside…” Baekseung muttered, mentally sweating at the thought.

“We can get ice cream as well…” Jungwon whispered, scared that the line of students would overhear his words and run after them.

What if they were craving ice cream too? It wasn’t just the three of them who were feeling hot.

“Smart choice. Yeah, let’s do that instead.” Minji cautiously walked away from the entrance of the cafeteria, careful not to make a sound as the two boys did the same.

Yes, they were being very dramatic right now, but that line of students was very intimidating.

The three returned to class with leftovers of their ice creams, hoping nobody would ask them for at least one lick—it was disgusting to know that they were serious.

“Oh, Jungwon,” Minji said, remembering something from earlier. Jungwon hummed in response, his mouth full of ice cream.

“Did you even start your applications? Our midterms are soon, so I’m sure our guidance counsellors are going to approach you about it.”

“Are you worried for me? Or do you want to use my application as a template for yours?”

“I…” Minji stayed silent as Baekseung stifled a laugh. She sent him a glare, causing him to clear his throat. What was he laughing at? He was bound to do the same exact thing.

“Fine, you caught me. But hey, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!” She exclaimed as Jungwon chuckled, getting up from his seat to throw away his ice cream wrapper.

“If you want, I can assist you—”

“Guys, guys!” A classmate shouted while running into the classroom shocked. Everyone’s heads turned to look at the said boy, more confused than ever. What lie was he about to spurt next?

“I just saw a pretty, pretty girl in the teacher’s office. I think she’s a new student.” He explained, however, nobody reacted.

“Are you lying to cover up the fact you were being scolded in the office?” Another classmate asked, causing laughs to erupt from other students in the room. Jungwon smiled to himself, that was a good one.

“I’m serious! I heard she might even be smarter than Jungwon!” The student exclaimed, causing Jungwon’s smile to falter and his pen to stop moving.

All eyes were focused on him as he slowly looked up at the shouting boy.

“Eh, I’m sure there’s no one who can compare to his level!” Baekseung said, patting Jungwon on his shoulder and smiling.

Jungwon was considered very smart for someone his age. It was a common compliment he received, but he didn’t hate it. It was quite ego-boosting.

“Everyone! Have a seat please.” Ms. Eun walked through the doors of their classroom, and another student walked in a few moments later.

“Obviously, I’m sure you’re aware of the new student joining our class today! Please make (Name) (Last Name) feel welcome in our classroom!” She explained as Jungwon’s eyes widened.

You were the same girl he saw in the hallways earlier. For some reason, his heart skipped a beat and his ears went numb at the sight of you.

“Oh, Jungwon. (Name) also got perfect on the entrance exam and was the top student at her old school. It must be great to meet someone at your level.” Ms. Eun smiled as all the emotions Jungwon had felt earlier plummeted.

So his classmate wasn’t lying. There was really someone who matched his skill of knowledge.

You looked over at the boy Ms. Eun referred to, noticing the way his expressions switched. At first glance, he was calm, but his eyes said otherwise.

They held an emotion you’ve never seen in anyone else’s—a desire to win. And, of course, you wouldn’t let him achieve that goal of his.

If someone were to win and maintain that top student rank, it would be you and you only.

You two hadn’t even spoken to one another, but within those 2 minutes of staring into each other’s eyes, it was obvious you both saw each other as a threat.

No matter what, only one of you can have that title.

RANK TWO.

“Jungwon, you haven’t looked up from your notebook this whole class,” Minji said, turning around in her seat to face him.

“Literally! There’s not even a single test coming up. What is there to be reviewed at this point?” Baekseung chimed in with a frown.

Yet, Jungwon didn’t look up, easily proving their point. It had been a week since you first arrived at Earl View Academy.

A week since Jungwon first felt threatened by your appearance. His life was perfect until you arrived.

His friends swore they hadn’t had one single hangout since then, but he said otherwise.

“You do know, you reviewing your notes while Minji and I converse without you, isn’t a hangout right?”

Jungwon’s pencil stopped moving for a brief moment, only to start up again at an even faster pace.

He couldn’t fall behind you.

He glanced over at your focused state, glaring in the process. You seemed to be at ease and he wasn’t.

That should’ve been him.

What happened to the perfect life that everyone wanted to live? The one where he could be happy and carefree even while passing all his classes with 100s?

“Don’t tell me you feel threatened—”

Jungwon’s pencil-led snapping silenced Baekseung’s voice almost immediately. He looked up at his friend, eyes darker than usual. There wasn’t his signature gleam that complimented his dimpled smile. He looked like he was ready to kill someone.

“Minji…” Baekseung called, signalling for her to take over the conversation. Sadly, that failed. She was just as scared as him.

“Hey, I could, uh… I could sharpen this for you!” She exclaimed, instead of continuing the same topic as before.

She took the pencil out of his hold, but Jungwon silently searched his pencil case for another one.

He had no time to waste. He was almost done with his notes.

Minji took her seat again, placing the boy’s broken pencil beside his notebook with a soft, yet dragged-out ‘okay.’

There would’ve been no point in going anyway.

“Dude, why don’t you let loose a bit?” A classmate said to their friend and began shaking their shoulders.

“I can’t! You know how my mom is about my grades right now…” He mumbled, embarrassed.

The boy from earlier grabbed his basketball that rolled under his desk and bounced it around him.

“I know you want to play basketball right now, but that’s okay. I’ll just play with Jungwon and his friends.” He informed his friend, turning to look at Jungwon who wasn’t paying attention.

“Yo, Jungwon! Catch this!” He shouted, alerting both of his friends, but him.

He passed the ball, expecting Jungwon—or even Baekseung—to catch the ball, however, there was nothing.

Instead, the loud thud of a ball hitting your head, echoed throughout the classroom. At least, that managed to catch Jungwon’s attention.

Your pen fell out of your hand, landing on the desk. Your ears began to ring as frustration—and a bit of lightheadedness—took over your system.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” The classmate said, making his way over to you with a worried look.

It was only your second day and you were making enemies.

Yet, you couldn’t bother to accept his apology. You looked at him with a facial expression that not even his mom had ever given him. He was terrified.

“Does this classroom look like a circus to you?” You asked as a throbbing pain slowly began to settle in your head.

“Are you so unskilled that you can’t even hold a basketball properly? Actually, are you so childish to the point where you aren’t aware of classroom rules?”

The atmosphere of the classroom vastly shifted. It was quite intense and unsettling.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water stunned by your words. He was speechless, how could he respond to that?

“Please leave me alone, you’d only be a distraction to my studies.” With that said, you returned to your work, acting as if the boy in front of you didn’t exist.

Jungwon’s brows furrowed at the sight, you were being so mean and for what?

The boy shamefully walked back to his seat as all his friends held in their laughs. He was already embarrassed enough, their laughs only adding to the fire.

Forget what Jungwon said about you being heaven-sent, the Devil must’ve sent you instead. He swore if he stared even longer, horns would grow on your head at any given moment.

So, he looked away and continued taking his notes.

“She seems mean,” Baekseung whispered to the two around him. Minji nodded in agreement, mentioning how she got chills from how you stared at the boy.

You proceeded to rub at your temples in an attempt to force away the throbbing migraine coming your way. You couldn’t take a break from studying.

You had to finish reviewing this material before anything at all—not even a meal break was allowed in your Book of Rules.

“What do you guys want to do for lunch?” Baekseung asked, gaining Jungwon and Minji’s attention again.

“I heard they’re going to play Basketball in the gym. You two should play as well!” Minji exclaimed, which only resulted in Jungwon’s head perking up at the sport.

“I’m down,” Jungwon said almost immediately. Baekseung and Minho’s eyebrows rose at his quick decision. It was almost as if he wasn’t studying his butt off while ignoring his two chattery friends a moment ago.

“Are you sure? I thought you had to revise your notes.” Baekseung verbalised his confusion as Jungwon began packing up his belongings.

“I already understand everything. A + B = X times 6–”

“Okay! Okay. No more Math, please.” Baekseung was quick to halt Jungwon’s equation with his index finger. He slowed down his pace when zipping up his backpack, taking in the words Baekseung uttered before.

A smile made its way to the boy’s face at the realisation of his friend's confusion. Baekseung definitely had no clue what they were learning in class.

“Hurry! I don’t want to be late for team decisions.” He exclaimed, hopping off of the desk he sat on.

Jungwon waved off his friend’s pestering and walked out of the classroom, the two trailing behind him.

You, on the other hand, struggled to focus on your work. The whole classroom was quiet and you were the only one left. Everyone had left for lunch, but you.

Yes, you loved quiet, however your migraine didn’t. The accompanied silence only made your migraine throb even more, a faint mic feedback noise to back it up.

Almost like you had a fever.

You placed your pencil down beside your notebook on your desk and stood up from your seat.

A quick stop at the nurse's office wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? It would benefit your studying session and get rid of your pain quite easily.

That was the only exception to your Book of Rules when it came to studying. Nothing else.

Jungwon shot the ball into the hoop, his hair and necktie flowing with his every movement. His uniform sleeves were rolled up, cuffed around the skin above his forearm, helping his gameplay style quite well.

Baekseung smiled at his friend, high-fiving him in the process.

“Nice one! They won’t beat us at this rate.” He said, looking at the scoreboard that read 17-9. Maybe he wasn't exaggerating it like every other time.

Jungwon grinned, his dimples showing faintly. It wasn’t an all-tooth grin, more toothless. His lips were pursed into a thin line and his cheekbones were nearing his under eyes. It was enough to show his appreciation for his friend’s compliment.

His forehead was becoming a slightly sweaty state, causing his previously parted bangs to clump together and loosely stick to the damped skin.

There were 8 more points until the match was done. They didn’t have much time to play 4 full quarters, so they made a bet; first to 25 wins.

Sadly, no rewards could have been won by the players, making this Basketball game more enjoyable than competitive.

Jungwon didn’t have enough time though, he would almost need to return to studying quite soon. Seriously, he couldn’t fall behind someone like you.

“Baek,” Jungwon whispered, hoping it was enough to gain his friend’s attention who stood across from him on the court, but it wasn’t enough at all.

“Baekseung!” Jungwon called while raising his voice a bit over his usual tone. The said boy looked over with widened eyes in shock.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungwon said, fighting back a snicker at his friend’s startled state.

“Well, I have to go now. Tell Min I said bye too.” He said and walked past Baekseung, patting his shoulder as a way of saying goodbye.

As he walked out of the gymnasium doors, he shook his head, causing his hair strands to move around, some still sticking on his forehead.

He stretched his limbs and began revising the lesson from earlier.

The hallways were empty, leaving him with more of a quiet atmosphere to focus on his thoughts.

Jungwon’s lips moved, soft whispers of equations and problems leaving them. If there were other people here, they would give him the dirtiest looks right now. He most definitely looked psychotic.

Luckily, there wasn’t anyone. Yet.

The sound of the door sliding shut caught his attention and he looked up to see where it came from.

The nurse’s office was always a popular spot in their school, so it wasn't a shock that someone was leaving the room at this exact moment.

Surprisingly, it was a shock to him. He never thought you were the type to leave your desk ever.

Your brows furrowed at the sight before you.

A sight of disgust.

Yang Jungwon was the last person you wanted to see with your throbbing migraine. He was all sweaty, his hair glistened from the sweat droplets that stuck onto the strands, his necktie was loose, his uniform was dishevelled, and his face was a light shade of red due to the hotness of the gymnasium.

He looked disgusting.

Jungwon had no clue as to why you were glaring at him. He wasn’t the reason you ended up visiting the nurse’s office, so why were you giving him such a dirty look?

He should be the annoyed one at this exact moment. After all, you were the one who moved to Earl View Academy and ruined his ‘perfect’ life.

He looked back at you with a confused yet irritated expression on his features as the two of you stood in silence.

Jungwon’s eyes looked over your appearance, noticing how your hand was propped against your chest and holding an item he had seen before.

Your eyes followed his gaze and then widened at realisation. Out of reflex, you hid the painkillers behind your back, not wanting to come off as weak towards him.

You couldn’t let him see you as someone who wasn’t that much of a threat to his academic success.

In silence, you turned around, moving the pill bottle to your chest again, and made your way back to the classroom. For some reason, your movements aggravated Jungwon’s previous calm state.

God, he hated you so much. He couldn’t believe he once thought you were pretty—it would be a lie if he said he still didn’t. That didn’t matter though, you could be pretty and still have a snotty attitude.

That was a perfect description for you.

Although you thought you left Jungwon behind in front of the nurse’s office, to your dismay, you didn’t.

There he was, standing at the doorway of your once previous quiet study room—or in other words, your homeform classroom.

You rolled your eyes after noticing him at the doorway and looked back at your notes.

He ignored your response to his presence and took a seat at his desk near the window. Jungwon slipped his hand into his backpack, grabbing his pencil case and notebook in the process.

A tense silence followed the two of you as you flipped your pages in sync and continued writing down more things in sync.

You were pausing more than he was due to the pain in your head which only slowed down your movements even more. Yes, you planned on taking the painkillers, but not when he was around.

Still, you couldn’t hold back. You had to do it or else you wouldn’t be able to study one bit.

Although the painkillers mentioned eating a meal before intaking the pills, you refused to follow the instructions. You had no time to take a break and find something to fill your stomach, especially when you were already falling behind Jungwon’s studying pace.

You reached for your bottle of water off your desk and popped a pill in your mouth, scarfing down water right after.

Jungwon looked up at the sound of pills shaking in a bottle. It was obvious it came from you, you were the only other person in the classroom.

It seemed like the basketball to your head earlier really took a toll on you. He didn’t blame you though, it truly did sound like it hurt.

Except, that wasn’t the only thing he noticed. Even if he was in one place all lunch, it seemed like you didn’t leave your seat at all. It was kept the exact same like he last saw it before lunch time.

Luckily, the sound of your stomach growling was enough to answer his unsaid question as he watched your ears turn a shade of red.

As much as you tried to pretend that didn’t happen, you were tremendously embarrassed. Still, you couldn’t eat.

Not yet at least.

“You didn’t hear that.” You mumbled, hoping it was loud enough for Jungwon to catch. He hummed in response while eyeing his work, not paying much attention to your silly incident.

He knew how embarrassing it could have been, so it was best not to engage.

Thankfully, God was on your side, ringing the bell a few seconds after Jungwon had hummed.

Soon after, students began flooding into the classroom and heading to their seats in loud crowds.

Therefore, your quiet time with the last person you wanted to spend it with, had ended.

RANK THREE.

“Jungwon and (Name), please come up and answer the questions on the board.”

Great.

It was only 10:30 AM on a Wednesday, and yet you were already going head-to-head with your rival.

Jungwon confidently made his way to the chalkboard and picked up a piece of chalk from the ledge.

You, on the other hand, paused for a moment after getting up from your seat. You were suddenly feeling lightheaded, and that was never a good sign.

However, if you didn’t make it over fast enough, he would for sure beat you in a blink. And so, you did. You rushed over and picked up a chalk stick, then began writing.

It was a simple equation to you, but to everyone else who didn’t understand the lesson, it wasn’t. It was way more complex to them than how it really was.

Jungwon was already halfway through answering the question whilst you haven’t even started. You wrote the given values on the side to keep track of the numbers you would use.

Easy, right?

Not quite.

You couldn’t focus at all even if there were no distractions nor was it loud in your classroom.

The only thing you could hear was the harsh sounds of Jungwon pressing his chalk against the board after he reached a new step.

Your ears became sensitive to any sound, causing you to even take note of the rhythm his piece of chalk followed when gliding against the blackboard. It was irritating you and annoying.

As much as you wanted to stop him from writing, you couldn’t because it was impossible. Your hand wouldn’t move one bit. Your vision became blurry, eyes fluttering shut and opening in a pattern.

“I think I’m going to faint.” You whispered, your words falling deaf on all ears, aside from Jungwon’s.

He didn’t pay much attention to your sentence, brushing it off as a dumb remark about his handwriting or something.

Truthfully, his calligraphy wasn’t the best when it came to using chalk, so you wouldn’t be wrong if you were to say something mean about it. He would only end up agreeing in the end.

Everything stilled for a brief moment before you lost your feeling in your hands, dropping the piece of chalk you held, and falling against the hardwood floor right after.

Gasps were emitted from your classmates—ones you couldn’t even hear—as Jungwon stilled his movements at the loud thud which caused him to flinch slightly.

Jungwon looked down as he still pressed the chalk on the board, his eyes widening and blood draining from his face at the sight.

“(Name)?” Your teacher called, hurriedly making her way towards your unconscious figure. However, there was no response.

“Hey, Jungwon, you were on the track team last year, right?” Ms. Ling asked as he nodded, swallowing and hoping the nauseated feeling in his stomach would disappear.

Spoiler alert—it didn’t.

“Could you run her to the nurse’s office, please?” She asked, leaving the boy with no other choice but to say yes. If he were to say no, he would seem like a villain, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Okay.” He mumbled and placed the chalk on the ledge before crouching down, slipping an arm under your legs, and wrapping one around your back for extra support.

To his surprise, you were awfully light. A little too light for an average person. It was quite concerning.

Jungwon shook his head, making all his thoughts disappear in the process. He had no time to waste, he had to get you to the nurse’s office quickly—his teacher’s words, not his.

He slid open the door with his foot, shocked that he even managed to succeed himself, and placed you on an unoccupied bed.

Mrs. Oh, the nurse, emerged from her office with a concerned look after noticing the rush Jungwon was in.

“What’s wrong?” She asked before seeing you who lied unconsciously on the bed.

“She fainted a few moments ago in class.” He explained while running a hand through his hair, followed by a sigh.

“Fainted?” The nurse asked and made her way to your still figure, reaching out to touch your pulse points.

“I don’t think it’s a fatal issue. Just hang around for a bit, I’ll run some short tests then you can tell your teacher why she fainted.” Mrs. Oh said as Jungwon nodded.

He could just ask for the notes from Minji after class.

A few moments later, Mrs. Oh returned with a clipboard in her hand and a concerned look on her face.

“Is it bad?” Jungwon asked, slightly worried about her response.

“Oh, no.” Mrs. Oh said, reassuring the boy, then opened her mouth to say something else.

“Thing is, she hasn’t eaten for the last two days.”

What?

RANK FOUR.

Jungwon walked down the hallways of the school, heading to the vending machine nearby. Mrs. Oh’s words replayed in his head many times. It had been a day since your visit to the nurse’s office, but he was still hooked on Mrs. Oh’s discovery.

He didn’t know why he cared that you hadn’t eaten for two days. That was your problem not his.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel quite worried about your health. How the hell were you still at his level of academic achievements even if you weren’t eating to fuel your brain?

It was crazy. Not even he could survive an hour without a small snack to keep him going. So, how did you even manage to survive?

More of Mrs. Oh’s words flooded through Jungwon’s head, mainly focusing on the fact she put him in charge of making sure you were eating.

Was it not obvious you two hated each other? Well, maybe not since you were fast asleep, but to him it was.

What the hell was he supposed to do to monitor your food intake? Buy you snacks and drinks from the vending machines at their school?

Actually… that wasn’t such a bad idea. It could work for him, but would it work for you? Would you even accept his offers?

You were hard to work with in the first place. There was no way he would follow upon Mrs. Oh’s request. That was your problem and only yours. Not his.

Nevertheless, that didn’t explain the fact he was currently punching in the number two into the vending machine, expecting two granola bars to follow through the hole.

Of course, it wouldn’t be enough to fill him up this lunch, but he had no other choice. He was already exhausted enough from playing football outdoors, leaving him with no more energy to wait in line for food in the cafeteria.

He grabbed the granola bars and made his way to room 116—his home room.

He was excited for the peace and quiet he was about to experience. Nobody ever came to school this early. It was 7:30 AM after all.

School started at 8:20 AM.

If you were to show up at the bell, he could save the granola bar until lunch and give it to you when the room was empty.

Nobody could know that he was interacting with you, especially not after you two made it clear you wanted nothing to do with each other.

“Oh, hey, Jungwon! It’s been quite a bit since I saw you first thing in the morning.” A faculty member said, greeting the boy. He smiled at the teacher and nodded.

It wasn’t a lie. Jungwon always came early, yes, but he never went straight to class. He was either shooting hoops in the gym or doing his morning jog around the track in the field.

The September breeze blew the trees outside as Jungwon watched the leaves sway while walking to class. The windows in the hallways were wide, emitting a bright light into Earl View Academy.

It really suited the vibe he was going for.

But you didn’t.

Jungwon noticed your focused figure, his mood dropping immediately. He was glad you were okay, but not glad that you were in class.

He wanted alone time today, nothing else.

Jungwon put on a straight face, avoiding eye contact with you while walking to his seat. He swiftly placed the granola bar on your desk and moved away as if he didn’t.

You looked down at the granola bar, then to the boy who walked away in silence.

Before you could say anything, he was quick to silence your ‘irritating’ voice.

“Just eat it. Mrs. Oh is making me monitor your meals even if I don’t want to.”

He said without any other explanation. You looked back at the granola bar, hearing Jungwon sit down and begin opening his snack due to the loud rustling of the wrapper.

Instead of doing the same, you pushed the granola bar to the side and returned back to your studies. Once again, your ‘Book of Rules’ said no meals until you were done reviewing.

Jungwon opened his notebook, flipping through the filled pages to find an empty one and begin his studying. He was holding the granola bar in one hand and eating at the same time.

It wasn’t hard at all, which only confused him since you weren’t doing the same.

“Aren’t you going to eat it?” He asked, but you ignored him, staring into your notebook in silence.

The boy scoffed, looking out the window in disbelief. He doesn’t even know why Mrs. Oh trusted him with this ‘task’. He couldn’t say no though, he would have felt guilty to face her again.

Honestly, he was still shocked at the news from yesterday. What did she mean you didn’t eat for 2 days?

Was this an often routine of yours? Was that why you were so concerningly light when he carried you? You were always studying and never seemed like you took any breaks, which only left him wondering.

Seriously, did you ever eat?

“What?” You asked, stiffening and turning around to look at the bow. There was a look of annoyance present on your face, only causing Jungwon to stare back in confusion.

“What?” He questioned back. Why were you looking at him like that even after you blatantly ignored him a moment ago?

“Why is it your business if I ever eat or not?”

Hold on. Did Jungwon think aloud earlier? Was that why you were acting this way?

“I…” He said, fumbling over his words. Truly, how should he respond to that? You weren’t wrong about it not being his business to care—even if you didn’t say that.

He didn’t want to care if you did or not. Still, he couldn’t explain why he was so curious about it.

“Mrs. Oh told me in the nurse’s office that you fainted because your last meal was two days ago…” Jungwon began as your brows furrowed.

“So? Why should you care if that were to happen or not?” You asked.

Once again, you weren’t wrong.

“You’re telling me, you wouldn’t be a little bit concerned about someone who hadn’t eaten for 2 days?”

“If it was part of my business, sure, but if it’s not, then no.”

Jungwon pursed his lips, unsure of what to say next. He tried to think of it, but it ended up coming out on his own. He would definitely regret this later.

“Why?” He started.

“Why do you do that?”

You remained silent and so did he. There was an obvious tension in the air and the both of you felt it easily.

You averted your eyes away from his overpowering gaze, suddenly feeling all fragile due to his sudden question.

“Mind your own business.” You mumbled before turning around to face your desk again.

Normally, you’d return to studying immediately, but this time you were quiet as you stared at your notebook.

You always had answers for questions. Always. However, nobody had ever asked you a question like that, and for some reason, you couldn’t find an answer for it.

Jungwon sighed and shook his head. He didn’t blame you for not answering and getting all defensive instead. It was a question that could pry into anyone’s private life, and obviously, you two were nowhere near a basis like that.

“At least eat the granola bar. I don’t want Mrs. Oh on my ass about anything.” He said before picking up his pencil and writing on his plain notebook.

At the sound of his words, your gaze shifted to the pink wrapper on the granola, noticing how it was strawberry flavoured, one of your favourites.

Maybe you could reconsider eating the snack he got you even if it was going against your rules. It was obvious he wouldn’t leave you alone if you didn’t.

You unwrapped the granola bar, making sure to not crush the treat inside as the bell went so suddenly.

You were both shocked at how much time went past at such a fast pace as a certain thought crossed your mind.

It was time to start another school day.

RANK FIVE.

Ever since that day, Jungwon continuously dropped you off snacks in a discreet manner.

Although you never wanted to eat them, he made you. Your secret rule was slowly being forgotten because of his actions.

“Hey,” he called from his window seat, causing you to remove an earbud from your ear.

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“Why?”

Jungwon stared at you in silence. Were you really asking him that question?

“So I don’t get you anything that’ll kill you…” He said in a tone of disbelief, but you didn’t react.

“Why are you still doing this? Mrs. Oh must’ve forgotten about my visit by now. You can stop.”

You turned away and continued writing in your notebook, leaving Jungwon baffled.

He hated how you were never wrong. Mrs. Oh definitely forgot about your visit from a few weeks ago, but Jungwon couldn’t stop his habit of giving you snacks.

Why?

“You’re telling me you rather faint continuously?” Jungwon asked, halting the hand that went to put your earbud in your ear.

“That’s not a healthy habit. Seriously, you’re going to end up visiting the ER next.”

“As if that hasn’t happened before.” You mumbled and successfully put your earbud in your ear.

Jungwon’s face contorted in confusion, unsure of what you had said. It didn’t seem like the remark he expected, but he shrugged it off.

Whatever.

“Jungwon!” Baekseung exclaimed, running up to the boy and hugging him from behind.

Jungwon stumbled over his feet at the sudden embrace as Minji chuckled from behind the two.

“You’re acting like you haven’t seen him in a decade.” She said, crossing her arms once she reached them.

The hallway they stood in was empty—aside from the 3 being there.

Jungwon wasn’t even aware that he was in the hallway at the moment. His mind was elsewhere when he left the classroom.

Yes, he said he didn’t care about what you said, but he secretly did.

Did he hit a nerve or did he hit one of your soft spots? For the last few weeks, it was obvious there was a lot to you that nobody knew of, yet, Jungwon was close to finding them out.

He felt bad due to your reaction from earlier and a few days ago. Maybe he should really watch what he says from now on.

“What’s up? Do you have your head up in the clouds or something?” Baekseung asked, teasingly.

Jungwon shook out of his thoughts and looked at the boy.

“That was terrible. Never say that again.” He said, causing Baekseung to frown and Minji to laugh.

“Still, he’s right. What’s up with you lately?” Minji asked.

The three walked down the hallways, passing time before their next period started.

“What do you mean what’s up with me?” He asked, confused at their questions.

“You’re constantly spacing out today. Plus, you’re never running or playing basketball outside in the mornings either. I haven’t seen you for a bit every time I arrive at school.” Baekseung explained.

“Dude!” He exclaimed, tapping Jungwon’s shoulder to bring him back from his trance.

Jungwon looked over at Baekseung, startled from the harsh tap.

“What was that for?!” He exclaimed.

“You were doing it again. Seriously, what’s up with you?”

The three remained silent upon Baekseung’s question; Minji and Baekseung waited for Jungwon’s response while he thought of one.

What the hell was he supposed to say?

“Is it her?” Minji asked, chiming into Jungwon’s thoughts.

“Your rival.” She added after seeing Jungwon’s confused face.

He didn’t reply to her question, instead he stayed quieter than ever. Not a peep came out of his mouth. They were almost sure he stopped breathing too.

“So it is! I knew it. Pay up, Baekseung.” Minji said with a bright smile on her face while holding her hand out in front of Baekseung.

Baekseung frowned, glaring at Jungwon as he reached into his pocket for the 10 dollar bill he promised Minji. She looked at the buck, facing the light in case it was fake.

“It’s not fake!” He exclaimed as she chuckled.

“You never know.” Minji said and slipped the $10 into her pocket.

“Wait, you guys placed a bet on me?” Jungwon asked in disbelief.

“Well, yeah. I bet that you liked (Name) and Baekseung said you were just hooked on your university applications.” Minji said, leaning closer to Jungwon.

“He knows nothing about love.”

“I do!” Baekseung blurted, embarrassed at Minji’s remark. She looked over at her and shushed him with a finger on his lip.

“No, you don’t. Just accept that.”

Jungwon shook his head, still shocked at what his friends managed to do. Why would he even be hooked on his university applications if he was 100 percent sure he’d get accepted?

Plus, liking you was definitely out of his range. Wait, liking you?

“I don’t like her! What made you ever think that?!” He exclaimed, his hands flying up in defence.

“Yes. Yes, you do. Don’t fear it, Jungwon.”

Minji looked over at the boy with a teasing smile. Jungwon was a little terrified at the look Minji gave him with her finger still over Baekseung’s lips.

She truly seemed psychotic.

He began speed walking away from the two with hopes that he could escape the so-called assumptions. How would Minji know he liked you before he even knew himself?

Pfft, she was completely wrong.

Jungwon looked at the board, writing his last bits of notes with small diagrams to go along with them.

He was starving, but luckily, lunch was soon.

Speaking of lunch, he wondered what snack he should bring you today. You refused to tell him what you were allergic to, so he couldn’t just get you anything.

He looked up from his notebook, stealing a glance at your seat.

Well, he thought it was your seat, but instead, there was someone slouched over the desk instead.

He continued looking around for you, maybe you switched seats without him knowing?

No, that couldn’t be it. He saw you in the same seat this morning before classes. So, was it really you who was slouched over the desk?

That was surprising. You were always the one to be over the top when it came to education, yet, here you were knocked out mid-lesson.

“For homework, please complete pages 4 and 6. Enjoy your day everyone!” The teacher said while closing their lesson planner and leaving the classroom.

The bell sounded, signalling that lunch had begun while Baekseung and Minji took that as a chance to bother their friend, Jungwon.

“Hey!” Baekseung cheered, sitting down on the window sill like always.

Jungwon looked up at the boy with a smile as Minji turned around in her seat.

“Seems like you don’t have much of a competition anymore.” She said, silently hinting at the girl who was fast asleep—you.

Not even the bell woke you up. You must’ve had a rough night then.

Even if it had been 5 seconds since Minji spoke, Jungwon’s eyes never left you. He was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing.

“Baekseung, didn’t you say you wanted to go to the fast food restaurant nearby for lunch today?” Minji asked, looking up at the boy who stared back in confusion.

“What—”

Minji silenced him with a light slap on his leg, sending him a glare and mouthed the words ‘play along.’

“Oh, yeah! I’ve been craving a burger all day.” Baekseung blurted while nonchalantly rubbing on his leg and dragging out the word ‘all.’

“Jungwon, did you want anything from the fast food restaurant?” Minji asked and looked at him.

But he was still stuck in his trance.

“We’ll get him fries.” She whispered to the boy on the window sill. The two left as quietly as they could, leaving you and Jungwon alone in the classroom.

He observed your silent state, watching how your back raised softly as you breathed. The sunlight from the windows shined on your face, making your eyelashes more visible than others.

You looked so peaceful and so relaxed. It was the first time he had ever seen you this calm and not stuffing your head in your notebooks, rubbing at your temples in a stressful way, harshly sighing and placing your pencil down when you were feeling tired or didn’t understand the formula. It was a great sight.

Jungwon was so focused on you that he didn't notice the smile on his face.

He was smiling because of his arch nemesis. Well, could he even call you his arch nemesis if he cared about you so much?

Probably not.

The vending machine beeped as the four items hit the bottom of it. Jungwon reached down to grab the items and made his way back to class.

Was he out of his mind for still getting you snacks? Possibly. But he couldn’t stop himself, it became a habit of his.

At least you never wasted the snacks he got you. There was one point of the day where you would eat them casually, not even paying much attention to the item in your hold. It became a habit of yours too.

Eventually, the rule became forgotten, but only at school. It still affected you at home.

You woke up in a panic. The classroom you sat in was empty, just like your notebook. The one you significantly chose for the subject.

You looked around, eyes squinting at the bright light from the uncovered windows, taking in the fact nobody—not even Jungwon—was with you.

Great. You were so behind—something you hated.

You panicked, looking at the board to only be met with erase marks of today’s lesson. There was no way you could scavenge with something so little.

Out of habit, you looked down at your desk and rubbed at your temples with your fingers, more stressed out than ever.

You couldn’t fall behind nor could you fail. That was your worst nightmare. Did your parents care if you were to fail a class or fall behind? Not at all. They only cared about you and your health, yet you hated that.

Honestly, growing up, you tended to be naturally good at the things you did. Your parents were, of course, super proud of you, but you didn’t think it was enough.

You never thought anything was enough.

So, studying continuously, fainting continuously, and even starving yourself continuously became a natural routine of yours just to seek academic validation.

If you weren’t at the top of your class or your studies, you weren’t sure how your future would turn out. You would probably end up lower than ever.

No wonder you were so frustrated with yourself. How could you slack off, let alone fall asleep all class? That was so not like you.

You were very disappointed.

The feeling of a sudden coldness on your arm made you jolt. You looked up, wondering where it came from, only to notice the boy who stood before you, Yang Jungwon.

You both looked into each other’s eyes—for the first time, you weren’t glaring. Your vision was quite blurry because of the tears that threatened to fall while he could see you perfectly fine.

He nonchalantly placed the beverage on your desk followed by the poptart. He then made his way to his seat and sat down silently.

You stared at the two items on your desk, holding back your tears. There was nothing about the bottled coffee or the poptart that made you emotional, it was yourself and Jungwon.

You were jealous of him.

The more you attended Earl View Academy, the more you noticed how everyone adored the boy. Everyone, including staff members.

He made friends quite easily and got along with anyone possible.

However, you were the complete opposite. You had your own circle which consisted entirely of yourself and your studying materials, nothing else.

You rarely conversed with anyone, but when you did, it was always harsh. Things easily ticked you off, causing you to confront the so-called things pretty quickly.

Due to this, you were never envisioned as someone who was approachable. Even if you were on top of your studies and understood everything going on, not even many teachers took a liking to you.

It was rare to see one that did.

There were a few times where you tried to maintain certain friendships, but they all ended quite fast. Their reasonings were always the same—you never had time to hang out with them, but you always had time to study.

They eventually fell tired of you and left you behind to befriend someone else. They always regretted even trying something with you because it always turned out to be a ‘waste of their time.’

Jungwon placed his opened notebook on your desk so you could copy down the notes he took in class.

“The homework is page 4 and 6 today. If you don’t understand anything, I could explain it to you if you want.” He said before walking back to his seat.

He shouldn’t be this helpful to you. You two were ‘rivals’ after all—something you both silently yet mutually agreed on. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help himself. Even the sight of your tear filled eyes managed to make him feel a bit hurt.

He probably wasn’t even the cause of it, yet he felt like he was.

“How do you do it?” You asked, catching him off guard. He looked up from his phone and at the back of your head because you refused to face him in such a vulnerable state.

“Do what? Oh, the work? Hold on, let me—”

“Not that.” You said, interrupting him as he halted in his tracks.

“…Then what?” He asked hesitantly. He genuinely had no clue what you meant. Either Jungwon couldn’t read between the lines, or he was just too stupid.

“How do I be like you?”

RANK SIX.

Jungwon stood in silence, stunned at your sudden question. He was never asked such a thing from someone like you.

Children were always the one to ask him that exact question, which only left him with one possible answer every time.

“You’re already like me. Smart and strong.”

It was very cringey, but every child felt confident after hearing his words. Still, you were nowhere near a child, so how could he respond to your question?

“What do you mean?” Was all he could think of. He didn’t want you to seem weak or anything, so he kept it simple and short.

Maybe an elaboration would help him with an answer next time.

“You’re so… perfect. All staff members and students adore you, or even look up to you. You always balance your time, making enough space to hangout with your friends and study at the same time. You’re athletic, smart, most likely a great son, and your parents are probably so proud of you for maintaining the top student rank continuously.” You ranted, leaving him flattered and quite flustered but confused at the same time.

“Perfect?” He asked, genuinely curious about what made you think that.

“Yes, you’re so perfect. I’m jealous of you.” You added, finishing off your sentence while turning to face him.

“You’re jealous of me?”

Truly, in Jungwon’s eyes there was nothing about him to be jealous of. He had his own ups and downs, but managed to keep his composure around his friends and many others.

“Honestly, (Name), you’re fine the way you are. Yes, you have some unhealthy habits, but that doesn’t mean they can’t change.” Jungwon said while walking towards the seat in front of you.

“I wouldn’t say I’m perfect either. Of course, I’m going to sound a bit cringey, but all of us have things we don’t show. Like, I could’ve cried on my way to class.”

“Did you?”

“Did I do what?” Jungwon asked while taking a seat.

“Oh. No, that was just an example. I would never cry where people could see or hear.”

His eyes slightly widened as he raised his hands up in defence.

“I didn’t mean you shouldn’t! Do whatever you feel comfortable with.” He said, hoping he didn’t offend you.

You used your sleeves to wipe away the few tears that managed to fall, then looked at the boy in front of you.

“I don’t know why I’m about to tell you this, but I really need to get it off my chest.”

“Go on,” Jungwon said in a soft voice.

Although he waited for you to speak, you hesitated. Could you even trust him? You two started off as rivals, and still were rivals, but didn’t show it as much.

Whatever, speaking your mind wouldn’t hurt.

“Honestly, it’s not that I need to be on top of my work for my parents to adore me, they do. They very much do and show it every day, but it’s me who thinks it is not enough.” You said.

“I believe if I’m distracted, I won’t be able to achieve my academic goals to the fullest, you know?”

Jungwon nodded even if he didn’t get what you meant. He understood achieving your academic goals, but not to the point where he couldn’t do so if he were distracted.

“I mean, yeah, but considering eating meals or taking breaks as a distraction isn’t good for your mental health—or your health in general,” Jungwon explained as your eyes narrowed.

“Are you scolding me right now?”

“Quite literally.”

You rolled your eyes at Jungwon’s words, waving them off as if they meant nothing.

“Pretend this didn’t happen. Tell anyone, and I’ll make sure your life in Earl View Academy is almost unbearable.” You threatened, sending daggers at the boy.

“How so?” He asked, curious as to what tricks you could pull.

“I’ll beat you on every test, I’ll beat you on the final exam, and even make sure you don’t get accepted into University of Seoul.”

“Okay… However, in return, you have to at the very least tell me what you’re allergic to.” Jungwon said with pleading eyes.

You were shocked that was all he wanted in return. He really wanted to know what you were allergic to, but why? What good would that bring him if he knew what you could and couldn’t eat?

“Why are you so curious about that?”

“Dude, you really want me to end up killing you?” His words sounded like he was joking, but he wasn’t.

“No… I could just eat what I know I can and what I know I can’t.”

Jungwon continued to stare at you, waiting for you to give him the actual answer he wanted. You sighed and gave into his silent begs.

“There’s nothing.”

He remained quiet, his head tilting like a lost cat.

“There’s nothing that I’m allergic to. I’ll eat anything.” You informed the boy as he held back a smile.

“Perfect.” He whispered before grabbing the notebook he gave you earlier.

“What do you mean by perfect?” You asked, causing Jungwon to glance at you with a slight smile on his lips.

“You’ll see.”

RANK SEVEN.

To be honest, yesterday you went home wondering what Jungwon was hinting at.

He pretended as if he had never brought up anything and proceeded to teach you today’s materials. It was annoying.

Yes, you wanted to know badly, but begging wouldn’t even get him to tell you anything.

You adjusted your name tag while looking in the mirror, wondering what else you should fix up.

There was 5 minutes before you had to leave for school. Five minutes before you would get to see Jungwon.

You had no clue why you were a bit excited to see him. Usually, you never were. It was weird.

Part of you was glad he listened to what you had to say yesterday, it felt nice to get it off your chest. However, the other part of you felt ecstatic and let your heart thump even at the thought of seeing the boy.

What happened to the part of you that deeply hated him?

You couldn’t start liking Jungwon. At least, not when there was a possibility that he still hated you or saw you like his competition.

Right?

Jungwon stretched his limbs before reaching down to tie his laces. It had been a while since he ran around the track in the morning. He wanted to see if he still had it in him.

He couldn’t let his stamina fall because of his so-called continuous studying habits. It was also a great way to get his mind off of things, for example, you.

After yesterday’s conversation, for some reason he felt terrible about what you said. Was it his fault? No. But obviously, there was a time and place where he was in the same boat as you.

Trust him, it wasn’t the best.

This morning, he woke up extra earlier than usual because he had a lot to do—cook. He hand picked a recipe he believed you both would enjoy, and cooked all morning so it was nice and fresh by lunch.

It was way better than constantly getting snacks from the vending machine. Now, you could actually gain nutrients while eating.

He was very excited.

But why? Why was he excited to share a meal with you? There wasn’t anything going on between, aside from your quiet studying times halfway through lunch, the conversation from yesterday, and the times you two have been paired up or went head-to-head in class.

Other than that, what was there to really be excited about?

Jungwon slowed down his pace, then leaned over while placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Or was he just excited to see you? What was the meaning of all this?

Were you the reason his heart raced as if he did his morning runs whenever he was in class? Were you the reason he was always planning what he wanted to buy the two of you on his way to school? He rarely ever did that when you didn’t attend Earl View Academy.

So, were you really the reason?

You took a seat at your desk, pulling out your studying equipment—a normal routine of yours. You always arrived at the same time, 7:30 AM, with Jungwon arriving a little after.

Shockingly, even with 5 minutes passing, he didn’t appear. That was odd, he was always on time.

You shook your head, brushing off the fact he hadn’t arrived yet. The things he taught you yesterday were the only materials you had to review this morning.

You couldn’t fall behind so easily.

When you went home, you decided to take a break. A was a rare sight since you were always studying all night and all morning, nobody could stop you.

But for some reason, Jungwon was able to change part of your ‘unhealthy’ studying habits. At your old school, it was impossible for that to happen. Not even your short-term friendships changed anything.

It was the same old ‘Book of Rules’ you followed with no updates.

The door slid open, showcasing an exhausted Jungwon. He walked over to the seat in front of you and placed the two snacks in an empty spot on your desk then took a seat.

It wasn’t at his actual desk, instead, it was the one in front of you.

“Why do you seem so tired?” You asked, noticing his droopy eyes.

“I ran around the track today. It’s been a while since I’ve done it, so I guess I pushed my limits.” He explained while yawning. He stretched his arms before examining your desk; there was a partially empty space at the edge of your desk.

It looked like it could fit most of his arms and head.

“Can I?” He questioned while gesturing at the spot from earlier. You nodded, not giving him any other reaction.

Your heart was already racing from the ‘close’ proximity he provided. You had to keep it lowkey.

“Thanks. Wake me up a few minutes before the bell.” He said and dozed off to dreamland.

The classroom fell silent, the only thing being heard was the rustling leaves from the wind that travelled through the sky, your pencil gliding on the piece of paper you wrote on, sounding like music to Jungwon’s ears.

It was a relaxing sound. Not even close to irritating.

There were moments where you snuck in a few glances, noticing the way his face looked peaceful and less irritating than when he was wide awake. His breathing was at a usual pace as his back rose and fell at his command.

He was quite the pretty sleeper.

The formula of your work suddenly started to not make any sense. You searched the article you were looking at, realisation only hitting you a bit after.

You were working on your English, not Math. No wonder your formulas weren’t making any sense. Clearly, with how close Jungwon was to you, it was obvious you couldn’t think straight.

How often did someone mix up English work with Mathematics? It was never that often, and yet, you still managed to make the mistake.

You picked up your highlighter, forgetting about the embarrassing situation from earlier, and began highlighting simple concepts that you would need to remember when answering the questions.

Without you knowing, 30 minutes of silence passed between the two of you. You were surprised he didn’t wake up from the sound of your beating heart, because to you, it was quite loud.

You hesitated on waking up the boy in front of you. He was sound asleep. What if he woke up cranky?

Still, he requested for you to wake him up a few minutes before the bell. He wouldn’t be mad if you did so, right?

You softly placed your hand on his shoulder and gently shook him at a slow pace. There wasn’t much momentum, however, it was still enough to wake him up.

His eyes slowly opened, eyeing the area he sat in.

He could barely see, eyes still blurred with his sleepiness. Jungwon blinked a few times before looking in front of him, spotting your shocked figure.

“Morning.” He mumbled, his words cutting short because of a yawn. He stretched his arms before looking over at the clock.

It was only 8:20 AM. It always shocked you how students weren’t filling up the classroom around this time. They always arrived at least 5 minutes before the bell. Even if it was shocking, it was quite satisfying how everyone was still on time.

“What’re you working on?” Jungwon asked, slightly curious about the reason you held a highlighter.

“English,” you muttered. He hummed at your words and continued to inspect your desk.

“You didn’t eat?” He asked, pointing at the neatly kept snacks. It looked the same as when he first gave you them.

You shook your head. You completely forgot about the snacks. Instead, you were more focused on calming your racing heart, so it wouldn’t have woken him up.

“Eat. At least three pieces before the lesson starts.” He said. The snacks he brought the both of you were a small packet of animal crackers. One of Jungwon’s favourites as a child.

You paused for a moment, debating if you should follow through with his request. He was staring at you, once again, causing you to feel fragile under his gaze. There was no way he would stop if you didn’t eat.

You placed your highlighter down and grabbed one of the two packets. Hopefully, that would help his strong state.

Honestly, you couldn’t help but feel taken care of because of Jungwon’s acts. Your parents were amazing to you. There was no doubt about it. Still, with Jungwon, there was a new feeling you’ve never felt with anyone else.

At your old school, you wouldn’t even have a chance at something like this. If you fainted, there was only a tiny bit of shock from others. It happened very often because of your bad habits that it became so natural to those who studied and worked there.

But if you were to faint around Jungwon or anyone else in this school, they would be very worried. The nurse at Earl View Academy even instructed Jungwon to watch over your eating habits.

At first, you didn’t like the idea of having a so-called babysitter, but eventually it felt nice to know someone possibly cared about you. He started off as your number one threat, and became the person you looked forward to seeing most.

To him, you started off as someone he could never trust and his one and only arch nemesis, and became the person he watched over and enjoyed being around.

Well, look how the tables turned.

“Also,” Jungwon said, chiming into your thoughts. Your attention was then focused onto the boy who stood up from his previous seat with his animal crackers in hold.

“You’re doing great.” He said as the bell rang as if it were completing his sentence.

He sat in his assigned seat at the window while students began filling up the classroom. Maybe they were a little delayed today, but your heart for sure wasn’t.

You were concerned as to why Jungwon’s words had such an effect on your wellbeing, judging from how fast your heart rate was going.

You didn’t even know it was possible to experience such a rush of adrenaline. Your face felt warm as you recalled his words.

Was he perhaps referring to yesterday’s incident?

No matter what the reason was, you’ve never been told something like that. It was always about taking a break and slowing your pace. Even mentioning how you were trying too hard and needed to pay more attention to yourself.

But the words ‘you’re doing great’ were different. It felt like they were filling a void in your life that you didn’t even know existed.

Whatever it was, you were thankful.

Thankful for Jungwon.

Jungwon watched as the ball ricocheted off the rim of the net, sighing in disappointment.

“Gosh, straighten up.” Baekseung said and tossed the ball back to his friend.

The trio stood inside the empty gymnasium, shooting hoops for fun, until it became serious. Baekseung was quite literally concerned for Jungwon’s wellbeing.

He was missing every one of his shots.

“You do remember he did Track and not Basketball like you, Baek, right?” Minji asked while flipping through the pages of her book.

“I mean, yeah, but he’s never this bad.” Baekseung replied, emphasising his words.

“I’m literally right here.”

“Oh, my bad.”

Minji chuckled at the two, looking away at her book while placing a bookmark between the two pages she stopped on.

“Won, what’s on your mind?” She asked.

Great, here comes round two.

“I swear we didn’t put a bet on anything this time. Feel free to tell us anything.”

Jungwon sighed, letting himself loose. It was now or never. He needed to settle things, so he could peacefully continue along with his day.

So…

“How would you confirm your feelings for someone?”

RANK EIGHT.

Minji blinked her eyes in silence as Baekseung held the basketball in his hand with a dropped jaw.

Judging by their reactions, it was obvious they didn’t know what to say, leaving Jungwon feeling embarrassed.

“Nevermind, forget I said that.”

“No, no.” Minji said, shaking her head.

“We were just… stunned, that’s all.” She reassured Jungwon who’s ears turned a light shade of red out of embarrassment.

“Is this about a particular someone?” Minji questioned, slightly wanting it to be you.

She had been noticing the difference between Jungwon’s behaviour now and the first time you arrived. Nowadays, he was always looking at you with adoration in his eyes instead of an intense glare.

It was definitely different between you two.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” Jungwon asked, judging by her expression. It looked like she was holding off on saying something. She was terrible at hiding her expressions.

“Wait, I’m so confused,” Baekseung chimed in, dropping the basketball and making his way closer to the two.

“It’s (Name), right? The atmosphere between you two is so much different than before.”

Jungwon remained quiet upon Minji’s words. She wasn’t wrong, but she was very observant. Even Jungwon hadn’t noticed the change between you and him.

“Your silence is the only answer we need.” Baekseung said with a sly smile.

What? Who wouldn’t act the same way after finding out his best friend had a crush on someone?

“It is…” Jungwon mumbled.

“Okay. First question is… how do you feel when you’re near her?”

Oh.

Well, that could go a long way… There was at least a list of possible feelings, so where should he even start?

“Tingly. I feel tingly.” He said, recalling the moments he was with you.

To be honest, he was shocked you hadn’t realised how red the tip of his ears were when he fell asleep in front of you. It was almost an impossible process for him to sleep, but he managed.

“Sometimes, my ears become warm and my heart flutters at the sight of her smile or if I were to make her laugh…” He paused, thinking of more things to say.

“And—”

“Yeah, you definitely like her.” Baekseung interrupted with a shock yet disgusted look on his face.

“I do?” Jungwon asked, looking at the boy with wide eyes.

Baekseung nodded, causing him to look over at Minji who only did the same as Baekseung in return.

“Are you ever going to tell her?” Minji asked, opening up her book once again.

“I’d embarrass myself terribly. We’re still kinda rivals in some way. Wouldn’t it be weird if I were to suddenly confess my attraction to her?”

“Okay, Shakespeare, what the hell do you mean by attraction?” Baekseung asked as Minji chuckled.

“He means feelings, Baek.”

“Oh… That makes sense. I say do it, what is there to waste? You only live once.” He explained as Jungwon rolled his eyes.

It was a corny saying he had been told all his life, but they were never wrong. Things always turned out good for him if he at least tried them. Therefore, it wouldn’t hurt to profess his love for you, right?

“Jungwon, it’s 11:30, don’t you have to go now?” Minji questioned after checking the time on her phone.

“Ah, right. Thanks Min, thanks Baek.” He said before smiling at them and leaving.

To be honest, Jungwon was expecting a longer explanation to his feelings, but comparing these moments to a book, it was awfully obvious that he liked you. It must’ve flown past his head the first time.

You stared at the clock, awaiting Jungwon’s arrival. This was the first time you had caught yourself doing something like this. Usually, your head would be stuffed in your notebook right now, but after discovering these possible feelings for the boy you spend lunch with daily, things have changed.

Your habits must’ve been one of them.

There were moments where you glanced at the door, hoping that he would appear after every glance, but he didn’t.

“Sorry.” A voice emitted from the doorway, heavy panting followed through. Your head whipped over, noticing the boy you were waiting for all this time. He looked up from the floor, making straight eye contact with you.

He was subtly sweaty, making it obvious that he ran here. Yes, it was a disgusting look, but to you…

He looked disgustingly handsome. It was odd, very odd, that the look made your heartbeat race. You couldn’t deny it, you definitely liked Jungwon.

“You’re late.” You said in a teasing tone. You could care less if he was late or not, but it was fun to joke around with him.

“I’m aware.” Jungwon joked back while walking towards his seat.

“Are you hungry?” He asked while reaching into his backpack. You stayed silent, not sure how to answer that question.

“Be honest.” He said in a serious tone and grabbed the meal he cooked this morning.

“A little bit.” You replied as he took a seat in front of you. You eyed the containers he placed on the empty space, causing you to move your notebooks aside to create more.

He opened the containers one-by-one, leaving you stunned with every single meal. Once he was left with one container, he looked up to see your reaction, smiling at your childish look.

“Does it look good?”

His question brought you out of your trance, causing you to straighten up immediately.

“Yes. It looks great.” You said as Jungwon chuckled at your response. You observed the 3 containers, noticing the different aspects of each; one had greens while the others didn’t.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you liked greens, so I separated them just in case.” He explained while pointing at the container you stared at.

You nodded at his words and hummed in amusement. Maybe you were only a tad bit hungry before, but now, you were starving.

“You don’t have to wait for me, you can eat.” Jungwon said, gesturing at the meal in front of you two.

You looked at him once then down at the utensils, hesitantly reaching for a spoon. Jungwon picked up on this and grabbed your hand, flipping it over while grabbing the spoon that laid on the napkin. He then placed it into the palm of your hand and looked into your eyes.

“Don’t hesitate, it’s fine.” Jungwon said and flashed you a smile, his dimples catching your eyes immediately.

Well, maybe you weren’t hesitating on eating anymore, but you were definitely still hesitant about something…

Confessing your feelings to the boy before you.

Yeah, that could wait.

RANK NINE.

Two days ago, Jungwon had a talk with his two friends. He was reassured about his feelings for you, finalising them to a certain extent.

Today, he claimed he was ready to confess. He wouldn’t back away from doing so, and plus, there ‘wasn’t’ much time until graduation (it was 7 months away).

Of course, it was a lie. He had to make an excuse to be able to push himself to tell you how he really felt.

You, on the other hand, thought the same. But, you weren’t sure how you would approach him in a way where it wouldn’t be as awkward as you imagined.

Still, that would have to wait for the perfect time today. You couldn’t mess this up.

As your teacher spoke, your head became drowsy. Your notes seemed messy due to your eyesight blurring and nothing was comprehendible.

You shook your head, an attempt to regain your composure, but that didn’t work either.

“Okay, everyone. I’ll leave the rest of this period for individual work time.” Your teacher said even if there was only 5 minutes before lunch.

“Soccer today?” Baekseung asked Jungwon who wrote in his notebook.

He nodded at his friend’s request, causing the boy to smile. It had been a while since they went to play soccer and not basketball, so it would be quite fun to reminisce about the past.

The bell went, making 5 minutes feel like 30 seconds. To others it must’ve felt long, but to you, it felt short. You couldn’t focus on anything around you, not even the time. The throbbing headache that made its way into your system, as well as the nauseating feeling was all that occupied your mind.

Nothing else.

Not even the fact Jungwon was standing beside you right now.

“You alright?” He asked. You looked up at him, your head spinning at the movement. It was quiet in the classroom, hinting at the fact there was practically nobody left aside from the two of you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lies. You were far from feeling ‘fine’. However, you couldn’t let him worry as much as he did about your eating habits.

You managed to flash him a convincing smile as he did the same. The gentle pat on your head before leaving felt comforting knowing it was from Jungwon and no one else.

“I’ll be back.” He said as he walked out the classroom, leaving you alone in silence.

You weren’t able to tell if the heat that crept up your neck was from his subtle action, or the developing fever that made its way towards you. Honestly, you could care less. It wouldn’t stop you from studying anyway.

And, well, maybe preparing your confession for the said boy.

The mesh of the net ricocheted as the ball glided against the barrier. The goalie was on the floor, the outcome of his failed attempt at blocking the ball.

“It’s okay! That was a good try.” A teammate reassured while helping the male up on his feet.

Once the ball was thrown into play, Baekseung scanned the area, searching for an open target to send the ball to. Teamwork was all that mattered when playing sports, so, why not include everyone even if he could shoot the ball himself?

You looked out the window, noticing the view of the many boys who kicked around a soccer ball. It wasn’t the best view, but you were still able to see a few faces—Jungwon’s especially.

Most of you wanted to get a closer look. It would be nice to take a short break from studying, right? It couldn’t hurt your academics that much…

You rose from your seat, head spinning once again. It was unbearable, but you’ve experienced worse.

See, you’ve definitely experienced worse. So, why were you on the verge of passing out, once again?

You stood in front of the window sill Jungwon’s friend, Baekseung, would always sit on. Your grip tightened the ledge, losing balance in your legs. Your vision became even blurry than before as your mind became foggy.

Yeah, you were definitely about to knock out cold. There was no way you would manage to stay conscious.

A moment after coming to terms with the fact you were about to faint, your body hit the floor, leaving the space between two desks occupied.

Your eyes were slowly closing as the warmth of a hand was placed on your face. Ears ringing, making anything that person said incoherent.

It was a terrible feeling. Maybe you should’ve gone to the nurse’s office at the beginning of your fever.

Yeah… Maybe.

“It’s 11:30, I have to go.” Jungwon said after checking the time on his watch. He waved goodbye to those he played with on the field, then looked at the classroom window, a smile making its way to his face.

Now it was time for 30 minutes with you.

But where were you? He scanned the empty classroom, yet you were nowhere to be found. Your stuff wasn't there either.

You weren’t there.

He was confused. You never left your seat, no matter the reason. So, where could you have gone?

Jungwon had no clue where he was going, letting his feet take him wherever. Suddenly, he was in front of the nurse’s office. Not even he knew why he was here.

Without hesitation, he slid open the door, a wave of nostalgia hitting him. Except, you weren’t in his arms like before.

“Oh, Jungwon. What brings you here?” Mrs. Oh greets almost immediately. That was a great question.

What brought him here?

“I’m not sure.” Jungwon said, not knowing what else to say. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, confused. That was the first time she received an answer like his.

The boy stared at the nurse in silence. It was awkward for her, but not for him.

Seriously, why was he brought here?

“Is… Is (Name) here?” He asked. Part of him regretted letting his so-called question slip out while the other part hoped you were here.

Other than that, he wouldn’t have any other ideas about where you could possibly be right now.

“Oh, yes, she is. Were you looking for her?” Mrs. Oh questioned, a slight smile plastered on her face.

Jungwon nodded, not wanting to say anything else. He already embarrassed himself enough.

He followed the direction the nurse pointed in, heading to where you were supposedly lying down.

“Apparently, she fainted in class again. One of your classmates brought her over… Turns out she had a raging fever.”

So, he wasn’t hallucinating the pained expression you gave him at the start of lunch.

At the sounds of his footsteps, you turned around fast, pretending to be asleep.

“I saw you.” Jungwon said, pulling your curtains aside.

“Nice try.” He took a seat beside you as you bit your bottom lip, eyes squinting in defeat.

“Are you feeling better?”

You turned around at his words to face him. The damped cloth that rested on your forehead slowly slipped off, causing him to catch it.

“A little bit.” You said as he adjusted the cloth.

You weren’t lying about it being a little bit. At least you were now able to move.

“Did you take medication?”

You nodded, noticing the fact he was only going to continue asking questions about your wellbeing.

“I heard you fainted… Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, the worry finally sinking in.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I got up to look out the window, but I guess I overestimated my ability.” You said with a light laugh.

“Why would you get up to look out the window if you were already feeling unwell?” He asked with furrowed brows.

It was only common sense, you should’ve made your way to the nurse's office. Not somewhere to admire scenery.

“Are you lecturing me, again?” You asked, referring to the conversation in the classroom from a while ago.

“Yes. You need to take care of yourself more.”

“But if I said I was trying to watch you play soccer, then what?”

Jungwon felt his heart skip a beat.

Okay. Maybe you got him there.

“T-That doesn’t matter. Your health comes first.” He mentally cursed at himself for stuttering. Your words must’ve taken a toll on him.

“You’re boring.” You said before looking away from the boy.

To be honest, this would be the best time to confess, right?

Mrs. Oh had left the office a while ago, meaning it was just the two of you left alone.

When would Jungwon ever get another opportunity like this one?

“Listen,” he started, gaining your attention all over again. You look over at him, waiting for him to continue his sentence.

“I know grades are important, but your health is too. Please prioritise your health as well, okay?” Jungwon paused, hesitating with his next words.

It was now or never.

“I don't want to fall in love with a corpse. It’ll be better if it were just you.”

You stared at the boy, stunned. You couldn’t tell if your temperature was rising or you were flustered by his sudden confession.

An awkward silence followed through, as he felt his heart sink.

Did he just mess everything up?

“Anyways… have you drank anything yet?” Jungwon asked, switching the topic really fast.

“No…” You whispered.

He nodded his head, pursing his lips and patted his thighs.

“Okay. I’ll go get you something.” He said before rising up from his seat and leaving quite fast.

You felt bad. If it were a confession, you just left him hanging.

Jungwon pushed the buttons on the vending machine with pressure. He was embarrassed.

Very embarrassed.

He didn’t want to show himself in that room ever again. The atmosphere was definitely still the same as before—awkward and unbearable.

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken his friend's advice. He could’ve saved himself from experiencing this sort of regret.

The sound of the juice boxes falling from their designated spots caught Jungwon’s attention. He whined at the sound, not wanting to go back at all.

Still, he couldn’t keep you waiting.

His plan of pretending nothing happened was now set in motion. It wouldn’t be that hard to forget the previous interaction, right?

“I hope you like orange juice—”

“Was that a confession earlier or was I going crazy?”

So much for pretending nothing happened.

He stumbled in his tracks, he was nowhere near your bed yet.

“Was it?” You asked, quite literally pestering a response from him.

Jungwon mumbled something to himself. Something along the lines of hoping he doesn’t mess things up further.

“Yes, it was.” He said, a heavy sigh following through.

Although his sigh sounded stressed, yours sounded relieved.

“Oh, that’s good. I thought I was the only one.” You said, causing Jungwon to make his way to your bed even faster.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his hands carrying the juice boxes and a confused expression on his face.

“Is it not obvious?” You asked, but he remained still.

Clearly, it wasn’t.

You sighed, disappointed that he couldn’t read between the lines with that brain of his.

“I like you too, Jungwon.”

RANK TEN.

“It really happened?!” Baekseung exclaimed, shocked. Jungwon covered his mouth with a hand, not wanting the whole world to hear about yesterday’s interaction.

“Then what?” Minji asked.

“It’s a secret.” Jungwon said with a teasing smile. Minji rolled her eyes at his response. It definitely wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

The classroom door slid open, gaining his attention quickly. You walked into the classroom, holding your books to your chest.

A smile of adoration made its way to Jungwon’s face as you looked over at him, smiling.

Minji observed the interaction with curious eyes.

“What the hell? Never do that again, please.” Baekseung said, removing Jungwon’s hand from his mouth.

“Wait so… Are you guys, well, dating now?” Minji asked.

“Woah, no.” He said, raising his hands up in defence.

“So, you guys just confessed to each other and that was all?” She asked in a more hushed tone since you arrived.

Jungwon nodded.

Minji was about to say something else, but the bell rang, cutting her off before she could even start. The teacher walked in, addressing everyone to return to their seats.

You smiled to yourself and pulled out your phone to send the boy a text.

“Nice one.” It read with a smiley emoji.

Jungwon’s phone dinged, causing him to look at it. A smile made its way to his face as he read the message.

He was lying to his friends the whole time. Yes, that was bad to do, but it was the best way of keeping your official relationship with each other a secret.

They could know you two confessed to each other, but not that you were dating.

To be honest, Jungwon never saw this coming. He always thought you would be someone he hated because he never knew it was possible to meet somebody who was at his level.

He truly thought he was dreaming when he first saw you and learned about that information.

But right now, he was thankful he wasn’t and was thankful that you were someone who he fell in love with.

Ξ ©HAKNOM, 2024

734 notes · View notes

smileysuh · 9 months

Text

racer

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You feel like a chew toy caught between two rottweilers, and it kills you to give Jaehyun one last look before turning your back on him, following your brother to his car. Jaehyun is watching you as you get in, and when you close the door, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I know, what a killer race,” Johnny grins, starting his engine. “Could have been better though, he could have actually died.”

tw/cw. car crash/injury, Johnny maybe slightly tried to kill Jaehyun, illegal street racing, protected sex, dry humping, blowjob, hand job, pining, praise, slow sex, slight wrist restraint, admitting you love someone while balls deep, sweet dirty talk, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) Lil Suh, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.7k

🍭 aus. street racer!Jaehyun, star-crossed lovers, secret relationship, step-brother!Johnny, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I watched the new Fast and Furious movie a few months ago and this is the outcome

For something that’s supposed to be illegal, street races are big events. Under the cover of darkness, with the moon high in the sky, it almost feels like you’re at an outdoor party. The pavement is covered in people, and they part like the red sea as your cars slowly dive through, coming to a stop just near the starting line.

“Chin up, Lil Suh,” you step brother’s best friend says, nudging you while people begin to swarm Johnny’s racing car in front of you. “Nothings going to happen to him.”

No one is as confident in Johnny as Donghyuck is, although, it’s not Johnny you’re worried about.

Things have been coming to a head lately between your stepbrother and his supposed ‘arch nemesis,’ a new racer on the scene by the name of Jeong Jaehyun. The past three street races have been inceasingly dangerous, with the two often battling for first even as they rushed over the finish line. Jaehyun had even beaten your stepbrother two weeks ago, and Johnny hasn’t been able to get over the loss, his first in over a year and a half.

You have knots in your stomach, and a sneaking suspicion that something bad is about to happen. To make matters worse, you have a vested interest in both of the street racers. Johnny is family - even if he’s not blood - but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t care about Jaehyun too.

You hadn’t meant to find yourself in a secret fuck buddy style relationship with a racer, let alone your brother’s nemesis… it had just sort of happened, and now, you’re realizing the true depths of the consequences.

Getting out of Donghyuck’s car, you watch Johnny move to sit on the hood of his own racer, girls swarming him and running their hands over his fresh paint job. The purple underlights always gained Johnny attention, and they’d been his signature colour… until Jaehyun had arrived onto the scene with a similar aesthetic.

“How many other racers are here?” you ask, tucking close to Donghyuck while he guides you to your brother.

“I think I saw Taeyong’s car when we drove up,” your brother’s best friend notes, although, with so many people swarming, it’s hard to get a real count just yet.

Besides, Taeyong’s not who you care about.

Jaehyun’s always had impeccable timing, too impeccable for your brother’s liking, and a familiar rumble in the periphery draws your attention. The swarm begins to part, and Jaehyun’s car slowly rolls up, coming to a stop right next to Johnny’s.

Your brother’s expression had gone from a smile to a scowl, and he watches his nemesis exit the drivers seat. To Jaehyun’s credit, he always nods at your brother. You’ve never been able to ascertain if it’s out of respect for Johnny’s reputation, or due to Jaehyun being a genuinely nice guy, and the time you spend with Jaehyun is always filled with more pleasurable things than questions of intention.

The car that pulls up behind Jaehyun’s belongs to his own right hand man, a mechanic by the name of Kim Jungwoo. With shiny bleached white hair, and a smile big enough to light up his entire face, the street puppy always draws attention to himself, even though he’s not a racer.

Jaehyun might not have the liberty to lock eyes with you, but Jungwoo does, and it’s been clear to you for a while now that he knows about what you and Jaehyun get up to behind closed doors. Jungwoo even has the nerve to flash you a wink before going to join Jaehyun on the hood of his car, and the motion isn’t lost on Donghyuck.

“Hate that dude,” your brother’s best friend says under his breath.

“He seems okay,” you sigh, and it’s the most you can defend the street puppy.

You notice a small man running around, and he leans close to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. Taeil is one of the organizers, whatever that entails, and you’ve always thought it odd that the quiet, well mannered man would even be a part in any of this, let alone one of the people calling the shots.

“Yo, yo, yo! How we doin tonight?!” A loud voice booms through a few speakers placed along the street, and Mark Lee’s familiar way of speaking draws all eyes as the Canadian moves to stand in the bed of his own flashy green truck while everyone cheers.

He doesn’t race anymore, one bad accident had turned him off of the streets for good, but he’s one of the best announcers you’ve ever witnessed, with a talent for rallying the crowd and getting energy flowing.

“I’m gonna need all the racers to move to the finish line, that means you, Doyoung,” Mark grins, and you’ll never cease to enjoy the beef Mark has with the man with red underlights.

Taeyong, who had also not been in proper place, begins to roll up to stop next to Johnny, although, he never gets an earful like his friend Doyoung.

“We’re in for a big race tonight, everyone,” Mark announces. “In pink, we have our very own Mister Lee Taeyong!” The crowd cheers. “And in red, as always, Doyoung Kim- boo!” Mark’s the only one booing, and he’s also butchered Doyoung’s name, which always make the racer’s skin flash the colour of his car. “In purple, we’ve got the man of the evening, the winner of our last race, Jeong Jaehyun!” The crowd roars, and you feel the vibration in your very bones. “And last, but certainly not least, also in purple - you should really trademark that, dude - we have the previously undefeated, the one, the only, Mister John J Suh!”

If Jaehyun’s cheers had been a roar, Johnny’s are like rolling thunder, and he stands proudly next to his car, waving to his adoring fans before leaning down to enter his vehicle.

“Looks like our guys are eager to get this race started, and they can’t be the only ones, lets hear it for our drivers!”

The good thing about being in a run down industrial section of the city, is that there are no neighbours to bother with the deafening sounds. You can be as loud as you want, and you cheer along with the crowd, which begins to move away from the cars as their drivers start their engines.

“We’ve all been here before,” Mark says. “We know this track. But for those of you who are new… ask a friend because I will not be explaining the route.” No one has ever called Mark particularly thorough in his announcements, but he’s comical at least, and many people chuckle.

“So what do you say everyone, should we get this show started?!”

As the crowd erupts, you notice a familiar shorty rushing up to you.

“Our usual starting girl is out with a cold, but I know just the substitute,” Mark says in the periphery of your mind, and Taeil shoves a flag into your hand, grabbing your arm to drag you forward. “Lets all give a big round of applause for Johnny’s sister, Lil motherfucking Suh!”

You hate this. You hate it so much.

This isn’t the first time they’ve made you start the race on short notice, and you’d told them never to make you do it again- but somehow, you find yourself being lifted into the bed of Mark’s truck, Hyuck following close behind you. The vehicle is positioned about fifteen meters in front of the starting line, and once you throw the flag, it will lurch into motion, speeding ahead of the cars and giving those of you in the bed the perfect view of the race.

It can be a dodgy position to be in, as one bump can throw you, Mark, or his posse out of the truck- you’d heard about it happening once.

“What do you say, Lil Suh?” Mark pulls you back to his chest, securing an arm around your waist, the only true anchor you’ll have once this begins. “Are you ready to see some real action?”

He holds the mic in front of you, and you find your gaze shifting to Jaehyun’s car as you take a deep breath. There are certain expectations of a flag girl, and you’re a legacy here. You’ll be damned if you don’t make it a show, even if this was unexpected.

“Tonight, our city's best racers are here to fight for number one,” you announce, before focusing in on the drivers revving their engines, as is custom. “It’s up to you four to prove yourselves. Be fast. Be safe. And no matter what happens, don’t fucking lose! Get ready, racers!” You hold the flag above your head, throwing it into the air as you scream “Go!”

The truck lurches into action, and Mark pulls you tight against his chest, laughing loudly in your ear as you all speed off down the street track. The wind whips through your hair, and Hyuck’s screaming loudly next to you, one hand in the air while he holds on with the other.

It is exhilarating to be in the truck, to be ahead of the cars struggling for first position. It’s the clearest view of the race- but it’s also not where you wanted to be tonight. Johnny’s already being aggressive in his driving, giving Jaehyun little space, and your stomach turns again.

The cars are quickly gaining on you, and you feel Mark reach back, smacking his hand on the top of the truck to tell the driver to go faster. You let out a squeal of delight, grabbing onto Hyuck when your vehicle lurches forward again, the driver flooring it while pulling slightly off to the side in preparation for the cars to pass.

Maybe you’re overreacting about this, maybe this race will be okay-

Johnny makes a sudden swerve, clipping Jaehyun’s car despite your secret fuck buddy’s attempt to avoid it. Just like that, Jaehyun is skidding, and your heart stops in your chest. At speeds like this, even a touch can send you spiraling, and that’s exactly what happens to Jaehyun.

“Fuck!” Mark says loudly beside you, immediately pulling a red flag out of his pocket, and you all wait to see what will happen next-

Doyoung had been right on Jaehyun’s tail, and the sudden speed change has him barreling into Jaehyun’s back, lifting the car and causing it to flip upside down- miraculously, Jaehyun lands back on his tires, but both he and Doyoung clip a shopping cart that had been just to the side of the makeshift track.

Wheels skid loudly, a screeching sound that sets your teeth on edge, and both cars come to a skittering halt on the side of the road, with Jaehyun half up on the sidewalk.

The truck slows down, but both Johnny and Taeyong go speeding past, obviously intent on finishing the race despite the collision.

You don’t care about winners, you only care about Jaehyun, and you’re hopping out of the bed of the truck before it’s even at a full stop.

You stumble on the pavement, but as soon as you’re steady, you take off running.

The sound of your heart is practically deafening as you run the fifty meters to the crash, and you go right past Doyoung, jumping up onto the curb next to Jaehyun’s car to look inside. “Jae!” you scream.

“Shh, Lil Suh,” he groans, reaching for the door handle. He looks a little roughed up, and his lip is bleeding- “I’m okay,” he tries to assure you, but he’s obviously winded as he stands from the car, leaning on the door while you rush to support him under his other arm.

“Jae,” you say his name again, hand on his abdomen as you hold him up.

“That fucking brother of yours!” comes Doyoung’s familiar screaming, as he also exits his car, coming around the front to assess the damages.

“Don’t yell at her,” Jaehyun states, straightening a little even as he leans back against his vehicle.

“Since when were you two so fucking chummy?” Doyoung rages, skin a classic tint of red.

“Woah, woah, woah-” Mark has finally arrived on the scene, and he also side steps Doyoung, coming straight for you and Jaehyun. “Dude, are you okay?!”

Hyuck’s behind Mark, and he’s watching you with narrowed eyes as he moves to stand by the red racer, not saying a word.

You swallow thickly, knowing you should let go of Jaehyun- that if you continue to support him like this, Hyuck will most definitely mention it to Johnny- but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from the street racer, so you force your gaze from Hyuck.

“He clipped me,” Jaehyun says. “John clipped me.”

“Yeah, he fucked you big time, dude,” Mark agrees, and you hear the approach of cars.

Within eyeshot of the starting line, the mechanics there must have seen the crash, and you recougnize Yuta and Jungwoo’s cars as they pull to a stop a few feet away.

“Jae!” Jungwoo bellows, running over to replace Mark on Jaehyun’s other side. “Are you alright?!”

“I’m fine,” Jaehyun tries to brush it off, but he winces a little under Jungwoo’s grip.

“Your car is fucked, man,” Yuta muses, walking around Jaehyun’s vehicle and eying the damages.

“That’s really not what he needs to hear right now,” you shoot at the Japanese mechanic who has no bedside manner whatsoever. He holds his hands up in defeat, stepping back.

“The race didn’t even stop-” Jungwoo breathes.

“Johnny wanted to win,” Doyoung states, crossing his arms over his chest and eying Hyuck. “Your boyfriend did this on purpose.”

“Woah, now,” Hyuck laughs. “I get all the pussy dude- how many times do I have to tell you I’m not dating Johnny-”

The two begin to fight, and you ignore it, helping Jaehyun to Jungwoo’s car. The mechanic does most of the heavy lifting as he supports Jaehyun get into the front seat. Then you turn to walk back to Yuta, lowering your voice. “Can you fix his car?”

“I mean…” Yuta sighs, cocking his head to the side. “Sure, I can fix it.”

“Then fix it,” you state, motioning to the tow truck he’d driven up in. “Take it back to your shop, I don’t want to look at it anymore.”

“Shouldn’t I be dealing with Jae on this?” Yuta eyes you suspiciously. “Since when were you two so close, Lil Suh?”

“Just do it, Yuta.” You reach out to touch his arm gently. “Please.”

Jungwoo arrives behind you. “Tow it to my garage,” he instructs. “If we both work on this, we can have it fixed in no time.”

“We gotta get to the finish line,” Mark announces, already on the way to his truck.

“Yes, we do,” Doyoung agrees, and you can see his hand balled into a fist.

When you look to Jungwoo’s car, Jaehyun returns your longing gaze, but you know that if you drive with him and his friend, it will be as good as announcing to your brother that your allegiance has changed.

With a deep sigh, you follow Hyuck and Doyoung to Mark’s truck, taking your spot in the bed.

The finish line is only a short drive away, especially with all your drivers flooring it, and it’s hard not to look at Jaehyun and Jungwoo as they drive behind you.

“What happened back there?” Hyuck asks, pulling you to his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he says firmly. “You and Jae.”

The words that come out of your mouth next are painful, and they’re only half a lie, “There is no me and Jae.”

Hyuck studies your face. “There better not be.”

Despite the crash that had occured, most of the crowd seems to be in happy spirits as they gather around the finish line. They move out of the way as Mark’s truck pulls up, and he takes out a green flag, ready to declare the winner.

Two cars come barelling around a turn, moving into another long stretch just before the finish. It’s a flash of pink and purple, but there’s a clear victor, and it’s not even much of a battle as Johnny comes racing over the finish line.

Everybody erupts into cheers, everybody except you. You can’t find your voice, you can only clap while Johnny does a victory donut or two before returning to the finish line where the racers are.

He gets out of his car with a massive grin, and Doyoung hops out of the truck-

Hyuck stops him, holding Doyoung tight while he rages in his arms. “Let me at him!” Doyoung bellows, but your brother’s right hand man knows better than to allow Doyoung to rain on Johnny’s winner parade.

Jaehyun’s right hand man, however, knows no such restraint, and you watch Jaehyun approach your brother, the crowd parting to let him through.

“Fuck, shit, fuck-” Mark cusses next to you, leaping out of the truck while you follow.

“You clipped me,” Jaehyun states, hands balled into a fists at his side.

“That’s part of racing,” Johnny brushes it off.

“Maybe part of your racing,” Jaehyun growls, “But not all of us are suicidal maniacs like you!”

“Every driver is a suicidal maniac, it’s part of the fucking job.” Your brother rolls his eyes.

Then Jaehyun is grabbing the front of Johnny’s shirt, and the taller of the two is looking down at him with a grin.

Jaehyun is seething. “If I’d had known we could play dirty like that, I would have knocked you on your ass during our last race!”

Johnny leans closer to the angry racer. “I’d like to see you try.”

Jaehyun pulls his fist back, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. You find yourself jumping between them before you can even think about it, pushing Johnny back. “Jae, don’t.”

His motion stops, and he looks from you to your brother, swallowing thickly. His hand drops to his side, and Johnny lets out a loud laugh. You see the effect it has on Jaehyun, can see his skin reddening with anger.

You feel horrible about this. About all of it.

“I’d like to stay and chat,” Johnny says, “but I’ve got an after party to go to. Winners only. Come on, Lil Suh, I’ll take you on a victory lap.”

You feel like a chew toy caught between two rottweilers, and it kills you to give Jaehyun one last look before turning your back on him, following your brother to his car.

Jaehyun is watching you as you get in, and when you close the door, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I know, what a killer race,” Johnny grins, starting his engine. “Could have been better though, he could have actually died.”

“Is that what you were aiming for, John?” You grab onto the door handle, digging your nails against it to stop yourself from acting out.

“Not particularly. I saw the opportunity to take two birds out with one stone, so I did.” He assesses you out of the corner of his eye. “That doesn’t bother you, does it, Lil Suh?”

“No,” you lie through gritted teeth as the car speeds off to do a victory lap. “I’m not bothered at all.”

“Good, now sit back, and let me show you why us Suh’s are winners in this city.”

You usually like speeding with your brother, he’s a daring driver, and the way he drifts on sharp turns has always been something that brought you delight. But tonight, you can’t find it in yourself to laugh, even while he rolls down his window to let out a howl of victory into the night air.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, skimming the pseudonym contact name you use for Jaehyun. ‘Slip away from the party. Same place as usual. Be there. Please.’

It had been a little difficult to escape both Johnny and Hyuck from the afterparty, with the latter of the two even catching you just as you slipped outside. Hyuck had been smoking, leaning against the wall, and he’d stopped you as you’d rushed past.

“Where are you off to?” He’d asked.

You’d used the only lie you could think of, telling him, “My friend just got dumped, she needs me.”

Hyuck hadn’t asked anymore questions, and now, you’re arriving at the motel you and Jae use as a meeting point. The lobby boy nods at you as you walk past. “He’s in room thirteen.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, tossing him a five dollar bill from your pocket and taking the staircase two at a time to reach the second level. You don’t even bother to knock on Jaehyun’s door, you never do, you simply slip inside, locking it behind you.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and with his shirt off, you can see the full extent of the crash. His ribcage has a nasty bruise, which is visible under the ice pack he’s holding to his skin, and your heart breaks for him.

“Jae,” you whisper, sinking to your knees in front of him to assess the damage. “You need to go to the hospital-”

“And tell them what?” he sighs. “That I got in a car crash? Come on, we both know that could never work. I’m fine.”

You reach for the ice pack. “There could be internal bleeding-”

“Baby,” he catches your wrist, “I said I’m fine.”

You look up into his dark eyes, and you take a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing.

“Everything-” you swallow thickly. “I’m sorry for the crash, and for getting between you and Johnny, and for going to that stupid after party with him-”

“He knows.”

“What?”

“Johnny,” Jaehyun says. “He knows about us.”

“He doesn’t know-” you shake your head.

“He does,” the racer insists. “Everyone knows, especially now. Hyuck will tell him about the way you ran to me after the crash. He’s not stupid. He’s gonna know, baby.”

“No one knows,” you say again, but your voice is a whisper now.

“They all do,” Jaehyun tells you. “They see it in the way we look at each other.”

You stand up, gazing down at the beautiful street racer who you never should have even entertained, let alone slept with- “How do we look at eachother?”

Jaehyun licks his lips, tugging at your shirt. “Like two people who want to rip eachothers clothes off.”

“Is that all?” you tease, lifting your shirt up and over your head so his hands can make full contact with your waist, pulling you closer.

“Like two people who care about each other,” he clarifies, voice near a whisper. “I told you, everyone saw the way you ran to my car when it flipped-”

“I was worried about you,” you insist.

The beautiful racer smiles. “Are you finally going to admit you’re hopelessly in love with me, Lil Suh?”

You scoff. “You wish, Jeong Jaehyun.”

Before he can give you a snappy comeback, you grab his face, pressing your mouth to his gently. He has a busted lip, and he groans, fingers tightening on your waist to tug you closer.

Your knees find the bed on either side of his hips, and Jaehyun lets out another moan of pain as you lay him down against the mattress.

“Are you sure we should be fucking while you’re in this condition?” you ask, pressing kisses to his throat.

“We’re not fucking,” he says, applying pressure to your waist that prompts you to grind down against him, feeling the erection in his pants.

“We’re not?” you laugh. “Then what are we doing?”

“Tonight, as cheesy as this sounds,” Jaehyun sighs, “we’re not fucking, we’re making love. And don’t-” he cuts you off before you can speak. “Don’t try to deny it. We both know there’s something here. Something between us. You might still be too afraid to admit it, but I’m not. Not after that crash.”

Who knew a near death experience would make a street racer so sentimental… but you’re not complaining.

You look down at Jaehyun, and he stares back. You’re not sure what to say, so you say nothing, instead, you kiss him again, hoping that the motion speaks louder than words.

You’re doing your best to be gentle with him, but Jaehyun has always brought a side out of you that’s anything but gentle. These soft kisses are nice though, and he takes your breath away as easily as ever.

Your hands are on either side of the bed next to his head, and you’re trying not to lean on his bruised chest. The ice pack is pressed between your bodies, and the cold sensation is interesting in contrast to his hot lips and the hands that prompt your hips to continue your grinding against him.

Even while your lower halves are both clothed, it feels good to be rubbing against him, to feel how hard he gets from just a bit of kissing. He’s right that there’s something going on between the two of you, something undeniable.

You care about him, more than you ever thought you would.

Your hand slips between your bodies and you cup his cock, making him moan. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he whispers, tangling a hand through your hair so he can pull your head slightly to the side, gaining access to your throat.

“I want to take your pants off,” you tell him, already beginning to get frustrated by his jeans.

“Then take them off,” he says simply. “I’m all yours.”

You sit up, gazing down at your brother’s bruised mortal enemy… and then, you begin to work on his belt.

He watches you silently, and when you slip to the floor, tugging his clothes off, he lifts his hips to make it easier.

Usually, things with Jaehyun are somewhat rushed, but tonight, you want to give him all your time and attention. He deserves it - after your brother ran him off the road - and his cock looks so pretty in the shitty motel light.

“You don’t have to-” he begins to tell you, but you cut him off.

“I want to,” your hand finds the base of his cock, and you trace your thumb up the vein that runs along the underside of it. “Just relax for me, Jae. I want this.”

He lets out a shaky breath, but does as you ask, leaning back against the mattress while you bring your mouth to his cock. You start by licking the tip, and your featherlight touch is enough to have him groaning, grabbing at the bed sheets.

He’s so sensitive with you, and you love it.

It makes teasing him all the more fun, and you continue your small motions, wrapping your mouth around the head while you stroke his length. You swirl your tongue, suckling and earning more reactions from the pretty, bruised man, who’s completely at your mercy.

“Please,” he groans, and that’s all you need to sink your mouth further onto his cock, bobbing your head gently.

One of his hands comes down to stroke your hair, and his touch makes you want to please him even more. He’s being as gentle with you as you are with him, and you’re not the one all banged up from a crash.

Your drool is dripping on his length, making it easier to stroke him, and you apply a bit more pressure. Jaehyun gasps, hips twitching, and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of pleasuring him.

Your pussy is throbbing between your legs, and after you’re done working him up like this, you can’t wait to ride him. It’s not often that you’re on top with Jae, but if there’s ever a night for it, it’s tonight.

“So good, baby,” Jaehyun moans. “So good for me.”

His praise has you sucking harder on his cock, and he lets out more sounds of pleasure that go straight to your core.

You continue to work him up with your hand, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can while he struggles below you. He’s gripping the sheets, hard, and you can tell it’s taking a lot of willpower for him not to thrust up and meet you- but Jaehyun’s never been the type for making you choke on his cock, and you realize now that maybe he has cared about you all this time.

As rough as he’s been with you in the past, it’s always been because you were begging for it, and even then, he’s kept a gentleness in his actions-

You do love Jeong Jaehyun, and it’s almost comical that you realize it while your mouth is stuffed full of his cock.

You pull off of him, your hand stroking his shaft while you take a breath. “I need you inside of me,” you tell him.

“No more waiting,” he agrees.

You let go of him, standing up and reaching into your back pocket for a condom before taking off your pants and underwear. “Can you move up the bed a little for me, Jae?”

“Yeah,” he shuffles up the mattress, watching you discard your bra. You’re fully naked for him now, and you straddle his legs, tearing open the condom package and rolling the rubber onto his cock.

Then you lean over Jaehyun, kissing him gently, grabbing him with one hand and guiding him to your core. You sink down slowly, and you moan into each others mouths while he tangles his fingers in your hair, keeping your lips on his.

Actions most definitely speak louder than words, and the kiss is one that has you even more breathless than before. It’s not like any other kisses you’ve shared with the street racer. This one truly means something, and your pussy flutters just thinking about it.

Jaehyun groans, one hand moving to your hip, and you take it as a sign to move. You begin to bounce on him slowly, revelling in the feeling of his cock filling you up just right.

It’s interesting to be on top, to be the one in control, and Jaehyun lets you have free range in your motions. The hand on your hip isn’t insistent, he doesn’t prompt you to go harder or faster-

Maybe the slowness of it, the deliberate movements, are part of what makes this an act of love, not just fucking.

It’s not hard, or fast, or rough, but it’s still making your toes curl as you ride him, your lips locked in a passionate kiss. “Jae,” you groan, thighs beginning to burn-

He reads you like the back of his hand, and in one motion, he’s rolling you onto your back. Jaehyun lets out a small wince, and you immediately double check him, cupping his face while he slides the ice pack onto the bed next to you. “Maybe I should stay on top-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’m okay. It’s my turn to want something.”

“Yeah?” you smile up at him. “And what is it that you want?”

“I want to make you feel good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your throat, his noze nuzzling your skin. “Want to take care of you. Want to make you cum.”

You whimper at his words, gently wrapping your legs around his hips while he begins to thrust into you.

“Put your hands above your head for me, baby,” he instructs.

You follow through, and he captures your wrists against his palm, pinning them to the bed.

For someone who’s just been in a crash, his motions are still quite fluid and rhythmic. His lips continue against your neck, and you gasp when he suckles on your sweet spot.

“If-” you swallow thickly, “If it hurts, let me know.”

“Oh, baby,” Jaehyun smiles against your skin, “Love always hurts. I’m not going to start complaining about it now.”

The word ‘love’ makes you tingle with emotion, and you gasp as he begins to fuck you harder, pressing you against the bed.

“Can you rub your clit for me, baby? Your mouth felt so good, and I don’t think I can last that much longer,” he admits.

He lets go of your wrists and without a word of protest, you slip your hand between your bodies, seeking out your most sensitive spot. You release a loud groan at the contact, pussy clenching around his cock, which earns a moan from the man above you.

“Jae,” you whisper, loving the taste of his name on your lips. “You’re so good to me-”

“You deserve it,” he assures you, a hand coming down to your hip, pinning you exactly where he wants you while you work yourselves closer and closer to the edge.

He’s fucking you harder now, but it still feels like making love, and your free hand reaches to tangle in his hair, pulling him from your throat so you can feel his lips on yours again.

You love the way you’re both moaning freely now, and his sounds only add to your pleasure.

“I’m close,” you tell him, dragging your tongue across his lip and earning a loud groan.

“Me too,” he breathes heavily. “You feel so good-”

“Just what the doctor ordered,” you joke, and Jaehyun lets out a small laugh.

“Exactly,” he agrees. “Sex with the love of your life daily, for a week, think you can handle that?”

“Jae,” you whisper. “I’m the love of your life?”

“I’d like to think so.”

He’s being so soft, so vulnerable, and you wonder how long he’s been thinking about this.

In your relationships, you’ve always been the first one to say ‘I love you,’ the first one to be in your feels- and now you know what it’s like to be on the other side of that. He’s confident in you, confident in your connection, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you too,” you confess, and it feels so right- none of your other love confessions in life have ever felt like this, and you know it must be true.

Jaehyun groans loudly. “I’m gonna cum, baby, you really know how to sweet talk a guy-”

“I’m gonna cum too,” you tell him, gasping against his lips while you rub your clit harder.

“Cum with me, baby,” Jaehyun says softly, kissing you while you both reach your highs.

Your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, and you moan loudly together, tongues dancing while your bodies move fluidly, like they were made to move.

Nothing has ever felt this natural, and your orgasm is all consuming because of it.

Your entire body is tingling with emotion and pleasure, and you can feel that the racer has goosebumps, letting out a small shiver while he fucks you through it.

It’s as if he’s the very air you need to breathe, and you’ve been deprived for so long- there’s a clarity with him, and everything is all the more intense because of it.

Jaehyun groans as you both come down from your highs, and his motions slowly come to a stop, until he’s simply laying on top of you, lips still pressed to your own.

You kiss for a while more, fingers moving away from your clit so you can tangle both hands in his soft hair, keeping him where he is.

“Stay here tonight,” Jaehyun whispers, pulling away from you to look down at your face.

“Stay here?” you repeat.

“Yeah, stay with me. Please.”

You’ve never slept over with him, never passed out after sex in his arms-

“Okay,” you nod.

“I’m just going to get rid of this condom, and then we can cuddle or something,” he says, in a way that’s almost shy.

You watch him, endeared as he disposes the condom and returns to join you, slipping under the covers and holding out his arms expectantly. You move closer, careful about his injured ribs, and you rest your head against his shoulder while he pets your hair.

“I’m going to tell Johnny,” you say.

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, feeling very confident with your decision. “You just told me you think I’m the love of your life, Jae. We’ve already been hiding this for months, and I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“I don’t want to hide either,” he agrees.

“So it’s settled,” you smile. “I’ll tell Johnny, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Jaehyun admits. “I thought about it so many times, but I always figured you’d want to keep it a secret from your brother. That guy has some anger issues.”

“Says the dude that tried to punch him today.”

“After he hit me with his car,” Jaehyun points out.

“You have me there,” you concede with a laugh.

“I love you, Lil Suh,” he says suddenly, and it makes you hold him tighter, tucking your face against his shoulder.

“I love you too…” you put on your Mark’s announcer voice, “the man of the evening, the winner of the last race-”

“I lost the last race,” Jaehyun points out.

“Not to me,” you tell him. “Tonight, I think we’re both winners.”

Jaehyun laughs. “You have me there.”

Johnny stares at you in shock. “Sorry, I must have heard you wrong,” he laughs finally, “it just sounded like you told me you’re dating my arch nemesis.”

“Do I have to say it again?” you sigh.

Your brother’s smile drops. “You can’t be serious, Lil Suh.”

“I am though,” you say firmly. “I’m dating Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to date street racers?” Johnny stands up abruptly. “They die all the time!”

“Not if you stop trying to kill him!” you shoot back. “Jeez, John, you act as if you’ve never had a girlfriend yourself.”

“I don’t date street racers,” Johnny says, refusing to see the parallel.

“You know, all things considered,” you sigh, “you’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

“Hyuck warned me this was going on,” Johnny cocks his head to the side. “Said you were the first person rushing to help Jae after the crash. I guess I’ve been processing it all weekend.”

“So you’re okay with me dating your supposed mortal enemy?”

“I never said I’m okay with it,” Johnny points out. “Look, do I hate the guy? Yes. Is that hate founded on jealousy that he might one day be better than me in a car? Also yes. I just figure, if you’re dating him, you can convince him to get Yuta to change his underlights so they’re not purple anymore.”

“So that’s it?” you ask in shock. “That’s your condition in him dating me? That he changes his light colour?!”

“We all know purple is my aesthetic.”

“Done, I’ll let him know right away.”

“You think he’s actually gonna change the colour?”

“Of course he’s going to change the colour, this guy loves me, Johnny-”

Your brother blinks at you. “He does?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“And you love him?”

You nod again, looking down.

“Then I’m happy for you, Lil Suh.” Johnny reaches out, setting a hand on your shoulder. “Just promise not to bring any Lil Jeong’s into the world anytime soon, yeah?”

You find yourself laughing, shaking your head at your stupid older brother. “I promise.”

“Good, because if he knocked you up, I’d really start to have problems, even if he does change his car colours.” Johnny assesses you. “You remember what mom always said about condoms-”

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Yes, Johnny! We’re being safe! Holy shit- this conversation is so over-”

“I wouldn’t be doing my brotherly duties if I didn’t make you grossed out. Think of me making that condom comment every time you sleep with him.”

You’re quick to rush from the room, yelling back, “That doesn’t make things any better!” But you can’t help the smile on your face- you can’t believe that he’s okay with this, that he didn’t punch a hole through a wall-

You think about what Johnny had said, about the jealousy of another driver who could take him on.

Maybe after all of this, they might even be friends. Or, maybe more likely, you’ve simply watched too many Fast and Furious movies.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! There's just something about this Jae- I had so much fun writing this fic

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🔮 preview. Jaehyun presses one last kiss to your lips, grinning all the while. Then, when he pulls back, he flattens his hand over your mouth. “If you need me to let up,” he says, leaning forward so he can drag his tongue over the shell of your ear, “just lick my hand. Got it baby?” You nod, already enjoying the feeling of being held down with a hand over your mouth. You really can’t believe you’re doing this in your childhood bedroom with your stepmom sleeping just down the hall- But at the same time, if there was ever a man who would convince you to fuck inhibition and do this, it would be Jaehyun. He just has a hold over you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected/raw sex, sex while her mom sleeps down the hall, inklings of impreg/cum/being full kink, hand over her mouth, pussy/cock touching, praise, orgasm countdown, mutual orgasm, dry humping, aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby, angel.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.3k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!reader

bonus

It’s the first time Jaehyun is meeting your extended family, at a summer barbecue, and so far, the conversation has stuck to general things like steak preferences and beef versus chicken. However, as you all take your seats at the long outdoor food table, your stepmom finally addresses your boyfriend.

“So I hear you street race like Johnny,” she muses.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaehyun nods respectfully. “It’s actually how I met your daughter.”

“I guess good things do come out of it then,” your mom sighs, leaning back in her chair, “and please, call me Myoryon or Mama Suh.” She assesses the way Jaehyun sits close to you, his hand holding yours on top of the table. “You two look good together.”

“Thank you, Mama Suh.” Jaehyun smiles softly.

“She looks happy,” your stepmother continues. “I’ve never seen her happy like this.”

“Then I guess I’m doing my job right,” Jaehyun gives your hand a small squeeze and Johnny lets out a puking sound.

“I’m going to lose my appetite,” your stepbrother warns.

“I already have,” Hyuck nods, pushing his food away. “Not that your cooking isn’t amazing, Mama Suh.”

“It’s alright,” your mom assures him. “I understand jealousy can upset anyone’s stomach.”

“Jealousy?!” Hyuck bellows, and Johnny lets out a loud laugh.

“When was the last time you brought a girl over?” Mama Suh questions, smiling softly even while digging into your brother’s best friend.

Hyuck sputters, tongue tied.

“And how about you, Johnny?” She turns her gaze to him. “If I remember correctly, you’ve called a few times about some arch nemesis being a better driver than you- I assume this arch nemesis is Jaehyun.”

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@fairieblog - @fairybr3ad - @peachyjaemin - @chemaistry

@sehunniepot

Thank you to everyone who interacted with the teaser

@axmdocs - @ddeonghwassimp - @nakamotoxsuh

@rum-gone-why - @whenyourenothere - @ficrecnctskz

@theworld-accordingtocasey - @the-universe-in-you-jjh

@jhyunlv - @soonnypeach

#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun nct smut #kpop smut #street racer au #street racer jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun smut

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h4m1lt0ns · 7 months

Text

LOVE HATE — LH°44

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴lewis hamilton x monégasque!ferrari!y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔another day, another bickering contest between everyone’s favourite rivals who we all want to end up together.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ dina denoire.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕cussing, fluff, supernatural references and spoilers.

y/n

♡ liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, 3,201,954 others.

y/n when you forget that monaco is the size of a needle’s eye so u keep running into the mf u hate ﹫lewishamilton

593,203 comments.

lewishamilton 🙄🙄🙄

username these two are unreal 😭

username ﹫mercedesamgf1 ﹫scuderiaferrari THEY’RE FIGHTING AGAIN

lewishamilton you literally could’ve vacationed anywhere else

➜ y/n I LIVE HERE????

➜ lewishamilton so what i’m a registered citizen too 🤨

➜ y/n i’m literally monégasque the rest of you are just tax evaders 🙄🙏

➜ username JDJAIQOKWJDJW

➜ username LMFAOOOOOOO

➜ username CALLED OUT THE WHOLE GRID

username can u two just kiss already like ???

username y/n and her emotional support rival 💔💔💔💔💔💔

username funny they act like this we all know you two can’t live without each other 🥱

username when the enemies to lovers is taking too long in the enemies stage 😐

lewishamilton also would appreciate it if you stop coming to my favourite coffee shop, that’s MY spot 🙏🏾

➜ y/n THE OWNER LITERALLY NAMED THE PLACE AFTER ME ????

➜ lewishamilton damn 🙏🏾 too bad it’s MY favourite place

➜ y/nscoffeehouse it’s okay sir Lewis, we like mercedes too!

➜ y/n blocking all of you

➜ username ALWOSJWA

➜ username they literally can’t escape each other 😭

➜ username oh to have a coffee shop in monaco be name after me

username mom and dad are fighting again what’s new

username how is lewis gonna name y/n as his arch nemesis yet she’s the only person he follows like ???

➜ username no bc make it make sense

charles_leclerc can you two act normal for once

➜ y/n NO HE’S SO ANNOYING

➜ lewishamilton oH SO IM THE ANNOYING ONE NOW

➜ y/n you’ve always been 🙏❤️

➜ lewishamilton oh fuck off

➜ y/n you first 🙄

username they’re in love your honour ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️😍😍😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

username how to fast forward to the part where they’re in love with kids and a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere???

lewishamilton by the way your hair looked ugly

➜ y/n ﹫sebastianvettel LOOK AT THIS

➜ sebastianvettel ﹫lewishamilton I taught you better

➜ lewishamilton ﹫y/n OH SO WERE SNITCHING NOW?

➜ y/n stfu u started

username my parents 😍😍😍😍😍

username lewis is just like me 🤞🏽 however i can admit that i’m in love w y/n

scuderiaferrari this shouldn’t be this entertaining 🍿

➜ mercedesamgf1 real

➜ username EVEN THE ADMINS GAVE UP LOL

lewishamilton

♡ liked by y/n, sebastianvettel and 3,203,103 others.

lewishamilton she actually isn’t that bad when she’s quiet ﹫y/n

933,120 comments.

y/n i told you i’m a nice person you just need to shut the fuck up to find out 😍

➜ lewishamilton there is NO point in being nice to you

➜ sebastianvettel stop you two

➜ sebastianvettel do I need to make you hold hands like little kids again?

➜ y/n no seb :(

➜ lewishamilton …no sry seb

username SEB MADE THEM HOLD HANDS 😭

➜ username expediting the enemies to lovers process for everyone’s mental health i see 😁

➜ username HALLELUJAH WERE GETTING SOMEWHERE

➜ username 💃🏽💃🏽💃🏽💃🏽💃🏽

georgerussell63 they can get along ????

➜ landonorris shocked me too ngl

username now that they’re civil someone quickly make them sign some marriage papers

y/n never going hiking with you again i almost died

➜ lewishamilton lmao bc u scraped ur knee on a rock?

➜ y/n an eagle snached ur hat and almost took the last five hairs you have but do you see me talking abt that??

➜ lewishamilton sorry miss y/l/n 🧎🏾

➜ y/n good to know.

➜ username LAST FIVE HAIRS Y/N IM SCREAMINGGGGGGG

➜ username this interaction is everything.

username CAN THEY KISS ALREADY OMFG

y/n wait where did you go ﹫lewishamilton

➜ lewishamilton in the living room !!!!!

➜ username that’s a slutty amount of exclamation marks sir 🤨

username THEY’RE IN THE SAME HOUSE???

➜ username THEY’RE IN LEWIS’ HOUSE???

➜ username FORCED PROXIMITY ENEMIES TO LOVERS????

username if they don’t end up together i don’t know what i’ll do with myself

username ﹫sebastianvettel set them up or do something bro c’mon

➜ sebastianvettel tried that years ago

➜ username HUUUUUHHHH??!?!,!?!???

➜ username “TRIED” 😭😭😭😭

➜ username BABE WAKE UP NEW LEWY/N LORE DROPPED

➜ username OMFGGGGGG

lewishamilton ﹫y/n where the fuck did you go

➜ y/n u have a nice ass balcony

➜ lewishamilton get ur ass inside bc roscoe is looking for u

➜ y/n 🤨

➜ lewishamilton please come inside, your son looks sad without you because he misses you 🖤

➜ username ROSCOE IS LOOKING FOR HER 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

username “your son” PLS OMFG

username god JUST ADMIT YOURE INLOVE WITH EACH OTHER

username it’s been years i can’t take this torture any longer

username omw to monaco to make these two fall in love

username can you AT LEAST fall in love for roscoe??? like my boy is a child of divorce

username “your son looks sad without you” MY HEART JUST GREW THREE TIMES ITS SIZE 🥲🥲🥲🥲

username roscoe hamilton y/l/n be the matchmaker we need 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

username SEB TRIED TO SET THEM UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

➜ fernandoalo_oficial trust me we all have

➜ username HELLO?????

➜ username THIS IS SO ???????

➜ username OH MY GOD. ALL OF YOU??

➜ fernandoalo_oficial me, seb, jenson, toto, mattia, pretty much the whole grid

➜ username YOURE JOE KING.

➜ username WOAHHHHHH THERE NANDO

➜ username try again bestie nando 🙏🏽❤️

➜ username one more try won’t hurt king alonso

y/n

♡ liked by carlossainz55, sebastianvettel and 4,103,855 others.

y/n learning to tolerate ﹫lewishamilton (who is is decent enough) bc roscoe is the love of my life 🤍🐾

1,294,685 comments.

lewishamilton you finally admit it 😐

➜ y/n i tolerate u for roscoe bc that’s my baby

username he’s actually great y/n 😁 ‼️he’s a (eight) seven time wdc, has great fashion, great music taste, his dog considers you his mom, has probably been in love with you for the past five to seven years, and he’s really fucking hot !! give him a chance 😁🙏🏽❤️

➜ username and he’s a really good person!!

➜ username + cute english accent as well

➜ username his hair is rly nice too!!!!!!

➜ username he also makes music sometimes

➜ username i see we’re all desperate to get these two idiots together

➜ username yes 😔

username ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS ENEMIES TO LOVERSING FINALLY THE SLOW BURN IS OVER 🥹

lewishamilton i’m a joy to be around wdym decent enough

➜ y/n you think you’re a joy ???

➜ lewishamilton i think i’m adorable 😁🙏🏾

➜ y/n wait is that a dean winchester reference

➜ lewishamilton …no.

➜ y/n yOU WATCHED SUPERNATURAL

➜ lewishamilton what was i supposed to do?? you wouldn’t shut up abt it 🙄

username HE 😭 WATCHED 😭 SUPERNATURAL 😭 FOR 😭 HER 😭

username they’re MY old married couple thank you 🤨❤️

username lewis watched supernatural bc y/n wouldn’t stop talking abt it 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

➜ username and he’s making references 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔

➜ username MY PARENTS YOUR HONOUR

username what these bitches have is what i truly want in life, dear god.

username 🕯 manifesting they magically get together 🕯

username they just won’t admit they’re in love huh 😕

username one of you better make a move or i will

scuderiaferrari this has been the most interesting thing to happen this season i want to stay here forever

➜ username LMFAO ADMIN IS SO REAL

➜ username ITS YOUR TURN TO SET THEM UP

➜ username YEAH IT MIGHT WORK

➜ mercedesamgf1 it’s been years we all gave up

➜ username there’s really no hope huh

➜ username shhhhh my delulu says there is

➜ username ur delulu is deluluing

susie_wolff these two 🙄

➜ username even susie has had enough

➜ username mother susie please do something

➜ susie_wolff you think I haven’t tried?

➜ username I’VE OFFICIALLY LOST HOPE.

➜ username OH MY GOD 😭

➜ username the fact that the entire grid has tried to set them up ????

lewishamilton your son misses you btw.

➜ y/n i miss him too.

➜ username roscoe and i are children of divorce.

➜ username we all are.

lewishamilton

♡ liked by y/n, sebastianvettel and 7,294,103 others.

lewishamilton she’s the jo harvelle to my dean winchester

tagged: y/n

1,699,505 comments.

y/n three years of pretending i hate u is enough of a soft launch right ???

➜ username FYM THREE YEARS???

➜ username THREE WHAT NOW.

username LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE GOT THEM 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

pierregasly FINALLY.

mickschumacher THANK GOD I DONT THINK I COULD’VE BEEN ABLE TO SHUT UP FOR ANY LONGER

charles_leclerc the amount of time i’ve been threatened by y/n to stay quite requires compensation 😭 i’m so happy the secret’s finally out

➜ username LMFAOOOOOOO PLS

username HARDEST LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY??????????

username THE I LOVE MY GF MEME???? LEWIS WHO HAVE YOU BECOME.

username the fact that i’m surprised is almost offensive 😀

fernandoalo_oficial about fucking time

landonorris took long enough oh my god

➜ sebastianvettel all you did was watch them try to hide their relationship, be grateful you didn’t witness them deny being in love with each other between 2016 and 2019

➜ landonorris IT WAS WORSE THAN THIS?

➜ sebastianvettel oh boy, you haven’t seen anything

➜ username seb is sick and tired 😭

➜ username no bc 2016-2019 was something else frfr 😭😭😭

username YESSSSSSS OMFG FINALLY

username THREE YEARS??? THEY’VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR THREE YEARS????

➜ username HOW WERE THEY ABLE TO HIDE FOR THREE YEARS

➜ username HOW DID THEY EVEN PULL THIS OFF

username i can FINALLY sleep peacefully at night

lewishamilton wait so is roscoe technically jack or ben??

➜ y/n jack for sure, ben is barely relevant and roscoe is too famous and loved for that

➜ username “ben is barely relevant” i screamed.

➜ username they sold me. i’m watching supernatural tonight.

➜ username NO BC SAME.

username WE ARE NO LONGER CHILDREN OF DIVORCE ‼️‼️‼️😁😁😁😁🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

danielricciardo i would’ve lost my mind trying to remain quite for longer

➜ carlossainz55 I think we can all agree on this one (I too, have been threatened by y/n 😐)

jensonbutton this deserves a literal celebration, we are exhausted.

➜ username I LOVE HOW EVERYONE HAS HAD ENOUGH LMFAO

➜ username RIGHT LIKE THEYRE SO OVER IT LMAO

y/n jo literally had the most unfair death in the whole show ???

➜ lewishamilton can we not be cute FOR ONCE

➜ y/n tbf jo and dean would’ve been endgame

➜ lewishamilton there you go 😍😍😍

username MY PARENTSSSSSSSSS

username YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BREAK UP 🔥🔥🔥🔥

georgerussell63 WE DONT HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS ANYMORE 🥳

username is this … happiness? mercedes and ferrari fans are…. happy?

➜ username i sense a disturbance in the force

➜ username the happiest we’ll be all season LMAO

➜ username REALLLLL LMFAO

y/n you’re all mine 💕

➜ lewishamilton yours 🤞🏾

➜ y/n WAIT I CAN SAY THAT PUBLICLY NOW

➜ y/n GUYS HE’S MY BF 🤍🤍🤍🤍

➜ y/n AND I LOVE HIM 🤍🤍🤍 A LOT

➜ username SHE SAID IT!!! SHE SAID IT!!

username a hard launch for the books ong

username i’ve never been happier to see two people in love in my life

➜ username no literally

username AMENNNNNNNNN

username god i see what you did to other people

mercedesamgf1 toto says congratulations 🥳👏🏽

➜ mercedesamgf1 and that he was sick of his favourite couple hiding their love

➜ username EVERYYYYYYBODY IS TIRED HUH

➜ scuderiaferrari each and every one of us. exhausted. sick even.

➜ username oh y’all’s therapists have therapists 😭

lewishamilton okay stop looking at MY girl guys 🙄

➜ username “MY GIRL” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

➜ username OUR girl lew 🤞🏽

➜ lewishamilton no.

➜ username fym no?? sir she was our gf before she was became yours 😐

➜ lewishamilton well she’s MINE now so 🥰

➜ username okay jealous icon 😁🙏🏽

➜ username the fact he uses emojis so unironically well now bc of y/n is irritating like i can hear him say that lmfao

➜ y/n he may be an old man but that’s MY old man 🥰

➜ username this is everything.

➜ username 😭😭😭😭😭😭

➜ username “MY old man” 💔💔💔💔💔

#f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x y/n #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton smau

2K notes · View notes

stevebabey · 2 years

Text

nine facts, one lie

summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.

Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]

[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny

Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington.

It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington.

From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.

Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.

Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained.

Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity.

Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask.

You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.

It was impossible to pinpoint what about him grated you so much; maybe, it was how he seemed to have girls in and out of his bed like he was playing a game, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Or maybe, it was that even you, invisible and not even on his radar let alone on his list, could see the appeal.

Even better than easy on the eyes, Steve Harrington is one of those guys that makes you understand the word gorgeous.

It doesn’t help that he’s rich as well, with a huge house with a pool and even a swanky car to pick you up in. A complete daydream. Swept away into sheets softer than yours at home, you’d get to spend a night in the arms of the most popular guy in school and if you’re really lucky, he’ll still pretend to know your name the next day.

What had really stuck with you was gossip you’d happened to overhear, head stuck in your locker as you fished around for your books and papers. Tommy H and Steve were 3 lockers over, at Tommy’s locker, and sharing the details of Steve’s latest conquest.

So was she any good? Tommy had been asking. I always assumed nerdy chicks weren’t as good- they practically cream their pants considering no one’s ever kissed em’ before.

Steve had laughed along too. Yeah, man. She was all over me. Had to keep picturing someone hotter though, you know those geeks aren’t the prettie— Your stomach had curdled and you had slammed your locker door louder than needed, just to shut him up. You were sure they both saw you leave.

It drove you insane. And even though Steve likely knew nothing of your existence — didn’t matter you had once been chem partners, nor the fact you shared English class— he was probably as close to an evil nemesis you’d ever get.

Hence the utter betrayal of Robin’s friendship with him.

Originally, when she’d told you over the phone, gleeful and gossipy, that King Steve had just been hired at Scoops Ahoy, the two of you had snickered. It hadn’t been enough to watch him drift from his other asshole friends, something in you burned deliciously hearing he’d fallen from yet another pillar.

It had only gotten better. Robin recounted countless stories where he had flunked out with girls — you’d nearly lost it hearing about her whiteboard, tallying up his ‘hits & misses’ when trying to score a date. It finally seemed Steve Harrington was somehow more of a loser than you.

On the 4th of July, 1985, Starcourt Mall burnt down — and the strangest thing about it all was that Robin suddenly didn’t seem to mind Steve so much.

They were friends. You’d been a little miffed at her quick change of heart as she doused your gossipy mood in an instant, insisting that Steve wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.

Rather reluctantly, your teasing remarks about Steve were brought to a halt as Robin retaliated each time, urging you to give him another chance. And while you agreed to be civil, especially considering you had to see him every time you visited Robin at work. But what could you do? Old habits die hard.

Fact #2: Steve Harrington is trying to be a better person.

Okay, you didn’t know that one, but Steve certainly did.

It means even though Robin had dropped several warnings and a few premature apologies, Steve was prepared to be absolutely lovely when meeting her other best friend (the other being himself, of course). Robin still seemed tense about the two of your meeting — so far you’d specifically come to visit her at Family Video when you knew Steve wasn’t there.

But a few shifts had been swapped around and on her late night Thursday shift where you always came by to keep her company, Robin was readying herself for the collision of her two friends.

Despite all her convincing, she could tell you weren’t sold on the new Steve she claimed to love and you hadn’t come by when he was there, meaning all your experiences to do with Steve were rooted back in his days of assholery.

It didn’t matter to Steve; he loved Robin and he had lots of practice trying to gain the ‘wow, you’re not a douchebag anymore’ gold star. He had this in the bag.

The janky chime of the door buzzer announces the arrival of someone in the store and being the one at the counter while Robin tends to the shelves, Steve’s head pops up, ready to greet.

“Hello! Welcome to Family Video!”

It sounds far too rehearsed, recognizing the customer service voice you put on at your own job. You nearly smile at the cheery greeting, taken aback by Steve’s handsome grin and his floppy hair, messed from the force of his movement. Then you clock yourself and have to fight off an urge to scowl.

Eyes already searching over the aisles for Robin, you’re just wondering if she’ll come save you from this conversation when Steve seems to realise who you must be.

“Oh, you must be y/n.” His easy smile, hands leaning forward onto the counter that separates you, takes you aback.

In your peripheral, you can see Robin spot you and head in the direction — but she doesn’t come quick enough to stop Steve from bungling the whole conversation with his next sentence.

“Robin’s told me a lot about you. I’m Steve,” His tone is friendly and at your silence, he continues. “Steve Harrington.”

Oh my God. He doesn’t even remember you.

Over Steve’s shoulder, you can spy Robin burying her head in her hands and muttering something to herself. Any annoyance you had pushed down springs to the surface. You school your expression as neutral as possible, though you’re sure your brow crinkles in irritation.

“I know.”

Okay, that was meaner than you intended, especially as you recall Robin’s plea to be civil at the very least. You clear your throat, unsure if you can completely hide your distaste for him.

“We were chem partners, freshmen year.” You remind him, attempting a smile. It might be a grimace. “And I was in your English class your senior year.”

Steve seems to realise his mistake, his cheeks turning rosy and his eyes widening almost comically — fuck, way to go, Harrington. All of his pep talks, amping himself up to be so friendly to you and then he goes and ruins it by not remembering you.

It’s embarrassing. Hawkins is a small town and practically everyone knows everyone, with the exception of popular kids who didn’t think they needed to. He winces, frustrated that his past has come back to haunt him yet again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, more sincere than you’re expecting. Well, you’re not expecting an apology at all — the Steve you remembered would’ve laughed it off, claiming that he couldn’t forget a pretty face and trying to brush over the fact he forgot you at all.

“Seriously,” he reaffirms at the hint of surprise on your features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget your face. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I passed that chem class.”

Robin seems to sense your internal battle, baffled by his apology but still irritated by the fact his memory didn’t deem you memorable enough. She also wants to jump on the spot and say ‘told you!’ because the surprise you’d shown means you hadn’t believed her.

A part of her feels bad, knowing the battering Steve’s taken to his head too many times has undoubtedly knocked a few memories loose; but it’s not that they could explain that to you.

“I’m just shelving — want to come sit?” She offers, taking the conversation away from you and Steve. “We watched Highlander today and I could sit and explain the whole plot to you?”

It’s the usual activities you and Robin did when you came to bug her on her shift. You loved listening to Robin talk as she possessed a unique ability to turn a 10-minute retelling into an hour-long debate. Each subplot in the film needed to be discussed, with bad analogies that came out of left field and made you laugh til your sides hurt. It wasn’t a bad Thursday night all around.

Just as you’re about to respond, Steve cuts in and speaks instead.

“Robs, you’ve only got two hours left. It’s a Thursday, you could take off if you wanted? I don’t mind.”

Robs. Somehow the nickname for your best friend coming from Steve is more jarring than the polite offer he’s extended. Steve’s eyes shift back over to you, offering another weak smile and you wonder if this is a continuation of his apology.

“Really?” Robin’s excitement is evident. Bunking off early means you two will sneak a movie and have time to grab some greasy food for an actual hangout. “I mean- are you sure?”

Steve nods sincerely then cracks a grin, shooting a sarcastic smile at Robin. “What think I can’t hold down the fort for a couple hours?”

Robin is already peeling off her Family Video vest, digging under the counter to pull out her school bag. “I don’t think it, Steve. I know it.”

He laughs, meandering his way back to where Robin has left the returns cart and, furiously, you have to admit he’s being awfully nice. Robin nearly trips coming around the counter, her hand grasping your arm tightly to keep herself upright and she beams at you.

“C’mon!” She says, pulling you out the door, the buzzer chiming again as you both leave the store. Once outside, she pauses and you can feel her stare burning into your temple. She doesn’t say it but you can feel the beginning of an i told you so building in her throat.

“Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” She plays clueless but her grin gives her away. She links an arm through yours.

“Don’t say anything.” You say with a scowl, the two of you beginning to stroll down the stairs out the front. The crispness of the night makes you tug her a little closer. “I still don’t like him.”

Fact #3: Steve Harrington still likes to flirt.

In the beginning, the compliments are because Steve really wants you to like him.

He sees more of you with the change of shifts and perhaps, he gleefully thinks, you aren’t completely avoiding him anymore. You’ll come to see Robin in store even if he’s working as well and inadvertently, conversations spring up between the two of you.

The first time he tries to slip in a compliment casually, he’s not entirely sure what reaction he gets. On this day you’re waiting for Robin to finish out back, packing up some of the schoolwork she’d done in the backroom, and to Steve’s delight, you’ve opted to wait up by the counter with him.

You’ve already exchanged an awkward couple hello’s and now silence falls between you. Steve clears his throat and tries to earn his not a douchebag star.

“Did you get a haircut?”

You blink. Without thought, you bring up your hand and run it over the silky strands — cut fresh from yesterday. Surprise sprouts in your chest at the fact he noticed.

“Yeah,” you nod, tucking it behind your ears. “I did.”

“It looks good.” He compliments, pairing it with a genuine smile. “It like,” he gestures with a hand, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Frames your face better. You look nice.”

For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and the simple act of a compliment from an attractive guy makes your lips twitch into a smile. Robin bundles out of the back room before you remember to say something snarky, like What and my hair looked bad before?

Instead, it hangs in the air and when you leave behind Robin, you really consider smiling over your shoulder at him.

But it ruminates; the compliment loops in your mind until your insecurity unstitches it and it warps into something else entirely. His motivation is the question on your mind.

In what world does Steve Harrington flirt with you?

It has to be a joke. He must be making fun of you because that’s exactly what Steve used to do and if he’s not, that means he has changed and you’re suddenly worthy of his attention.

You recall the locker-room talk, his jeering tone and everything about his compliment turns sour.

Somehow, Steve’s worried he’s managed to make it worse.

His compliments dropped here and there — commenting on film choice, saying he likes your sweaters, all it seems to earn him is scowls. Your scrunched nose and heated glare from your distaste either means he’s worse at flirting than he remembers or it’s a painful reminder that still you see him as King Steve.

He’s not — he knows he is not. King Steve wouldn’t have bothered looking at the film you’d picked out, his comment would’ve been on your body not on the clothes you choose, and he certainly wouldn’t have noticed something as trivial as a haircut.

And because Steve is nothing if not a whinger, he tells all this to Dustin when the kid comes in to visit.

“I mean, I know I was bad but,” Steve cut himself off with a scoff, following Dustin through the aisles. Dustin didn’t even look as though he was listening, eyes trained on the shelves intently. “I apologised for not remembering her, like, an actual genuine apology— and that was years ago! I don’t get why she doesn’t like me, man.”

Dustin, who had indeed been listening to the rant of his older friend, promptly stopped and plucked a film off the shelf with a quiet aha!

“Are you even listening to me, Henderson?”

“Yes, Steve.” Dustin spun, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Steve intensely enough to unnerve him. “From what I’ve heard, you were pretty damn bad so I’m not surprised some people hold a grudge!”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you didn’t remember her. Maybe you did something rude in high school and completely forgot about it?”

Steve waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head in disagreement. Without noticing, you had slipped in the store up front, usual conversation struck up with Robin. However, you’d been quickly distracted as you searched the store for Robin’s other half and were baffled to find him following around a child.

“Looking for Steve?” Robin jibed when she noticed your gaze wandering across the store, your attention going with it.

You ignored the jab, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “He wishes. Is he talking to a kid?”

“Who Dustin? Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Robin warned with a roll of her own eyes, shuffling about some stock room records in her hands. “He’s like Steve’s best friend. He was, uh, in the mall fire with us last year.”

The mall fire. Robin doesn’t talk about it at all, a hollow expression taking over her features that freaks you out far too much to push it. Pushing past your surprise, you decide to focus on the other part of her sentence.

“They’re friends?”

As if to prove your point, the two of them head to the front of the store in the middle of a bicker — Steve lags behind a bit, hands waving dramatically as Dustin calls over his shoulder, tone righteous and just a tad smug.

You catch the end of Dustin’s sentence— “Not every girl has to swoon over you, Steve, you know that right? So what if she doesn’t—” cut off when Steve shoves his shoulder, having spotted you.

Dustin looks as though he experiences a ripple of emotions; annoyance, as he whips around, ready to cuss Steve out for the shove, which quickly turns to confusion at the wide-eyed look Steve is staring down at him with. By the time he’s facing you something has clicked as he looks at you with renewed interest.

“Dustin.” He introduces, stepping forward with one hand held out for you to shake. “Dustin Henderson.”

Unwittingly, you peer over his shoulder and connect eyes with Steve — who gives a shrug in response, an awkward smile on his face. Taking Dustin’s smaller hand in your own, you smile and introduce yourself, unable to keep the hint of confusion out of your words.

“I’m Steve’s best friend.” The curly-headed boy explains, gesturing over his shoulder and Steve’s smile gets a little more awkward. He feels a smidge nervous considering there’s no telling what will fall out of Henderson’s mouth next. Steve’s a little relieved when it’s a typical plea for a ride, spinning back round to him.

“Andddd as my best friend, he’ll be totally happy to drive me to the Byers’ right now. Robin can handle the store for 10 minutes without you, can’t ya Robin?”

He slides the tape he’s grabbed onto the counter as he says it, a silent ask to check it out. Likely under Steve’s account which Dustin says it’s for the employee discount — which makes Steve scoff, considering he pays for it anyways.

All eyes move to Robin who freezes at the sudden attention, papers paused mid-shuffle in her twitchy hands. She narrows her eyes at Dustin and you find yourself watching Steve as he has a silent exchange with the girl — another halfhearted shrug that means he’s happy to take him if she doesn’t mind.

Robin swipes the tape and types the details into the computer hastily, waving them both off. “Yeah, yeah. y/n can always get behind the counter, worst-case scenario.”

Dustin fist-pumps, taking the tape back from Robin as she hands it over. He heads to the door and calls out to you as he goes, “And you’d look better than Steve in the vest too!”

It makes you laugh when Steve scowls, sidling up to you to lean over the counter and snatch up his car keys. He pauses, eyes roaming your face and looking as though he wants to say something to you.

“Steve!” Dustin’s voice pierces the glass and you look to see him waiting on the top step, hands raised, expression unimpressed.

Steve sighs, muttering the word dickhead under his breath and then he’s out the door.

Fact #3: You may have misjudged Steve Harrington.

It’s been just over a week since seeing Dustin in the store with Steve and though you’d never admit it aloud, it has shifted the way you see Steve.

A minuscule shift, you huff to yourself, tiny and not enough to completely dissolve your built in dislike for the Harrington boy. But you find the thought worming into your brain frequently, tripping over it in surprise when you realise you’re thinking of him again.

It’s just… it didn’t make sense.

Just like the flirting, it didn’t compute in your brain unless you rationalized it back to some asshole motive.

But Dustin had introduced himself as Steve’s best-friend, which was sort of weird enough on its own but you figured it had to be some insane trauma bonding from the mall fire.

Even if they had been the same age, Dustin didn’t seem like the company you’d expect Steve to keep— but neither was Robin, you thought after a moment of contemplation.

Robin’s knowing grin outside Family Video a couple of weeks ago that screamed i told you so floats up in your memory; you might have to concede she was maybe, potentially, just a little bit right.

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you wait in the kitchen for Steve’s car to pull into your driveway. A couple months ago you would have outright refused to accept a ride from King Steve and you still weren’t sure if you thanked him for his generosity tonight, whether it would come out snarky or genuine.

But he did offer, unasked.

You and Robin wanted to see a rerun screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that was showing a few towns over. Robin couldn’t drive and neither could you, which meant when she’d seen the poster, it had only been a fleeting moment of excitement before you realised you didn’t have any means of travel.

She must have been moping about it at work that day because it was sometime in the evening after she got off work that your phone rang and she nearly shrieked down the line that Steve would take you both.

So, here you were; waiting for Steve to pick you up.

God, even the sentence sounded odd in your head. A flash of amber headlights on the street grabs your attention and before you can delve into the flip of your stomach, you duck out of the house and slip into Steve’s car.

You take the front seat. Mainly because it would be too weird to get in the back, as though he was your chauffeur — though you suppose for tonight, he is. Steve smiles when you get in and you find it easy to mimic it. Gravel crunches as his tires pull away from the curb, gathering speed as he heads for Robin’s house.

Eyes out the window, you don’t see how he steals glances at you every couple of moments. The air feels tinged with awkwardness and Steve swallows, wondering if he’s allowed to break it. You’ve been a little warmer to him — I mean, hell, you just offered him a smile.

As he pulls the car up in front of Robin’s house, engine idling, he pushes out a breath and dredges up his courage.

Yes, in the beginning, the compliments were because he wanted you to not see him and scowl. Tonight, it’s because you look beautiful and he wants you to know it.

“You look—” Oh god, and now you’re looking at him, eyes a little wide before they narrow in suspicion. “—uh, pretty.”

“What?”

“I mean, you always look pretty!” He amends. “But, y’know, you look lovely tonight. Pretty.” Stop talking.

“P-Pretty lovely.” It falls off his tongue in haste, delivered so terribly he’s surprised he doesn’t cringe immediately after. God, it was like whatever flirting skills he had flew out the window with you.

“No, Harrington, I mean— why do you keep saying these things?”

Steve feels utterly lost, shown on his face as he blinks, once, twice, and doesn’t say anything. Your insecurity bubbles up, mixed with anger at the thought he might indeed be messing with you.

“I don’t know if this is funny to you, to- to like, joke that you like my clothes or- or to pretend to think that I’m pretty but it’s not. And I—”

“Woah, wait — who said I was joking?” Incredulity taints each word, his brows pulled high in surprise. Steve’s stomach twists, feeling his heart recoil at the complete seriousness in your words — you think he’s been making fun of you.

“Well, why else would you call me pretty?” You ask pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Because you are?” It’s faint, Steve’s voice suddenly a lot softer.

You’re not sure you can contain the ripple of emotions on your face, his words sticking you in the throat so you have to swallow thickly. It’s like a switch is flipped, each compliment of the last couple of weeks shifting into a new meaning in your mind.

It’s overwhelming and you find yourself searching Steve’s face desperately, drinking in his sincere expression, brows drawn together as he offers a weak smile. Fuck, you think and along with it, dozens of apologies fester and churn — god, you’d been so rude and—

“Um, backseat please!” A sharp knock at your window scares you, nearly jumping out of your skin and breaking your focus on Steve. When you turn, Robin’s standing on the sidewalk, bent at the waist to peer at you through the glass. You stare at her dumbly for a moment til she wiggles her eyebrows with a grin and it makes you crack a smile, finally reeling yourself in enough to move.

Unclipping your belt, you’re rather thankful to be shoved to the back of the car. Hidden in the dark, you shift to take the seat behind Steve. Your eyes spy a sliver of his neck, exposed skin about the collar of his jacket and it fixates you for a moment.

Because you are? Steve’s words follow you, plaguing you in the shadows of the backseat — you purposefully ignore how it makes your heart sing ever-so-slightly.

Fact #4: Bradley O’Connor is not to be trusted.

“Guess who came into my work today?”

It’s said all gleeful, your hands gripping the counter as you nearly launch yourself over it in your excitement. On the other side stands Robin, doodling in her notebook — or she had been, til your arrival had been announced by the door chime, her ‘Welcome to Family Video!’ cut off by your sudden commotion.

“Um,” Robin begins indignantly, brows raised high. “Half of Hawkins? You work at Bradley’s Best Buy y/n, like the whole town shops there.”

Her sarcasm bounces off you, undeterred in your good mood; it was like the sun was shining just for you today. You didn’t even mind Steve obviously listening in on you two, his hands frozen above the keyboard as he eavesdropped from his seat at the computer.

“Yeah, speaking of Bradley’s...” you grinned at Robin, hoping your hint was enough. It was, her expression shifting into something more enthusiastic.

“Bradley Bradley?”

You nod at her question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to contain your giddy grin. But it’s hard when your long-term high school crush Bradley O’Connor came through your till, flirted like there was no tomorrow, and insisted you jot your number on his receipt.

He didn’t even seem to care that you worked at a supermarket. You knew well that he and all his friends lived in the cushy tax bracket which meant the first job they ever worked would be after college. Kids like you and Robin, stuck working hours in dead-end jobs to help pay rent, were often easy pickings for teasing.

It just made you lean into your naive feelings more, swooning at the fact he didn’t care. You had been too elated in your feelings to notice the piles of his friends waiting outside the store; if you had, it might’ve made you more cautionary.

“Bradley O’Connor?” Steve butts in, swiveling in his chair to question you. The way Steve says his name, tinged in disbelief, makes you narrow your eyes.

“Is that so hard to believe?” You say defensively and chose to not acknowledge Robin’s deep sigh. Eyes widening, Steve splutters for a moment as he shakes his head.

“What? No, not like that! I just mean—him? Really?”

You can’t quite pick what’s hiding in his voice, eyes instead following Robin as she whirls around and delivers a glower that makes Steve reconsider his tone, swallowing.

“I mean—” He starts again, clearing his throat, cheeks a titch pink now. “I didn’t realise he was... your type.”

You stare at Steve, your expression skeptical as you try to pull apart whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. When you can’t figure it out in a moment, you ignore the comment and turn back to Robin and ignore it.

“Asked for my number.” You lean closer to Robin, wiggling your brows as you lead her along the excitement you’d felt earlier today. “Insisted on it actually.”

Robin’s brows manage to raise even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline and you’d be a bit offended if her grin didn’t match your own.

“Oh. My. God.” She says, her pen punching down on the pages of her notebook to punctuate each word. “Oh my god.”

You don’t bother trying to hold back your grin, nodding along, some form of a squeal escaping you — it vaguely occurs to you should rein it in with Steve listening in, but you can’t find it in yourself to curb your feelings for his sake.

“Finally!” Robin manages to break her script of oh my god’s. “You’ve only liked him for—what? Two years?”

You flush automatically at the admission, your grin becoming a grimace as you shoot a glare at your best friend. She means well, but you’re not exactly lining up to let Steve Harrington in on all your secrets.

Your eyes flit over to where he sits, still watching the conversation. As if he can read your unease, he mimes turning a lock over his lips and tosses the key behind him blindly in an exaggerated motion. You’re in a good enough mood that it makes you laugh lightly, breaking back into a smile and comforted that at the very least, Steve won’t go ratting out your affections.

“Hey, as happy as I am for you, aren’t you supposed to be helping your Mom today?”

Like a bubble bursting, Robin reminds you that, alas, the world exists outside the perfect moment of exchanging digits over the cash register at work. Your eyes widen, a little horrified as you spin around and squint at the clock on the wall. Shit.

“Shit.” You verbalize the thought and you’re out the door before you remember to call out your goodbyes.

Steve watches you go, your purple wind-breaker flapping behind you wildly as you all but sprint around the corner and out of sight. It’s a bit too comical and he can’t help but chuckle. The sound draws Robin’s attention and all too suddenly, Steve feels as though he’s been caught doing something wrong as she whirls around to face him.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Steve wonders if he’ll have to remind her that despite the jokes they both make, he can’t actually read her mind.

She breaks the silence. “What was that?”

“What was what?” It’s genuine confusion, Steve’s head tilting to the right an inch.

“I didn’t realise he was your type.” Robin mocks, her voice high pitch and hands gesturing somehow sarcastically. “That! What was that?”

Steve frowns, defensiveness creeping up in his tone. “That was nothing!”

Okay, so, that sounded way less casual than he hoped. Steve clears his throat, spinning on his seat to face the computer again. It was nothing. Robin was being a vulture, picking at remains, picking at nothing — absolutely nothing.

“Nothing at all.” He mutters, beginning to type again and Robin snorts behind him, voice still doused in sarcasm.

“Mm, for my own sake, I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re clearly interested in her.”

Steve hits a wrong key in his surprise, an annoyed beep! coming from the computer. It sums up how he’s feeling. He turns his head back to Robin, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “What? No, no way.”

“Yes, way.”

“Robin, no. Even if I did—not that I do but even if I— look, I’m not stupid enough to get a crush on someone who hates me.”

This puts out the fiery retorts for just a moment, Robin dimming as she recalls the bitterness you harbor for Steve. Well, harbored — she knows you back to front and she’s willing to bet money that if you stopped hating him for just a second, you’d probably like the guy.

“She doesn’t know you.” She lands on eventually, features softening as she recalls the bitterness on Steve’s face whenever some idiot from high school dragged up his past — usually, in an attempt to humiliate him.

“Look, I’m not interested in her.” Steve reiterates, though a little weak, waving his hands wildly as if it will help drive the point home. “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. “

The door rattles as it’s opened by a new customer. Robin and Steve both cease their conversation immediately, turning to greet automatically — and who should it be Bradley O’Connor, himself. He doesn’t spare a glance at the front counter, sauntering straight into the action movie aisle.

“In fact,” Steve begins, an idea formulating in his mind. He spins back to Robin with a grin. “I’ll happily help her get her next date.”

“Steve, don’t—“

Steve ignores her protest, sidling out from behind the counter and tracking Bradley down to where the rom-com section starts.

“Welcome to Family Video!” It’s a bit cheery and it makes the boy jump in surprise, surprised by the new voice. Steve continues. “Anything I can help you with today?”

Bradley chuckles stiffly, a little affronted at the enthusiasm Steve’s to help a customer. He clocks the double take he does, the glance down at Steve’s name badge giving away that Bradley’s well aware of who he is. Exhaling, Steve hopes he won’t bring it up.

It looks as though Bradley weighs something up in his head, taking another once over at Steve before he speaks. “Yeah, actually. You know what movies chicks dig?”

Steve can tell in the way Bradley says the word chicks that he’s an asshole. Not thinking of girls as people, more like scores: notches in his belt. It makes him tick, jaw clenching.

But he was like that once. Nancy Wheeler had found a genuine spot in him and coaxed it out. You — you could do the same.

So, Steve says, “Yeah, man. Anyone in particular? Usually depends on the girl, honestly.”

Bradley sniffs, one hand nudging under his nose as he skirts his gaze around the store. He lands on Robin, who thankfully, doesn’t look like she’s trying to eavesdrop at that exact moment.

“Do ya know y/l/n?” He jerks his chin in the direction of Robin. “Buckley’s friend?”

Steve nods, glad at the easy segue; now, all he had to do was talk you up. And Steve Harrington was nothing if not a flatterer. He halts a moment later with a frown, realising what a noncommittal date it was. You deserved better than that, Steve thought.

“y/n? You can’t just rent out a film for a girl like that. She’s a total catch, dude— you gotta do the whole nine yards, yanno? Cinema, popcorn, be a gentleman and all.”

He pairs his suggestion with a usual charming smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Bradley seems to pick up on the extra interest and his brows quirk up.

“You got like, a thing for her or something?”

His pink cheeks nearly give him away. Steve, to his credit, manages to not blunder his next response. It’s almost like Robin’s line of fire earlier prepped him for this moment.

“Nah,” he replies, coolly. “She’s just a friend.”

The next words are a little less casual, Steve straightening up as a surprising amount of protectiveness curls in his gut. “And as her friend, I’m just looking out for her.”

Bradley swallows, breaking eye-contact as if Steve could puzzle out his ill intentions if he looked long enough.

“So, be nice and take her out all proper.” Steve lets it sit in the air for a moment, then smiles, a polite way that’s well practiced in his line of work. “Can I get anything else for you?”

It might be the quickest customer Robin’s ever checked out, with Bradley managing to get the film rented and be out the door in under 2 minutes.

Thankfully, Robin is chuckling when he wanders back behind the counter. He had been harboring a thread of anxiety, worried he had really overstepped by thinking he knew best — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. On top of that, Steve really doesn’t want this to bite him in the ass, especially considering it was to help you.

“Don’t—” Robin starts, a smile curling her lips. “—let this go to your head, but that wasn’t nearly half bad.”

Steve tries not to feel smug, settling instead on pleasantly content. He was in your good books after this, for sure.

When you call the store from home, wire twisted in your fingers and talking loud enough in your excitement that Steve could hear it from beside Robin, she makes sure to mention the good word he put in for you.

Fact #5: If you call Steve Harrington from a pay-phone on a Friday night, he’ll pick up.

The bleak cold of the night air isn’t anything compared to the shame that’s building in your chest. You’re trying your best to ignore it, to not give in to your anxious doubts — what did Bradley say on the phone?

It was supposed to be a movie night at his place — that was what he’d suggested when he toyed with your feelings at work, a handsome smirk on his face. You’d tried not to sound disgruntled at the hurried change in plans, instead trying to lean into your excitement that tonight went from casual to a definite date.

Bradley O’Connor didn’t just invite anyone to the movies with him. And he’d said 7 on the phone, you huffed to yourself.

7 o’clock. The showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that was playing at Hawk cinema. Though, he did sound a bit distracted on the phone, his voice sounding distant.

You glance at the clock above the ticket booth. 7.13pm.

Heaving a sigh, you tuck your coat closer around yourself and wonder how long you should wait before it goes from sad to truly pathetic.

Five more minutes, you think, Give him five more minutes.

Because you hopelessly want his flirts, his coy smile, and charming winks to be real; you want to be swept up in a teenage daydream and have it all work out for you for once.

You swallow, picking at your fingers as you dredge up your hopes, convincing yourself he’s coming — because if he doesn’t...it means Steve and his confused tone were fucking right. That Bradley wasn’t the type to go for your type.

You shouldn’t have waited the five extra minutes.

Technically, you think bitterly, you were right. Bradley does show up.

You’re stepping out, wondering if you should brave the walk home in the dark — but a familiar group of raucous boys in Letterman jackets heading for the cinema freeze you in your tracks.

“Holy shit, she actually came.”

It’s not said kind, not in awed disbelief as you’d hoped. It’s cruel — jeering explodes in the group of boys, unkind laughs and snickers resounding off the bricks as they smack each other, all in on the joke. The realisation sinks into your stomach, staining it black.

Bradley looks smugly satisfied — a pompous conceited piece of shit that you should’ve known better than to believe.

You don’t even want to look at him, a hot sting of tears burning behind your eyes. You don’t want to give him a chance to taunt you. Your feet take you forward, barging through the group and smacking your shoulder against Bradley’s shoulder, hard. You hope it hurts.

“Tell Harrington thanks for the suggestion to take you to the movies!” He calls after you like he knows how it rubs salt into the wound. It does; it stings maybe more than the initial humiliation. “Guess he’s not an idiot all of the time!”

The boys laugh, a series of oohs that finally break your floodgate. Tears streak, hot and fast, and you brush them off before they reach your chin, sniffling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The humiliation is coating you, sticky and clinging like a fog and you squeeze your eyes closed as you inhale quickly. You round the corner fast, feet not stopping til you’re at least four blocks from the cinema, further downtown.

You feel dumb. Scratch that, you feel like a fucking idiot.

A stray tear escapes without permission and the next thought is that you want to go home. Blurry eyes scanning the street, you clock the phone booth and head for it, fueled by the urgency of your thoughts: get home, then fall apart.

The glass is cold as you push the door open, creaking and weathered. You close the door and turn, staring at the phone. Who do you call?

Your mom is the first thought. She’d driven you in — though, you’d told her you’d get a lift home with Bradley since he had a car. You’re not up for the coddling you’ll get when she sees the state of you in the slightest. Besides, she’d mentioned heading to a friends for the evening.

Robin is the next thought. And you would, except she can’t drive so all she’d do is ply you with a combination of questions and furious insults directed at Bradley.

Your next thought...No.

You sigh, leaning your head against the glass, not caring about how grimy it might be, and smack your head against it a couple of times. No, no way were you about to call Steve Harrington for a lift.

Not when he fucking set you up. Not when he’d just taken the shred of trust you’d granted him and torn it up immediately. Especially not after crying because you believed a date like that with a guy like Bradley O’Connor was genuine.

You were not calling Steve.

The Harrington household number is easy to find in the paper phone book.

It’s under Steve’s father’s name, some prick with big money who’d likely report you to the police for harassment if he picked up the phone. You stare at it and then at the phone, a frown set on your brow as you weigh it up.

Steve didn’t work Friday night — you know, because it used to be a night to go visit Robin, back when you avoided Steve.

A stray thought floats up, bringing back the words of Robin on the phone as she had celebrated the news. It’s a bitter memory now, made entirely worse as you recall what she had said. Steve talked you up, her voice crackled down the wire, when O’Connor came in. Put in a good word for you.

A new emotion surges in your chest and you’re relieved to shrug off some humiliation for anger. God, you feel even more stupid for thinking Steve would’ve actually talked you up.

As you punch in the number, the keypad taking a bit of a beating, you huff and think at the very least, he can owe you a ride for ruining your evening.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”

“Harrington.” You spit it out with venom. On the other side of the phone, Steve recoils a bit, surprised at the tone.

“y/n? I thought you were—”

“I’m on Cavendish Boulevard, right by Tony’s. Come pick me up.” It’s fierce and clipped. You don’t really want to unleash your anger on the phone, lest he leaves you stranded and you have to ring around your mother’s friends just to find her. You just want to go home.

Steve makes a noise of confusion over the phone, a bit slow on the uptake. “But I thought tonight was—”

“Harrington.” you say again, a little softer, your emotions leaking into your voice involuntarily. Fuck, you sound pathetic but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care. You plead, “Please.”

“I’m coming,” He says, voice indicating he’s caught on to why you might be calling. “Yeah, I’m coming, just sit tight.”

Fact #6: When Steve Harrington says he ‘knows a spot’, he doesn’t always mean Skull Rock.

You’re angry.

That much Steve can tell. Steve’s reminded too much of the last ride he gave you when you pop the door, sliding almost uncomfortably into the passenger seat and turning your clenched jaw towards the window.

Unrest torments Steve’s head, unsure if he’s gained enough trust to ask what went wrong this evening. On the other hand, you had called him. At the very least, you trusted him to come and get you.

The tires groan as he drives out of Tony’s parking lot, the hood of the car dipping to the gutter and rolling out onto the quiet roads.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Steve drives slow so his eyes can flick over to you, watching the way you smooth your hands down your thighs, a self-soothing motion. It makes his chest twinge, a tad more worry than he’s probably warranted to considering you are barely friends. If that.

“Depends.” you finally turn to face him, a pinch in your eyebrows. “What did you say to Bradley?”

Steve detects the cynicism of your question in a heartbeat. Even though he knows he was all charm, Robin even affirmed it, he still rehashes the conversation, scrutinizing it for what he had said wrong.

You take his silence as admittance. Scoffing lightly, you focus back out the window, eyes boring into the streets. You’re in the middle of a mutter, something like I was so right about you when Steve manages to find his voice.

“I—” Shyness has crept up inside, Steve suddenly worried you’ll find his comments odd and not endearing. Worse, you’ll think he’s being in-genuine again. You’re just quiet, waiting. “I told him that he should take you to the cinema, instead of just renting a film. That you deserved a better— a proper date.”

He shoots a look in your direction, trying to see how you take in the words. Your shoulders have bunched up stiffly, your body turning further away but he can still see the furrow in your brow, angry emotions emitting out in every direction from you — you don’t believe him.

“I swear,” He continues, more desperate to prove himself. “I said something about— that you were a catch and- and you can ask Robin, I swear to—”

“Steve, stop.”

Horror churns through his gut when Steve realises you’re crying, soft tears dripping off your cheeks. As if you can sense he’s about to talk again, ready to rattle off his insistence, you speak before him.

“If I believe you,” you inhale shakily, pushing your palms into your eyes hard. You don’t want to cry in front of Steve. “If you’re telling the truth, then that means...”

Your teeth chew on your lip, hiding its quiver as you relive the humiliation of earlier all over again. “It means, I was actually stupid enough to believe him.”

Painfully, Steve can feel the embarrassment rolling off you in waves as you bury your face away. He swears under his breath. He’d detected asshole from Bradley two words in but this? This was not even in the ballpark of what he’d considered happening tonight. How fucking childish to ask someone out as a joke.

You seem to be slipping into a ramble, uncaring that you’re pouring your feelings out to Steve — Steve who you hate, or at least you did. Steve who you were ready to verbally pummel a minute ago. Steve who is looking at you so gingerly that you might consider he actually cares about you.

“He- all his friends were there.” You admit, words wobbling and tone revealing your utter mortification. “It was just a big fucking joke.”

For a minute, the car is silent; you stare at the road and watch it get swallowed beneath the car.

“I’m— I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve starts again, feeling like he’s managed to take one step forward and fifteen backward with you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I had no idea he would do that, I swear, I wouldn’t have—“

He cuts himself off, apparently out of words to say, or taking your silence as a cue to shut up. His apology sits in the silence and you know now, he means it. Bradley’s smugness compared to Steve’s sincerity leaves no contest; you’d been too in your own head to realise you’d muddled them up.

You’re faintly aware that Steve has been driving absently, guzzling up gas so you can have a moment suspended away from reality. But he seems to grip the wheel tighter, with more purpose, and instead of looping the block again, Steve picks a route.

You wipe under your eyes again, sniffling through your clogged throat. “Where are we going?”

Steve adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, throwing a glance at you.

“Where I go when I’m upset.”

A snarky retort rises in your mind on instinct, the hurt part that wants to lash out, make someone hurt like you’re hurting. You think about saying something like what does rich, popular Steve Harrington get upset about? when he says, “Helped me a lot after the, uh, the mall fire.”

You swallow the words on your tongue and guilt stains your throat.

It’s a short drive; Steve drives so comfortably that you question how many times he’s traced this route. Too plagued by horrid memories, forced into his car and driving until he’s tired enough to sleep without nightmares.

You can’t say you’re expecting the stretch of road that crawls out to Skull Rock. For a moment you regard him, wondering if he’s daft enough to try to get lucky right now. But the car veers off track, driving down a less traveled path.

He doesn’t stop til you’re surrounded by timber trunks — there’s not much room to open your door when Steve puts the car into park.

Normally, you make a witty comment — “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right? I can’t see how that would make me feel any better.” — but you bite your tongue. You feel too downbeat to be witty now.

Steve rounds the car and pops the trunk, leaning over it with one hand still gripping the top. He rummages for a moment, moving junk around til he pulls out a couple of items: a baseball bat, some bag that clinks noisily, and a few other items, stuffed quickly into the bag. He tucks the baseball bat under his arm.

“C’mon,” he murmurs and waves you to follow him, after shutting the trunk and locking the car. Again, you’re eerily aware that this route is well-familiar to Steve. You stumble to keep up, eyes on your feet so you don’t get a face full of dirt.

Eventually, the trees give way to a clearing littered with various junk, glittering broken glass all around making Steve tell you to watch where you step.

He makes his way towards a rotten tree trump in the centre of the clearing, poorly cut and barely a flat surface on it. Still, Steve digs around in the bag and fishes out an empty beer bottle. You think you can guess where he’s going with this.

Carefully, he manages to balance it on a slanted surface and as expected, he draws the bat out from under his arm and offers it to you.

The wood is warm from being pressed against his side and you curl your fingers around it, sapping it into your hands. He digs around in the bag for another moment, revealing a pair of safety glasses — damn, he’s really prepared.

Steve unfolds them and steps closer, offering them out to you — but you don’t remove your hands from the bat, instead jutting out your chin to indicate for him to put them on for you.

It makes him pause. Steve regards you for a moment, eyes unsure before he steps even closer.

It steals your breath, the intensity of his gaze as he pushes the glasses up your nose, his fingers tracing along the rims and down the arms of the glasses, tucking any stray hair behind your ears. It’s oddly intimate, watching him through the plastic, his expression focused, breath fanning over your face. He looks handsome — the shadows cutting his jawline nicely and you can smell his cologne when he’s this close.

When he steps back, you have to remind yourself to breathe — the scent of him still swirls in your chest.

Even though you know what he’s brought you here for — the bottle, the bat, the open junkyard already doused in broken litter — you still don’t make a move.

Steve gestures to the bottle. “Hit it. Hard as you can.”

It’s a soft instruction; you know if you wanted, you could turn around and he’d drive you all the way home, no questions asked. But then you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrows, wallowing in a pint of ice-cream and sniffling over the phone to Robin.

You turn to face the bottle, lifting the bat, and readying your grip.

Holy shit, she actually came.

The bat connects fast with the bottle, a loud crash pistoling off and filling the clearing — the brown glass dissolves into the night, pieces are thrown in every direction and you’re suddenly very grateful for the safety glasses.

You heave in a breath, surprised by how that felt. It’s thrilling. You whip around to look at Steve and choke on a laugh at what you see — he’s put on a ridiculous pair of sunglasses.

They’re not at all the usual stylish ones he’s worn to parties before. It’s likely didn’t want that pair damaged but still needed to protect his eyes. Instead, these pair look like women’s sunglasses, with big wide round frames. It’s a bizarre sight, Steve Harrington is women’s sunglasses, at night-time no less.

“Nice glasses.” The tease falls off your lips instinctively, a laugh contained in the words.

Back to poking fun at him — a definite sign you’re feeling better. He sighs, playing it up, popping his hip, and planting his hands on his sides.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. “Be thankful I gave you the cool ones. Normally, it’s just me up here anyways.”

It’s somewhat of a lie. He’d bought two pairs of the safety glasses, one for Robin as well, but she hadn’t liked the loud noises of broken glass when he brought her with him.

But Steve thought the stupid oversized glasses his mom had tried to dump — he was going to offer them to Robin but it had slipped his mind — would be a better choice. You wouldn’t be thinking about fucking O’Connor if he’s in women’s sunglasses.

It’s surprisingly effective; a giggle titters out of you again and you cover your mouth as if it’ll help hide the sound. You’re a bit bewildered at how easy it feels to laugh so soon.

Steve pushes the glasses up onto the top of his head, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he narrows his eyes at you. His smile gives him away. He bends and roots through the bag, finding another bottle for you to smash. The sunnies slip back down to cover his eyes as he sets up the next one.

It wobbles precariously on the stump but you don’t wait for it to settle, baseball bat swinging and shattering it in a second.

“Fuck!” You scream and the curse is swallowed up in the splintering sound of glass. Steve whoops, looking almost like a suburban mom, cheering from the sidelines. The scream helped — hell, swinging with all your might and channeling your rage into demolishing a bottle was definitely helping. You don’t feel upset, you feel enraged.

The stump isn’t empty for long, Steve dutifully scoops up another bottle and places it out for you. He pauses, sunglasses back in his hair, and points at the bottle as he fixes you with a determined look.

“This one’s O’Connor.”

You meet his eyes, his brows knitted together and an expression that says he wants you to destroy it because he’s angry with you — angry for you. He steps back.

When you hit it, an earsplitting crack thunders out. The bottle fractures, fragments careening off in every direction. A wild grin sweeps across your face, knowing that whatever comes at school next week— whether Bradley went back to ignoring your existence or used tonight as fuel for taunting — you could just picture how you felt as you shattered that bottle.

“That felt good.” You breathe out, turning back to Steve. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, sinking in to stop from grinning like a lunatic. A delirious laugh wrestles itself out of your chest and you let your head drop back, eyes turning up at the inky sky, laughs petering out.

Steve tries to ignore how the sound lights up his chest like a Christmas tree, some part of him burning with glee with the knowledge you’re feeling better because of something he did.

He watches your gaze rove across the sky, searching for something he doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he should dig out the next bottle or whether this was it — that now, he’d take you home now and he’d be back to just a brief hint of a smile from you if that.

Head dropping forward, you offer back the baseball bat and Steve’s heart sinks.

Reining in his dejection so it doesn’t show, Steve takes it from you and pulls a polite smile; at the very least, he’ll get some credit with Robin for cheering up her best friend.

As he moves to tuck it under his arm, he freezes at your own motions. You’re bending down, rummaging through the bag, and scoring a bottle — this time, a big champagne bottle, left on the bench from the last time his parents had been home. Four? No, five days ago.

You plant it on the stump, hands hovering around it as it quivers for a moment, only dropping them when the bottle finally settles. You step back, look at him and Steve finally understands what you’re doing.

Surprise sprouts in his chest, his lips parting. You’re giving him a turn?

“Well?”

He’s been gawking a bit, he realises and Steve remembers to close his mouth. He shifts the bat out from under his arm and then pulls the sunglasses off his head. He offers them to you, with a nod.

“Swap. I’ll miss the bottle completely with these on.”

“But that’ll make me laugh.” You point out, tone cheeky as you pass them over regardless.

Steve slides them on, a dramatic eye-roll as he steps up to swing. He’s usually only here when his anger is feeling uncontrollable, like hot lava boiling over and burning him from the inside out. He’s calmer tonight, with no emotions running rampant — well, maybe not any bad ones at least.

He scrounges his brain to think of what’s annoyed him this week; Keith, as always. The champagne bottle on the stump, the only bitter evidence his parents had been home in the last week. The agonizing wobble in your voice as you’d cried in the passenger seat of his car.

There’s a familiar burn in his muscles when he swings, another bottle sacrificed to anger and destined to a life scattered in the dirt. You whoop loudly, just as he had, and Steve can understand why you’d laughed at the sight of him in those sunglasses. They’re huge and you look nearly bug-like, shiny round domes of black staring back at him.

“Nice glasses.” He grins cheekily, a copy of your own words. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know you’re rolling them at him.

The bat and safety glasses get passed between you two, equal turns until the bottles run out. Steve’s only sorry he didn’t bring more, drinking in the giddy and wild grin that overcomes your face when another bottle meets its fate.

When you pack it in and stumble back to his car, Steve revels in the closeness you seemed to have gained. No longer three steps behind, your shoulders brush his on the walk and when you stumble over a root, your hand shoots out and grips his arm, steadying yourself. You hold it for a moment longer than you should.

The skin of your hand still tingles as you slide into the passenger seat. The air of the car is more comfortable now, cozy even, as Steve cranks the heat and the trees pass you in a blur as you drive out. Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart is warbling on the radio, the volume turned low and you can’t help but stare at him.

You were so wrong about him.

You were so astronomically wrong about him; it’s the only thing you can think of as you drive home, amber streetlights illuminating the streets of Hawkins. The clock on the dash reads 9.57pm — meaning you’ve been with Steve for nearly two hours. The fact nearly draws an awed sort of laugh, but you press it down til it’s only a smile, hidden as you turn back to the window.

He drops you off by 10.14pm, insisting on buying you a milkshake to complete the night.

Honest, I get one after every time I smash shit. It’s hard work you just did! He’d said as he ordered. One chocolate shake for you, one vanilla, for him. You gotta, like, replace electrolytes and all. The fact you don’t think he’s said it to make you laugh, makes you laugh even harder.

The milkshakes sustain the silence on the final drive home and you quickly understand immediately the importance of the shake. After all the frustration, the sugar is near soothing as the cold sweet dances on your tongue.

The engine idles as Steve brings the car to a halt by the curb outside your house. You eye it, astonished by your reluctance to end the evening and you wonder if Steve can tell.

You don’t know if you want him to notice it or not; reading into your hesitancy feels like a whole new can of worms. The porch light is on, waiting for you.

Home. What you’ve been yearning for since 7.15pm this evening — finally, the roller-coaster of emotions has wrung you out and tiredness seeps into your bones. But you can’t leave without a goodbye. Not without telling Steve what tonight meant to you.

“Thank you.”

You don’t mean to murmur it, but it’s nearly a whisper as you take your eyes off the house to turn to Steve in the driver’s seat.

Steve somehow manages to soften more at the quiet words, an easy smile pulling on his lips. He nods. It means of course like you don’t even have to thank him for it. The car purrs beneath you, filling the silence with a quiet rumble.

You want to say it again, louder because it’s not just a thank-you — it’s thank you, I’m sorry, I was wrong about you, can we start over? I hated you for the longest time but do you ever think you could like me?

The last thought punches a breath out of you and it sets you in motion. You couldn’t be having those thoughts; not with the tension in the air, his closeness so enticing now you’ve tasted it once. You couldn’t be having those thoughts at all.

You’re on the sidewalk, about to close the door before you remember to squeak out a ‘goodnight!’. The walk to your door is short enough that you shouldn’t feel the cold of the night — besides, you’re too warm inside, emotions churning wildly to notice anyways.

It doesn’t help when you reach the porch and peek over your shoulder, the maroon BMW still waiting by the curb, amber headlights shining, for you to make it inside okay.

Fact #7: You’re way too wasted right now.

You’d started with vodka and that had been, what? An hour ago.

An hour ago when O’Connor had made his entrance with his buddies, stupid cheers erupted from the crowd of high schoolers that were stupid enough to worship the likes of him.

Or maybe, you’re the stupid one for hoping you wouldn’t see him tonight.

But if the open invite to Melody Carter’s house for a late-night Saturday party meant the likes of you and Robin could come, of fucking course O’Connor would be there.

You had been only planning on one more drink, the one you’d been pouring when O’Connor showed face, but his smirk across the room had you finishing it instantly. It burned as you swallowed it down, your hands already moving to pour more liquor into your cup.

Two more shots down of — what was it? The label tells you it’s tequila — and you’re thoroughly drunk. Which, honestly, might not be a great move considering the number of people at this party. There are a lot of people here.

What had started as a party for only the senior year had quickly snowballed, kids older and younger showing up. Hell, you were pretty sure you’d seen Aaron Bright pass through the front door, a boy two years out of high school.

Did that mean Steve was coming?

Oh-kay, that had to be the tequila speaking.

But once the thought is in your head, it spins out, unstoppable, careening and building up your hopes before you remember to crush them. You weren’t hanging out to see Steve; quite the opposite in fact.

The bottle-smashing adventure you’d shared with him had been just over a week ago and maybe your thoughts had strayed to him a couple of times. A couple of times might be putting it lightly.

You just— you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Without the shield of ‘Steve Harrington is a douchebag’ to give a reason for your scowls, you had to admit he was utterly charming.

You couldn’t tell if it was the shift in your own perception or if Steve really was this nice, each sentence flirty or teasing — either way, it meant you were as good as reduced to blundering through any interaction with him.

So, naturally, you’d resorted to avoiding Family Video instead, which, hey, might not have been your best idea.

Robin had tracked you down after you didn’t show up to two of her evening shifts to hang. Gossip flowed as you divulged her in your Friday night, the prank O’Connor had pulled, and the subsequent tears that had followed. With a guilty smile, you let Robin get wrapped up in her anger and forgive your absences — too distracted to even ask how you’d gotten home.

Technically, you hadn’t lied. You had just... omitted certain facts.

Besides, you were feeling confused enough about Steve all on your own. You had no doubt that adding Robin, the mutual best friend between you two, and her opinion would make it all the messier.

Or maybe she’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Something in your head whispers, the tequila burning a little fouler in your stomach. That you can’t have him. That she knows him and he would never want you.

For good measure, you chase down one more shot.

And that’s how Steve finds you — wasted out in the back garden of a party.

Robin had invited him, halfheartedly during one of their shifts. Honestly, a high school party had very little appeal to him — most parties had no appeal after the events that had transpired in the last couple of years.

But Robin had been a bit adamant as she realised he didn’t have a date lined up like he usually did. He’d winced as she connected the dots, counting on her fingers that it had been nearly two months since he’d used his weekend for social plans. That is, excluding hanging with Robin.

The fact he stopped going on dates round bout the same time you stopped completely ignoring him was completely unrelated. But Steve was glad Robin didn’t notice the coincidence, so she couldn’t grill him about it.

In fact, she was surprisingly mute over his sudden agreement when Robin purposefully mentioned you’d be there. Her twinkling eyes said she knew more than she’d let on.

And at first, it seemed like a colossal mistake to come.

Steve didn’t like alcohol like he used to. The last few years had birthed something in him that hated not being in control of his body, especially when dark corners seem to hold something more sinister, or the lights flickered.

Or maybe it was the fact he hasn’t really been to a party since Halloween ‘84. Steve shoves the memory of that night down, away.

He lasts two minutes in the crowded main room before he’s shouldering out, hoping the garden will provide some relief. It brings lungfuls of fresh air, the natural blanket of the night and you.

You’re fairly certain you came out here to fight the spinning in your head, desperate for fresh air but now, sprawled out on the cool grass, you’re completely distracted by staring up at the sky. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for, gazing into the stars.

A head pops into your vision, Steve’s hair flopping over as he peers down at you. “y/n?”

“Steve!”

Whatever he was expecting, it was not the unbridled glee in your voice. You squirm happily, like a slug in the rain, and if your slurring hadn’t given you away, it’s evidence of how drunk you are. It doesn’t matter that something in his head says she’s drunk, he still finds himself smiling.

“That’s me.” He scans the garden for Robin, assuming the two of you would be together. Concern laces his next words. “Why ya out here on the grass, sweetheart?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s not sure what it is he’s said, but he’s never seen a reaction like this out of you before; your hands cover your face, giggles slipping loosely out as if you’re hiding a secret.

Sweetheart. You hide the flame in your face behind your hands. There’s nothing to be done for your giggles, loud and drunken, not stopping no matter how much you will yourself. The pet-name brands itself onto your heart, the heat of it racing under your skin.

Steve tries again. “Where’s Robin? I thought you two came together.”

“We did.” You remove your hands to reveal your wide-eyed expression as if just remembering the fact yourself. Man, that must have been ages ago. “She was talking to... to...”

“Vickie?” Steve supplies, with an amused smile.

“Yes!” You snap your fingers at him, expression showing a little bit of disbelief mixed with awe. It shows in your words. “How did you know that, Steve?”

Steve. Not Harrington. You’ve called him by his name twice and Steve’s a little embarrassed by how much he likes it. Likes the sound of his name in your mouth, on your lips.

He shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to get rid of the thought, mind stuck on your lips too long. Stay focused, Steve chides himself. Extending out a hand, he offers it to you with the intent to have both of you track down Robin.

Though, if you’d last seen her with Vickie, there’s a chance Robin would bite his head off for interrupting the two of them. Vickie, apparently, had a hard time believing the fact Steve and Robin’s relationship was entirely platonic in nature. Tracking her down at a party might not help.

He’s pulled out of the tangent of thoughts when you slap your hand into his — and tug.

Steve topples, immediately grateful for his lack of alcohol because, with any less coordination, you’d be squished beneath him. A hand plants on either side of your head, catching himself just above you. You grin, alcohol on your breath and Steve isn’t completely sure whether he’s imagining the pink on your cheeks.

“Uh,” Steve says, before scrambling off you hastily. He wasn’t sure if he could be so close to you without his face growing warm; or worse, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Though spying your amused expression, as if you’d known the closeness would make him blush, maybe Steve didn’t need to be worried.

“S’just,” you say, words a bit mumbled. “s’lay down on the grass. Y’know, look at the stars.”

You point up at the sky in case Steve didn’t understand. The grass is still cool under your back and your head isn’t spinning so much but you don’t really feel like moving. Something in you knows that your limbs will feel like cinder-blocks and movement will send your head back into a tizzy.

Without thinking, your push your lips into a pout and aim it at him. Steve flops down without argument.

“You didn’t tell me why you ended out here,” says Steve, wanting to keep you talking. He’s not entirely confident you won’t just fall asleep if the two of you lapse into silence.

You swing your neck, head lolling to the side to look at Steve. Eyes narrowed, it’s like you’re trying to see if he’s genuinely asking. Whatever you find in your search must satisfy you, because you speak, rolling your head back to peer upwards.

“O’Connor’s here.” You say, bitterness in your tone. “Then my head started spinnin’.”

Steve watches as you tilt your head back towards him, pulling a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “S’now I’m here.”

You’re not sure what convinces you to do what you do next.

Perhaps, it’s because Steve’s expression is tilting too close to pity and you don’t want it; or that you feel lonely enough that you’ll take touch whenever you can, brave enough with the alcohol in your blood to ask.

Or maybe, you just want an excuse to touch him.

“Gimme your hand.” With a gesture of your own, you hold your hand up like you might be asking for a high-five. It wavers, fingers quivering if he looked close enough. After a moment of confusion, Steve humours you.

You feel the callouses first, rough skin scratching against yours as Steve gingerly holds his hand out, letting your press your own against it. It’s warm, warmer than your own and you wish you could twist your fingers until they slotted in with his.

Don’t says a voice in your head, drowned out in the drunkenness. Don’t do this to yourself. Maybe, it’s the voice of reason. It seems you’re very good at building yourself up just to get torn back down.

Hand pressed to hand, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that; you want to touch him, so you ask, and he gives it to you. The alcohol makes it black and white.

You hated him. You did, but now it’s all garbled and wonky and different — and you don’t hate him at all. Not anymore. Every complication you had worked up, all the knots tied in your brain seem to dissolve; hand to hand, it’s easy to admit what you’d been denying to yourself.

“I used to hate you, y’know.”

Steve’s not sure if this will ever get easier to hear. That people he’s grown close to carry reminders, unshakeable memories, of an old ego that still haunts him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He knows you know he’s sorry, that he’s different now. So, he weakly says. “Used to?”

“Yeah.” A smile finds your lips, tugging them up slightly. Steve thinks he could marvel forever at how your lashes kiss in the corner when you smile. It’s aching. “Used to.”

“S’kinda hard to hate you,” you sigh, eyes turning skyward. “I should. You didn’t even remember me a couple months s’ago,”

Steve focuses on your hand against his to deter the twinge in his heart. Your hand is smaller than his and when he curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours. A breath bursts past your lips, loud enough he hears it.

“M’sorry.” he whispers, though he’s said it time and time again.

He doesn’t care; he’ll say it a thousand it times if you’ll keep looking at him like that. Features soft, so different to the glare he’s all but memorised — instead, your eyebrows drawn together like the sight of both your hands, palm to palm, might be the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Steve feels you push back against his fingers, a gentle pressure like you’re trying to hug him back.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Even while drunk, you can’t look at him while you confess. If you look at him, then it’s real and logic will prevail and you’ll rein everything back in.

Looking at both of your hands, feeling the yearning spool in between your ribs — none of it matters. You like him so much that it feels woven into everything else; weaved into the noises of the party, the black of the night, the grass tickling the back of your legs.

You like him so much it makes you sick.

On second thought, that might be the alcohol.

Steve’s response, whatever it might be, vanishes when you rip your hand away and sit up suddenly — emptying to contents of your stomach into a lovely rosebush to your right. Disgusted with the sudden visual aid to what you had for dinner, you groan. The movement has sent your head spinning again, rotating out of the same orbit as Earth.

Steve’s palm soothes down your spine, rubbing warmth as he murmurs comfortingly.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, more to himself. “You’ll be feeling it in the mornin’.”

You groan again, eyes sliding shut and tumbling you into darkness.

Fact #8: You’re never drinking, ever again.

You’ll be feeling it in the morning. The last memory of last night curls up like smoke in your head and all you can think is Steve was fucking right.

The sheets feel scratchy as you release an agonised noise into your pillow, coiling in tighter. There’s a pounding in your head, bleeding out of your ears and eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so terrible in your life.

Eyes screwed shut tight, you move slowly and draw your head up. Sneaking a look, relief fizzes in your chest as the recognition of your sheets — you made it home, you’re in bed. Never mind that you can’t quite remember how you got here. A shuffle of your legs tells you, uncomfortably, you’re still in last night’s jeans.

What time is it? There’s sun coming through the gap in the curtains. Daytime. Some sleep-covered murmur escapes you, though even you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean.

Plopping your head back down, you search your memories. It’s an effort to push past your headache to put together the puzzle of last night. Visions of arriving at the party, of drink number one, and dancing with Robin are clear but sometime after O’Connor shows up they begin to get hazy.

You remember the cool grass. The moon. Steve. God, that’s right, he was there — what you might have said to him is anyone’s guess. Another grainy and fogged memory of puking in the bushes. The rest of the night is locked behind a tequila fueled paywall in your brain

Burrowing back into your sheets, the hangover takes priority and you only hope to sleep it off.

—

The next time you wake, the pounding in your head has shifted to the door.

You can’t have been asleep for more than an hour according to your alarm clock, blinking midday numbers back at you as you drag your head up. Thankfully, a large portion of your hangover has been cured with sleep — otherwise, the unending knocks on your door might be the end of you.

You struggle to speak, aware of your sandpaper throat but whatever gurgle you produce is good enough for whoever is on the other side of the door. Robin, judging by the intensity of their knocks.

Lo and behold, Robin bowls into the room once she hears signs of life.

“What did you say to Steve?”

Oh.

That has you sitting up, wincing at the pain it brings and you nurse your head in your hands. “What?” you rasp out. “Nothing!”

That might be a lie. You wince again, searching through you scrambled memories for what she could be referring to and come up short. Robin can read your genuine confusion.

“Why?” The word comes out a bit shot. You clear your throat. “Did he say something to you?”

“Nothing specific,” Robin grimaces a bit. She’s never been the best at hiding her emotions. “He just— he asked if you’d talked to me. Said he was checking if you were still alive. Which, yanno, thank god you are! He said you barfed in Melody’s mom’s rose bush, which quite frankly is hilarious and—“

“Robin.” you moan, trying to cut off her ramble. “Why are you here?”

Robin seems to remember the original reason she was nearly breaking down your door, body jumping like she’s been zapped. “Right!”

She suddenly seems to reconsider herself, ducking her head and beginning a well practiced pace across your carpet. “I know you said you don’t like him, which I get, I know- he was the worst! But I dunno, you seemed to, like, I don’t know? Warm up to him? I guess, he just seemed real bummed on the phone when I said you hadn’t called me.”

A series of emotions jolt through your nerves, none as strong as the elation at hearing Steve had called to ask about you. You push it down with another groan and fling yourself backward, bouncing on the springs of your mattress.

Hands hiding your face, you mumble the next words as if you don’t quite want Robin to hear them.

“I don’t not like him.”

“And I can’t tell what that is supposed mean.” Her pacing hasn’t ceased. Her arms gesticulate wildly as she speaks. “You don’t not like him sorta, to me, just sounds like you like him!”

“Robin,” you whine, well aware of the way she can read you like words on a page. “What do you wanna hear? That you were right?”

Robin halts her pacing, leaning her knees onto the edge of your mattress. You peek at her through your fingers. She’s looking a little more wide-eyed. “Yes. Absolutely. If my two favourite people in the world could suddenly get along, maybe even be friends, I think I’d like to know.”

“We’re not—”

“But that is not why I’m here.” She’s gone serious, brows raised as her voice turns softer. You nearly think she’s taunting you, a hint of a smile hidden in her expression.

“I’m here to discuss the distinct possibility that you have managed to skip the part where we become a cool trio of friends and have traveled into more than friends territory.”

Damn her. She’s too good, unspooling your secret right after you’ve only just managed to admit it aloud (not that you could remember that thought). Dragging your hands down your face, you groan again — there’s no point in hiding it from Robin, especially when she seems to have you all figured out.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘wow Robin, you’re incredibly smart and totally right’.” She jibes, looking far too smug.

Perplexingly, she doesn’t appear to care that you confirmed Steve had you feeling gooey inside and weak at the knees. You dredge yourself to a sitting position, blankets pooling at your waist, and regard her with as much sarcasm as you can.

“Wow, Robin,” you drawl tiredly, still a bit catty from your lack of sleep. “You’re so totally right.”

“Don’t forget the incredibly smart part.”

You wallop her thigh with your sleeve, halfhearted and not at all mean. She grins. For a moment, you’re monumentally relieved to be sharing this with her — you’re best friends, talking about a boy you like, back to feeling thick as thieves with her.

“You gotta talk to him though, you know that right?”

A sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

—

By the time you’ve rinsed the last of your hangover down the shower drain, washed down with the suds of your strawberry shampoo, the sun is nearing the horizon.

Droplets cling to the ends of your hair, leaving a trail behind you on the carpet as you don fresh clothes. You try your best not to analyse each piece, shoving down any self-doubts and recalling Steve’s generous compliments littered through the past couple of months.

Tonight. It had to be tonight, you decided. Any longer and you’d lose the nerve, crawl back to avoidance because you’re not really sure you want to hear what you said to him in the garden.

You can only imagine it’s some confusing amalgamation of your complicated feelings — mixed with the amount of alcohol you had drunk? It was a stab in the dark trying to guess what you had said.

The plan you have is half-baked at best. The walk to Loch Nora isn’t far — but if your plan goes south, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow and clear your tears on the walk home. Thankfully, It’s still too early for dinner. You can smell the beginnings of it bubbling on the stove as you creep down the stairs.

As soundlessly as you can, you slip out the front door. Warm air greets you. The sunbeams trickle across the sky, dipping lower behind the horizon and painting soft blemishes of pink and orange across the sky.

The other perk of the walk is that you’ll have ample time to decide what you’ll say to Steve; you can deliberate each word, orchestrated so that it can be played down if need be. Minimal cringe and hurt feelings.

You’re running a few options over in your head when the rumble of a car cruising down your road draws your eyes. With a startle, you realise it’s a familiar maroon colour — a car you’d been in just over a week ago.

You watch as Steve parks, evidently so entrapped in his own thoughts to notice you on the doorstep. He’s messing with his hair anxiously, eyes on the ground and when you look closer, his mouth is moving, an indication he’s talking out loud to himself.

He makes it halfway up the driveway before you stumble out to meet him.

“Steve?” You call out and his head shoots up, a little alarmed to see you. His steps falter, the pair of you met in the middle of your drive.

“Y/n. Hi.” For someone who had come to your house, he seems a bit affronted to be seeing you. Acutely, you realise that he’s nervous. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the road. “Were you— is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“No!” You squeak. “No, I was just... coming to see you, actually.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks. He ducks his head for a moment, clearing his throat but you still spot the pink on his cheeks. “How’s your head? You’d had, uh, a lot to drink last night.”

There’s only a mild rush of embarrassment to your system, a sheepish grin playing at your lips. “Right. Last night- I’m sorry you had to, er, see that. Or rather, thank you for taking care of me.”

Steve smiles back. One hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous motion. You don’t mean to zero in on his large bicep, tan skin on display with his short sleeves but it’s impossible not to — Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.

You smile timidly, willing your cheeks to cool.

“Yeah, about that.” He starts, eyes shifting about nervously. He can’t pick a spot to focus, too nervous to look you in the eyes.

Steve’s been throwing around your words ever since you uttered them to him in the garden. And now I can’t stop thinking about you. Tone so sweet, so sincere, your brows drawn together like it hurt you to admit how much Steve had been on your mind.

His stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at your reveal, nerves flaming and relief coursing at the realisation that it was mutual. You’d been on Steve’s mind since even before you’d given him your softest smiles after bottle smashing, sugary grins over your milkshake, a genuineness you’d never shared with him before — and after? God, it had driven him mad.

But then you’d scampered out of the car like a spooked animal. Stopped coming by Family Video and cursedly, seemed to slip back into an old pattern of ignoring him.

Then, the garden.

God, if you hadn’t been drunk, and maybe if Steve wasn’t so surprised by the sweetness you showed him, he might’ve kissed you.

Holding your palm against his, you might as well have been grabbing his hopes and hoisting them out of the depths — that perhaps, your avoidance stemmed from something different this time round.

Steve takes in your shy expression, bottom lip trapped in your teeth, and prays it’s all for the same reason he’s nervous and not instead, because you’re trying to awkwardly figure out how to tell him it was all the alcohol talking.

“What you said…” He’s trying to be nice to his feelings, on the defence in case he’s so terribly wrong about this. About you. “Did— did you mean that?”

The face you pull doesn’t instill him with confidence, his stomach plummeting at your hesitance. Fuck. He’d overshot, as usual, clinging too tightly to the threads of affection you’d shown him.

“I…” You’re unsure where to begin. God, what did you say?

Steve thinks he can garner what reaction that is; it’s the exact opposite of what his heart had managed to convince him. You went back to avoiding him on purpose. He cuts you off hoping to save himself some awkward rejection, shaking his head and taking a step back.

“Don’t worry. It was— you were drunk,” Embarrassment starts flooding in, a hot uncomfortable flush up his neck that makes Steve want to sink into the ground. “I shouldn’t have— it was weird of me to ask.”

He’s rambling too fast to get a word in. You take a step forward as he takes another step back, worried that he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. Never mind that all plans for orchestrating the perfect thing to say are out the window — you have to say something.

“I don’t know what I said!” You blurt, desperate to halt his retreat. It works; Steve stops, taken aback by your words. Oh God, what now? You debate where to start.

“Seriously, I— Robin came over and was talking about how you’d called and— I-I remember some of last night but it’s a bit—”

“You don’t...” Steve interrupts, giving a confused shake of his head. The wind ruffles his hair, strands dancing over his forehead. “Remember any of it?”

Why does it feel like you’ve disappointed him? Despite your initial wish to not relive whatever you’d said in the garden, you’re suddenly dying to remember. Even now, you can feel yourself combing the hazy memories, hoping there’s a stone you’ve yet to turn. It’s fruitless.

“I remember embarrassing myself by puking in the bushes.” You grimace as you say it, heat rising in your face. You can feel your nerves fraying, heart pounding but none of it in a good way. “Look, Steve, does it matter what I said? I-“

“It does.” He says, voice suddenly lower. It rasps, more serious than before. “It matters if you meant it. Do you?”

He takes another step forward, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. The same comforting musky scent as when he pushed the safety glasses up your nose and tucked your hair behind your ears in the woods together, touch gentle and eyes kind.

“You said,” He breathes, his honey eyes hopeful. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me.”

Oh.

It seems to be a habit of yours; rewinding through your actions towards Steve in the past, heavy with regret. He’d still been sweet, checking on you out in the garden even though you’d left him in the dark for a week. After managing to make you forget the worst date ever.

Then you’d upchucked your feelings, so drunk you couldn’t remember it, and then your dinner too. You were a mess; Steve Harrington made you a lovely absolute mess. Fuck, you’d likely ruined whatever chance at something with him.

But then again, here he was.

Still showing up, enough hope to dredge together the courage to drive over and ask you what it meant.

“I meant it.” You say, softly. You feel captured in his gaze, pulled into his orbit with no choice about it. He’s like the sun, gravity pulling you closer the longer you stand this close to him. Your heart feels like it’s made of jelly, each thump echoing out into your limbs. “I— fuck, you made it so hard to hate you. I used—”

“—Used to hate me.” Steve recites the words before you can say them, amusement in his voice. Some of his nervousness has leaked out, shoulders less tight. You can nearly see a glint of his Harrington charm in the curl of his lips. “Yeah, you said that last night too.”

It’s said to poke fun, teasing you for last night’s loose tongue. You groan, head tilting back. “God, anything else I said last night that I should know about?”

Steve steps closer. It makes your breath hitch, your head straightening up and bringing your faces closer still. You’re not sure where this is going, not sure what he’s thinking, if he can hear the thunder of your heart — he hasn’t even said anything that implies the feelings are mutual.

You vaguely wonder how he knew that your words held more weight than they appeared. He’d been paying more attention than you’d expected; knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you meant more than what was on the surface.

This time, you know him well enough to know that his teasing is not mocking. That the Steve in front of you is not at all like the one you’d remembered from the school hallways, the one who’d thrown around shitty comments, had notches in his belt, and didn’t care who got hurt as a result.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

The world doesn’t stop spinning, but for a moment, it certainly feels that way. Blood rushes in your ears, blooms under your cheeks, and the words sink in. The wind sounds like the sweetest music, the colour spread across the sky is a shade that could only be called love and a boy is telling you he likes you too.

It faintly occurs that the silly teenage daydream you pictured with Bradley — you’re instead getting with a boy you swore you hated not two months ago.

It makes you like him even more.

He’s earned it, your trust, your affection — your kiss.

Wordlessly, you surge forward at the same time Steve does. You clash, gifting each other an awkward headbutt instead of some swooning kiss. Pain splinters momentarily across your forehead, gone after a moment.

You can’t help it, a laugh bursting from your lips. You’re so nervous. It doesn’t deter you, peering up at him with adoring eyes. Somehow, you still manage a tease. “Were you trying to kiss me, Harrington?”

His hands cup your face, fingers tucked under your jaw, and thumbs stroking your cheeks. His own smile barely contained, elation shining in his eyes.

“I will if you stop calling me that.”

He kisses you before you even get a chance to agree.

There’s bliss hidden in his lips, you think happily. Steve kisses soft, plush lips that mold to yours like its second nature, two pieces of the universe aligning.

You can feel the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his thumbs upon your face and you sigh, content, into the kiss because no one has ever kissed you like this.

He kisses you and suddenly, there is no war-torn battle in your mind. Your hands have twisted into the fabric on his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s unbearable. You want him, completely, embarrassingly, and undeniably. You’ll take anything he’ll give you — you want him to give you everything.

When the kiss breaks, it’s only for a moment; Steve presses another, short and gentle, then another, and another, like he can’t handle not stealing another taste of your lips.

“Steve,” you rasp, chuckling a bit. Your eyes are still closed, like you’re worried it’ll all be some dream if you dare to open them. His nose nudges yours, crushing closer to you, unwilling to relent the closeness he’s finally been granted.

“Let me take you out.” He whispers and it’s enough to open your eyes, lashes crinkling as you beam up at him. Steve drops a kiss on your cheek, thumbs stroking with a tender care that makes you shiver. “Please.”

As if you could say no. You give a minuscule nod but your delight is given away in your smile, eyes bright as you admire each detail of his face fondly. “Yeah, alright.”

It makes him laugh, amusement dancing across his features, and God, he looks so handsome you have to kiss him again.

You do, hands escaping the confines of his shirt and twisting around his neck. Steve hums happily, something you’ll come to learn he does whenever you kiss him first. It makes you gleeful, a shot of pure euphoria tipping down your spine. You shiver, wonderfully.

“Just promise me,” you say when you pull back, breathing a titch ragged. You grin. “Not a movie date.”

Steve grins, one hand leaving your face to curl around your waist. It’s warm, heat radiating into your skin.

“Still no faith in me, sweetheart?” He chides, fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, giving away his joy. The pet name makes your knees weak, a flash of a forgotten memory in the garden breaking through.

“Something tells me you’ll convince me.”

Fact #9: The first fact is a lie.

His next kiss feels like a promise; that he’ll do the work to convince you, just like he’d done the last few months. That he’d be more than happy to. You drink in affection from a boy who’s so sweet on you with a happy sigh.

He tastes like sunlight.

Fact #10: You might just be falling in love with Steve Harrington.

taggin sum mutuals below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @writtenbybelle @hoesbloated @familyvideostevie @lurkymurker @sattlersquarry @steddiesandwich @circesstars @upsidedownwithsteve @raggedyoldwitch @sunshinehollandd @ohschmidts @appocalipse

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zeldasnotes · 10 months

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SYNASTRY NOTES 2 💍

SYNASTRY NOTES 1

If you look closely you will see that people with planets in your 1st house and 2nd house always have some kind of physical reaction when seeing you. Either turning their head extra to see you better, or doing something weird with their hands, touch their hair or just start walking on the spot.

Everytime i hear someone say ” Ive never hated someone like I hate her/him” i always know there is Chiron synastry involved.

6th house synastry is so annoying when you dont have good synastry in general. The others person feels like this annoying bug always flying around buzzing. Especially when its a colleague or someone who lives close to you.

Also one of the things ive noticed with Chiron synastry is that one of the people just starts disliking the other out of nowhere and for no reason. The other person can sense this and strikes back hard because of how hurt they are and the war begins. This is why I stay away from Chiron synastry, because the dislike can come at any second out of nowhere.

Venus 8th house synastry can make Venus fascinated by the looks of the house person. Even if house person is not their type there is something intriguing.

8th house synastry also makes the two able to talk without talking. They can feel whats going on with the other without saying anything.

Lilith in the same sign/house shows that you understand eachothers shadow side. You might fight or manipulate in a similar way.

Mars in the 6th house can lead to being annoyed by the others presence. Common between colleagues who dont like eachother but have to see eachother every day.

Eros(433) conjunct Moon can mean you cant keep your hands off eachother.

Knight(29391) in synastry can be someone who comes into your life when you need them the most. You are protective over eachother.

5th house synastry can definitely lead to idealizing. Especially Moon in the 5th house.

Both the woman who used to do microneedling, chemical peels etc and the woman who did microblading on my eyebrows years ago had their Venus in my 8th house of transformation.

As someone with Mercury Square Moon I always found communicating my feelings hard. But i find it easier when I have 3rd house synastry with someone.

I prefer Moon trine Moon in synastry over Moon conjunct Moon. Moon trine Moon feels like sharing a delicious meal at a restaurant while Moon conjunct Moon is the same but the music at the restaurant is too loud and the food a little too spicy.

Venus conjunct Midheaven makes yall look so good together. I have this with a guy and for some reason we always match when it comes to clothes and body language which makes us look like a couple.

Venus conjunct Nemesis(128) can be a lovers turned enemies kind of relationship.

Eros(433) sextile Psyche(16) in synastry shows that the two will have their issues, but will mostly take eachothers side when they see the other in conflict with somebody else. The couple who hates eachother but still wont let anyone come between them.

Someone with their MC in your Ascendant sign might look up to you a lot.

You will find people you have 8th house synastry with as much more attractive than they actually are. And if you dislike them you will find them super intimidating.

Moon in the 8th house makes the Moon person so drawn to the house person that even if they are not attracted to them they will still want to have them. This aspect trumps physical attraction, morals, everything.

I do not recommend Venus conjunct Ascendant in a friendship relationship, especially not if the Venus person is the envious type.

Everyone I had Moon conjunct Psyche(16) with understood me like nobody else.

Which planet your Psyche conjuncts in someones chart can be where you understand them the most and what you have intuition about when it comes to them: Moon = Feelings, Depth, Why they act like they do. Venus = What and who they are atttacted to, why they dress/express themselves the way they do, their behaviour towards others. Ascendant = Who they want to be, how they want to be seen, their confidence.

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #synastry reading #8th house synastry #synastry #eros and psyche

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yandere-wishes · 10 months

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The Perfect Girl

Summary: Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

Part #2 of Imposter Syndrome but can be read as a stand-alone. Part #3 The Spider's web

Warnings: Dollification, yandere themes but like more than usual, abuse, violence, horrible Spanish, NO NSFW but the reader and Miles are 18+. Friends to enemies to one sided lovers. This plays out as a cautionary tale.

Author's note: Can you tell I'm bad at writing Intimacy??😂🤣

You squirm uncomfortably on Miles's lap. Arms awkwardly thrown around his neck as you try to hide your face in his chest. Miles sits proudly, face void of emotions and voice overflowing with authority. He's barking orders to his underlings. For what you're not sure, you've long since stopped listening in on his conversations, your inability to do anything coupled with the innocent lives you know would be destroyed was enough to keep you awake at night. And consciousness was the last thing you wanted these days.

It's been six weeks.

Six weeks since the Prowler defeated New York's last beacon of hope. Six weeks since he'd been welcomed into the Sinister Six as their newest member. They're shining star.

Six weeks since he stole you away from everything you knew,

everything you loved.

You hear the padding of feet and the loud thump of the door. You're alone with him again. So the nightmare begins anew. You're reluctant to lift your head, to face your capturer. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. It's funny how once, back when you'd still wore your beloved silk mask, you had used to count the minutes until your midnight rendezvous.

Miles's fingers reach towards you, tilting your chin up. His smile is razor sharp, deformed as if he can't quite remember how to smile. "Muñequita" he mutters like a disjointed prayer as his fingers glide up your side. Drowning you in a sense of impending doom.

You stare into his eyes. Two voids that have seen every nightmare imaginable. Any saint, any sweet innocent boy whose been trapped inside the darkness for this long comes out as a monster. Stumbling through the night with knives instead of teeth and an appetite for destruction. Miles Morales may have been a human once, a long time ago. Before you met him, before the savior of New York met him. But now he's a monster, one who has long since buried any morals and dignity he may have once had.

Sometimes when the night rages on and you're caged between his arms and sentience. you wonder if maybe, just maybe you should go digging for any of the virtues that he's buried six feet deep. But when he laughs and tauntingly presses on a new bruise with his thumb, you conclude quickly that it's better to leave his good qualities dead. it's easier to hate him that way.

"How does it feel to sit in your arch nemesis's lap?"

He jabs as he pinches your cheek. You let out a soft cry of annoyance as you shift your gaze away from your tormentor.

Miles revels in your fall from grace. Adores pinching and probing you in front of his minions or the rest of his gang members. Loves taunting you after every failed escape attempt. You try to bite his finger, to make him feel a fraction of your pain. But before your teeth can graze his skin, he releases your cheek. He laughs, low and fragmentary. A haunting noise that reminds you that he barely counts as human anymore, just a heartless ghost masquerading as a real boy. "Trying to rebel again mi amor?".

You fight the urge to pick at the flesh of your face or bite your fingers until you reach the bone.

Miles's eyes narrow, annoyed at your lack of a response. He's growing bored, he always does when his pet refuses to play along. His gauntlet reaches for your neck. Squeezing as the claws bite into your flesh.

you should let him kill you, give him the final satisfaction of watching your blood blemish the skin-tight dress he's made you wear. Watch as the life leaves your eyes. "let's try this again mami. When I ask, how it feels your response should be.."

"I love you Miles" you mutter, all deadpan and defaced. "Not like that say it the way I taught you" he hisses, a threat, you note wearily.

"Te amo Miles"

"Bino"

Sometimes you think that he's foolish enough to believe your reprised lie. It almost helps him deceive himself into believing he still has a soul left.

He thinks he loves you.

You think he doesn't know what love quite is.

You use to be a hero, use to be revered and respected by all. You use to be someone, someone important. Laminating about all of this now will do you no good.

You're nothing more than a doll now. Painted and dressed the way Miles likes, posed forever perfectly on his lap. Flaunted and paraded as all prize trophies should be. You guess it makes sense. To the victor goes the spoils. You wonder if you would have done the same to him if you had emerged triumphant that night. Deep down, where logic doesn't reach, you know you would. At least you would have let him keep his dignity. You're not like him, you're not a villain...

But you're not a hero anymore either. What are you supposed to be anyway? When questions like this bubble into your withering mind. You force yourself to choke down the idea that you're still good, you have to be. You're not like him, like them. You're afraid that someday you'll look in the mirror and every ounce of your virtues will have evaporated. You promise yourself that that'll be the day you do something drastic. To yourself or Miles, you're not sure yet.

Miles's fingers trace the indents on your neck. Angry red puncture holes left by his steel claws. He buries his face in the crock of your neck. Licking the measly blood drops from the wounds before tenderly kissing his territory. "Stop it" you grumble trying to push at his chest. But he just growls in warning, ignoring your feeble attempts. "I got you a present, Mami" he whispers over your jugular. You flinch, as he detaches from your neck with a final kiss. He maneuvers you off his lap as he gets up and walks over to a closet on the other side of the room. Plucking out a necklace from one of the drawers.

Necklace is a generous term. Its neck tight and studded. With a silver chain hanging dead-center that speaks of horrors untold. You know what it implies, you know what he's trying to say, trying to prove. You never thought you'd miss the Prowler's iron glad punches to your stomach but you think this might just be worst. At least back then you'd been able to fight back. Reimburse every punch with a kick or stab of your own. Now you are helpless, frail. Broken glass perpetually embedded in soft cotton. Something wild, something tamed. Golden specks of a crown long since shattered tint your hair. All ghosts of who you once were.

"What do you say, muñequita," He says. In a tone that's sick, in a tone that's sweet. Like rotten nectar trickling down a destroyed paradise. Like boiling blood dripping from a broken heart. There's a click, as he fastens his present around your neck. An endless second before reality comes crashing in.

"Gracias Miles" You reply as you feel your last shard of freedom disintegrate.

You use to be something, someone. Carved from porcelain ideals and ivory hope. Divine ichor ran through your veins as you swung across New York's skyline. You had been chosen, but you hadn't been enough.

Now it feels like someone tore you apart. Ripped away your flesh, your bones, your thoughts, your soul. Stitched you up wrong with a rusted needle and a thread of ash. And all you could do was sit there and watch as your golden blood seeped through ruptured veins.

Miles grabs your shoulders. Pulling you close enough so the spikes of your necklace cut into his flesh. His lips bite yours teasingly before they finally merge into a dreadful kiss. He isn't the Prowler you remember, albeit you know that's wrong. He's not the Prowler you had fabricated when you'd thought that the two of you were both innocent souls driven to madness by this city. You use to think that Miles was beautiful, a moon-kissed face with stardust dripping from his eyes. Now you know the truth. He's nothing more than a nightmare, the embodiment of starless darkness and the terrors that lurk upon blackened city streets. He's not your friend. He never was. You were just so foolish and overwhelmed back then.

"You're mine, héroe." His voice is nothing short of a dagger laced with venom. Spreading apathetic poison from your heart to your lungs and leaking into your bloodstream. You see blood behind your eyes when your eyelids shut. Feel the apprehension pounding in the hollows of your bones.

You've long since hemmed every hole where your pride and glory use to bleed through. But it's so hard to keep divinity down when it's all you've ever known. This life isn't yours. This thing that Miles has forced you to be isn't you. There's still hope, you think. Heroes never lose hope. It's a lesson everyone learns, sooner or later.

Later that night Miles kisses you again, this time whispering how to him you are perfection personified. The dark circles under your eyes and bloody knuckles validate that. He traces circles on your arms whilst telling you about how the Sinister Six plan to expand their operations to the next city over. All this makes you wonder if he'd ever been a sweet little boy, tucked under his mother's arm, whilst his father kisses his cheek. Of if he's always been a merciless monster who wears his kills like honor badges.

You pray under your breath as he reminds you that you're no longer a hero. You wonder if you pray because you are human or if praying makes you human. There are still some fragments of hope bubbling inside you regardless of what he says.

Miles likes to remind you that you no longer have the power to save anyone. That the villains won and the heroes lost and that's the way this story ends.

You refuse to believe him.

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happypeachsludgeflower · 1 year

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The true blasphemy of literature is the romanticization of romance. They make it beautiful—all soft words, and elegant lines—and enchanting, with magic sparkling in the margins.

And you can feel it in the depths of your soul, an unexplored ocean of laughter and tears and dreams all melded together.

The yearning of a kiss that brushes against the steady and so so warm pulsing beat of life—against the smooth skin of a lovers neck. The desperation to touch another being and feel that they’re alive, right there next to you—right there, and never leaving.

To love and be loved is a jewel among treasures and all that we each seek—all that we each desire.

It burns and it burns and it burns.

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

“Come home and break my heart, if you must.”

“Occasionally, Fate pulls itself together again and Time is always waiting.”

“And perhaps it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”

“By you, I am forever undone.”

“One word from you shall silence me forever.”

“A heart’s a heavy burden.”

“My sweet nemesis.”

“If you have to go, you know I will go with you.”

and then?

and then.

The book is over.

And you remember that love like that doesn't exist.

Not in the real world.

And all you can do is cry.

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roanniom · 2 years

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The Shift

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Read Part 2 Here

Summary: On a sweltering shift at family video, Steve Harrington gets on your nerves.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Smut, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, PIV sex, semi-public sex, light degradation, enemies to lovers, slight period-correct sexism and homophobia from a customer

It’s positively sweltering inside Family Video today. The box fan on the front counter does absolutely nothing to cool you down, especially as the tension within you runs hotter than the outside sun itself.

You shouldn’t be here. Today was your day off and you’d had plans with your friends for a pool day to beat the heat, knowing that today was forecasted to be the hottest of the year so far. Instead, you’ve been roped in to cover for Robin. And as much as you love her, part of you kinda secretly hopes she chokes on the milkshake she’s probably enjoying on her date right about now.

You don’t really want her to choke of course. You’ve been hyping her up for her eventual first date with Vicki for a long time now. It warms your cold, dead, perennially single heart to see your friend getting something she’s really wanted. Something she never thought would happen for her, especially not in Hawkins, Indiana.

But Hawkins, Indiana is exactly where you wish you weren’t right now. You’d rather be somewhere cool. Somewhere with ice and a breeze and fresh air.

Somewhere without Steve Harrington.

“You’ve been hogging the fan all day, trainee. Come on, give another sweaty bastard a turn.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn and glare directly into the face of your nemesis. Okay, nemesis is a little bit of an exaggeration. You aren’t mortal enemies, perhaps, but you would love to smack his smug face. Just once.

“For the last time. Stop calling me that. I have been working here almost as long as you,” you huff, not bothering to move an inch out of the radius of the fan.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I am the one who trained you. Making you - eternally - my trainee,” Steve responds, elbowing his way around you and into the line of semi-cool air.

“I was literally hired a month after you.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I showed you the ropes.”

“Only because the manager spent the night passed out in the ditch behind the liquor store.” You finish reboxing your last rewound tape, clicking it closed with a definitive snap.

“Hey. Jessie’s doing really well in rehab these days. Give him a break.” Steve pulls the stocking cart up and around to the counter and reaches for the tapes you’d just stacked. You yank them away from his grasp and haul them over to the cart yourself.

“And by ‘showed you the ropes’ are you referring to the fact that you broke the label maker in front of me and taught me how to get free snacks out of the break room vending machine?” You start pushing the cart towards the comedy section, not bothering to wait for Steve’s response.

“Hey! You should be thanking me for every bag of Reese’s Pieces I see you scarfing each day.” Steve comes up jogging behind you, grabbing the copy of Weird Science out of your hand before you can shelve it.

“Shut up, Harrington. As if you aren’t slamming M&M’s by the bushel.” You try to reach for the tape but he holds it up out of your reach. Damn his stupid height.

“Don’t you dare act like M&M’s aren’t the superior candy.”

“They melt in your hand - ,”

“So do Reese’s Pieces!” Steve cries out, interrupting you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Steve. I forgot that a handful of goopy M&M’s are what helped E.T. assimilate to this planet,” you say, rolling your eyes and abandoning Weird Science to his grasp. Let him shelve the damn thing. You move on to the next aisle.

Steve, of course, follows behind.

“You and that stupid little alien.” Which of course makes you round on him, to which he throws Weird Science up in front of himself as a shield.

“E.T. is a seminal piece of filmmaking and Spielberg’s best work to date, so don’t you get started again -,”

“Oh bullshit. His best work?” Steve’s brow is furrowed darkly as if you’ve committed some irredeemable act instead of simply disagreeing with his film opinions.

“Um, excuse me? A little help here?” The voice of Ms. Jenkins, elderly and snippy, issues from the front counter where she stands with a handful of tapes. You give Steve a mean look and bound over to your solitary customer.

“Yes of course, let me ring you up, ma’am,” you say sweetly, making quick work of checking to make sure the tapes are rewound before scanning and reading off the total to her. You always have to double check that tapes are rewound because you sure as hell can’t be certain that Steve has done his job when that particular chore is on his list of responsibilities.

By the time Ms. Jenkins is out the door with her rentals, Steve’s pushed the cart to the shelves closest to the counter, lazily fingering the spines of the horror tapes in a bored pursuit of a particular alphabetic location.

“Jaws.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said Jaws.”

“What about Jaws?” you ask with a sigh, leaning your hip against the counter and crossing your arms.

“Spielberg’s best movie.”

“Grow up, Harrington.”

“Excuse me?!” Steve drops the tape he’s holding and rushes over to you with fists raised. “Are you suggesting there’s something childish about enjoying Jaws?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, noncommittal. You don’t actually believe that, you just have found yourself in this rhetorical hole with Steve before and you don’t really want to get into an actual discussion. That and you love riling him up. It’s easier than committing to a movie to pop into the vcr above the counter and just as entertaining.

“You…I just…ughh.” Steve seems at a loss for words as he grapples with your vague criticism as if it isn’t the thousandth time you’ve had this argument. “That movie is a mature, grown up cinematic masterpiece and I can prove it. Number one,” he holds up one finger. “It is gory as hell. There’s a fuck ton of blood.”

“Violence is your evidence of maturity, Harrington?”

Steve scoffs at you and lifts up a second finger.

“Number two, the score is iconic.” He hunches a little and starts stalking towards you slowly, predatorily. “Duuun uh, duuun uh, dun uh dun uh dun uh - ,”

“I know the score, Steve!” you speak over his crescendoing vocalization.

“Come on! That’s iconic!” You roll your eyes but nod.

“I mean yeah. You got me there.”

“Ahah!” Steve punches the air as if he’s one some massive victory rather than simply receiving your noncommittal agreement on one part of a larger argument. He holds up a third finger. “And to round us out with number three - tits.”

Exactly as he says ‘tits’ - proudly and loudly, you notice - an elderly gentleman walks into the store. He freezes in the doorway looking at the two of you, clearly affronted.

“Good afternoon, sir! Let us know if you need any help!” you hastily speak up, distancing yourself from Steve and plastering on a huge smile. The man harumphs and walks into the store, grumbling something about ‘kids these days.’ You turn and shoot daggers at a sheepish looking Steve.

“Tits? Really?” Your whisper comes out poisonous.

“What’s more mature than tits?” he asks, equally hushed.

“Obviously not you, moron.” You start making your way back to the cart but stop in your tracks, thinking. Instead, you turn back and whisper to him. “Wait…when are there tits in Jaws?”

~*~

Ten minutes later, after the disapproving customer had checked out, copy of Cocoon in hand (a little on the nose, something you tried not to laugh about as you rang him up), you and Steve both stand huddled near the tv hooked up to the VCR.

You’re watching the opening sequence, where two teens are giving each other eyes across the way at a bonfire party. It’s charged. It’s flirtatious. The girl gets up and heads towards the beach, the guy following in hot, drunken pursuit.

It’s a cute moment. A calm before the storm, you think, because of course you know better. You know what’s going to happen in just a few moments. But suspended in time, this couple’s cat and mouse game is sexy. It’s playful.

It’s not the point of the scene, but you feel yourself getting riled up. Not exactly turned on but…what’s the word? Yearning? Pathetic. It’s been a little too long since you’ve gotten any and the heat is getting you your head, you reason with yourself internally.

As the girl gets closer to the water she begins discarding her clothes in preparation for what everyone knows will be her final skinny dip. As she does so, Steve hurtles forward and hits the pause button, freezing her perfectly in time as her shirt comes over her head revealing the silhouette of heavy breasts, mid swing.

“Tits!” Steve cries out, pointing directly at the revealed breasts on screen. “I fucking told you.”

“What do you want, Steve? A cookie?” You make sure your face stays neutral. You don’t want to give away the fact that the sexual implications of the scene have you all hot and bothered. Harrington doesn’t deserve that information.

“You said there weren’t any tits in Jaws.”

“I asked when were there tits in Jaws. I apologize that a pair of movie breasts didn’t imprint chemically in my brain the way they did for you.”

“I’m sorry. When did the prude switch shifts with the trainee? I didn’t get the memo.” Steve says haughtily, ejecting the tape from the VCR and putting it back in its case. Your jaw drops at his words but he pays you no mind, walking back to reshelf the movie. You run after him.

“I’m not a fucking prude, Harrington.”

“Oh I know you’re not. That’s what I’m getting at.” Steve slots Jaws back in its place and heads back towards the break room.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demand, hot on his trail.

“I’m at the same parties you go to, trainee. I’m not blind. You like to have a good time.” He shrugs, walking up to the beaten old vending machine. It’s much hotter here in the back room than it was out on the main floor, probably due to the lack of windows and fans. Steve kicks the corner of the vending machine and raps his knuckles against the side panel before reaching to type the code for the M&M’s. You lunge forward and beat him to it, slamming your finger down on a different button. “Fuck! Seriously?!”

“You’re really going to slut shame me? Here at work?” You ask, snatching the packet of Reese’s Pieces as it falls into the dispenser tray.

“The pot is very much calling the kettle black here, don’t you think?” Steve kicks the corner of the machine and taps the side again, but instead of beeping in recognition, the machine stays dormant. You pop a candy in your mouth smugly as Steve grunts in frustration.

“I’m not the whore of Hawkins, Harrington. But that might be a title with which you can identify.”

“Nice alliteration, brainiac.” Steve kicks the machine harder this time. Clearly with more malicious intent towards the hulking appliance rather than with the strategy of overriding the payment mechanism.

“You know about alliteration? You didn’t skip that lesson in English class to fondle a bimbo under the bleachers?” You pop another candy in your mouth and fan yourself. The heat is starting to get to you. It is suffocating in this room. Your collar is stuck to your neck and you grab at the front of your shirt, billowing it out to try and stimulate an internal breeze. You look up and find Steve staring at the place where your hand pulls at your clothes, but he’s quick to look away, shoving a hand through his messy hair.

“Oh yeah? I’m not the one pushing my tits together whenever a slightly attractive guy comes in. I swear I saw you almost put your hand down the pants of that ex-football loser who came in here looking for fucking Flash Gordon for the tenth time.”

You gasp at his audacity. Because how dare he say that to you but also because it is objectively untrue. You had lightly flirted with the man, sure. You were bored and he had broad shoulders. Sue you. But Steve has no right to any sort of commentary.

“I’m sorry Mr. This-way-to-the-romance-section-and-while-we’re-at-it-why-don’t-you-come-watch-it-at-my-place Harrington. A blonde with big boobs so much as thinks about walking in here and your eyes are popping out of your head and your tongue is trailing on the floor.”

“You’re using the description of a horny cartoon character to describe me? Nice. Real nice.” Steve bangs on the side of the machine with his fist one more time and you let out a groan.

“Stop beating up the vending machine, for fuck’s sake. Here!” You reach into your pocket and grab a dollar, thrusting it into his face. Steve swats your hand away.

“I have money, trainee.” He reaches into his own pocket and fishes out a dollar which he proceeds to jam unceremoniously into the slot.

You drop yourself into one of the seats at the lunch table and grab for a magazine to fan yourself with.

“Well if you’re so loaded, why are you always stealing snacks?”

Steve ignores you, punching in the correct code this time. When another packet of Reese’s Pieces drops instead of the M&Ms he’d asked for, he lets out massive cry of frustration.

“What the fuck?”

“Well that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all day,” you say, crossing your arms in your seat and biting your lip to keep from smiling widely.

“What the FUCK!”

“Maybe it’s karma, for being such an asshole to me,” you shrug. Steve whips around, shooting you daggers.

“I’ve had it about up to here with you today, trainee.” He stalks over to the water cooler and rips out a little cone paper cup, accidentally pulling out three too many in the process. You continue fanning yourself with the magazine languidly.

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry dad.”

Steve actually barks a laugh at that and looks at you over his shoulder, filling the paper cup with room temp water.

“You’re not the first to make that association.”

“Oh gross, Harrington. I didn’t ask for insight into your sex life,” you pretend to gag.

Steve knocks back the water and crushes the paper cone in his fist, tossing it over his shoulder as he goes to join you at the table. You are positively irked to notice that he makes it perfectly into the trash without even looking.

“That’s not what I meant but I’m not opposed to being called daddy, fyi,” he says, winking at you.

“I’m sure you’re not. Seems right up your alley.” Your words are derisive but you can’t help the breathless quality they take on. It must be a side effect of this fucking heat. You’re not taking in air properly.

“Yeah? Well I’ll bet you’re really mean between the sheets.”

“Oh you’ll bet that?” you ask with a snort, trying to ignore the paradoxical shiver that runs through your body at the implication.

“Yeah. You seem to derive a sick pleasure from giving me a hard time. Wouldn’t be shocked if insults turn you on.”

“Not a super fan of being degraded, Steve. Sorry to burst your bubble,” you reply lightly. Like his suggestion didn’t just add a palpitation to your heart beat. Steve bites his lip contemplatively.

“Well I really meant that I think you like being the one to dish out the insults,” he clarifies. But then he’s leaning closer to you across the table, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes in the way your posture is scrunching defensively. “But actually now that I think of it…I feel like you probably would like being degraded.”

“Excuse me?” you exhale sharply, realizing you’d been holding your breath as his proximity increased.

“You’re a perfectionist. A good girl, or you are most of the time, as we’ve established.” Steve’s finger slides across the table towards you and your gaze locks on its approaching motion. “I could see you looking for an excuse to let go of all that pressure. To be bad.”

You’ve stopped breathing again, mesmerized by his slow words and the trajectory of his sliding finger. Then suddenly he’s reaching out and snatching the half empty bag of Reese’s Pieces from your grasp, upending it in the air above his face and crunching down on the remaining candy.

“Hey!” you cry out, lunging for him only to be stopped by his defensive hand outstretching and catching you, holding you an arm length away. Steve makes a face.

“It’s a crime that this is peanut butter instead of chocolate.”

You grab him by the front of the shirt and get very close to him, glaring up into his stupid, pretty face.

“You’ll pay for that, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah? How?” he asks. His eyes are looking down into yours, the remnants of his smirk slowly fading from his face. The heat is sweltering. Hotter than it’s been during your entire shift and you really should run out the front door for some air before you pass out but…you’re rooted to the spot.

You inhale in order to respond - not even sure of what you’ll say once the words start flowing - but you’re immediately interrupted by the ding of the bell on the front door.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

The customer’s voice cuts through the tension between you and you let go of Steve’s shirt like it’s on fire.

“Just a minute!” you call out in your sing-song-y customer service voice. You hear Steve groan behind you but you don’t give him a second thought as you dash out onto the floor of the store.

The same grumpy man from earlier stands at the counter, grumpier than ever and brandishing his tape towards you.

“I got all the way home just to realize that the wrong tape is in this blasted box.” He wrenches open the case for Cocoon to reveal a copy of Tootsie. You try not to laugh at his absurdly wounded expression and grab the tape from him.

“I am so sorry, sir, we’ll get this sorted for you,” you assure, turning around to let out a silent chuckle. You shuffle through the bare tapes on the counter and find the correct one, silently cursing Steve for his disorganization.

“This is unacceptable, young lady,” the old man grumbles as you put the Cocoon tape in its box.

“Everyone makes mistakes, unfortunately.”

“I expect a higher quality of service. I fought on D Day, you know.”

“We did not know that, thank you for your service,” Steve mumbles sarcastically coming up beside you behind the counter. The man doesn’t catch his facetiousness and wags a fervent finger.

“That’s right. I should be treated with some respect.”

“Without a doubt,” Steve replies. You silently snap the tape box closed and hand it over, trying not to look annoyed.But the man doesn’t take it from you. Instead he points over at the stack of tapes where you had placed the copy of Tootsie.

“She tried to give me a movie with a man in a dress,” he accuses and you scoff. Steve glances over, clocking which movie it is and no doubt realizing that the mistake was his own.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, she was doing you a favor, because Dustin Hoffman is just a delight - ,”

“As her manager, I think you should fire her,” the man interrupts Steve.

“Excuse me?” you ask, shocked at his audacity. Steve holds his hands up in a time out symbol.

“First of all, I’m not her manager, and second of all. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She gave me a fruity movie!” the man cries out.

“Ok then,” you push away from the counter and head towards the back room, completely done with this interaction.

“Sir, fruit is delicious,” Steve argues, distracted as he watches you stalk off to the back, anxious to follow. The old man wags his finger even more violently.

“I’ll be telling the owner, just you wait. Do you take me for a fruit, young man?” he raises his voice.

“Yeah a raisin, sir. Please get out of my store.” Steve’s voice lowers in tone, but the authority in it increases tenfold. “Now.”

~*~

Steve finds you pacing around the break room, a paper water cone crushed in your hand. He approaches to comfort you, but the second he enters, you round on him.

“How could you do that to me?”

“Do what? Defend you?” Steve’s bewildered by your reaction, hands up in the air in front of himself defensively.

“I wouldn’t need defending if you weren’t such a fuck up at your job, Steve.” You flail a hand in the direction of the front counter.

“You said it yourself that everyone makes mistakes.”

“I was lying, Harrington. I don’t make mistakes. You make enough for the both of us.” You go to turn away from him but he grabs your elbow.

“Oh what, and you’re Ms. Fucking Perfect? Huh?” You wrench your elbow out his grasp.

“In comparison to you? Hell yeah.”

“That’s rich,” Steve barks out a laugh, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. His stance squares off with you and he too points out toward the front counter. “How many times have I had to save you from customers who are asking for films you’ve never fucking heard about?”

“Shut up, Steve,” you roll your eyes and Steve gets more emphatic.

“How many times have I had to come stop some creep who’s being weird to you?”

“Oh fuck you. My hero. My white knight, scaring away the big bad men,” you say in a mocking tone. You cross your arms over your chest and for the first time since walking into the back room Steve notices that you have unbuttoned a large portion of the top buttons on your shirt, probably due to the heat. With your arms folded over your chest, he can see your cleavage and he swallows. You notice and drop your arms with a scoff. “You fucking pervert. You’re no better than the rest of them!”

“What? What?!” Steve blusters, trying to play off the fact that you caught him staring.

“You’re a fucking horn dog, that’s what.”

“Oh please.” He turns around with a dismissive laugh and you step forward to follow him, staying in his space.

“You know what I think? I think the reason you give me a hard time is because I never gave you the time of day,” you declare, putting your hands on your hips. The heat is rising within you now. The air is stifling and electric around you as Steve takes an angry step closer to you and you feel crackling as if you’re in the middle of a heat lightning storm.

“Well you’re way off base with that theory, trainee,” Steve bites out. He’s smirking at you. Goddamn smirking at you as if he’s got the upperhand in spite of what you’ve just accused him of.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because I know you asked Robin if I was single when you first started working here,” he says smugly. He folds his arms across his own chest now and you curse your fucking eyes because they widen while taking in the way his biceps now look. Large and defined as his sleeves shift up.

“So? That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I just wanted to know if you were cheating on a girlfriend with all the flirting you insist on doing,” you manage to reply coolly. But Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish your statement.

“I believe your words were - and I quote - ‘Is Steve single? Because he’s hot as fuck. I’d let that boy bend me over the break room table’.” His voice takes on a high pitched mocking quality as he approximates your tone.

Your eyes blow wide and your jaw drops to the floor.

“Robin, that bitch.”

“Don’t blame Robin for your horny fantasies, trainee.” He’s got a smile on his face that you just want to slap off. Your fingers flex at your sides but you hold yourself back, taking a deep breath.

“Then you don’t blame her for the fact that she told me you get a semi every time I wear these jeans?”

Steve’s eyes practically bug out of his head and dart down to look at the jeans in question. You quirk an eye up, your turn to smile.

“I - what? No!”

“So she lied? This doesn’t do it for you?” you ask, turning slightly and leaning on the back of a chair so that your ass stuck out a little, accentuating your curves. Steve’s gaze drops to your ass before pinballing all the way around the room, desperately looking at anything and everything other than you.

“That’s not…you’re full of…”

“No, you’re full of it, Harrington. Admit it,” you say, straightening up and pointing at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, standing a little straighter and looking at you now that you’re no longer presenting your ass to him.

“You find me irresistable,” you accuse. Steve laughs loudly and without humor.

“And yet here I am. Perfectly capable of resisting,” he says, standing his ground. “Meanwhile you’re practically throwing yourself at me.”

“You fucking wish!”

“In your dreams.”

“In my nightmares.”

The next few seconds seem to play out, paradoxically, both sped up and in slow motion. The heat fills the space around you, almost thick enough to cushion the air. And then Steve’s body is hurtling towards yours. Or yours towards his - you can’t be sure. All you are aware of is movement and then contact. The woosh of air and then the solidness of impact.

Steve’s hands are on your waist, pulling your body against his as his lips crash against yours. Your hands are in his hair before you can even think about it, your movements automatic and entirely involuntary as far as you’re concerned. Fingers fisting in his locks you kick yourself internally because they feel exactly like you thought they would. Fucking pretty haired pretty boy.

His tongue is at the seam of your lips, forcing your mouth open ruthlessly and you comply, allowing him to sweep inside. Steve turns his head to the side, deepening the kiss and pushing down into you until you feel yourself being folded back, his hand sliding to your tailbone to support you through the dip.

When he pulls away, both of you gasping for air, he doesn’t move far, instead dipping to suck biting kisses against your throat.

“You gonna tell me to stop?”

His words don’t make any sense as they enter your hazy brain. One of your hands drops to his shoulder, grasping. Clinging really as he delivers a particularly rough suck to the place beneath your ear.

“W-what?”

“If you hate me so much this must be torture for you,” he breathes into your skin. The smugness has returned to his voice, muted though it is against your throat.

“I fucking hate you, Harrington,” you seethe. He’s laughing now against your throat.

“I know, that’s what I just said - ,”

You cut him off by roughly grabbing him by the hair and bringing him back to your lips. The moan he looses into your mouth has you humming with a satisfaction that seeps deep down into your core. He’s not getting the upper hand so easily. Not if you have anything to say about it.

Now on a single-minded mission to ruin him, you reach down and splay your hand out against his lower back, rolling your hips forward in tandem with the motion in order to grind your pelvis against his. He lets out a groan that you feel in your extremities, so you repeat the move.

Suddenly the hands that are on your waist drop to your hips and wrench you around so your back is to him. The twirl disorients you and you gasp, blinking at the back of the break room and panting as Steve’s hands pull you back - ass against his pelvis.

He slaps a hand on the back of your thigh - making you whine - and slides up your curve to grip a handful of your ass.

“I’ll be the bigger person,” he says with a heavy chuckle into your ear. “I can admit these jeans do it for me.”

A laugh rocks through your body in spite of yourself.

“Oh yeah? They giving you a semi?” you ask jokingly. Steve pulls you back against him, hips bracketing your ass, and you feel him pressing into you. Hard. Nothing semi about it.

“What do you think?” His voice is gruff now, his lower half grinding slowly, deliberately into yours.

“I think you’re hard,” you say on an exhale. His laugh is full throated and his grip on your hips tighten.

“Very observant, trainee. A+ work.” His face buries itself into the crook between your neck and shoulder, lips toying with the skin there.

“Don’t call me trainee.” Your voice is breathless but for once there is no menace in it when you say the sentence you’ve yelled at him a million times.

“No? What should I call you then?” His lips are at your ear. His fingertips dig into your hips and push you back into him. Making you feel him. “Baby? Darling?”

You let out a gasping laugh when he bucks into you from behind, knocking you off balance a bit so you have to lean forward and grasp the edge of the table. He follows you down, chest still against your back.

“...slut?”

You’d love it if your response was to laugh in his face. To pry his hands off of you, straighten up your clothes, and walk out the door. But that’s not what happens.

You moan.

He says the word and you moan.

It’s dark and filthy and you feel hot shame the minute it issues from your mouth, but the way his fingers tense immediately has got heat pooling directly between your thighs.

“Holy shit.”

“I…that doesn’t…”

“Holy shit!” His words are laughing and victorious and he’s nuzzling his face over your shoulder even as you try to crouch away. “I fucking called it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you argue, even as your back arches slightly and find yourself rocking back into him. His hand slides over the slope of your hip to the front of your jeans.

“You moaned, trainee. I called you a slut and you moaned.” Steve’s hand cups your mound then, middle finger pressing up into the center seam of your jeans.

“F-fuck…” You swivel your hips to grind down into his hand, suddenly getting a taste of the friction you’d begun to crave.

Steve uses his hand between your legs to ground you against him, giving him leverage with which to rub his hard-on directly into your ass.

“You can lie all you want. Calling you a slut is making you writhe for me…like a cute little slut.”

You huff out an exhale and look over your shoulder at him.

“Is it the word or the fact that you’re practically fingering me through my jeans and humping me? Which is it, Steve?”

His cocky smile only widens and he shoots forward to steal a kiss over your shoulder since you’re looking at him.

“Both?”

“Oh christ, Harrington…” you trail off as his hand slides up and starts opening your jeans.

“You do have a point though…” he says, biting his lip in concentration. He yanks your jeans down over your ass, leaving them bunched around your knees. His hand cups you through your underwear before yanking them to the side, fingers sweeping directly over your wet slit as you shiver. “Through the jeans wasn’t that efficient.”

“Pretty boy worries about efficiency?” you ask derisively. His finger has found your clit with no problem and your knees are feeling weaker by the second, but you definitely aren’t going to go easy on him.

“Being pretty isn’t the only thing I’m good at, you know,” he says with humor. You find the wherewithal to reach back and peel his other hand off your hip, bringing it to close around your breast. Steve intakes breath sharply.

“Same,” you reply with a smirk. He gropes you experimentally through your shirt before rooting underneath the hem to find your bra-clad breast.

“So you think you’re pretty?” he taunts.

“You do.”

“I think you’re pretty or I think I’m pretty?” Steve asks, pulling your breast out of the cup and pinching your nipple just as he sinks a finger into your pussy.

“Fuck…the first one…both…just shut up,” you grit out and arch your back.

“I knew you’d been mean to me,” Steve quips before sinking his teeth lightly into your shoulder.

“Steve, do you want to fuck me?” you ask, voice tinged with annoyance. His head shoots over your shoulder to try and get a look at your face.

“I can fuck you?” He sounds like an enthusiastic puppy dog and your heart lurches in spite of itself.

“Not if you keep making fun of me, you can’t,” you say, though there’s humor in the words.

“Ahh, you can dish it but you can’t take it. I get it. That’s cool.” Steve’s tone is casual. The exact opposite of his actions as he slowly adds another finger into your dripping channel. You keen forward, both from the force of the pleasure and from the way your reaction makes him grind his dick even harder against your ass.

“Um…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“So…are you going to fuck me?”

Your question makes him laugh and has his hips stuttering against you.

“Eager to make the fantasy of me bending you over this table a reality?”

“No. Eager to fast forward to the part where you wake up having creamed your pj’s thinking of me,” you retort, this time with a massive smile on your face as you recall the story you’d been told about Steve’s wet dreams. Steve groans.

“Fucking Robin,” he says, letting go of your breast to reach down and open his own pants.

“She’s the worst,” you agree. The anticipation is mounting and sweat drips off your brow. You’d down on your elbows now, bent over the table, and you can’t see Steve behind you, but you can hear the rustle of clothing. He yanks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles suddenly and you yelp and he nudges your thighs open so your legs are spread hip-width apart.

You wait a few breathless heart beats until the sound of skin on skin - which does not include your own - has you looking over your shoulder.

Steve is standing behind you, his own pants pooled at his feet, with his cock in his hand. He’s gripping it, giving it long, slow strokes as his eyes hungrily consume your half-bare body.

“I…think you might kill me,” he says seriously, dragging his eyes up from your pussy to your face. You gesture down to the cock he is fisting, eyeing the size.

“Back at you.”

He laughs at your response and heat rushes through you at how beautiful he looks with the smile cracking his face wide. You want him. Now.

So you turn back around and bend yourself over the table again, shifting side to side to sway your ass at him enticingly.

Steve’s on you not even a second later. His hands smooth over your hips and waist and his cock slides between your legs, between your folds.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He’s repeating the phrase over and over under his breath and you’d laugh but you’re feeling similarly speechless. Impatient now, you reach back and take his cock in your hand, making him hiss. You arch and lean forward, guiding his tip into you until his hands grip your hips and he steps forward, slipping in inch by inch.

“Oh fuck,” you both swear, practically in unison. Steve remains still for a second to let you adjust, and also to ground himself as he takes in all of what is happening in this moment.

You find yourself nearly shaking from the feel of him inside you. He feels so good and it’s been a long, empty summer so far. Of course you’re horny, you reason with yourself in your head as you shift forward, trying to entice him to move, which he does. He’s hot and you’re horny and and it feels good. It feeels good.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

Shit. You’ve been speaking your thoughts out loud. You go to contradict him - to take it back - but then he’s kissing your neck and you can’t help but hum.

“Yeah. It’s good.”

He finds a steady pace before the his words return again, this time more hoarse than before.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groans out, thrusting into you particularly hard. Feeling sweat slick your skin you laugh.

“It’s because there’s no fan in here.”

“Oh, she’s shy about compliments suddenly,” Steve intuits and you roll your eyes, though he can’t see it. “She knows she’s hot but doesn’t want me to point it out?”

“Steve…” you warn, but there’s little else you can do as he reaches a hand down to the apex of your thighs and starts fingering your clit. You grip numbly at the table.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop talking about your incredible body?” he teases, his other hand coming down flat over your back to push you further down into the table before reclaiming your hip. “How good it feels to be inside you?”

“You’re a cocky bastard,” you say, but it comes out in a whine. You’re record-breakingly close to cumming and your brain and body seem disconnected. Unsure of what to do about the short circuiting feeling of shame and pleasure and annoyance and fondness, all of which are completely Steve’s fault.

“You’ve got that right, sweetheart,” he responds, inhaling sharply when you clench around him in response. “What’s that? So you like being called sweetheart?”

“Mmmm,” is all you manage to moan out, though he takes it correctly as an affirmation. He has both hands gripping your waist now, allowing nothing to distract him from pounding into you, chasing his own release now while also rocketing you towards your own.

“So you do like a little sweetness after all.” It’s teasing but you’re too fucked out to care at this point. So close. So close. Steve’s kissing the spot under your ear as he slows down to fuck you harder. Deeper. “Good thing I like it sweet. That’s how I’ve always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it something that usually would have you slapping him and walking away? Yes.

But now you’re cumming. Crying out his name as his cock slides into you, your walls bearing down and spasming around him.

You don’t even know where your orgasm ends and his begins, you’re so blinded by pleasure. But he’s shaking around you and his hips are stuttering and then his weight is pressing you into the table as he pants.

There’s a split second where your shared breathe is all you can sense. His skin on yours has you buzzing and your muscles are jelly. You don’t even have a moment to think about repercussions or right or wrong. There’s just…Steve.

And then the bell rings in the distance indicating someone has entered the front door.

“Hellooo!” Comes Robin’s sing song voice. “Do my sad single friends want to hear how my date went?”

~*~

Read Part 2 Here

Steve / Stranger Things tag list (some of these are assumptions based on your interactions with my posts about my steve fic, so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!): @boomhauer @asbisexualasitgets @bluetreecloud20 @flightless-b1rds let-my-ship-sail @fandomsimper @livlovelaughh @maggiemaes-stuff @adultnitemares @wonderfulw0rldx @bellaiscool @halolani supe-r-nova r4nd0mf4nd0mz25 spookyreidd cmlover101 coolestgirlhere jadenswifey22 ashleighjadecharlton everybodywantstobetouched uhcastiels monsterhighprincess99 misaamaneswifey steveharringtonsdaddy getoutandtouchtherain alexxavicry craze4bau sabrinablack194 iseultult devonisntreal navybluebitch macey730 izbot6 sweetkyotto @millenialcatlady creme-delacreme s-trawberryv-eins amatchinwater vamdevil xoxchanxl mrssharrington edwardmunsn moonyscardigans wayward-rose

#steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x fem!reader #fem!reader

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