denalidear

[denalidear]

Call Me if You Need a Friend

Warnings: addiction, addiction recovery group, a little bit of kindness shown to this man bc he needs it.

a/n: Breaking my two years of silence for this man. Don’t mind me.

—————

The room was quiet apart from the low vibrations of chair legs being pulled across the floor. Twenty or so seats circled up in the center of the community room at the library, a small table of refreshments near by. Next to the water and cookies, a brochure that read “You are More Than Addiction.”

Another small scrape as the woman pulled a final chair into the group, leaving a small gap facing the door. Her attention was directed to him, as the door clicked shut after his entrance. She smiled brightly and welcomed him.

“A-am I early?” He asked hesitantly.

“Earlier enough to get first pick on the cookies.” She beamed at him, watching his eyes as they darted from the cookies back to her. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” She stated, taking a small step towards him and extending her hand. “I’m Y/N.” He willed himself to contain the parts of him he hates as he gave her a small handshake.

“I’m Bob.” He said quickly, taking his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.

“Well it is very nice to meet you, Bob. I am glad you are here today.” She said, a soft and sincere look on her face that almost made Bob believe her.

“Feel free to grab a snack and take a seat. I think we will have a few more folks join us soon.” She gestured again to the small table as he muttered a quiet thanks. She nodded as they both moved, taking a seat near the door and pulling a binder from her bag. She flipped through it quietly as Bob moved to grab a cup of water and sit across from her.

“Where are you from, Bob?”

“Uh, Florida.” He cleared his throat to speak, glancing at her as she looked up to speak with him.

“Ah, very nice. I have family down there. It’s good to visit and get out of the city sometimes.” She smiled. “What brought you to New York?”

“Oh, uh. Work, I guess.” He stated, cringing at the half lie that left his mouth.

“You guess.” She let out a light laugh, one that made his chest hurt. “How long have you been around here?”

“About six months.” He nodded, taking a sip from the cup in his hand to soothe the knot that had formed in his chest.

“That’s great.” She smiled again, his gaze flicked to her lips before finding a home on the floor. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s ok.” He said quietly. “Busy.”

“Oh yeah.” She laughed again, and that heavy feeling returned to his chest. “I got lost like six times the first month I lived here.” Her giggles spread to him, letting out a soft chuckle out of his chest. His heart felt a little lighter as they laughed together for a moment.

The time was cut off by the door opening, a gruff looking man walking in confidently.

“Good evening, Ms. Y/L/N.” He spoke. “How was your week?”

“It was great, Mike.” She smiled that same smile at the new man, making Bob sink back into his chair a little before hearing his name in her voice.

“Bob, this is Mike.” She introduced, “Do not feel obligated to answer any of his questions.” She laughed a little as the man sat a few seats down from her. Mike laughed lightly and began asking questions of the two of them as another few people entered the room.

Bob shrank into himself a bit more as the number of people in the circle grew. He stared blankly at the floor before he saw a pair of sneakers enter his gaze, he looked up to see Y/N crossing the room to sit in the chair directly to his left. She smiled at him again, before calling the groups attention and starting the session.

Bob sat quietly through the whole meeting, stealing glances of the woman next to him and the notes written in her binder. The text ranged from questions for the group, mindfulness practices, and even some tips on self-care. In the margins, some notes in what he assumed were her handwriting. He smiled a little as he saw how her ‘L’s looped in the same way as his moms.

In a blink, the meeting was over. Half of the group rose from their seats, electing to leave quickly. Others lingered to chat, grab a cookie, or approached Y/N to ask some questions.

His body was glued to the seat, overwhelmed at the dramatic change in volume of the room. Y/N was speaking with another woman, and his jaw tensed as his chest tightened again. He felt a small tap against his heel, seeing that Y/N had pushed her foot to touch his. This small gesture reminded him to breath, filling his lungs with fresh air as most of the room dispersed.

Why he didn’t leave after that, he couldn’t say. But as Y/N bid goodnight to the departing group, she turned to him with a smile.

“What did you think?” She asked quietly, turning to look him in the eye.

“It was good.” He said quietly. She laughed a little at his words.

“I know it’s always weird the first time. But there’s a lot of good that can come from meeting with people who are going through the same stuff you are.” She said.

“You know,” she started, flipping to the front of her binder where she pulled out one of the brochures he has seen by the cookies. “We meet once a week, but we have a group chat where everyone can share how their week is going between sessions.” She continued as she clicked her pen and wrote quickly. She handed the tri-fold to him upside down, and pointed to what she had written.

“Text me if you want to join the chat, or even if you just need to talk.” She stated as Bob read her words on the paper.

‘Call me if you need a friend :)’

“Th-thanks.” He hummed, a smile on his face as he looked up at her.

“Will I see you next week?” She asked as she stood, moving to pack up the table and push back the chairs.

“Yeah, I think so.” He said lightly.

“Good. I look forward to getting to know you better.” She said with a sincerity that made him believe her.

“Have a good week, Bob.” She said as he approached the door to leave.

“You too, Y/N.” As he pushed out the door and stepped onto the street, his chest felt a little lighter and he put the brochure in his pocket for safe keeping, leaving his hand wrapped around the paper.

[denalidear]

may or may not have a simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader fix inspired by taylor swift’s ‘i can see you’ in the works. interested?

[denalidear]

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

[denalidear]

About Me

---

howdy ho and welcome to my blog!

my name is denali, or lee for short.

---

[denalidear]

Soft

a/n: here to feed your delusions once again. this one could be a two parter if anyone is interested. let me know :)

summary: drunk words are sober thoughts

word count: 1032

warnings: drunk will, mention of girlfriend and drinking, an appropriate amount of angst

- - -

It was hard; being his best friend right now. Every night for the past month or so around 12:30 am you’d get a call. Most of the time he just wanted to talk about his stream, how many viewers he had that night, what he’d done. Other times he asked you to come over. Those were the nights he hadn’t streamed. The ones he reserved to go out with Tommy and you. He’d always cancel plans about an hour before you’d meet - give some lame excuse about how his girlfriend wanted to stay in or he had to edit a video. Those were the calls you were dreading because you knew how you’d find him when you went to visit.

It was 2:49 am, this night. Your phone lit up with a photo of you two in central London you’d taken months ago, before he started dating this girl, but just after he broke up with the last one. Your eyes barely opened to make sure it was a call worth answering, but since it was him, you rolled onto your side and tapped the green button.

“Will, are you alright? It’s late.”

“She left me.” He mumbled, the wine or beer he had certainly been drinking almost seeped through the phone screen. “She left angry and texted me to say we were done.”

“Can I come over?” You were already slipping on shoes. A blurry ‘yes’ came through the speakers and you left your flat. Thankfully he was only around the block, and you kept him talking as you sped to him. “I’m here, come let me in.”

“It’s open. I’m up in the bedroom.” He spoke through the phone, sounding a little more aware than he had only ten minutes ago. It calmed the worry in your gut a bit, but the fact he’d left his doors unlocked while he was inebriated kept the knot in your stomach tight. Once you were inside you hung up the phone and shouted up to him.

“I’m just taking off my shoes!” carefully lining them up next to his - where her’s would normally be. You could hear a little shuffling upstairs but nothing that added to your concern. That is until you heard glass hit and shatter on the floor. You almost slipped as you raced up - soft socks and hardwood stairs not a good mix. “Will?”

“I’m ok.” He shouted from his room. “-is just my glass.” He was sprawled across his bed, arm outstretched to reach the table that had an open bottle of wine and now cup-less coaster. At least he cared for his furniture. His hair stuck to his forehead and you could tell he hadn’t gotten up in at least 8 hours, the blankets around him flattened from his long stay in bed.

“You’re not hurt?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally?” He smashed his face further into his pillows instead of answering.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You ask, carefully picking up the largest pieces of glass shards that had scattered across the floor. You grimaced at the small spots of red that had spattered on the light walls, making a mental note to clean it up when he was feeling better.

“We were drinking a bit at dinner. Something red that she’d wanted.” He curled his long body into himself as he recounted the evening's events. Wilbur was a sad drunk, but also a chatty one, so his story went on for a few minutes while you finished cleaning the glass. His eyes followed you as you moved about the room and he pulled his head up a bit once his story was finished.

Once the mess was cleaned, or at least the sharp shards put into the trash, you sat yourself by the edge of his bed and leaned your head in close to his. “How can I help you, Will?” You whispered to the man. He shrugged so you offered a few options. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Maybe while you shower and sober up a bit?”

“I’ll shower but will you just sit outside? I don’t think I wanna be alone right now.” He whispered the last bit. You nodded and helped him up. Once he was sitting on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him, he wrapped his long arms around your waist and tucked his head into your stomach. Your hand pulled his head in, running your fingers through his hair.

“We’ll get through it. I know we will.” You spoke as he clung to you. “And hey, this means Lovejoy will get some really good songs after this, huh?” You teased as he pulled away. That put a smile on his face as he stood and lumbered to the bathroom. You took your place on the floor near the bathroom door and listened as Will rambled about whatever had happened on his last stream. You could hear the water hitting the floor as he washed his hair. Soon enough he was out and changed, pulling you into another hug.

“Better?” You asked him and he let out a deep breath.

“Yeah. Definitely still drunk though.” He mumbled into your hair. “Will you stay with me?”

“Do you think I have anything better to do at three in the morning?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and pulled you into the bed with him. Once you got comfy he arranged his long limbs over you, resembling a starfish. A longboard sigh left his lungs as he nuzzled a little into his pillow. You realized at this moment this isn’t what best friends do. Best friends don’t cuddle or wait for the other to get out of the shower. Will’s breath steadied next to you as your mind began to swirl with thoughts as to what could cause that girl to leave such a soft and sweet man.

“It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it? The argument I mean.” You asked into the dark room, expecting an answer. Instead, you heard a quiet snore and realized that Will had fallen asleep, head tucked into your neck. Guess that conversation will have to happen tomorrow.

[denalidear]

anywho i’m doing fabulous

[denalidear]

Small Bunk

a/n: it’s not even been a full day and i have at least two more fics to post… anyway

summary: will and you share a bunk on the tour bus and the other band members wish you wouldn’t.

word count: 486

warnings: none :)

- - -

It was a hazard at this point. The hall of the tour bus was small, and the beds even smaller. Whatever spark of inspiration that drove you and Wilbur into the same bed was to be blamed. The two of you shared the bottom bunk right in front of the bathroom, so every trip through the hall came with a warning sign.

Ash was the first to fall victim to the trap the two of you had unintentionally set. Limbs hung from behind the short curtain. A Will foot there, a you arm here. He was just trying to pee while the bus drove up the California coast when he tripped over Will’s foot that stuck out just far enough to pose a threat. Both men winced and apologized before Will’s leg slithered back behind the curtain of the bunk.

Mark was next and the poor man ran into a double whammy. Will’s arm stuck out just before his elbow, and your ankle was pinned underneath his legs. As Mark ventured to the hallway closet for an extra blanket, his knee was caught on both extremities. Will’s arm was bent at an unforgiving angle and you were dragged an inch or two down as Mark fell over your foot. Everyone mumbled apologies and mark couldn't help but smile as he heard you whisper to Wilbur, “are you alright?”

Joe was the last to hit the floor in your little perilous passageway. Both other band members had warned him of the limb ridden space, but he needed to get his phone charger from his bunk. He swore he looked as he passed the two of you. But as he passed, two socked feet appeared from behind the curtain and caught his upper shin, sending him to the ground.

Neither of you would admit it, but Joe said it was a coordinated attack. And while you and will had felt bad about the bruised knees and rug burnt hands, you would share a small laugh about how it was only fair all three of them had met their demise in the tour bus hallway.

Bonus: you and will had gone out for a late night snack, sneaking out of the venue to find the nearest open diner with chocolate milkshakes. You tried to keep quiet as you entered the dark bus, sure that everyone else had already gone to sleep.

You ran your hand carefully against the wall, making sure to slide you’re shoe to there you knew there’d be a small step up. As you made you’re way to your back bunk, your legs were caught on either side by feet.

In slow motion you came crashing to the carpeted floor, your tall boyfriend right behind you. A bang shook the bus as your rear end met the ground and Will came crashing down on top of you. Immediately you laughed as the other band members cheered.

[denalidear]

Raspy

a/n: basically, uh, my bestie and i saw a lovejoy concert this week and we've had mutual wilbur brainrot. thankfully, i'm an english major with just enough self confidence to write us some fics. enjoy.

summary: traveling made you sick, and close quarters mean everyones sick too.

word count: 672

warnings: none? fem!reader, a little suggestive, sickness

---

It’s not like you had meant to get sick. Traveling always introduced you to germs, and staying in a tour bus meant close quarters with the rest of the band. Thankfully, you’d all gotten a small break over the weekend of travel and slept a lot as the tour progressed from Washington state to Utah. 

You’d almost banned Will from kisses, but that man had the best puppy dog eyes known to man.  But now, as the bus rolled into Salt Lake City, he was suffering the consequences of his actions in the form of a mild cold. He had a massive headache, but apart from a little rasp in his throat, his vocal chords weren’t under too much extra stress. 

It did take a bit of extra convincing to get Will out of the bunks and into sound check, but a few forehead kisses did the trick as you offered him a few ibuprofen and a bottle of water. 

“I feel bad, Will. Maybe kisses should have been banned.” You said quietly, watching the tower of a man crawl out of his bottom bunk. “Absolutely not, love. That’s the whole point of bringing you on tour.” He pulled you into a hug. “Can’t kiss over the phone.” He smooshed his lips into the top of your head, the action barely resembling a kiss. 

“Alright, well, don’t let me distract you any longer. You’ve got a whole load of people waiting on you.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted as he moved around the bus, getting ready for sound check and the concert that would insue. 

---

“Salt Lake City, how are we doing tonight?” Wilbur asked the crowed. The venue was packed, almost more that the other dozen places you’d been on tour so far. And the energy buzzed in the room, the audience screaming their heads off after the first song. 

“Salt Lake, I have a favor to ask of you. My beautiful girlfriend, whose hiding off stage-” Will gestured towards you and the crowd screamed. “- got me and Ash sick this weekend. So I am extremely unwell.” The room erupted in laughter and cheering. 

“As a side effect of this, my voice is very raspy. It’s great for me because my love thinks it’s sexy, but it’s not so great for singing. So I need you all to fucking scream to these songs.” The room vibrated with the volume of the cheers. You could see his grin from behind the curtains as he carefully began the chords to Model Busses.

---

Post-concert Will was your favorite Will, not that you love him any less normally. But after every gig he just buzzed with adrenaline when he got off stage. Tonight was no different. As soon as he got off stage he scooped you up in a hug and smashed his lips on yours. You indulged him for a moment, holding him tight despite the shirt clinging to his body with sweat. As soon as he pulled away, you spoke.

“You, mister, did not play my song!” You berated him as you helped him pull of the denim jacket he insisted on wearing. He laughed quietly, voice rougher han before he went on stage. “You promised you’d do it’s all futile acoustic tonight!”

“And you, my love, are being mean to a sick man.”

“Sick as a consequence of his own actions. Only one of us here can’t keep his lips to himself.” You fluffed his sweaty stuck hair off of his forehead before pulling him into a kiss. 

“Seems like a mutual problem to me, my dear.” He tried to pull you into another hug, the sweat on his skin cooling. You quickly pushed your hand to his chest. 

“Oh buddy, if anything else is happening between us tonight, you’re gonna need to shower first.”

“Well I thought you loved me, sweat and all.”

“I only love boys who play my favorite song at their concert. Like they promised.”

“That’s low, love. Really low.” 

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it  when you don’t stink.” 

[denalidear]

BEGGING for lipstick from the prompt list with Steve. I’ve been binging all of your blurbs and then read that prompt and died thinking about it.

you're so sweet, thank you. ♥ honestly i was hoping someone would pick this prompt cause it was my favorite | steve + fake dating ♥

[LIPSTICK; Brushing lipstick off their cheek after the other/someone kisses them. ]

—

You find Steve sitting on a sun lounger beside the pool, watching the water thoughtfully. Probably bored out of his mind, you think, feeling a little guilty.

He doesn't hear you approaching. The sun lounger is big enough for you to sit next to him, though there's only a tiny gap between your bare thigh and his. 

"Sorry," you say, handing him one of the two glasses you brought with you and offering an apologetic smile. 

Steve stares suspiciously at the red liquid, frowning at the small bright yellow umbrella decorating the glass. "For what?" he asks. His tone is soft, his expression even softer when his eyes meet yours.

"For dragging you to the world's most boring party."

"Oh, you should see my parents' parties," he beams, fiddling with the small umbrella absentmindedly. "Those were three times worse than this. And at least I have you here."

He lightly bumps your shoulder with his and you try to keep the smile on your face from looking too silly, too needy. You don't think you succeed. The solution is lowering your head and pretending to be interested in the drink in your hand — which, by the way, you don't even know what it's called, let alone what it's made of.

And Steve looks too pretty in the dim moonlight. 

"And you didn't drag me here, I volunteered," he adds when you don't say anything, taking a careful sip of his own drink. "But what is this? Jesus," he frowns at the glass as if it has offended him deeply.

Then, Steve laughs.

As always, his laugh is contagious. A giggle escapes you in no time. "I have no idea. Some fancy drink May is making for everyone."

Steve braves another sip, then decidedly puts the glass down on the ground next to your legs…your legs, which he's now looking intently at. It's subtle but definitely there, a gaze that lingers a second too long before he's straightening up and clearing his throat, once again the picture of a great, respectful friend. It happened, you tell yourself. And yet, your mind desperately tries to convince you that you're reading too much into this, into him, into this relationship.

You take a big sip of your drink. It's far from being your favorite, but it's also not bad. A little sweet, a little strong. You're not sure whether you're hoping it boosts your courage or completely erases it along with all of your thoughts about the boy beside you. It doesn't seem to be working either way.

Coming to this high school reunion — a pathetic excuse of a party with your classmates from your old school in Indianapolis, more like — was probably not your best decision. Bringing Steve along as your fake boyfriend wasn't your brightest idea either, because even though he'd been pretty convincing all night and made everyone basically fall in love with him, now you can't stop thinking about what it would be like if he really was your boyfriend.

"So," Steve starts, sighing. You look up, hoping to catch a glimpse of a star, a distraction, but the sky is clear tonight. "That guy- Philip."

Steve doesn't look at you. He tries very hard to appear almost distracted, like he's just making small talk. You bite back a smile.

"Phil," you correct him. 

"Phil," Steve repeats, as if the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "He looked really upset when you introduced me as your boyfriend, you know."

There's potential in the way this conversation is going, you think, although you also hate how this is the first thing that comes to your mind.

"He's with May," you inform.

"Why do I feel like there's a story there?"

You set your glass down carefully next to Steve's and take a deep breath. "There is. A very short one: we dated the year before I moved to Hawkins, tried long distance, and then he cheated on me with May and they started dating. The end."

Steve stares at you for a long moment before answering.

"Wow, what an idiot. I was going to say I'm sorry, but you can do so much better than him. Honestly."

You exhale a nervous laugh. "So much better that I had to ask a friend to pretend to be my boyfriend just so I wouldn't feel like such a loser."

"You are not a loser."

The look you give him seems to ask 'really?' Steve stares back at you as if you've just cursed him profusely, although you can see the offended expression is entirely false.

"You are not a loser," he repeats seriously, holding your gaze. 

You can read the request implied in the sentence, and you see little option but to comply with it, smiling.

"Okay, I'm not a loser," you concede, feigning annoyance. You look down at your shoes, certain that this is not the time for self-pity but unable to stop. "I just can't make anyone love me."

"I love you," Steve says easily.

You use all your willpower not to blush, even though you're positive it's not even possible to contain such a thing. It's not the first time Steve has said those words and you know there's nothing romantic about them. And yet every time you hear those three words — which happened only a couple of times during the span of your friendship, (usually caused by emotional hugs on holidays) — you still feel an inexplicable tingling in the back of your neck, a shiver down your spine.

"I love you too," you say, and it's not the first time either. Getting the words out without letting the real extent of the feeling behind them show is still quite hard for you. "But I meant, you know… as more than friends."

Steve looks at you differently, or maybe it's just the faint moonlight tricking your eyes, but for a moment you think he's actually going to say something. 

And then the moment passes and he leans forward, resting his palms on his knees in silence. 

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Thank you."

Steve turns his face to look at you. 

"What for?"

"For coming here with me. And for keeping up the loyal boyfriend facade even in front of a bunch of gorgeous girls drooling over you."

You chuckle in hopes of sounding more relaxed. All Steve does is smile.

"It wasn't hard, you now," he says, and you don't think you'd be able to wipe the smile from your face if you tried. "It was actually pretty easy. And you're way prettier than all of them."

Your smile grows into a giggle. "Steve-"

"And way funnier and kinder too. And nicer. You're really nice, you know that? And your perfume is-"

You put your hand over his mouth, laughing. "Fine, fine! Stop!" you chide, even though this is the last thing you want him to do.

You can see the smile in his eyes.

And that's it; it's the soft look on his face, his infuriating perfect hair, his sweet words...those are the things you blame when you lean forward and impulsively kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red mark on his skin almost perfectly the shape of your lips.

"Thank you," you say before pulling away, sounding surprisingly firm despite what you've just done.

You can't be imagining it. The expression of confusion on his face, half disbelieving and half dreamy, definitely a little satisfied. It can't be just you imagining it.

Did I cause this?

Your thumb touches the lipstick stain on Steve's cheek and you rub it gently, using your other hand to gently cup his chin. "Shit, I'm sorry, Steve," you whisper. "I got lipstick on your face."

He smiles. You know he's smiling because you're looking at his mouth right now.

And he's looking at yours.

Oh my God.

The pad of your thumb is red because of the lipstick and his cheek is still slightly colored by the traces of it, but now your attention has dissipated like a puff of smoke and you are unable to grasp it again.

Steve grabs your wrist, mumbles your name. With his free hand, he touches your lips with his fingertips and states, "Your lipstick is smudged."

"Is it?" you ask.

"It is," he assures. And kisses you.

Steve's lips are soft and he tastes like May's drink, sweet as he moves against you slowly, perhaps hesitant or perhaps wanting to enjoy every second, you think, wishing it was the last option. His arm curls around your waist and you sigh against his mouth, pulling away just for a brief moment. But his lips chase yours and capture them in another kiss and another and another until there's no option but to pull away for air.

He rests his forehead against yours and smiles between heavy breaths. "I lied," Steve whispers. "Your lipstick wasn't smudged before."

[denalidear]

you and i — s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

synopsis: you’re in love with your best friend, steve. steve is in love with you. you would think it’s simple, right? well, according to steve, you would be wrong.

warnings: im shit at summaries, pining, best friends to lovers, mutual feelings which makes this more idiots to lovers, mentions of underage drinking and smoking, mentions of st*ncy, season 3 tings, nancy and robin are good friends, bit of angst, bit of fluff, canon violence, blood, injuries, mentions of vomit, cursing?, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: this fic is completely inspired by the events that lead up to my first relationship. yes, I’m completely projecting to deal with my own experiences and heartbreak, but don’t you worry, this has a much happier ending than my relationship did. also the title is from the one direction song as it was the “our song” of said relationship. pls don’t let this one flop that would be embarrassing. gif isn’t mine.

You weren’t quite sure when you feelings for Steve Harrington transitioned from platonic to romantic. 

It seemed like one minute he was as your best friend–an unlikely one, but after all you’d seen together in the last year, your best friend nonetheless–and the next he was consuming your every waking thought. 

At first you assumed the timing couldn’t have been better, his relationship with Nancy having just ended. Until you realized just how heartbroken he was, and the fact that Nancy was also one of your best friends. How would it look for you to swoop in right after her and Steve broke up?

Eventually you realized that it clearly wouldn’t have been so bad, as Nancy had quickly moved on to a relationship with Jonathan not long after. 

Not that you judged her for it, but you didn’t understand how she could dismiss her relationship with Steve so easily, not when you were the one pining for his love and he was the one sulking and staring longingly at her and Jonathan’s intertwined hands.

It didn’t seem fair that she held his attention even after breaking his heart when she didn’t even love him like you did. 

But then his attention seemed to fall on you, most of your time being spent in each other’s presence and your bond growing even stronger during the summer of ‘84. 

So strong that you’d even began to silently suspect that maybe, just maybe, he’d began to like you back. You’d thought it was all in your head, your imagination running wild in order to cope with what you thought were unrequited feelings. But then Nancy made a comment during one of your sleepovers that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. 

“I see the way he looks at you.” Nancy had spoken out of the blue, completely off topic from your previous conversation about this years summer reading. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you blinked in confusion. “What?”

The brunette smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Steve. He likes you.” 

Your mouth fell open, breath hitching in your throat as you searched for something to say. “You’re crazy.” Was all you managed to scoff out, face burning and hoping that she didn’t notice how flustered you’d become by her words.

She noticed. The grin she wore softened, realizing how deeply the idea affected you. “Am I? You’re all he ever talks about. Every conversation we have have he seems to always find a way to bring you up. The two of you are always together, always touching, and like I said–I see the way he looks at you. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

You mouth became so dry you had to reach for the water bottle on Nancy’s nightstand, taking down swigs of water in an attempt to calm down your racing heart and increasing body temperature. When did Nancy’s room get so hot?

Nancy just watched you with poorly concealed amusement. “You okay?”

You screwed the plastic cap of the water bottle back on with shaky hands, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

She gave you a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because you also have feelings for Steve?” You’re internally grateful you weren’t still gulping down water, because you’re sure you would have choked if you were. 

“Okay, it was a joke before but now I’m definitely questioning your sanity, Nance.” You avoided her eyes as you spoke, occupying yourself with a bottle of red nail polish, suddenly feeling like your fingers needed a pop of color. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from but I can promise you they’re not true. I’m fairly certain Steve still has a thing for you. Not that it would matter because I definitely don’t have feelings for him and even if I did that would be completely breaking girl code and I would never do that to you–“

Nancy said your name, pulling your eyes away from your now red thumbnail to her face instead, taking in her comforting smile. 

“It’s okay,” You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Nancy sighed. “Look, I didn’t want to meddle because it honestly not my business, but it’s borderline painful how oblivious the two of you are.” She paused to take your hands into hers. “No matter what me and Steve had before, it’s nothing like what you two have now. As great as he was, I know now that I never really loved him, not like I know you do. And definitely not like he loves you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, and Nancy seemed to realize this. She squeezed your hands gently. “Just think about it, okay? And talk to Steve.”

After your talk, you couldn’t help but take notice of the things Nancy mentioned. You two did spend a lot of time together, and you realized that he did indeed always seem to have an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your lower back or his leg pressed up against yours. A few quick questions to your group of friends, who were all aware of your feelings and apparently of Steve’s as well, confirmed Nancy’s observation of him constantly talking about you. And when you stole quick glances at him from your peripherals, he was always focused on you. 

The more you sat on the thought, the more it seemed to good to be true. But between Nancy and the rest of your friends contributing to the idea, it was hard not to get your hopes up.

You really should’ve known better.

-

It took a while for you to work up the courage to talk to Steve about your feelings, but as it turns out, it would happen in a much more casual way than you’d anticipated.

“I had a really interesting conversation with Nancy the other day.” He had blurted. It was late in the night on a Friday, the two of you lounging by his pool, bodies relaxed by the combination of the soft blue light from the water and the alcohol running through your system from the couple of beers you’d consumed. 

Your head was a bit too hazy for you to realize what he could’ve been talking about, so you twisted your neck to lazily look over at him. “‘Bout what?” 

“About how we our feelings for each other.” 

For a moment you’d thought you were imagining the words. Either that or you were heaving a dream-no, a nightmare. You silently pinched your arm. Definitely still awake.

Realizing you hadn’t replied, you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Oh.”

You resisted the urge to facepalm at your answer. 

Steve’s lips lifted at the corners, gazing at you with a fondness in his eyes that you missed, your own gaze focused on the swaying pool water.  

“Yup. Told me all about how oblivious we’ve both been. Really opened my eyes.” He spoke softly. 

You’re lips rolled into your mouth, hoping Steve couldn’t hear the way your heart pounded against your rib cage. “Did it?” 

He nodded, expression becoming slightly pained as he spoke his next words. “It did. Because I realized two things after. One, that I do have feelings for you.” 

Your head slowly lifted to meet his eyes, the depth of his gaze knocking the breath out of your chest. “You do?” The slight eagerness in your tone told him well enough that you felt the same way, which both filled him with joy and with guilt.

He seemed hesitant to answer, but when he did he sounded sure. “I do.” 

You tried not to show the fear you felt on your face. “It sounds like there’s a but in there.” You forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded genuine and not as pained as it felt.

“Yeah, um…that was the second thing.” Your eyes raked over his form, his hand that wasn’t holding his bottle was trembling and you could tell that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. “I did realize that I have feelings for you, that’s for sure. And I wish this was simple enough for that to be it, but…” His hands fell into his face, seemingly unable to spit out the words.

“Steve?” You called quietly. You waited for his eyes to meet yours. “It’s okay. Whatever you need to say, you can tell me. You know that.”

By some miracle, your words seemed to bring him enough comfort and confidence to  say what he needed to. Though, once he did, you really wished they wouldn’t have.

“But I still have feelings for Nancy too.” 

You really thought that pining after Steve and thinking he didn’t feel the same was the worst pain you’d felt. Turns out, you were very wrong. 

“Oh.” 

Steve sighed, his left hand raking through his hair, unable to meet your eyes. “I know how I feel about you, and I know how you feel about me. But I don’t want to start anything with you knowing that I won’t be able to give all of myself to you. Not yet. It’s not fair to you and I would never forgive myself if I put you through the same thing I went through.” 

You could only bring yourself to nod slowly,

attempting to process the information while ignoring the ache in your chest.

Steve spoke your name softly, “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

When you met his eyes, it was easy to see the guilt and the pain behind them. It brought you a little bit of comfort, knowing that he wasn’t just saying this to avoid being with you and he genuinely wanted to do what was best for both of you. 

Still, the hurt greatly outweighed the comfort.

“Yeah.” You breathed after a few seconds. “Yeah, I get it. It’s for the best.” 

You should have known better 

-

If your friends noticed anything different between you and Steve, they didn’t say anything about it. 

You’d made the conscious decision to distance yourself from Steve, for the sake of your sanity and your hearts. It wasn’t enough for a divide to have been created, but it was enough to be able to pretend like you were never in love with your best friend in the first place. 

Steve had definitely taken notice to your distance, but other than a small frown that appeared on his face, he didn’t utter a word. He knew why, you knew he knew, and he couldn’t blame you. 

Life after that got kind of crazy. Not any crazier than the Demogorgan or the alternate dimension that sat under Hawkins, but it allowed you to somewhat forget about your situation.

You and Steve both graduated during the Spring of 1985, taking jobs at the newly built Starcourt Mall that summer. He’d began working at the Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream shop, while you worked at the Merry-Go-Round just outside of the food court. They weren’t the cushiest of jobs, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy your employee discount. 

Steve seemed to be enjoying his job for the most part. Sure he had to wear a cheesy sailor costume and deal with Erica Sinclair coming in nearly every day and pestering them for enough free samples to make a regular cup of ice cream, but he did get to encounter a lot of cute girls that came in during the boiling Indiana summer heat. 

He never verbalized this perk, but by the score board made by his lovely coworker, Robin, who had come to be a great friend to you, he was very enthusiastic about his flirting. 

At first you’d felt almost betrayed by his advances towards other girls. Had the two of you not confessed you feelings to each other a year before? But then you rationalized that you had been the one to put a stop to anything that even remotely crossed the line between platonic and romantic. Maybe he’d figured you’d lost feelings for him?

Either way it was painful to watch, but also slightly satisfying whenever a pretty girl would reject him. Not that you’d ever admit it.

Robin was quick to pick up on the tension between the two of you, and you surprised yourself when you found it startlingly easy to open up to her. You suppose that the only other person you could ever really talk about your Steve problem with was Nancy, and that wasn’t necessarily an option anymore.

Nancy was none the wiser of the reason you and Steve never pursued a relationship. You didn’t want her to feel guilty for essentially being the reason why, although it was completely out of her control.

All she was told was that you had both agreed that your lives were too hectic for relationships at the moment and you’d decided that it was for the best to stay friends. 

Something told you she didn’t quite believe you, but she never pried, which you were thankful for.

Robin became a great outlet for your feelings for Steve, along with becoming one of your best friends. You were also sure to reciprocate her support which led to her heartfelt confession about her sexuality. 

For the first time in a while, you’re life seemed to be falling back into equilibrium. Steve was still your best friend, you were making a decent amount of money that would soon start going to your tuition to the community college in the fall, and there was nothing supernatural occurring in Hawkins. 

Apparently, you hadn’t learned your lesson about not getting your hopes up. 

If you had only agreed to take the bus home instead of accepting Steve’s offer for a ride, which you had to wait around for him and Robin to close at Scoops, an hour after your shift had ended, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up stranded in a Russian elevator beneath the mall. But life just never seemed to work in your favor, did it?

Honestly, you were surprised it had taken as long as it did for the five of you to get caught. After the Russian guard that Steve had–shockingly–been able to knock out recovered and alerted reinforcements, you’d all been chased throughout the base as an alarm sounded. If your circumstances weren’t already shitty enough, you’d also come face to face with yet another interdimensional gate that the Russians had opened, welcoming a new set of concerns for your group of friends you hadn’t seen in almost twenty four hours.

The guards chased you all into a room that conveniently contained an air duct in the floor that served as an escape. Steve was the last to enter, slamming the door and calling for both you and Robin to help him defend it against the group of guards that were, admittedly, much stronger than the three of you. 

Dustin and Erica were lucky enough to escape before they were able to knock down the door, and as you stared at the barrels of multiple guns, you could only hope they’d be able to find some help before it was too late. 

They’d separated you, Steve and Robin at first. You’d taken to wailing on the door as much as you could, hoping that if you annoyed them enough maybe you could get to answers as to where your friends were.

You were sure that you’d heard shouts in the distance, some sounding like Robin, some like Steve. The only difference we’re that Robins were like yours, begging for help and to be let out of your temporary prisons, but Steve’s weren’t intelligible words, only pained yells.

It only made you more persistent, and eventually your wish was granted. 

The door flew open so fast that you stumbled back, chest rising and falling in time with your quick breaths, heart pounding with fear at the sight of the Russian general that entered the room.

He was flanked by two other guards, smirking at you with malice. 

“We’ve received some noise complaints.” He joked, his words being followed by an accent. 

You scowled, “Where are my friends?” 

The man chuckled, ignoring your question and turning his head to look at the men behind him. He muttered something in Russian you couldn’t understand and suddenly the men were bounding towards you. They’d each taken a hold of your upper arms, forcing you down onto a chair that previously sat in the corner of the room and bounding your upper body to the back of it.

“I am going to ask you the same as i’ve asked your friends.” He leaned down towards you. “Who do you work for?”

Your face remained unchanged as you debated your next move. You could be honest and hope they’d believe you, though you weren’t sure that would work, so you went with your second option.

You leaned towards the man in the same manor he had, a small grin growing on your face. “Suck. My. Dick.” 

Part of you regretted your actions, but part of you was too satisfied with the anger you caused. The satisfaction was quickly overshadowed by the pain that began to spread across your face as his palm made contact with your cheek. 

The following few minutes would always be a blur, as the pain the men inflicted upon you began to mess with your senses. You didn’t know how much time had had passed, but a blow to your head was the last straw your body could take, the last thing you remember being the straps around your body loosen, and you were pulled from the chair.

-

When you’d finally came to you weren’t sure how much time had passed. You felt your body being shook before anything. Then came the sound of a screeching siren, and then you were able to pry your eyes open. 

There were two blurry figures hovering above you, and when your vision cleared, you realized it was Dustin and Erica, looking extremely concerned as they repeated your name. 

“…you okay? Y/N, can you hear me?” Dustin asked, waving his hand in front of your face. 

You squinted at the sudden intrusion of light from the room, looking around confused. “Dustin? Erica? What’s going on? What happened?” Your voice came out in a mess of mumbles as you struggled to sit up, realizing you’d been laying on the floor. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Erica  said, her large eyes trailing over the multiple bruises and cuts that were visible at first glance. 

There was a pause as you winced from the pounding in your head. “Um..I remember you guys leaving to get help, but not much after.” You admitted, gratefully accepting Dustin’s hand to help you stand. 

“Well, the good news is that you’re fairly caught up, meaning you’re possible concussion isn’t life threatening.” He offered, speaking hurriedly. “Think you’re good enough to run?” He asked, already halfway out the door.

With a silent nod, you followed him and Erica out the room you’d been kept it. The lead you just down the hall and it wasn’t until then that you noticed Dustin had one of the guards tasers in his hand. 

“Where did you get that?” You yelled frantically. Lord save you from Claudia Henderson should something happen to her baby. 

Dustin ignored your question and burst through another door, letting out a war cry and shoving the taser directly into the chest of the man stood in the room. 

You watched in both horror and amazement as the man shouted in pain before collapsing. The was a pause as Dustin looked back at you with an open mouth, like he was also surprised. “Never mind,” You panted, “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hey! Henderson!” Steve grinned as Dustin freed him from his restraints. “That’s crazy I was just talking about you.

“Oh, my god!” Robin laughed, kissing your cheek affectionately after you untied her. “I’m so happy to see you.”

You chuckled breathlessly, head still throbbing in pain. “Happy to see you too, Robbie, but we gotta run.” 

“Y/N…” Steve said breathily, looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above. “You’re here.”

You could tell immediately that something was wrong, but the still sounding siren reminded you of your hasty circumstances. “Hey Stevie,” You grinned. Grasping your hand with his, you began to pull him out just behind Dustin and Erica who were doing the same to a stumbling Robin. 

“Did the Russians hurt you?” Steve’s voice was slurred in a way you hadn’t heard since the last time you’d stayed at his house, smoking the weed he’d gotten from a dealer that went to Hawkins High. Some metal head who was a repeat senior. 

You glanced back, catching a glimpse of worried expression in his hazy eyes. “No, I’m fine, Steve.” You weren’t fine, not even close, but he didn’t need to know that. You doubted he’d remember anything you said once he sobered up from whatever drugs they had put into him and Robin. 

-

Steve and Robin found themselves in the movie theater restrooms, finally back above ground. You and Dustin had left Erica to keep watch of them after sticking them in a showing of Back to the Future.

They’d been able to sneak out without alerting their caretaker, but had to quickly run to the restroom after the drugs had reached their stomachs.

Steve wanted to test if the drugs had left their system along with their lunch from the day before. He asked Robin when the last time she peed her pants was. She said it was earlier with the Russians, when the doctor pulled out the bone saw. The she asked him a question.

“Have you...ever been in love?”

He feels like his first thought should have been Nancy, what with her being his first love. And yet, he couldn’t help but picture you. 

Steve realized a second later that he was silent for a bit too long. “Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.”

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolled her eyes. “She's such a priss.” Part of her resisted the urge to mention you, because that’s who she assumed he was going to say. Unlike you, Steve had been quiet about his feelings to Robin, figuring that with how close the two of you had gotten, she’d be the first to blab about his feelings for you. And he couldn’t have that happening, especially when it had been so long since that night he broke your heart. You’d always been so closed off about your emotions, worse after that night, and he wasn’t sure you even liked him anymore. 

Who was he too assume you’d wait around for him to lose feelings for Nancy?

But Robin wasn’t dumb. Sure she had a poor grasp of socials cues, but she also had two eyes and a very clever brain. It wasn’t difficult to see the pining stares the two of you gave each other when the other wasn’t looking and put to and two together.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Turns out, not really.

Robin scoffed a little. If she was gonna get Steve to confess his feelings for you willingly, she was gonna have to play this smart. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.” Steve answered, honestly and without hesitation.

“Why not?”

He could see his reflection in the black seat of the toilet, his swollen eye and busted lip serving as a reminder of what they had just been through. What you had been through. Though the events before him and Robin had fled to the bathroom to puke up the contents of their stomachs were hazy, he remembers your face when Dustin broke you all free–the dark print on your face that looked almost like a hand and the blood that dried under your nose. 

“I think it's because I found someone who's a little bit better for me.” He finally managed to say. “It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, you know, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie–"

“Wait, who's Suzie?” Robin asked.

Steve shrugged, “It's some girl from camp. I guess his girlfriend? To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” He let out a little chuckle. “But that's not...that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like…it's somebody that I didn't even talk to in school. Not until I met Nancy.” 

“And I don't even know why. Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or...I wouldn't be...prom king.” Steve shook his head at this own words. Everyday he regretted how he let himself act in high school. He knows that it was all for validation, compensating for what he didn’t receive as he grew up with an asshole for a father and a pushover for a mother. Still, it didn’t excuse any of his actions and not a day went by that he wished he had been better.

“It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out

with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like, these couple years i’ve known her, I have laughed harder than I have laughed...in a really long time.” 

You and Steve hadn’t grown close until after his breakup with Nancy. He can remember the night you two hung out for the first time. He’d been driving around town to clear his mind not long after Eleven had closed the gate to the Upside Down and Hawkins Lab had been exposed. During this drive is when he passed by the local play ground and spotted you, swinging all by yourself on the swing set. As he parked his car and approached you, he could see your head go back for a second and when he got closer, he could see a silver flask hidden under your jacket. To say he was worried was an understatement so he silently sat next you to, asking if you were okay. 

With the alcohol fogging your better judgement, you were quick to spill your thoughts to Steve. The nightmares you’d been having, the worry you felt for those poor kids you’d been babysitting for years and how they’d be able to handle this kind of trauma, the loneliness you felt now that Nancy had found a comfort in Jonathan and you had no one. In turn, Steve shared his own worries, his own heartbreak after Nancy and the pressures he received from his parents. After that night, you were inseparable.

“And she's smart. Way smarter than me. And she’s such a badass. She always puts people in their place, including me, and she handles all the bullshit we’ve been through like it just another Tuesday for her…you know? She's honestly unlike anyone

I've ever even met before.”

Robin couldn’t keep the grin off her face. God, she couldn’t wait to tell you that Steve was still head over heels for you. 

She never knew for sure, though she had her suspicions, that he still had feelings for you. But now she did know. And if Steve didn’t say something soon, she was gonna. 

“Robin?” He called after a long pause. “Robin, did you just OD in there?”

The blonde girl sighed, attempting to rein in the giddiness. The boy her best friend was in love with just admitted his feelings for said best friend, okay? Give her a break. “No. I...am still alive.”

Steve let his curiosity win and slid his body under the stall to sit across from Robin. “The floor's disgusting.” She told him. 

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood

and puke on my shirt,” He reminded her. “So…What do you think?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too anxious. He knew better than to think that Robin didn’t how you felt about him. She probably knew even better than Nancy, who had been your best friend for years. 

“About?” She replied coyly. 

Steve huffed. “This girl.”

Robin smirked back at him. “She sounds awesome.” By now Steve could tell she had gotten the hint. What was she messing with him for?

“She is awesome.” He agreed. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he's finally come to senses. And he needs to tell the girl how he feels because I know, for a fact, that she feels the same way.”

Steve’s face felt like it was on fire. More-so than it already did with the the fresh wounds. “Really? 'Cause I think he should too. This time without screwing up their friendship because he was too scared to get his heart broken again.” He sighed, head falling back to rest again the open door of the bathroom stall.

Robin cocked her head, asking him in a softer voice. “Is that why? Why you rejected her?”

“I didn’t–“ Steve groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I knew I wasn’t completely over Nancy yet and I know what it’s like to be with someone whose heart isn’t fully yours. I couldn’t put her through that…but yeah. I guess I was also just worried the same thing would happen and I think that if it did…it would’ve been so much worse than the first time.”

Steve knew in the back of his mind that, although he had loved Nancy, it didn’t even come close to how he felt for you. His love for you was all consuming. Not a day went by that you weren’t on his mind. It’s a wonder how he never noticed you before he got with Nancy, and even then you were just his girlfriends best friend. In hindsight, he should’ve known by the way you never took shit from Tommy and Carol, and him, that you were nothing like anyone he’d met before. If he had to have gone through the same situation of you falling out of love with him like with Nancy, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to survive that.

It was then that Robin knew. In the most vulnerable state she’d ever seen Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in. She knew there was now a bond between them that wasn’t there before the summer–hell, before even that day. She knew it was safe to make her own confession. 

“Do you remember what I said

about Click's class?”

-

The Battle of Starcourt would go on to be known as The Fire, to the general public. To you and to Steve and to your group of friends that had been there to defeat the Mindflayer, it would be a day to add to your list of traumatic, other-dimensional, bullshit that’s gonna plague you’re nightmares for the rest of your lives. 

But it was finally over. The Fire and Police departments had shown up to “rescue” all of you. They didn’t know why you’d all been the in the mall so late anyways, or what had started the fire. But there were plenty of government officials there that were aware of the dangers that occurred in Hawkins and were able to answer their questions with something believable.

After being check by paramedics, you were all driven home in police cars. You tried not to linger on the fact that none of the drivers were Hopper. You didn’t think you could take thinking about that for too long. Not yet.

Steve had insisted you and Robin stay at his. The deputy that drove you was hesitant, but after admitting that none of you wanted to be alone, he relented, dropping the three of you off at the Harrington household.  

“You can take the first shower, Robbie.” There was more than one shower in the house, but Robin didn’t argue. She didn’t need you to convince to leave the two of you alone for a bit, knowing that there were plenty of unspoken words between you that needed to be said. “I’m gonna help clean up his face a little.” 

Robin nodded silently, giving you a lingering hug that poured out the mutual appreciation you had for each other before heading upstairs.

You wordlessly pulled Steve into the guest bathroom on the first floor, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet and sitting yourself on the counter to be at eye level with him.

There was a silence that was only broken by the soft breathing from you can the occasional hisses of pain from Steve as you dabbed his eye with hydrogen peroxide.

“Sorry.” You whispered after a slightly too harsh wipe. The pad of your thumb ran lightly over the swollen skin, your other fingers resting over his cheek. 

Steve relaxed under your touch. He couldn’t remember the last time you two were this close. Most likely it was before that night. Before he hurt you and caused you to distance yourself. What an idiot, he thought.

“It’s okay.” He replied. Taking a chance, Steve let his hands come up, softly, almost cautiously, letting them find your hips. He could feel you stiffen, and he almost ripped his hands away, until you settled, scooting a little closer to his body. 

“Can I ask you something?” He said after a minute. The warmth of his palms had momentarily distracted you and it took a second to realize he’d said something. 

You blinked dumbly, “Yeah, go ahead.” You let out breathily, resuming your cleaning and hoping he didn’t notice how flustered his touch had made you. 

Steve could feel his heart pounding and he prayed you couldn’t feel it against his skin.

“Do you…still have feelings for me?”

You were immediately brought back to that fateful night. Really, you tried to best to forget it, but you’d never been able to succeed in that. It never left your mind, actually. How could you, when he flirted with other girls in front of you, or you felt the awkwardness when he was near Nancy and Jonathan. Nothing could make you forget the day Steve broke your heart.

“Y/N?” He whispered. 

The lump in your throat went down with a struggle. You pulled away from him slightly, occupying yourself with throwing away the bloody cotton ball you’d been using to clean his eye and soaking another one in more hydrogen peroxide. “Does it matter?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes, of course, it matters.” He insisted, voice raising a bit. “More than anything?”

You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that left your body. “Why, Steve? Why does it matter. Why do you need to know? I thought we’d been through this already and I’m sorry but I really don’t wanna go through it again-“

“It matters because I love you!” 

Your breath hitched, wide eyes gazing back at his. Finally Steve had uttered the words you’d been longing to hear for months now, and yet you didn’t know what to say. 

“Are you sure?”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to hear your own heart shatter, but in that moment he was convinced he did. To think that he finally gathered the courage to pour his heart out, and here you were, not sure if to believe him. He did that to you. This was his own doing. 

His hands left your sides to reach your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I’m promise you, with every fiber of my being, that i’ve never been more sure if anything in my life.” He admitted, thumb soothing the fading hand mark on your face, just as you had to go moments before.

“But Nancy–“

Steve shook his head. “There is no Nancy.” He smiled at you fondly. “Yes I was worried at first about still feeling something for her because I didn’t want to let myself be with you if I didn’t know for sure. But I know now that nothing i’ve ever felt for her compares to how much I’m in love with you.”

Unshed tears gathered in your eyes. It was overwhelming, hearing what you’d always wanted to hear and not knowing what it is that suddenly opened his eyes. 

You placed your hands atop of his, sniffling. “Where’s this coming from.”

Steve let his head hang, trying to find the right words to express how he felt. “Today. When the Russians got us and they took you from Robin and I. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.” His hands slid from your face but never strayed from your own, allowing you to intertwine your fingers with his and rest them on your lap. “Not knowing where you were or what they were doing to you. You should’ve heard me before they shot us up with whatever drugs those were. I wouldn’t stop asking about you ‘till they started beating me up.” 

The soft skin of your hands was a comfort to him and he leant his forehead up against your own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about if I was gonna see you again. If one or both of us didn’t make it out and I never would’ve gotten the chance to tell you how much I love you. All because I was too scared to confront my own feelings.”

You let go of one of his hands and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to lift his face. After a moment of analyzing the busted and bruised skin on his face, you pressed a feather light kiss against his eye. Steve let a breath out of his body, as if that kiss lifted all the weight from his shoulders. 

“I could kill every single one of those Russians for hurting you.“ You whispered, a couple treacherous tears escaping your eyes. “I was worried about you too. I always worry about you.”

“Yeah?” 

You nodded, smiling painfully. “Yeah. Even when you’re just at home. Cause I know your parents aren’t home and I hate the thought of you in this big house all alone when I know how you feel about it. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, I just couldn’t after….”

Steve gave you and understanding smile, guilt shining in those beautiful brown doe eyes that you adored. “I know. And I’m sorry too. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, and in doing what I thought was best, I did just that.“

You slid your hands to the back of his neck, messing with the hairs at the nape. “How about…we forget that night ever happened? I don’t know that you love me,” Your gaze met his, sipping your chin to look at him through your lashes. “And you don’t know that I love you.” 

Steve’s face lit up as if you’d just told him he won the lottery. He knew not even that feeling would compare to what he was feeling in this moment after hearing you say those three words. 

“Okay,” He grinned. “Y/N, I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t contain your giggles, feeling his own breaths of laughter hit your face as you moved closer to him. 

“Oh really? Well, Steve, I didn’t know that, actually. But I think you should know, that I’m in love with you too.” 

Steve gasped like you’d said something profound and you both collapsed into laughter. “You know what I also think?” You hummed in response. “I think you should kiss me.” 

You head leaned to the side and you tapped your chin twice in consideration. “Hmm. I think that’s a great idea.”

And you also think that you could die happy, finally knowing what Steve Harrington’s lips felt like against yours.

general taglist:

@teenwolfbitches28 @thethreeheadeddog @cerbythepuppy

stranger things taglist:

@m-rae23

add yourself to my taglist!

[denalidear]

Anyways…

[denalidear]

it needs to be said.

[denalidear]

It’s all fun and games until you have a relapse in your fanfiction addiction

[denalidear]

thinking about the way Eddie scrunch his nose when he's angry

[denalidear]

#what i wouldn’t give for this man to just fucking punch me

[denalidear]

bau!reader coming to work and finding a sticky note with puns about coffee (or any other topic of your choice) not knowing its from hotch. every time he watches from his office just to see her giggle (hope this is okay; if its too long you can edit it)

You’re brew-ti-ful.

That’s what was written on the sticky note attached to a coffee cup, which was waiting especially for you that morning.

You looked around you, trying to figure out who left it for you, but no one looked suspicious.

Taking a sip from your coffee though, you realized that it was your exact order. The person who left it for you, knew exactly how you liked your coffee. Which meant that this person was someone who knew you. And most importantly someone you knew.

You heartbeat started to race at the thought of who you wanted that mystery person to be. But the rational part of your brain made sure to remind you that the man you were secretly - and madly - in love with, would be the last person in the world to leave a cute pun about coffee on a sticky note for you.

- -

And just like that, the cute messages quickly became a part of your routine.

You’d arrive at the office every morning full of excitement and curiosity to see what the next pun was gonna be.

I like you a latte.

Where you bean all my life?

It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you.

“What got you giggling, sweetheart?” Morgan asked you one day.

You turned to face him with a huge grin, showing off that day’s sticky note.

You mocha me very happy.

“Secret admirer?” he raised his right brow, grabbing the small piece of paper  from your hand.

“That’s right,” you said, stealing it back. “And they seem to be the sweetest person in the world,” you continued, bringing the note close to your heart with a dreamy smile.

“Hmm…looks like someone is also getting a little crush on this mystery person,” he teased you.

“Maybe…” you whispered, sitting down.

Morgan walked back to his desk but his eyes caught Hotch staring at you with a sweet and soft smile; a smile he had never seen that man give anyone else. If he suspected him for anything, he didn’t say.

--

“Another one!” you exclaimed, running to your desk. JJ and Spencer followed you, laughing with affection for your excitement.

“What does it say?” Spencer asked.

“Aww…it says: You warm my heart.”

You were too busy staring at the sweet message to hear your friends gossip about you.

“Look at him. He’s staring at her again,” Spencer whispered in JJ’s ear, trying to get her attention by softly hitting her side with his elbow.

She spotted him inside his office looking at you like he was under a spell.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hotch smile that much before.”

Spencer laughed and focused his gaze on you again. “And to think she’s a profiler…Yesterday she told me how bad she wishes it’s Hotch, but how that would only happen in her dreams. I can’t believe how oblivious they both are.”

“Well…love does that to a person,” JJ said with a smile.

“Maybe we should tell them. Isn’t it kinda mean that we all know and aren’t saying anything?”

“No, this is way too fun,” she laughed. “We all know these two won’t manage to stay away from each other for much longer anyway. Plus it will be the perfect story to share on their wedding day.”

pt.2

send me aaron thoughts <33

[denalidear]

i want to say i'd be a rooster girl irl. but this bob guy is husband material.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐛.𝐟.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: man, i love bob floyd. i had an anon request for anything with bob being head over heels, and i accidentally took that and RAN! this got away from me so quickly bc the bob love/thirst clearly took over. requests are still open, but make sure you check the rules on my about page before sending one in! i am not so good with highly specific requests, but a character and trope/genre is always welcome! love y’all x ♥︎ liv

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐬: bob floyd, fluff that abruptly changes direction and heads into spice without warning (sorrynotsorry), classic “one-sided” pining trope, 6k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: very suggestive content (no minor interaction!), brief emo bob, phoenix is a boss-ass bitch and i love her, etc.

Every day, you did four small Things guaranteed to more quickly bring about the demise of Lt. Robert Floyd. The torture was insufferable, the agony extreme. He was so whipped that he sometimes worried he was following you around by floating like a cartoon character walking past a particularly delicious pie. And you had no earthly idea.

To begin with, Thing One: in the morning, you would walk into the cafeteria at Top Gun five minutes before breakfast stopped being served and training began and place your hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently and saying, “Gooood morning, Bob! Are we ready to fly and try our best today?” Bob would choke on whatever he was currently eating and attempt to fight out a sentence in response, but you would already be gone, joining the queue for food. He would watch you stand in line, laughing at everything everyone said and beaming sunshine. 

You were so sweet, he could have stared at you for the entire morning, which he generally did. Sometimes he would snap to in the middle of a lecture and realize that he hadn’t absorbed a single word, too busy wondering what type of flowers you liked best, and would shift nervously in his seat, side-eyeing Phoenix’s notes to see what sort of life-saving information he had been missing out on. 

One morning, the only thing written on the page of his beaten leather notebook when Bob left class was “Probably lilies. Violets maybe?”

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