#I also really really REALLY want to write a fic based on that line in HSM3

[lynxgriffin]

You know, asriel showing up in chapter 5 would go really hard for 2 reasons imo.

1. One of deltarunes themes is about roles and stuff right? Who your meant to be, vs who you want to be, and who your viewed as, shit like that, and asriel, in deltarune, is sorta potrayed as this golden boy, who everyone likes and thinks the world of, but obviously, toby doesn't really write his characters to be perfect beings, so asriel NOT being who everyone idolizes him as, would really play into that theme, especially now that he's coming back from college, and is now familiar with a world where people presumably treat him normally instead of like, this figure as he's potrayed as by the townies.

2. If he and dess dated, it would parallel asgores refusual to move on from toriel, asriel ALSO had to let go of someone he loved, just like his father, only he didn't turn into a creep because of it, and unlike asgore, he probably doesn't even know if dess is okay, or even ALIVE, so i think it would be awesome to see him low key pissed at his father for not moving on, when he HAD to, like he didn't even have a choice on whether to move on or not, life literally just went on, and he had to, vs his father, who still could have been friends with toriel, who he still could have had some sort of closure with, when asriel literally was never given a chance to. But thats just fan fic shit since we haven't even heard him speak a single line of dialouge (Unless you want to include the crumbled up invitation to the dance with catty, thats in his church clothes, but thats written, and it sounds so fucking forced like my god dude, what were you on? Dude sounded more regal then ralsei and he's an actual prince in this world lol). Point is uh, he has a lot of potential, and i hope he shows up before the end of the world and shit.

Ooooh yeah, with how Asriel's been set up so far as the golden child, that's absolutely ripe territory for him coming back and unravelling all that idolizing. I want to see him be kind of a weirdo, occasionally a loser, someone with that awkward distance that comes between you and your family when you leave home for the first time and start to establish yourself. Just a normal person rather than this perfect child everyone's built him up to be!

Based on what he's said, it seems like Asgore feels that he's doing all this conspiracy stuff and "getting the family back together" for Asriel's sake. Which honestly, would make it really interesting if he tries his hardest at it, and then Asriel is the one critical of what he's doing! I lowkey want to see that happen now, honestly. Everyone's got this image of Asriel built up in their heads, including Asgore, and I think it would be fascinating for Asriel to turn that around completely. That he has grown up, he's tried his best to move on despite how hard it is, and he doesn't understand or respect Asgore trying to just drag them all back to the past. There's definitely potential there!

[kimberly-spirits13]

Jason Todd Dating Vigulantee Reader

There's not really a good way for me to label this in my mind. Think of this as childhood assassin (smt like Red Room) pipeline into vigulantee. Maybe reader could have some miltary background, that's up to you if you'd like. I want to write a fic about reader meeting Batfam based on this

The two of you meet because Roy is a mutal friend

Roy asked if you wanted to go hit some target with a friend of his and you accepted quickly

it was difficult to make good friends due to your life experience but Roy was someone that you bonded with over training so you were willing to hang with whoever he thought you'd get along with

You're taking your rifle out of its case and preparing your equipement when tall, dark, and handsome walks in

"Roy, I'll shoot you if you-" His words die off the tip of his tounge when he sees you

"Cat got your tongue?" You quip

"Not at all, just thought Roy's friend was in his imagination" "I'm Jason."

Roy is standing in the corner with a shit eating grin watching this play out

Jason is impressed with you, you're impressed with him

The two of you start hanging out outside of Roy

Personal conversations start out slow and noncommital with a few questions here and there

He learns that you were a child assassin and gained an education through world wide tutoring about whatever subject you were studying

"You know that 10% increase in assassinations in Geneva?" You ask him. There were two copies of Emma sitting between the two of you and an obscene amount of highlighters and pens strewn about for annotation. Jason takes a sip of his coffee and raises a brow before putting the cup back down and thumbing through a few pages of the book. "Yeah?" He answers. "Cause I was studying astrophysics when I was 12 there." You say

Jason catalouges all of this information and knows that you're doing the same for him

When you're on patrol, he can see how the training has shaped you

You take charge of every situation that you're in, calling out orders and throwing yourself in the way of danger for the betterment of others

You communicate quickly and effectively with Jason and those that you're working with

Jason sees that you become a different person when the adrenaline hits, but in those quiet moments during patrol where it's just the two of you sitting on a rooftop and looking after the city, he sees you for who you are

If someone were to quietly observe, they'd hear quiet snickers and playful commentary on the things that you've observed

They'd see Jason throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close to keep warm in the night's chill

If they were lucky, they'd see when he takes his helmet off to kiss you and let you run your fingers through his hair before placing the helmet back on and continuing on the patrol

When others hears the two of you in public, they may double take at the joke that you're laughing at

It's probably something a bit too colorful for the average person, but something that has Jason wheezing and you clutching onto his arm to keep yourself up

They'd stare as you add onto the joke, knocking the breath out of Jason

Jason admires you when you're sitting at your table scribbling down notes to a case and spinning a butterfly knife around

He talks to you and asks questions about what you're doing and sits like he's never seen anything more beautiful in the world

Jason wants to know everything that's going through your mindm but he also doesn't want to invade

Tows the line sometimes

Jason knows that there are days that you're not feeling well mentally

There are times where you wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare and Jason pops up from dead sleep, immediately wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight grip

Talks you down so that you know where you are

Gives you space when you need it but you know that he's always there

If you have any tats, he asks about them but he knows that they may be personal so he doesn't push

If you were to just tell him or start talking about them, he'd drop everything and pay the most attention, noting everything that you tell him and filing it away as information about you

Likes the training days that you have and learns that you actually could and would take him out based on your training

Getting up every morning at the specified time and running your miles then heading into weight training and then specified training is your morning routine

Even if you have time off, it's something that you're keen on doing since the rest of the day just doesn't feel right without it

Jason gets up and does it with you since he thinks at first that it's a fun couple's bonding thing

He thinks that until he's 10 miles into the ruck and you're chatting away while he's contemplating his life

he's built and very capable, so it's not like he's dying or anything, he's just uncomfortable

like you do this--- for fun?

yeah, duh

He likes that the two of you challenge each other and it's okay to tease the other about training or anything else

His favorite part of training is any hand to hand combat that he will demand volunteer to be your partner in

Knock him down a few times just to keep the man humble, will ya?

Due to your training, you have extensive knowledge of weapons and combat techniques

If there's something that is stumping him in a case, he has learned that the fastest solution is to come and ask you about it first

He sits and listens intently as you rattle off all the information you know about this thought to be dead assassin society that is now running around in Gotham

there are a few times where you may have corrected his form or given him an easier way to do something

Again, he's extremely capable, but take someone who has been training their whole lives vs someone who hasn't and there might be some things that the other can brush up on

There have been a few times where Jason has hurt himself trying to replicate one of your moves

You think it's hilarious, but still chide him about it

"Jay, I do that specifically to take out people your size. Why are you doing it?" You laugh, helping him peel himself off the ground

"Well, by that logic I could do that for Grundy or something. He's huge!" Jason whines

"Hon, you're built like a wall and I'm not. I need to get a bit more creative with take downs. You can't label yourself with my physical fighting needs when you're not built like me at all." "Otherwise, you'll throw something out love"

"Yea, I noticed. Thanks"

When he finally does bring you over to meet his family formally, he's worried that something will go wrong

You have to promise him that you won't be thrown off by anything and that you've seen your fair share of chaos

Jason's worries are easily shattered when you get along with everyone

You're sitting at the dinner tables telling stories of training, laughing about the things you've seen on the feild, and discussing the similarities and differences of childhood and growing up that you shared with his family

He knows that the deal is sealed when Alfred pulls him to the side and praises the partner that he's brought home

Bruce does the same thing, telling Jason that he's proud Jay has been able to create his own found family and that he can see how happy Jason is

You're happy because you've found even more people who get you now and have a whole family of vigulantees that you can consider close friends

idk this was just random ramblings. Thinking of doing some stuff for Kon and, like I said, maybe a fic for this reader meeting Batfam

[baldursghaik]

Junus I was talking about this on discord with a friend.

In one of your tags you mentioned you align The Emperor as "evil". And although I disagree based purely on personal interpretation and being a soft-hearted wimp, plz write me an unhinged ramble on your thoughts and opinions UwU 💖

(also I'm slowly trying to give ALWF proper attention I'm just very slow because everything happens so much but I really like it so far. Your prose is very good which is always an awesome bonus with a fic)

You know, I thought of several ways I wanted to tackle this question. I thought about writing a more “tumblr acceptable” answer, but honestly, you asked me to give it to you unhinged, so here it is. Before I get into it, genuinely thank you for this question. I value the ability to disagree politely, and I really do love to see a wide variety of takes and opinions, as I consider them vital to the fandom ecosystem.

With all of that said, these are merely my opinions and interpretations, and I do not think that I am objectively “correct” in any way. I genuinely enjoy softer and kinder reads of the Emperor, but this is my own take on its morality.

Full response below the cut. This is going to lean dark, so read on carefully.

I have a lot of potential responses to this, but I’m going to cut to the most obvious part first: Belynne Stelmane. Specifically, the scene where the Emperor reveals the true nature of their “partnership.” This is old and well-trodden ground where most Emperor fans are concerned, but what I don’t ever see people talk about are the sexual undertones of this scene, where both the PC and Stelmane are concerned.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this truth only triggers when the Emperor is propositioning the PC for sex. Similarly, I think it was an intentional design choice to introduce Stelmane laying in bed, gasping and groaning as the Emperor is taking control of her. Even the framing of the scene positions the Emperor above her, in a position of indisputable power and dominance.

In the following scene, you see the two working at the Shield headquarters (not unusual, though certainly more sinister than it had originally shown), but much more telling is the scene that follows. The Emperor wasn’t content just operating the Shield together—it also forced her to sit and drink with it, to be social with it, in a gruesome parody of camaraderie and companionship. There is no work related explanation for that scene, and you catch a glimpse of the same scene even in the Emperor’s original telling of its life story at the end of Act II. In that same Act II dialogue, that’s the specific part where it tells the PC that it was “happy”.

Following the scene, the game cuts back to the Emperor, now standing shirtless over the PC, not dissimilar to how it was framed with Belynne Stelmane. The Emperor is absolutely mean spirited in what it says next: “Did you like it - the truth? This was the alternative relationship we could have had. Aren’t you glad I finessed my methods?”

We all know what comes next. It tells the PC that they are its puppet, and that, without the Emperor, they have no value.

Now I’ve heard a lot of counter arguments to this scene, ranging from “you were an asshole to it by rejecting it so cruelly” to “it didn’t actually mean that, it had to protect itself”. Which is fine, as I stated above, my interpretations are my own. But to me, neither of those defenses hold water. I think “you shouldn’t have pissed it off” isn’t exactly the defense Emperor fans want it to be, because that paints the Emperor in an even worse light! I think a person should be able to reject someone (or some squid, as it were) as callously as they like, and the worst they should receive in return is “fine, fuck you too”. Not a fully raw display of the Emperor abusing someone else, and then overtly threatening to do the same to the PC if they don’t fall in line.

“If I must, I will force you.”

Call me a bleeding heart, but I don’t think that’s a good thing that good people say!

I was a full on Emperor defender right up until I saw this scene after my first playthrough. And honestly? I found it pretty difficult to stomach watching. This was such a dramatically different face from everything I’d seen on my first run. When you’re polite and deferential to the Emperor, it’s never anything less than sweet and kind. It will even tolerate a fair amount of insults and abuse before it cracks—but once it does crack, that mask comes all the way off.

On my second run, I really paid attention to the Emperor’s words and actions, and it was like playing a completely different game. A good example of this is what the Emperor does after your meeting with Raphael in Sharess’ Caress. On my first run (and second run, that replicated the first), I hadn’t bothered to hear out Raphael’s offer. I trusted the Emperor, and this damn devil wasn’t going to convince me otherwise. But the Emperor’s reaction to this is extremely telling—it will pry into to the PC’s memories and read their mind to figure out what happened. If you didn’t hear out Raphael, you don’t even have the option to try to stop its intrusion, it just does it. I hadn’t thought to question this at all on my first run, but on my second, I could see how insidious this scene truly was. Especially in light of the alternative dialogue that happens if you did hear Raphael out: the PC has the option to tell the Emperor that if it trust them, it will stop this. And the Emperor doesn't even immediately relent, you have to pass a skill check to prevent it from forcing your mind wide open. And even if you do pass it, the Emperor is very up front about the fact that it's done this begrudgingly.

Either way this plays out, I think it's one of the Emperor’s darkest moments in the game, because you catch a stark glimpse of the nature it hides from the PC, just for one moment. This is blatantly abusive and two-faced behavior. It’s manipulative, and will even tell you as much when pressed at the end of the game, before Orpheus is either consumed or freed.

And all of that doesn’t even get into my belief that Balduran was awful too. He extorted and enslaved people, all in his pursuit of money. The Emperor would continue this trend into its new life as well—the Shield is a fundamentally evil organization, built on preying on others to amass wealth, and further contribute to the enormous economic disparity of the Gate. The Emperor (and Stelmane by extension, because she is certainly no saint either) was not turning and giving this money to the poor. They were functionally robber barons of the Sword Coast, happy to exploit and plunder their way to riches untold.

So now we come to the heart of your question—does this paint the Emperor as evil? In my eyes it does. I would consider these to be unforgivable crimes… in real life. Thankfully, the Emperor is fictional, so to me this makes it an utterly fascinating and well rounded character. Yes, it’s capable of evil, but it’s also capable of so much good. This is where I feel that people come to blows over the Emperor. They want it to be either saint or demon, and in reality, I think it’s no different from characters like Astarion, Lae’zel, or even Shadowheart. It’s a complex and layered character, and it has evil under its belt, but that doesn’t mean that it lacks all virtue. I think the Emperor is considerate, attentive, and sincerely caring of both the city the PC, assuming they treat it decently. It’s a fantastically well written character that contains multitudes, and its divisiveness only speaks to how brilliantly Larian handled it.

So, to anyone who bothered reading this, I hope that shed some light on why I believe the Emperor is evil, but a very layered and dimensional evil. I don't think it does anything for the sake of being EVULZ, it's not harmful for the sake of fun, but it's utterly Machiavellian in the way it operates, and it isn't afraid to manipulate or abuse people to achieve its goals, which I think is fundamentally opposite of being "good".

[mandalhoerian]

i noticed i've never really talked about my takes on rafayel's myths on here. since i have based the kraken raf fic on the forgotten sea continuation with inspiration from tears of romirro, if you read between the lines a little you'll realize i don't really like god of tides rafayel as a character (GASP)

i know, yeah yeah, i know. get it out. yes. boo. how could i?

it's that i'm aware he was written a certain way to set up "irresponsible, arrogant youth comes to lose everything and matures into his role and everything that follows becomes bittersweet" storyline. i get it, i understand. i know he grows, and all he does becomes for the sake of his people and it's sad, the appeal comes from that. let me explain.

my frustration with him really comes down to how he flippant he has been with mc. this isn't about babying her or wanting all the guys to kiss her feet like immediately and have no conflict with her or whatever the hell. i believe she finds no sympathy from the fandom sometimes, and even in this myth the focus is "oh he betrayed the entire ocean for her !!!!" people really fail to fully look at the situation she was in.

this girl was brought up as a sacrifice, basically LIVESTOCK BEING FED TO BE FATTENED UP HER ENTIRE LIFE so she could be SACRIFICED TO HIM. THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE TO RUN TO. SHE LIVED ON AN ISLAND. her entire life mc has been making plans to run away like every single day she gets closer to her death and lives in a metaphorical cage, i don't think people understand or comprehend what this means. we don't talk about this enough.

and immediately rafayel plays with that. not only is her struggling not to drown funny to him as he laughs in her face, but when she, rightfully, wants to leave after being saved, he straight up pulls the breath out of her lungs like an airbender and goes "okay give me back the life i saved then."

mc is being forced to stay there at the very beginning of the myth because she's afraid to die. i don't know what to tell you. "find a way your heart becomes smitten with me" MAYBE DONT FUCKING THREATEN ME WITH MY LIFE, HOW ABOUT THAT?

she's being forced to become the "the most devouted follower" to the god who she was being groomed to be sacrificed to, and in her pov, did not hear her prayers no matter how much she wanted to be saved

do you see how dissatisfied i am with the myth's writing that these issues weren't resolved/addressed/processed organically? they did a lot of timeskips to make mc get over these issues

yes, these tell a lot about rafayel's character in this myth. he's very coldly mischievous and out of touch, also because he was very sheltered in his upbringing and is very unaware of his privilege and power. the responsibility he has doesn't register to him, despite the love and care he has for his people. but what gets me. what made me want to like. strangle him the most. is when he dared to compare himself to mc by going "our childhoods weren't all that different".

are you. are you JOKING.

i get it. i love it when characters are parallels of each other. it's a trope i enjoy. but what you DONT DO. is liken your significantly privileged status AS A GOD who had to grow up underneath the heavy responsibility of being the last of your line and save your people to a poor girl who was essentially a pig in a kennel that had her agency completely taken away from her.

and before you say anything, i understand the angle of "both of them weren't able to run away from their situations" i get it. I GET IT. this is a particular thing that annoyed me immensely, and there's nothing you can do to change it.

and it makes me so sad that mc basically comes to become so devoted to him because he was the first one to give her a choice and basically look out fo her. it's so sad to me. like at that point, i don't think rafayel deserves her. she just makes me so fucking depressed like here is this traumatized girl who has never felt safe in her entire life and a guy who wanted to essentially use that girl for his own gain (at first)

this is why i really like the ending of forgotten sea, it really forces rafayel to change and act . in tears of romirro he's an entirely different person i love the way he has been developed . and even in fragrant dream which was originally thought to be post-fs god of tides there's a certain charm to him that comes from the tragedy he's faced and the sacrifice he's willing to make . abysswalker is MY BELOVED because of the character development he's obviously gone through

but all of this really makes me love rafayel more because it's layers and flaws. it really adds so much context to the person he currently is in the main story. there's a certain grit and heaviness that people don't see because he's extremely calculated about how he appears as. god of tides rafayel is significantly more infuriating than current timeline rafayel who people go around complaining is too whiny and dramatic and feminine or whatever. but they aren't ready for that talk.

but don't put god of tides rafayel and me in the same room i hate that bitch

[miwiheroes]

thinking about this art by kidovna, https://www.tumblr.com/kidovna/761548228697194497?source=share

"what do I say to convince you that I need you too?"

thinking about how (part of) Mike and Will's issues from s3/s4 might be that before, they rarely needed to Talk about their care for each other to convince each other that they cared about each other. they often showed it in their actions, consistently, like in s2. they never needed to actually address their feelings for each other - Mike did when Will was possessed, because it was the only way to make sure Will heard and understood the strength of those feelings at the time. however, this meant they were not in the habit of Talking to each other, if needed.

then in s3, Mike withdrew, and somewhat stopped Showing that he cared, so Will had to confront him verbally to explain his issues with Mike, and though Mike resisted verbally at first, he went to apologise straight away after Will left. after the fight, he consistently made moves to correct his previous behaviour, showing that he cared about what Will said, and by extension, Will. therefore, except for the check-in at the end of the season, when Will showed and affirmed his commitment to the party after Mike (covertly) asked for reassurance, they didn't feel the need to verbally address their current feelings.

but then the Byers had to leave Hawkins. and Will and Mike couldn't as easily Show their feelings for each other anymore. they had to Talk if they wanted to affirm their bond. they had to communicate in a verbal way. and obviously, they both struggled a lot with this. as seen in The Dustin Experiment, and quietly said by Dustin later in s4, Mike was desperate to Talk to Will. he felt like he lost him. but he also felt unable to write to Will. as he pointed out in their fight, Will didn't reach out much either, but he wrote to Dustin. for Mike, Will decided to Show his feelings by making that painting for him. and yet when he gave the painting, he felt forced to Lie to Mike, maybe in part to avoid the true impact of his feelings being understood by Mike, as well as his decision to sacrifice Telling Mike his feelings in favour of affirming what he believed were El's feelings. maybe that was why there was confusion, perhaps, on Mike's end, during that scene - because he could on some level understand that Will was communicating feelings and care to him through this painting, but then what Will Told him was not that. in s4, Mike and Will were also concurrently being forced to Talk more so they could understand each other's feelings, because they had become disconnected after the "year"/6 months apart. they had become unsteady because they hadn't been able to Show their feelings but had not managed to Talk to each other to compensate.

by the end of the season, they were stronger in their bond again, in part because of their Talks, but also because Will Showed his to Mike (a bit), and Mike in turn appeared to commit to Showing his to Will, by committing to being a team. I'm very curious to see how their dynamic has continued in the timeskip in s5, and how it will develop after. they clearly need to Talk to address the painting lie, but other than that I'm not sure how their feelings will be addressed.

OMG apart from the fact that i loveeee that line from kidovna i was so obsessed with that art that i made my fic: "what you really want" based on it lmao,

this is very smart anon!! i think that one of their main conflicts and things that characterises them is their need for one another - this is a queer experience as part of living in a homophobic small town, needing each other for solidarity, protection from literal and metaphorical forms of hate. Season 2 saw Mike being this way, but S3 and S4 saw him trying to push this away and him trying to grow out of the protection and solidarity side of things. But when Will expresses that he will always need Mike in order to feel better for being different, it shows that he really wants him to know that he's always been the thing keeping him going and keeping him brave in spite of his internalised homophobia and thats really powerful

idk i just want the writers to explore this more instead of being boring

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

el tejano - habbey oneshot

(this is inspired by the song el tejano by lauv and sofia reyes. you don't really need to know the song/lyrics to read it, but it would probably give context for certain details)

The grating sound of a creaky window being opened filled the dorm room, replacing the sound of Deuce aggressively typing up an essay that was due later that week. He didn’t look up, as he knew it was his closest companion, sneaking through the window. Was there even a curfew on weekends? No, but what Heath didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. 

Heath climbed into the room and threw himself down on his roommate’s bed, sighing dramatically. Deuce kept his eyes on his laptop and paid him no mind. Heath sat up and sighed even louder, which sounded more like a strangled scream.

Deuce chuckled to himself and rolled his desk chair towards the bed. He reached out to stop the chair from hitting the footboard and smiled at his best friend.

“Well, someone sure wants my attention,” Deuce said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ask me how my day was!” Heath kicked off his shoes and brought his legs up to sit cross-legged. 

“And you can’t just tell me, because…?”

“Because…suspense,” Deuce rolled his eyes, “and because no one else asked how my day was going the entire time I was out,” Heath said with a slight pout.

“Fine,” Deuce turned around to sit backward in his chair and crossed his arms over the back, “How was your day, Heath?”

Heath flailed his hands in excitement, “Great question!” Deuce held back a laugh, “I went to the park, made friends with some zombie dogs, and saw a flyer for this new nightclub place for teens. I went because, duh, and it was decorated to have this beachy vibe and I love the beach.”

Deuce nodded along, “Mhm…”

“And I stayed there for the rest of the night. but, there’s more!” Heath clapped his hands together. 

“How can there be more if you stayed there all night?” 

“I met a girl! I, Heath Burns, met a girl!” 

“Huh, good for you, man,” Deuce pushed himself off the bed and attempted to keep writing his paper.

“Wait, wait, I gotta tell you all about it,” Heath climbed off the bed and headed towards his side of the room, just barely saving himself from tripping over his sneakers. 

“Fine, but I gotta finish this,” Deuce gestured to his open document, “I promise I’m listening, go ahead.”

Heath plopped down into his own desk chair, “So you know Nirvana right? That human band?” Deuce hummed and nodded. “Apparently, there are Spanish covers of their songs, which is a sentence I never thought I’d say, but they were, like, the majority of the playlist.”

Deuce furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Heath, “Nirvana of all bands has multiple covers in Spanish?” 

“Yuh, and me and the girl just danced to them and talked all night. What did we talk about?” Heath didn’t wait for Deuce to answer, “Great question”.

Deuce chuckled to himself as he finished a paragraph. 

“I learned a lot about her, like, she’s from the Himalayas, and she actually knows some of the same people we do. She knows Cleo and Lagoona and even Clawdeen, isn’t that so interesting?” Deuce nodded absentmindedly. “She even asked me if I watched that human show, um…” Heath searched his brain for the title, “Friends! That’s it!” 

“Oh, that show about the six friends in the coffee shop or whatever?” Deuce leaned back in his chair looking over his last couple of paragraphs. 

“Yeah! I told her that Phoebe was probably my favorite character so far.”

“The blonde one?” Deuce asked.

“Mhm, and she actually agreed with me and we laughed and laughed.”

“How did you of all people, no offense, get a girl to talk to you and dance with you? For such a long period of time?” Deuce started a new paragraph and slightly laughed at the idea of Heath fumbling over his words trying to ask a girl to dance.

“Well actually, you jerk, she came up to me. I had just ordered some salsa for my chips, I had chips, I didn’t think it was important to mention, and she walked up to me. She asked if she could sit with me and try some of my food.”

“And you let her, because only you would share your food with an absolute stranger,” Deuce said, saying the last part under his breath.

“I heard that, and yes, I did. She sat down and asked me if the salsa was mild. I stupidly said that it was hotter than mild because I thought it would impress her but turns out she has problems with hot food. Deuce, I almost scared her away!”

Deuce couldn’t keep his laughs quiet anymore and let a loud guffaw leave his mouth, “See, this is why I didn’t believe that you were able to keep her interested enough to dance with you.” 

“Rude, but I quickly took it back and said it was a joke. She stayed, thank gods, and then one of the Nirvana covers came on, she pulled me to the dance floor, I, of course, had to keep my fire under control, and the rest is the greatest love story to ever take place.”

“Sounds like an amazing night, Heath. What was her name?” Deuce finished up his final paragraph and hit save. Should he have proofread it? Sure, but he might as well give the end of Heath’s story his full attention.

“Yeah...about that, once the club got closer to closing time, she left pretty quickly, and I never…actually caught her name…” 

Deuce stopped moving. He did not hear that right, he couldn't have, “You don't,” Deuce closed his eyes in preparation for disappointment, “know her name?” 

“No, I do not,” Deuce could practically hear the sheepish look Heath had on his face as he spoke. 

Deuce did a sharp inhale and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I mean this in the nicest way possible, dude, you're hopeless.” 

“Yeah, I know. But what matters is that she seemed to be having fun and I know I had fun,” Heath got out of his chair and started to change into his pajamas. “That’s a win in my book.” 

“A win is a win,” Deuce reluctantly said. 

Heath finished getting dressed and sprawled out on his bed, “I wonder if she’s thinking about me right now.”

“Maybe, Heath, maybe.”

In a dorm room, on the other side of the school was a blue-skinned girl and her friends gathered in a circle. Giggles left the friends’ mouths as the girl spoke.

“He assured me that the salsa wasn’t actually that hot and so I tried it, it was really good, and we just hit it off right away,” it was hard for Abbey to keep her excitement in check as she recounted the story of the boy she had met that night. 

“And then what happened?” Lagoona chirped.

“Then the music changed and I dragged him to the dance floor,” Abbey took a second to chuckle to herself, “He was such a bad dancer,” another chuckle fell from her lips.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ghoulia reached a hand to Abbey’s knee in comfort.

“No, no, it was endearing. I loved how bad he was at dancing because he knew he was bad but he was so confident about it. It made me laugh.”

Ghoulia hummed and took her hand away. 

“Ya know, orange skin, red hair, I think I know the guy you’re talking about,” Cleo, who had been trying to act like she didn’t think Abbey’s story was absolutely adorable, finally chimed in to the conversation, “What was his name again?”

“Oh, I never actually asked for it. I didn’t tell him mine either. Guess that wasn’t my smartest move,” Abbey said, giggling to herself. 

“You utter fool,” Cleo reprimanded her but couldn’t stay mad at her very happy friend. 

“Yeah, I know. But I had so much fun, guys, and I think he did too. I swear I saw his hair become fire for a second when we were dancing.” 

Cleo definitely knew who the guy was by now but she held her words. Why ruin the moment by letting everyone know that Abbey was dancing with Cleo’s ex’s best friend? Besides, it was bound to be funny when the two would inevitably run into each other when classes started in a couple days.

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[barcapix]

hello! is it possible you do a soft launch for lando norris? i see you write for him and it would make my day ml🤍

can it be based off a post race gesture he gives to y/n in the audience, then with the interview after they spot a bracelet on his wrist ( and maybe her initial on his helmet too?)

but whilst the interview is going on, she’s standing a fair distance away but lando can still see her from his interview and he can’t stop smiling??

sorry if it’s long 🤍

✮ Publicly Devoted - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

SY: during a race in a podium win, he soft launches your relationship after a few subtle hints.

A/N: he actually needs to win a race soon to make this realistic (😔) let’s just say for this fic that y/n’s name is 3 letters long bcus…

Warnings: zero.

masterlist

This was your third public appearance of being Lando’s new girlfriend, although hidden. You both agreed to keep it a secret for the time being, actually enjoying the peaceful company whilst it lasted.

You were flooded with fans nearby, unsuspiciously blending in with their antics, as you appeared to be one of their own.

Fans were soon going to latch onto the secrecy, but your mind never wandered to when that would be.

Unexpectedly, it being today.

The cacophony of the crowd reached a deafening fever as Lando pulled his car into parc fermé, his second-place finish well earned after a nail-biting final stint.

As the drivers emerged one by one, the cameras captured the usual post-race celebrations, but something about Lando’s demeanor seemed different. He pulled off his helmet, his hair tousled and damp with sweat, and scanned the sea of faces gathered by the barriers.

And then he saw you.

Standing near the front of the crowd, you were burying your number 4 jersey underneath a black leather jacket, which also happened to be his.

You waved with an understated and permanent smile that only he would notice, seemingly standing tall above all others that he was facing.

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and before he could think twice, Lando raised his hand in a subtle, three-finger wave — a gesture that passed unnoticed by most, except you.

The corners of your lips twitched up, a private response to his unspoken hello.

After the crowd dispersed from the stands, you took your instructions from your friend, to watch your boyfriend give his thoughts on his win.

Yeah sure, he would tell you all about it later but you wanted to capture the raw emotion he was feeling. The adrenaline, the rush.

He deserved every part of this. Longingly.

You patiently passed through the audience at the back, setting yourself to stand just behind the fabric lining to get the an outlook of Lando speaking his mind away.

Pulling your cap lower to your eyes, the shutter clicks and flashes from the cameras erupted hysterically, as you moved your attention to the brunette walking up to the report station.

Lando waltzed in, and by the looks, slightly drunk and dazzled with champagne head-to-toe. The alcohol was drizzling from his curls, the droplets highlighting his face in a silky glow.

He nervously set his helmet down on the table beside him, a fresh initial, *y* etched delicately near the visor hinge. A personal touch from you: a small burgundy lipstick mark was dotted next to it, shining luminously in contrast to the neon yellow colouring.

Although it wasn’t necessarily huge, sharp-eyed fans would surely take note of it later, but for now, it was just another detail in the tapestry of speculation for your McLaren boyfriend.

“What a great result for you today, Lando,” the reporter began, her smile genuine. “Second podium in a row! You must be feeling pretty good about the car and your performance out there.”

He nodded, fidgeting with the mic wire as he spoke. “Yeah, really happy with the team’s progress. The car felt great, and I think we managed the strategy perfectly. Overall, just a solid race weekend.”

The interviewer’s eyes dropped for a second before raising an eyebrow. “And I have to ask—nice bracelet. New?”

Lando glanced down at his wrist, where a sleek, braided bracelet rested snugly. It was adorned with both of your eye colours: aqua blue and a crispy brown.

A small silver charm dangled from the band, just visible enough to catch the light. His response came quickly, though the faintest blush betrayed his inncoence. “Oh, uh, yeah. It was…a gift.”

His slight slur raised questions, his eyes wildly intoxicated.

The reporter smiled knowingly but didn’t press any further. Instead, she followed his gaze, which had shifted just slightly over her shoulder. Lando’s eyes lingered on a shadow standing at a distance, tucked near the edge of the paddock gates.

You.

Despite your heart swirling and throbbing against your chest, you kept composed, arms crossed, in attempt to keep your thrill at below social level.

Your eyes met his, adminst the craze for the briefest moment. Even if it was for a second, the pure affection in your gaze made Lando’s smile grew wider, softer, the sort of smile that felt too personal for television.

Something was captured in the glimpse of his eyes too. Something special. Something devoted.

“Someone special cheering you on today?” the reporter ventured, testing the waters.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as if brushing the question aside, but the grin on his face gave him away. “Let’s just say I had some good motivation.”

His composed mask had slipped, his complete devotion for someone, now open for the world to see.

Caught in the act.

As the interview wrapped up, Lando stepped away, his helmet in hand. “C’mere man!” Oscar gestures as Zak also urging him back over.

Team principal, Andrea, hollered him over too, a much needed debrief of the race not long ago.

Nonetheless, he kept a steady and lustful lock on you, eachother mirroring the same lovesick beam that brought you two so close.

But before he walked toward the team, he earned a way to dedicate this to you — this time, his three-finger wave was subtler, hidden behind the helmet’s curve.

You almost imperceptibly nod, your lips curving into the kind of smile meant only for him. He passes a genuine wink your way, making you shake your head and laugh into the palms of your hand.

The shutter of clicks grew louder, more intense and apparently aiming your way.

As always, the camera’s captured it all.

tags: @n0vazsq @ficloversblog

[fairyhaos]

seventeen's "loser line" in a relationship

[ requested by @valenhui ]

based off of the "losers when in love"* bullet point in this headcanon! theyre literally SO fuckinfg cute oml i might write full fics for them if i have time ><

*consists of junhui, mingyu, chan.

junhui

pathetic and adorable kind of loser. pathetic really.... is genuinely the best way to describe it. he's so desperately, pathetically in love with you and literally acts like he's still hopelessly pining over you even though you've already started dating. laughs super hard at your jokes and stares at you with sparkles in his eyes and flirts with you at every given opportunity like he isn't already dating you and hasn't already won over your affections ages ago. but hey, he's dedicated, and you can't exactly complain at being showered with all of his attention.

also randomly informs you that he's in love with you at any time of day. you'll be watching a movie in the theatre and he'll tug your sleeve, leaning into your space almost shyly and being like "hey. hey. i just wanted to let you know... im kind of in love with you" before scrunching his shoulders up all shy and leaning quickly away from you again. hes always so adorable, ears turning pink even as he flirts with you into oblivion before tacking on a cute "im in love with you, by the way" at the end. every time he says it, you feel so overwhelmed because god, you're so in love with him too

mingyu

wet puppy kind of loser. i'm talking whining 24/7, pouting dramatically whenever you're not clinging to his side, and snuggling into you whenever possible. it's like dating a large, overgrown puppy that doesn't realise he's as big as he is, if that puppy suddenly found out how to talk and cook and do the laundry and looks up at you with big, shining eyes when you come home and goes "hello!! i made every single one of your favourite foods when you were gone bc i missed you so much. how was your day??" at least twice a week. (you're beginning to worry that mingyu might have some sort of separation anxiety.)

also he Does Not care if the other members tease him for being so in love with you, bc hey, yoon jeonghan's just jealous of your lurrrve anyway. but he will sulk if You tease him about it bc hey :(( you're the love of his life :((( don't be mean to him :((( gives you those big, wet, sad eyes every time you tease him until you finally laugh and give him a big kiss to placate him. tells you he loves you every single hour of the day. the members can tease him all they want, but all that matters to him is that you're aware that he Genuinely loves you to pieces.

chan

devastatingly infatuated kind of loser. he literally just. ADORES you so much in a kinda adorable, kinda incredible way because it surprises you again and again when he does something and you realise he loves you so much. and he does things, a lot, because this man is literally doing everything for you. hangs onto your every word like they hold the secrets to the universe, and remembers everything you tell him like it's his life's mission to become an expert on your likes and dislikes. has definitely zoned out whilst staring at you too many times to count.

i gotta stress how in love this man is tho, like. would 100% change his profession into loving you 24/7 if he could. no one wants to go out drinking when the two of you are together bc when chan gets drunk, he just repeats how in love with you he is over and over again like a broken record. (hoshi made the mistake of joining you two, once. he recounts the incident with a look of mild horror every single gathering the 14 of you have.) he doesn't say ily to your face a lot, but it's mostly bc he just forgets cuz he's been staring at you in an utterly lovesick way for far too long.

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bunnliix @bananabubble

[formulaonecrumbs]

you was there before the fancy cars 🏎️

Lando Norris x hair-stylist!reader

summary: Lando Norris and his hair stylist have a close bond built over six years of working together. Over time, they realize there’s more between them.

warnings: consider it a halfway situationship (neither of them know it’s one)

A/N: yes, u read correctly. the title IS the mac miller lyric… this fic isnt based off that but the line was just TOOOO perfect not to use. hope u like this 😋😋 i’m getting a lot more comfy with writing actual fics which is nice. i was thinking i’d maybe make this a series about certain parts of his career where reader was there for him leading up to when they start dating, lemme know what y’all want. anyways, love you babies, as always ❤️

She’d been with him from the start.

Back when he was still baby-faced, barely twenty, and fidgeting like a kid in the salon chair. Lando Norris had walked in with a mop of curls and an even messier kind of nervous energy. She’d tamed both. And for six years since, she’d been doing the same — brushing through curls and calming whatever storm he brought in with him.

She wasn’t like the others. The other clients had entourages, airs, and money that dripped off them like perfume. Lando had always been different. Still rich, obviously, but he’d never worn it like armor. He wore bad jokes and overgrown hair. He wore his heart when he wasn’t supposed to. He made her laugh when no one else could.

There was one race weekend — 2021, Monaco — he had finished on the podium. Instead of going to a party, he showed up at her place with takeaway and made her watch the highlights with him, just to see her reaction. “You looked at me like I’d won the whole damn championship,” he said that night, grinning.

She had. Because she’d been there through the mess-ups too. The crashes. The P15s. The media pressure. The times he didn’t say a word when he sat in her chair, just let her fingers run through his curls, eyes closed like he needed a break from the whole world.

And maybe she needed him too. After days of dealing with demanding celebrities and influencer egos, Lando was like a breath of slightly chaotic, but comforting, fresh air. He’d talk about anything — video games, the track, the fans — and always asked how her day was, even if he was the one under pressure. He noticed things. Like when she cut her hair or wore a new pair of earrings. Like when she was quiet and needed silence more than conversation.

Then there were the little things. The way he’d wait outside her studio with coffee when her schedule was packed. The way he texted her bad puns during press conferences. How he once flew her out early for a race weekend because she said she needed a break — no words, just a flight confirmation and a note: You need this. Also, my hair is a mess. Help.

She should’ve known. Maybe she did.

And maybe he did too — that there was something sitting between them, soft and constant, something they never named.

They weren’t dating. They weren’t anything. But there was a moment — in the backroom of a garage, she was fixing the curls sticking out of his helmet after qualifying — he looked up at her, really looked, and whispered, “You’ve always been the one who gets me. I think… I only ever wanted it to be you.”

Her hand stilled in his hair. Their eyes met.

No kiss. No dramatic music. Just realization.

She smiled, small and soft. “It’s always been you too.”

And that was enough for now.

They weren’t something. Not yet.

But they could be.

[yeahiveheardofbears-fics]

Be My Anti-Valentine

You and your best friend Steve have a movie night on Valentine's Day, since you are both perpetually single. Except, maybe not for long...

hey babes! Happy way late Valentine's Day! I will say that i did base the reader character, once again, on my OC Mac from my ST rewrite series. so some side characters, relationships, and places will be from that universe. You don't need to read that to get the story, but if you like this dynamic then I definitely recommend it! I treat this little smut one shots like deleted scenes that didn't make sense in my main fic, but wouldnt escape my brain. I also did a lot of build up because I can't seem to write smut for Steve without making him an absolute loverboy <3 Enjoy!!

l-bombs, friends to loves, lots of exposition word count: 14,096 TW: uhhh, really not much, this is pretty loving honestly. underage drinking i guess

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

fic masterlist

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

February 14th, 1986

The neon glow from Family Video flickers just across the street, casting a greenish hue onto the wet pavement outside. Through the glass doors of Vinyl Frontier , you can see the faint movement of Steve inside, pacing behind the counter, no doubt pretending to look busy. You know better.

He’s probably just spinning a tape case in his hands, waiting out the last few miserable hours of his shift—same as you.

You stretch your arms above your head with a groan, then lean against the counter, staring at the real misery: the Valentine’s Day display Jet had you set up. Rows of records with love songs, sappy ballads, and an obnoxiously large hand-drawn sign that reads MAKE A LOVE MIX FOR YOUR SWEETHEART! in looping red letters. The entire thing makes your skin crawl.

You’re halfway through reorganizing the New Releases section—because some asshole put Iron Maiden next to Cyndi Lauper —when the store’s phone rings behind you. You sigh, abandoning the records to grab the receiver.

“ Vinyl Frontier , what do you want?”

There’s a scoff on the other end of the line. “Wow. That’s how you answer the phone now?”

You smirk, already recognizing the voice. “Oh, it’s you. My bad. Vinyl Frontier , home of angsty losers and overpriced imports. How can I help you, Steve?”

“Much better.” There’s a pause, then his voice lowers conspiratorially. “Listen, just giving you a heads-up—there’s a couple that just left my store, all lovey-dovey, handsy as hell. They’re headed straight for your store, so you’ve got, like, thirty seconds before you have to witness… whatever the hell they were doing here.”

You groan, already standing to peek through the store window. And sure enough—there they are. The couple in question, walking hand-in-hand across the street, their matching red sweaters obnoxiously bright.

“Ugh. Them?”

“You know them?” Steve asks, bemused.

“They were making out between The Smiths and Bauhaus the other day,” you say, flopping back against the counter. “I Lysoled the shelves after they left.”

Steve makes a disgusted noise. “Jesus Christ. They were all over the romance section at Family Video . Like, I get it, love is great, whatever, but I work here. Have some goddamn respect.”

You snort. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah, it’s been real happy,” he deadpans. “Nothing like watching every couple in Hawkins remind me that I’m pathetically single.”

You roll your eyes, even though you feel the same way. “It’s like an infestation. Can’t even walk two feet without seeing someone swapping spit.”

“Tell me about it.” There’s some muffled conversation on his end, the sound of a VHS tape clattering onto the counter. “Anyway, you still coming over?”

“Obviously.”

“I grabbed your stupid movies,” he says, sounding so put out that you have to grin. “But just for the record, I still think your choices are ridiculous.”

“They’re perfect,” you correct. “What’s wrong with them?”

Steve exhales like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Alright, let’s start with The Thing . How exactly is that an anti-Valentine’s movie?”

“Because it’s about paranoia and distrust,” you say. “There’s no love. Just body horror and existential dread.”

“Uh-huh. And Sleepaway Camp ?”

“You know damn well why.”

“Okay, fine, that one’s fair.” He pauses. “But My Bloody Valentine ? You picked a Valentine’s Day slasher . That’s, like, half giving in to the holiday.”

“It’s a classic, Steve.”

“Mm-hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “I feel like you just wanted an excuse to watch a bunch of horror movies with me.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. I don’t need an excuse for that. I can bully you into watching horror movies whenever I want.”

There’s a beat of silence before he huffs a quiet laugh. “You know, I hate that you’re right.”

“I love that I’m right.”

Steve sighs dramatically. “Fine. But when I get nightmares about shapeshifting aliens, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll live.”

“Debatable.” Another pause, then his voice softens just slightly. “Robin’s not gonna make it, by the way. She’s got a ‘not-date’ with Vickie.”

That gives you pause.

“So it’s just us,” you say.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Just us.”

There’s a moment of… something. Not awkwardness, exactly. Just an awareness that wasn’t there before. You glance around the store, suddenly finding it hard to focus on anything. The record stacks, the cheap plastic Valentine’s decorations Jet made you put up, the couple now giggling in the corner near Fleetwood Mac .

“Well, that just means more popcorn for me,” you say, brushing past it.

“And I won’t have to listen to Robin complain about my movie choices.”

“ My movie choices,” you correct.

“Whatever.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “So, uh… you still coming?”

You twirl the phone cord between your fingers, a habit you thought you’d grown out of. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Cool. See you later.”

“See you.”

You hang up, staring at the receiver for a second longer than necessary.

This was fine. Totally normal. Just another movie night.

Right?

---

Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone, rubbing the back of his neck before turning toward the counter—only to find Robin standing there, arms crossed, one brow arched so high it’s practically in her hairline.

He stops short, already exasperated. “Don’t.”

Robin tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”

“ Don’t make it weird.” He gestures vaguely toward the phone, like somehow the conversation itself was to blame for whatever this was.

She scoffs. “Oh, I didn’t make it weird. You did that all on your own.”

Steve groans, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ, Robin.”

She just smirks, shifting her weight against the counter. “It’s not my fault you two sound like a couple in a bad rom-com.”

He glares. “It’s your fault for having a date tonight.”

Robin immediately corrects him. “It’s a not-date.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Same difference.”

“Uh, huge difference,” she says. “Dates are romantic. Not-dates are for pretending it’s not romantic while still getting nervous about it.”

He gives her a flat look. “That literally makes no sense.”

Robin shrugs. “Well, good news, dingus—you’ve got a not-date too.”

Steve scoffs, crossing his arms. “It’s not a date.”

Robin just lifts a brow. “That’s what I just said.”

He throws his hands up. “No, I mean—it’s not even a not-date! It’s just a normal night. We watch movies all the time.”

Robin sighs, then pushes off the counter, walking over to him with that look—the one that means she’s about to call him on his bullshit.

“Steve.”

“What?”

She softens just slightly. “You do realize that you two are both my best friends, right?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah?”

“And that I’m not blind?”

He groans. “Robin—”

“I mean, come on.” She starts ticking off fingers, like she’s listing off groceries. “You grab her movies for her even when you think they’re stupid, you call her at work just to talk, you let her make fun of you without even trying to fight back—”

“I fight back,” he protests weakly.

Robin ignores him. “—and, oh yeah, you both spent the last five minutes awkwardly dancing around the fact that you’ll be alone tonight.”

Steve crosses his arms tighter. “So what? It’s not weird to hang out with a friend.”

Robin nods sagely. “Totally. Just a friend.”

“Exactly.”

“Just a friend. On Valentine’s day. that you think is funny and hot and cool and—”

“Okay, I never said that I find her hot.” He throws his head back dramatically. “She’s annoying and bossy and thinks she knows everything—”

Robin hums. “Mmm, yeah. Real convincing, Harrington.”

“—and she’s constantly making fun of my hair—”

Robin shrugs. “You kinda deserve that one.”

“—and she has this stupid little smirk when she’s right about something, and she always has to be right, and when she gets all smug about it, she does this thing where she tilts her head a little, and she has this way of looking at you like she’s three steps ahead in a game you didn’t know you were playing—”

Robin lifts an eyebrow.

Steve doesn’t notice.

“—and she has that voice, you know, like all confident but a little raspy, and when she laughs at something she actually finds funny, not just something dumb Dustin says, it’s, like—”

Robin makes a face. “Steve.”

“—all breathy and warm, and she smells good all the time even when she’s just coming off work, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s like cherry or maybe something floral, but not too much, and—”

“ Steve .”

He finally stops, blinking at her.

Robin stares at him, then slowly grimaces. “You do hear yourself, right?”

Steve pauses. Blinks again. “Shit.”

Robin claps him on the shoulder. “There it is.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She doesn’t even like me like that.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve points a finger at her. “You don’t know that.”

Robin raises both hands in surrender. “Okay. If you say so.” But she’s grinning, and it pisses him off.

Before he can argue, the bell over the door jingles, and a couple walks in, already giggling to each other. Steve immediately straightens up, plastering on his best customer service face.

Robin steps back with a smirk. “Don’t worry, lover boy. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Steve glares at her as he turns to the customers. “I hate you.”

Robin flashes him a grin. “You love me.”

And unfortunately, she’s right. Again.

---

You hang up the phone, exhaling through your nose, then lean against the counter and let your head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. The sound of a throat clearing makes you lift your head, and when you glance to the side you see your boss, Jet, standing in the doorway of the back office, arms crossed, looking entirely too amused.

"Was that Harrington?" he asks, voice dry as ever.

You roll your eyes and turn away, stacking the pile of records you’d been sorting before Steve called. "No, it was the Pope. He wanted to know if we have any Black Sabbath in stock."

Jet snorts, stepping further into the shop. "So, Harrington."

"Maybe."

Jet leans against the counter, watching you work with that knowing look that always makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. "You two sure do talk a lot."

"Yeah, it’s called friendship, Jet."

"Uh-huh." He tilts his head. "Y’know, back in my day, we didn’t call it friendship when two people made goo-goo eyes at each other across a counter."

You nearly drop the stack of records. "Oh my god, shut up."

Jet just grins. "I’m just sayin’."

You huff and move to the other side of the store, grabbing a rag to wipe down the shelves. The Valentine’s Day display mocks you from the corner, obnoxiously pink and full of records Jet made you pull— Foreigner , REO Speedwagon , Whitney Houston , all the stuff people were eating up today.

"He's annoying," you say, mostly to distract from whatever the hell Jet was implying.

"Sure."

"And bossy."

"Mm-hmm."

"Thinks he knows everything."

Jet makes a vague gesture. "Yeah, yeah, you’re really selling it, kid."

You scowl at him, but Jet just chuckles, watching you scrub furiously at a perfectly clean shelf.

"You know," he says, a little softer, "you don’t gotta dance around it with me. If you like him, you like him. No shame in it."

You pause, grip tightening on the rag. "I don’t."

Jet tilts his head, unconvinced. "Look, all I’m sayin’ is… I’ve been around the block a few times. And I know the look of someone trying real hard to pretend they don’t care about someone when they definitely do."

You set the rag down a little harder than necessary. "And what look is that, exactly?"

Jet just grins. "The same look you get when you talk about him but try to pretend you’re just complaining."

You open your mouth, then close it. Scowl. Pick up the rag again.

Jet chuckles. "Listen, I don’t give a damn one way or the other, but if you wanna keep lying to yourself, at least try to be good at it."

You groan. " Jet ."

"Hey, just giving you some wisdom." He pushes off the counter, stretching. "Y’know, back in the day, I had a girl I danced around with like that. Thought I was bein’ slick, thought no one noticed."

You glance at him, wary. "And?"

"And turns out I was just an idiot," he says with a shrug. "So maybe don’t be an idiot, huh?"

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, dad ."

Jet winks. "Anytime, kid."

---

Steve shuts the register with a satisfying clack and stretches, rolling out the tension in his shoulders. It’s finally closing time, and for once, he’s actually looking forward to tonight—not just because it means getting the hell out of Family Video , but because he has plans.

Casual, totally normal, not-a-date plans.

Robin is watching him, arms crossed, in that ‘I know something you don’t want me to know’ way that makes his skin itch.

He sighs. “Just say it.”

Robin grins. “Say what?”

“You know what.”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you were gonna make a move tonight.”

Steve groans, grabbing his jacket. “Jesus, Robin. Again with this?”

“What?” she says, following him as he grabs the store keys and heads for the back door. “I think it’s a valid question.”

“Well, I think it’s a stupid question.”

Robin shrugs, undeterred. “That’s funny, because you didn’t actually answer it.”

Steve flicks off the lights, plunging the store into dim shadows illuminated only by the neon glow from the sign outside. He turns back to Robin, exasperated. “There’s no move to make.”

Robin smirks, watching as he fumbles a little with the keys. “Uh-huh.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Sure, sure.”

Steve scowls. “You really think I’d make a move?”

Robin shrugs again. “I mean, yeah.”

Steve groans, shoving his arms into his jacket. “Okay, fine, let’s say hypothetically I was gonna make a move. What would that even look like?”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Steve exhales sharply, shaking his head, but then—he starts talking. Slow at first, still pretending this is all theoretical, but then it starts flowing a little too easily.

“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “first of all, I wouldn’t just spring anything on her. She’s not the type you can just, like, surprise with that kind of thing. So I’d make it seem like a regular movie night. No pressure, no expectations. Just us hanging out, watching her dumb horror movies, which—by the way—are not romantic at all, so she wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

Robin hums. “Sly.”

Steve points at her. “Exactly.”

They step outside into the cold night, their breath fogging in the air. Steve locks the door behind them, still talking.

“Then, I’d wait for the right moment. Maybe during The Thing, since she always gets way too focused on the practical effects and starts ranting about how they were done. That’s when I’d sit next to her—real casual, nothing weird. But, like, closer than usual. Just enough to see if she notices.”

Robin leans against the wall, intrigued. “And if she does?”

Steve shrugs, flipping the keys in his hand. “Then I’d play it off, act like it’s no big deal. But if she doesn’t ? That’s when I’d start testing the waters. Maybe during Sleepaway Camp , since she’s seen it a million times and won’t be as locked in. I’d stretch, put my arm on the couch behind her—”

Robin snorts. “The yawn move?”

Steve glares. “No, not the yawn move. Just an arm casually placed behind her. If she leans in, then, boom—I know she’s comfortable with it. And then,” he continues, getting into it now, “if everything feels right, if she’s not pulling away or making fun of me, then I’d make my move.”

Robin crosses her arms. “Which is?”

Steve exhales, eyes flicking upward like he’s playing it out in his head. “I’d wait for the perfect moment. Maybe when she’s talking, because she always talks during horror movies—”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “You like that she talks during movies?”

Steve waves a hand. “That’s not the point. The point is, she gets really into it, and when she’s really into something, she forgets to be sarcastic for, like, a whole second. So while she’s mid-sentence, I’d just… shift toward her, lean in a little, make sure she notices before I do anything.”

Robin watches him, interested now. “And then?”

Steve tilts his head slightly, picturing it.

“And then,” he says, voice softer, “I’d go for it. Just—slow, you know? Like, give her the chance to pull away, but hoping she doesn’t.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make it some big thing, no cheesy lines, nothing rehearsed. Just… see what happens.”

Robin stares at him for a second. Then makes a face.

“Okay, ew,” she says. “Reel it in, Romeo.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You were getting way too into that.”

Steve scowls. “I was just answering your question.”

Robin smirks. “Oh, you so weren’t. That was not hypothetical. That was a step-by-step plan.”

Steve huffs. “It was a theoretical —”

“You definitely have thought about this before.”

Steve groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “Robin—”

“You even mapped out the exact movie timing—”

“Shut up.”

“You are so nervous.”

“I am not—”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

---

You’re walking toward Steve and Robin, hands shoved into your jacket pockets, head tilted slightly in curiosity. You glance between the two of them, your eyes narrowing ever so slightly, like you just walked in on the tail end of something you weren’t supposed to hear.

Steve immediately panics. “Why are you here?”

You blink. “Uh… hello to you too?”

He clears his throat, scrambling to backtrack. “I just—I thought we were meeting at my house.”

You shrug. “Eddie’s still working on my car, so I figured I’d just come straight here.”

Steve nods a little too fast. “Right. Cool. Yeah.”

Robin, who had been standing beside him with a smirk so smug it could power Hawkins for a week, is now outright grinning. She’s practically vibrating with barely restrained laughter.

Your eyes flick between them again. “What?”

Robin doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns to Steve with a knowing smile. “Well, I’m off to my not-date . Wish me luck.”

Your brow furrows. “Good luck?”

Robin winks—not at you, but at Steve. “You too.”

Steve glares at her. “Robin.”

She just grins wider and gives him a two-fingered salute before turning on her heel and heading off down the sidewalk, leaving you standing there with an eyebrow raised.

You shift your weight onto one foot, watching her go before turning back to Steve. “Okay, what was that?”

He shakes his head way too quickly. “Nothing. Just—nothing.”

You don’t buy it for a second. But whatever that was, Steve clearly isn’t going to spill, so you let it slide. For now.

You exhale, rocking back on your heels. “Alright, weirdo.”

Steve shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “You ready?”

You nod.

“Cool,” he says, fumbling for his keys like his hands suddenly forgot how to function.

Without another word, you both head to his car.

Once you’re at his house, Steve pushes the front door open first, stepping inside and flicking on the lights without a second thought. You follow behind him, toeing off your shoes as the familiar silence of the Harrington house settles around you.

As usual, the place is empty.

“Where are your parents this time?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Steve snorts, tossing his keys onto the hallway table. “No idea. They left a note on the fridge, but I didn’t read it.”

You roll your eyes, unsurprised. “So, what? Business trip? Spa retreat? Another month of pretending they don’t have a son?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. “Not like it matters.”

It’s not like you’ve been here a ton, but every time you have been, it’s been the same—big house, too much space, and no parents in sight. Just Steve, filling the empty rooms with music or movies, like background noise could make up for the lack of anyone actually being home.

You don’t push it. Instead, you drop your bag on the couch and walk straight to the TV, glancing over your shoulder. “Movies?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got ‘em. You set up, I’ll grab snacks.”

You flip through the stack of VHS tapes he brought home from Family Video .

“You actually grabbed all the ones I asked for?” You sound surprised.

Steve scoffs, walking past you toward the kitchen. “You don’t pay me enough to improvise.”

“I don’t pay you.”

“Exactly.”

---

Steve tells himself he isn’t nervous.

He tells himself this as he unlocks the door, steps inside, and watches as you walk in after him, dropping your bag on the couch like you belong here. Which, in a way, you do.

He’s not nervous.

It’s just a normal movie night. Just like all the others.

Except it isn’t.

Because tonight, he has a plan.

A foolproof, step-by-step, can’t-go-wrong plan—one he stupidly let Robin in on, which means there is no backing out now. She’ll ask about it later, and if he tells her he chickened out, she’ll never let him live it down.

So he’s doing this.

…Right?

This is fine. If he just acts normal, you won’t suspect a thing. He pours the popcorn, pops open a couple of sodas, and grabs a bag of chips for good measure. When he comes back into the living room, you’re already loading The Thing into the VCR.

Steve watches you from the doorway for a second. The way you move so easily in his space. The way you don’t hesitate, like it’s your house too.

And yeah. Fuck . He wants this.

He clears his throat and heads to the couch, dropping down beside you—closer than usual.

You don’t say anything.

Step One: Close the Distance.

Easy.

Done.

You didn’t call him out on it, which means he’s in the clear.

The movie starts, and you sink into it, fully focused by the time the sled dog is sprinting through the snow, the helicopter in pursuit.

Steve lets himself relax. Just a little.

Step Two: Casual Arm Placement.

He waits. Gives it time.

You’re locked into the movie, already muttering something under your breath about the brilliance of practical effects. You do that a lot—talk through horror movies, not in a bad way, but in a way that shows how much you actually care about them.

Steve listens, nodding like he’s paying attention to what you’re saying, but really, he’s timing it.

Then, casually, effortlessly, he stretches, letting his arm fall across the back of the couch.

Not touching you. Just there. Close enough to be felt but not enough to be anything.

You don’t react.

So far, so good.

Steve suppresses a smirk. See, Robin? I got this.

Step Three: The Lean-In.

This one is trickier.

It has to be subtle . Smooth.

He waits again, watches as you settle further into the cushions, legs curled up beneath you, completely lost in the movie. That’s when he shifts—barely, just enough to angle himself toward you. Just enough to close the gap a little more.

Still, no reaction.

That’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.

He reminds himself of the plan.

Wait until Sleepaway Camp for the next move. That’s when he’d test the waters, when you wouldn’t be as focused, when he could ease into it without making it weird.

But then you glance at him, just for a second, and something about the way you look—eyes slightly narrowed, like you noticed but aren’t saying anything—makes his stomach flip.

Fuck it.

Maybe he doesn’t want to wait.

You’re completely locked in when the scene shifts to the research station, the dog curling up in the kennel with the other huskies. It’s the moment before all hell breaks loose, the moment before the thing reveals itself.

It’s perfect.

Steve watches your profile, the way your eyes flick between the screen and your soda as you reach for it.

This is it.

This is the moment.

He turns toward you, leans in slightly, ready to shift even closer.

And then, of course, everything goes to shit.

Disaster: The Soda Incident.

He reaches for his drink at the exact same time you do.

Your hands knock together.

Oh, fuck.

Cold liquid spills all over your shirt.

You gasp, jerking upright as the icy soda soaks through your clothes.

“Shit—”

Steve freezes. Stares. His brain short-circuits.

This was not part of the plan. Not even close.

“Fuck—hold on—” He scrambles to set his drink down, moving fast like he can somehow reverse time and undo the absolute catastrophe he just caused. “Shit, shit, shit. I—I’ll grab a towel—just—shit—hang on!”

He bolts up so fast he nearly knocks over the popcorn bowl, tripping over the coffee table in his rush.

You’re just sitting there, stunned, dripping soda onto the couch, blinking at him like you can’t believe what just happened.

The movie keeps playing in the background, oblivious to the fucking disaster unfolding in real life.

Steve disappears down the hall, heart pounding, and he knows—

Yeah.

This definitely didn’t go according to plan.

---

You sit there, staring down at yourself, blinking at the damp fabric clinging to your chest.

What the hell just happened?

One second, you were watching the movie, minding your own business, and the next—Steve fucking Harrington managed to dump an entire soda all over you like some teenage rom-com protagonist who can’t keep his hands to himself.

Except this isn’t a movie, and Steve is currently gone, having bolted from the room like the place was on fire.

You exhale, peeling the wet fabric away from your skin, grimacing at the way the cold sticks to you. From somewhere in the house, you hear the telltale signs of Steve running around in a panic. Footsteps pounding up the stairs. The sound of a cabinet slamming. A muffled curse. Footsteps back down the stairs, faster this time, followed by another thud and another round of cursing.

Then silence.

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably, and just as you’re about to get up and find a towel yourself, Steve comes jogging back into the living room.

He’s got a hand towel in one hand and a shirt in the other, looking a little too disheveled for someone who was gone for all of thirty seconds.

“Okay, here—” he starts, reaching out with the towel.

And then he stops.

You blink at him. He blinks at you.

Because, yeah. If he was actually going to clean you up, that would mean touching your chest.

Steve goes bright red. “Right. Shit. Here—just—take it.”

He thrusts the towel at you, along with the shirt, and you grab them both, giving him a look.

“Yeah, genius. Didn’t really think that one through, did you?”

Steve groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I was panicking!”

“No shit.”

You push yourself off the couch, the wet fabric sticking uncomfortably as you shift. “Gonna go change.”

He nods quickly, eyes locked very purposefully on anything but you as you walk past him and down the hall toward the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you and sigh, shaking your head.

Steve had been weird all night. Fidgety. Kind of jumpy. Not normal.

And this? This had to be a new record for him in terms of absolute dumbassery.

You grab the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off with a wince, already shivering slightly as the air hits your skin. Then, you look at the shirt he gave you.

It’s not one of his polos or his sweaters—it’s a T-shirt, old and worn, with the faded logo of the Hawkins High basketball team across the front.

You snort. King Steve in his prime.

The fabric is soft, smelling like detergent and him, and when you pull it on, it’s tight. Not uncomfortably so, but enough that it stretches a little over your chest, fitting snug around your torso in a way that most of your own shirts don’t.

Great.

You shake your head and step back out, making your way to the living room.

Steve is at the VCR when you return, swapping out the tape for Sleepaway Camp , his back to you.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears you come in, eyes flicking down to his shirt on you before darting back up to your face.

“Uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Again.”

You shrug. “It’s cool, this is how most guys try to get me out of my clothes.”

Steve chokes.

Like, actually chokes.

“…Okay,” you say slowly, watching him. “That was a joke.”

Steve shakes his head so fast you think he might snap his own neck and you narrow your eyes. Something is off with him. But you let it slide, stepping back toward the couch as he finishes setting up the movie.

When he sits down again, he leaves a little more space between you this time, but you don’t comment on it. The movie starts, the opening credits rolling, and as the familiar music kicks in, you shake your head.

Steve Harrington is acting weird as hell tonight.

---

Steve is reeling.

He never fucks up like that.

Sure, yeah, maybe he’s been in a bit of a dry spell lately. Maybe he hasn’t had as many dates as he used to. Maybe he’s been selective (Robin’s word, not his) about who he flirts with. But when he does?

This is the part he’s good at.

The easy charm, the confidence, the effortless way he makes a girl laugh and then smoothly inches closer—that has always been his thing.

But this? This was a fucking disaster.

It has to be a sign that this was a bad idea, that Robin got into his head and made him think there was something here when there wasn’t.

Because if there was, he wouldn’t have botched it so badly. He wouldn’t have dumped a fucking drink all over you like a nervous wreck. Wouldn’t be sitting here now, stiff and awkward, trying way too hard to act like nothing happened.

He flicks a glance at you, at the way you’re curled up on the couch, adjusting yourself in his old Hawkins basketball T-shirt.

And—fuck.

The thing about that shirt?

It was his from junior year.

Which means it used to fit him.

Which means, on you, it’s tight .

Steve swallows hard and yanks his gaze back to the screen before his mind can wander any further.

Platonic. Just friends, Harrington. And friends don’t look at their friends’ boobs in a too-small shirt and think about—

He shoves the thought down so hard it practically leaves skid marks in his brain.

Instead, he focuses on the movie.

Sleepaway Camp isn’t a great distraction—it’s weird, and dumb, and kind of awful in the best way—but it’s what’s on.

You talk through it, like you always do, making the occasional joke, sometimes pointing out a particularly bad effect or cheesy dialogue.

Steve answers, strictly platonically.

He ignores any comment that could be vaguely sexual, even when you joke about the guys’ ridiculously short shorts or when you outright laugh at the worst attempt at seduction in cinematic history. Normally, he’d engage—he’d throw something back, tease, maybe flirt just for the hell of it.

Tonight, though, he forces himself to keep it neutral.

Because the more he thinks about what almost happened—the way he was about to go for it, the way he was about to shift even closer—the more his stomach twists.

The movie ends, and Steve is way too quick to jump up.

“Want another drink?” he asks, already halfway to the kitchen.

You nod, stretching as you get up to swap the tapes. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve heads to the fridge, grabs the handle, and—

---

You’re kneeling in front of the VCR, sliding My Bloody Valentine into place, when you hear Steve’s footsteps behind you.

“No more soda,” he announces like it’s a death sentence, hands perched on his hips. “I got, uh—water, orange juice, milk—”

You pause, turning to look at him. “Milk?”

Steve throws his hands up like that’s somehow your fault. “I don’t know, I’m just listing shit. We’ve got juice boxes if you wanna feel like a kid again.”

You roll your eyes, but the second he says it, an idea sparks in your head. You glance at the TV, then back at Steve, then at the couch, where the remnants of the soda disaster still linger. Tonight’s already off the rails, so why not lean into it?

“Why don’t we just make it a drinking game?”

Steve blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on, we’ve done drinking games before.”

“Yeah, but that’s when there’s more people.”

You narrow your eyes, tilting your head slightly. “And?”

Steve opens his mouth, then stops. He looks at you, thinking, probably trying to come up with a reason why that matters, why it’s somehow different when it’s just the two of you. But he doesn’t have one. Instead, he lets out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, okay, I guess that doesn’t actually matter.”

You smirk, victorious, and push yourself up from the floor. You don’t know why he’s hesitating. It’s not like this is some big deal. It’s just a stupid drinking game to go with a stupid horror movie on a stupid holiday. It’s a way to make the night a little more fun, a little less whatever the hell this has been so far.

Steve still looks skeptical, like he’s waiting for some reason to say no, so you press on before he can talk himself out of it.

“We’re both alone on Valentine’s Day,” you say, watching his expression carefully. “Everyone else is out on their dumb dates, drinking their dumb fancy wine, eating overpriced chocolate, being all lovey-dovey. And we’re here, watching horror movies and trying not to spill anything else on my shirt.”

Steve lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

Encouraged, you keep going. “For once, we don’t have to deal with interdimensional bullshit, no creepy government guys, no nightmare monsters from hell. Just a normal, boring, stupid romantic holiday that we’re stuck spending alone.”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “So, your grand plan is to drink through the pain?”

You shrug. “We deserve a night of dumb, normal young people shit.”

It’s only when you say it out loud that you realize how true it is. You’ve spent so much of the last couple of years dealing with things that no one your age should have to deal with. Near-death experiences, government cover-ups, missing people, watching friends suffer and not being able to do anything about it. It’s been a lot, and maybe it’s selfish, but you just want one night that feels easy.

Steve is quiet, considering. You step closer, just enough to reach out and clap a hand on his shoulder, half in encouragement, half in challenge.

“Come on, Harrington. It’s one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite place, something unreadable behind those brown eyes. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll go grab something my parents won’t miss.”

---

Steve comes back into the living room, bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, expecting to see you on the couch where he left you. Instead, you’re sitting on the floor, pillows propped against the coffee table, legs stretched out, completely at ease like this is just how movie nights are supposed to be.

He stops short, eyeing you with confusion. “What are you doing?”

You glance up at him, completely unfazed. “It’s more fun this way.”

Steve squints. “Sitting on the floor ?”

“Yeah.” You pat the space next to you, smirking. “Come on, try it.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue, lowering himself down beside you, setting the bottle and glasses on the floor. His knees knock against yours briefly as he gets comfortable, and for some reason, that small, barely-there contact sends a little jolt through him. He ignores it, grabs the bottle, and tilts it in your direction.

“Alright,” he says, twisting off the cap, “rules.”

You hum in thought. “Okay, obviously, we drink every time someone dies.”

“Obviously.”

“Drink every time someone says ‘Valentine.’”

Steve snorts. “This is My Bloody Valentine , we’re gonna die.”

“That’s the point.” You grin and hold up a finger. “Drink when someone does something really fucking stupid, like running upstairs instead of outside.”

“Classic.” He pours your glass, then his, setting the bottle aside. “What about drink if you get spooked?”

You narrow your eyes. “You just want an excuse to make me drink more.”

He grins, bumping his knee against yours. “Gotta level the playing field somehow.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. “Fine. And… drink if there’s a sex scene.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You just made that one up.”

“Maybe.”

“You so did.”

You smirk. “It’s still a good rule.”

He shakes his head, but his smile lingers as he lifts his glass. “Alright, to terrible horror movies and drinking games.”

You clink your glass against his, and with that, the game begins.

Two-thirds of the way through the movie, and you’re both comfortably tipsy. Not drunk, but warm, relaxed, feeling looser, laughter coming easier.

At some point, Steve stopped noticing when your knee brushed against his. He didn’t think much of it when your arm pressed against his as you reached for your glass. Didn’t acknowledge the way you shifted slightly, leaning more into him as you adjusted yourself on the pillow, both of you sinking deeper into the comfort of the moment.

But now?

Now, he notices.

His focus snaps to the way your thigh is flush against his, how your elbow nudges his arm when you gesture toward the screen, still mid-rant about the practical effects.

And suddenly, it sobers him up just a little.

Not enough to stop enjoying himself, but enough to remember.

The plan.

The one he’d botched spectacularly earlier when he panicked like a fucking idiot and spilled soda all over you. He should have waited for the right moment, should have followed through exactly the way he told Robin he would.

But maybe this is the moment.

He watches you as you talk, completely wrapped up in explaining why this particular death scene is underrated. Your eyes are bright, hands moving as you emphasize certain points, and you’re not filtering yourself the way you sometimes do. This is that window—where you’re passionate, where your guard is down, where you aren’t trying to be anything other than exactly you.

And you look so fucking pretty.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t think. Doesn’t overanalyze. He just goes for it.

His hand moves before he can stop it, reaching up to cup your face, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw. Your words falter, breath catching, eyes flicking to his in startled confusion, but you don’t pull away.

And then he’s leaning in, closing the space between you, pressing his lips to yours.

It’s soft, tentative but steady, warm in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. His thumb strokes lightly along your cheek, grounding himself, savoring the way your lips part slightly, like you weren’t expecting this but aren’t against it either.

You don’t pull away.

You don’t pull away.

It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that feels like it’s meant to happen, like it’s been waiting to happen. The kind that shifts something in the air, something unspoken but undeniable.

When he finally leans back, just enough to look at you, he searches your face, breath unsteady.

And for the first time all night, you’re speechless.

---

You stare at him.

For a full minute, maybe longer.

The kiss still lingers, warm on your lips, your brain lagging behind, trying to catch up with the reality of what just happened. Steve watches you like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to freak out, maybe for you to say something, anything.

And eventually, you do.

“What—” You shake your head, eyes narrowing slightly. “What the hell was that?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, you cut him off.

“Wait, no. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re drunk, and you’re feeling weird about Valentine’s Day, and you were caught up in the moment—”

“I—”

“We’ve been drinking, and you’re—”

“Jesus, would you let me—”

You’re still talking, half-rambling, voice layered with that dry disbelief you always get when shit blindsides you, and Steve, clearly realizing that you’re just gonna keep going, shakes your shoulder a little. Not hard, just enough to jolt you.

You stop. Blink.

He exhales. “I did it because I wanted to.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous at that, but you shove it down, tilting your head slightly, giving him the flattest expression you can manage.

“Okay,” you say. “Well. Now you have.”

Silence settles between you. Not uncomfortable, but something. You’re still way too aware of the fact that his hand was on your face, that his lips were on yours, that you let him do it.

And worse—you kissed him back.

Steve shifts beside you, turning his attention to the movie, but his voice is softer when he says, “For the record, you kissed me back.”

You don’t respond. You just keep watching, your heart pounding way too hard for something as simple as sitting next to him. Your brain spins, trying to process the entire situation, trying to put all the little pieces together, trying to figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do with this new information.

And then, for some reason, you look at him.

Like, really look at him.

He’s still staring at the screen, trying to act normal, and to the average person, he probably looks normal. But you know him better than that. You’ve spent too much time around him not to pick up on the small tells—the way his jaw is a little tighter than usual, the way he shifts slightly like he’s trying not to fidget, the way his fingers tap lightly against his knee. He’s trying to keep his cool, trying to play this off like it isn’t a big deal.

And now, you can’t stop noticing things.

The two beauty marks on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. The way the glow of the TV flickers against his skin. The shape of his mouth, the way his lips look softer in this lighting, the way his eyes shift when something catches his attention on screen. The way his arms look in that stupid polo shirt, his biceps just defined enough that—

Nope. Absolutely not.

You shake yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away, trying to breathe properly again.

And then—like puzzle pieces clicking together—your brain finally catches up. The closeness, the arm around the back of the couch, the spilled soda. You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, and before you can stop yourself, you smack his arm.

He flinches, looking at you, completely caught off guard. “What the hell?”

“You planned this.”

Steve’s face does this weird thing—half shock, half shit, I’ve been caught —before he recovers, shaking his head. “What? No.”

You stare at him.

“Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything and you raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He shifts, clears his throat, and you see it all over his face—he’s absolutely about to try and deflect.

And then, just as he’s about to speak, you say his name again.

“Steve.”

And just like that, he freezes.

---

Steve feels cornered.

And not in a bad way, necessarily, but in a ‘shit, there’s nowhere to run and I’ve already been caught’ kind of way. You’re looking at him, waiting, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, the full force of your glare locked in.

And Steve—Steve does what he does best in moments of extreme pressure.

He rambles.

“If I planned this, it wouldn’t have gone so disastrously,” he starts, gesturing wildly like that’ll somehow help his case. “Like, this is the part I’m usually good at, okay? The flirting, the—moves, the whole making-it-seem-effortless thing. You know, the part where I don’t look like a complete idiot and spill an entire drink on you like I’ve never spoken to a girl before.”

You don’t say anything. You just raise an eyebrow, completely unimpressed.

Steve exhales, shaking his head. “And, honestly? It’s kind of your fault.”

That makes you blink.

“My fault?”

“Yeah, because you—you throw me off!” He gestures at you like that’s an obvious answer, like that explains anything. “You’re always making these stupid jokes, and you’re too quick, and you make fun of me before I can make fun of myself, and you never let me get away with anything. It’s—”

His mouth keeps running. His brain catches up about three sentences too late.

“—it’s really annoying, except it’s not, because I actually kinda—”

Steve stops mid-sentence, everything catching up with him at once.

Fuck.

You tilt your head, waiting.

He swallows, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot.”

You hum. “Yeah, but I already knew that.”

Steve lets out a short, almost nervous laugh before dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay, listen. That wasn’t—I didn’t mean it’s actually your fault. That was—I’m sorry, that was just me being defensive, and that was a dick thing to say.”

You nod slowly, clearly waiting for the rest.

He sighs, looking at the ceiling for a second before bringing his gaze back to you. “Robin put this thought in my head. I mean, she’s been putting this thought in my head. Since, like, the second I met her at Scoops.”

You don’t look surprised.

He shakes his head. “But if I’m being completely honest, it was already there.”

That’s when you stop him.

“Of course she did.” You sigh, rubbing your temple like this is something you’ve been expecting.

Steve frowns. “Wait—what do you mean of course she did?”

You hesitate, shifting your weight slightly before reluctantly admitting, “Because she’s been saying the same things to me for months.”

Steve blinks. That is not what he expected you to say.

It takes him a second to process, but when it clicks, when he realizes what you just admitted, his mouth stretches into a slow, growing grin.

“Wait.” He points at you. “Are you saying you like like me?”

Your entire face shifts into the most unamused expression he’s ever seen.

“Did you just say like like ?”

“Yeah.”

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

“Okay, what about fancy me?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Sweet on me?”

“Oh my god.”

“Got a little crush on me?”

“Steve.”

“Are you pining over me?”

You groan, shaking your head. “I refuse to answer if you keep saying it like that.”

Steve leans in slightly, tilting his head. “Not answering kinda is an answer.”

You look at him, lips pressing into a thin line, but you don’t pull away.

And that’s when something in him shifts.

For once, he stops talking. Stops trying to play it off, stops trying to dance around it, stops deflecting. He just watches you, watches the way your expression flickers—sharp one second, a little softer the next, like you’re not quite sure where this is going.

And then, quieter than before, he says, “How do you actually feel?”

You inhale. Exhale. Then, with the kind of reluctance that makes his heart beat just a little faster, you start listing.

“Despite the fact that you’re ridiculous.”

He grins.

“Despite the fact that you’re a little too cocky sometimes.”

“Objectively false.”

You roll your eyes.

“Despite the fact that you’re an idiot who spilled an entire soda on me.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that was bad.”

You pause, hesitating, but then, softer, you add, “Despite all of that… I still like being around you. More than I should.”

Steve swallows. “Yeah?”

You nod once. “Yeah.”

Something settles in his chest.

He exhales, gaze flicking down to your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again, smirking a little. “So, theoretically,” he starts, tilting his head, “if I wanted to kiss you again, would I still be at risk of getting punched, or…”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something there now, something warmer, something less guarded.

So Steve doesn’t wait for an answer.

He just leans in and kisses you again.

This time, it’s different.

The first kiss had been tentative, careful, almost testing the waters. But this one—this is something else entirely. This one is lingering, deeper, his hand sliding along your jaw again, the warmth of his palm grounding you as his lips part against yours.

The shift is slow but undeniable—the way his fingers slide back into your hair, the way he tilts his head just enough to deepen it, the way your hand moves, resting lightly against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re steadying yourself.

Steve barely has time to think—barely has time to do anything other than sink into you—before the next thought crosses his mind.

Holy shit. This is actually happening.

He smiles against your mouth and feels the corner of your lips curve upward.

When you finally lean back, it takes a second for his brain to catch up, his eyes opening, his breath coming in unsteady, shallow waves. He stares at you, the way the glow of the TV dances against your skin, the way the softness in your eyes matches the one in his chest, the way his hands are still cupping your face, his fingers threaded through your hair.

He exhales, letting his forehead rest against yours.

And then, without thinking, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Wanna be my Valentine?"

You snort.

You literally snort.

"That was so lame," you mutter, pulling back enough to look at him, laughing a little. "Seriously, Harrington?"

He shrugs. "So?"

"So, you missed it. Valentine's Day technically ended like an hour ago."

"Yeah." Steve pauses, thinking. Then, "We can do better next year."

Your stomach does a fucking somersault.

"Next year?"

"Yeah." He's got that dumb, boyish grin again, the one that makes his eyes bright and that's simultaneously too much and not enough. "I can take you out. Somewhere nicer than just my living room, somewhere where we're both not covered in soda. We can dress up, make a real thing of it. Maybe dinner, maybe a movie, maybe the stupid arcade."

"You hate the arcade."

"Not the point."

You huff a quiet laugh. "And what about the year after that?"

"Ah, see that's the year we get really crazy. We take a vacation, maybe road trip to Chicago, rent a hotel room for the weekend."

"A hotel room, huh?"

"Yeah, and we can have a fancy dinner at a nice restaurant. One with tablecloths and candles and everything."

You narrow your eyes slightly, watching him. "So, basically, you're planning a bunch of cliche, classic Valentine's dates."

"Basically."

"Like we're a couple."

"Like we're a couple." He nods.

"And you want to keep doing this for years?"

"And I want to keep doing this for years."

Steve looks so certain, so unbothered by the fact that he just threw out the words 'for years' like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like it's a promise, a guarantee. And when you see the way his gaze softens, the way his eyes flick between yours, the way his expression goes a little more serious, you realize—

That's exactly what he's doing.

You swallow, looking at him, and then, slowly, you ask, "Why?"

"Because I'm an idiot."

You roll your eyes.

"Because I'm an idiot," he amends, "who's liked you for way too long, and I've just been trying not to notice it."

"Steve—"

"And because I know I've made a lot of mistakes, okay?" He pauses, exhaling a little shakily. "Like, a lot of mistakes. But the biggest mistake would be not going for this, not seeing where it could go."

You shake your head, your heart beating way too fast.

"Steve," you say, "we've only kissed twice."

"Yeah, and?"

"And... it's been twenty minutes."

"And?"

You let out a small, exasperated laugh, looking at him like he's insane. "It's been twenty minutes."

"Listen," he starts, and the fact that he's using the exact same tone of voice as you, the one where he's trying to argue, the one where he's determined and stubborn and refusing to back down, makes something in your chest shift.

He reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers with yours.

"There is a lot of shit we've had to deal with. A lot of crazy, unbelievable shit. But this is something I know, okay? This is something I'm sure about. So, maybe we go into it too fast, and maybe we take our time, and maybe we try a few things and figure out what works. But I don't care."

Steve squeezes your hands gently.

"We've spent the last three years dealing with monsters and evil Russians and upside-down hellscapes, and the second I got to kiss you, the second I got to actually act on the thing I've wanted for way too long, I didn't think about any of that. I didn't think about the fact that the world is probably gonna keep fucking us over. I didn't think about all the reasons why this wouldn't work or why we shouldn't be doing this. I didn't think about the risks or the bullshit. I didn't even think about the fact that I'm supposed to be spending Valentine's Day alone. I just..."

He stops, his breath catching a little.

"I just felt it. The way it made me feel. The way I just want to keep doing it, again and again. And the fact that I know, I fucking know, we're gonna have to deal with a lot more weird shit before we can even begin to be normal, I'm not worried. Because at the end of the day, if you're there, then everything else doesn't matter."

And with that, the last of your defenses crumble.

You stare at him. At this ridiculous, self-proclaimed idiot, with his perfect hair and his pretty smile and his dumb, charming confidence.

At Steve Harrington, the guy who used to be the most annoying, egotistical prick you'd ever met.

At the guy who's become one of the best people you've ever known.

At the guy who is, somehow, right now, here, saying all the right things.

"Shit," you mutter. "You're making it really hard not to fall in love with you."

Steve grins, and then, the absolute bastard, leans in.

"Then stop trying."

He kisses you again.

You feel it everywhere—in the way his mouth slides against yours, warm and inviting, the way his fingers tangle into your hair, the way he pulls you closer.

Your fingers curl into his polo, gripping tightly as you shift closer, and Steve groans against your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist like he can’t not touch you now. The warmth of your body pressed against his is enough to make him lightheaded, the scent of your shampoo mingling with the faint whiskey on your breath making his head swim.

His hands start to move without thinking, fingertips tracing over the fabric of your shirt—his shirt—feeling the heat of your skin underneath. You gasp softly, and Steve nearly loses his mind right there. He has to pull back, has to take a breath before he does something completely reckless, but even then, his forehead stays pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Bedroom?” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

You nod. “Yeah.”

That’s all he needs.

Steve gets up first, pulling you with him, hands firm on your waist as he steadies you. You both stumble slightly, tipsy but nowhere near drunk, laughing under your breath as you navigate through the house. It’s not far—just up the stairs, past the stupid family portraits his parents insist on keeping up despite never being here.

And then, finally, his room.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in, the soft glow from outside casting long shadows across his walls.

And then, Steve is on you again.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, doesn’t second-guess himself as his hands find your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kisses you like he’s been waiting to do this forever. Like he’s scared it might slip away if he doesn’t hold onto it.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you sink down, pulling him with you. Steve follows, pressing you down gently, settling between your legs as he leans in, his lips never leaving yours.

His hands start to wander, slow, exploring—mapping you out like he wants to memorize every dip and curve. And god, you’re soft. So warm, so right against him.

 His mind is already racing, imagining every place his lips could follow, every inch of skin he could trace, every way he could make you melt into him.

Your own hands roam, sliding down his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Steve leans back, just enough to let you pull it off, the cool air hitting his skin making him shiver. His chest is exposed, his hair a little messy, his arms flexing slightly as he props himself up, and the sight is enough to make you pause.

Steve smirks, catching you.

But instead of teasing, he leans down, kissing along your jaw, his voice low and soft as he murmurs, "My turn."

Steve teases the hem of the shirt he let you borrow. You sit up a little and he starts to lift it up over your chest, but it's a tight fit and it gets stuck. You're about ready to have him just rip it off at this point, but when he speaks, his voice is soft and gentle and his breath is hot on your skin and all the words die on your tongue.

"Hold your arms up, okay?"

You obey, raising your arms and letting him slide the shirt off. He tosses it on the floor and you shiver at the sudden cold, but it's quickly forgotten as Steve looks down at you.

"Fuck."

The word slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. His eyes drink you in, trailing over the swell of your breasts in your bra, the smooth skin, the curve of your waist, and suddenly, he's overwhelmed.

"So you don't think I'm like, a total perv, I didn't think that shirt would be that... snug when I grabbed it. So, uh, sorry, but I'm also not complaining, because you have a really great—shit, what was I saying?"

"Shut up, Harrington," you mutter, grabbing his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

He chuckles against your lips, then shifts.

Steve starts slow, his mouth tracing a line down the side of your neck. He pauses, sucks at the hollow of your throat, feels the way your breath hitches when his teeth graze over the delicate skin. Your fingers card through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and the sensation is enough to make him shudder, a quiet groan slipping out.

Then, he moves lower, lips pressing a kiss in the space between your breasts. His hands trace over the tops of them, then down, cupping you, feeling the weight, thumbs swiping along the edge of your bra. You sigh, arching into him, and it takes every ounce of control not to lose it right there.

Steve leans back, eyes meeting yours, silently asking permission.

You nod, and he reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with a little more ease than expected. When he slides it off, his eyes flick down to the newly exposed skin, and you swear you hear his breath hitch.

Then, his mouth is on you, and all rational thought leaves your brain.

Steve knows his way around a girl's body.

But right now? With you?

It's like starting from square one.

Because right now, everything is heightened. Every noise you make, every little gasp and moan, every hitch of your breath, every brush of your skin against his. It's enough to drive him absolutely insane, enough to make him lose focus, and when he feels you shift underneath him, when he sees the way you look up at him, his mouth still wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently, he feels that familar tug in his stomach.

It's that same feeling—the one he can't shake, the one he can't get rid of, the one that has him thinking thoughts like 'fuck, she's so pretty' and 'holy shit, I really like her' and 'god, this is gonna ruin me, isn't it?'

But right now, none of that matters.

Right now, he can't stop.

You're arching into him, fingers buried in his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound that slips out when he scrapes his teeth lightly is enough to make his cock twitch. His mouth trails lower, over your stomach, kissing along your hipbones, and he's moving faster now, impatient, hands sliding to the button of your jeans.

He hesitates, just for a second, looking up at you.

"Is this okay?"

You nod, swallowing, and Steve's hands move. He undoes the button, slides the zipper down, and hooks his fingers into the sides. He doesn't wait for a response this time—he yanks, hard, and the sound that slips out is one part surprised, one part pleased, and it's so fucking hot that he can't stand it.

Once they're off, he looks at you, taking a second to breathe, to appreciate how fucking gorgeous you look, laid out on his bed in nothing but a pair of panties. Then, his gaze trails lower, and he sees the wet spot on the fabric, and it hits him.

Fuck, you're soaked.

He exhales sharply, his eyes flicking up to yours. "Holy shit."

"Yeah." Your voice is breathy, a little embarrassed, but there's something there, too. Something needy, something desperate.

"Do you have any idea," Steve says, leaning over you again, "how long I've wanted to see you like this?"

His hand slides down, palming you through the fabric, and when he rubs lightly, your entire body shudders.

"See, this?" He rubs a little harder, the fabric of your panties sliding against your clit. "This is my new favorite thing."

You gasp, arching into him.

Steve keeps going, rubbing you through the thin layer of cotton, watching the way your hips lift into his hand. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then to your neck, sucking lightly, and then, without warning, he slides off your panties and his fingers are back on you. 

"Fuck," he groans, feeling the heat, the wetness coating his fingers. "So fucking wet, baby."

His voice is lower than before, the pet name slipping out without thinking, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to start fucking his fingers into you. Instead, he teases, sliding his fingers, feeling the slickness, the way your breath catches when his thumb circles around your clit.

And then, he dips a finger inside.

You let out a low moan, a sound that has his cock twitching again, and the urge to just bury himself in you and fuck until neither of you can breathe is almost overwhelming. But he doesn't. He doesn't rush it.

Instead, he keeps going.

"This is what I'd think about," he says, adding a second finger. "When I would lay here, at night, after I was done talking to you."

You don't say anything, too focused on the feeling, but he knows you're listening. He kisses down your neck, fingers moving slowly, curling inside of you, his palm brushing over your clit, and then, when he adds a third finger, the stretch is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

"I'd be in bed, alone, and all I could think about was this." His voice is rougher now, the way you're squeezing around his fingers driving him insane. "What you would look like, how you'd feel, how you'd taste."

Steve picks up the pace, thrusting a little harder, his fingers curling, finding that spot, and the whimper that escapes is the hottest fucking thing he's ever heard. He's fully hard now, his cock straining against his jeans, and he has to shift, has to grind his hips against the mattress to take the edge off.

"And now," he murmurs, "I get to find out."

Steve presses his lips to yours, swallowing the moan as he fucks you with his fingers. He can feel the way your body starts to tighten, the way you squeeze around him, the way your breath gets unsteady, and he knows you're close.

"God, look at you." He curls his fingers again, watching the way your hips rock into his hand. "So pretty, baby. So perfect."

His free hand comes up, brushing over your nipple, and that's all it takes.

You gasp, clutching onto his shoulder, your head falling back as the orgasm rips through you.

And then, Steve has an idea.

Before you can even process, he's sliding lower, his lips moving, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, then down, until he's settled between your legs. You can feel the heat of his breath, and then, his tongue drags along the inside of your thigh, and the realization of what's about to happen sends a jolt through you.

You barely have time to process before his mouth is on you, and fuck, the sensation is overwhelming.

"Oh, god," you gasp, and your hands fly down, tangling into his hair, trying to anchor yourself.

He doesn't go slow this time. He's not gentle or teasing. He just licks a long stripe over your pussy, his fingers parting you, his tongue swiping through the wetness, savoring the taste, and when his mouth finds your clit, his lips closing around it, you have to fight to keep your hips still.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the pleasure sharp and white-hot.

Steve is relentless, his tongue moving expertly, swirling around your clit, alternating between hard, firm strokes and light, teasing ones. When he sucks, his tongue flicking, you cry out, a string of curses slipping out as your fingers tighten in his hair.

He groans against you, the sound muffled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly, and then, you feel it.

One hand slides under your thigh, his arm hooking under your leg, pulling it up and over his shoulder. His other arm wraps around the other, holding you down, his hand spreading you, keeping you wide open for him.

Then, Steve goes harder.

He doesn't give you time to breathe, doesn't let you recover. Instead, his tongue moves faster, licking, sucking, his face buried in you, his grip on your thighs iron-tight. The sound is obscene, filthy, wet and messy and fucking perfect, and when his teeth scrape over your clit, your back arches off the bed.

"Steve," you pant, trying not to lose it completely. "I'm—I'm gonna—"

He hums, like he already knows, and the vibrations are enough to send you over the edge.

Your entire body seizes, the pleasure shooting through you like lightning. You don't even know what's happening, if you're crying out or moaning or gasping or a mix of all three, but you can't focus, can't breathe, can't do anything other than let it rip through you, white-hot and fucking amazing.

By the time it finally fades, the aftershocks rolling through you, you're completely breathless. Your legs feel like jelly, your fingers are numb from gripping his hair, and you're positive that every nerve in your body is fried.

When Steve pulls away, sitting up, you look at him.

Your eyes are wide, your chest heaving, and it's only then that you notice the lopsided smile.

"Did I kill you?"

"Shut up," you mutter, your face flushing.

Steve's smirk widens. He crawls up, leaning in, his lips brushing against yours. "You taste amazing."

You're too weak, too fucked out to respond. All you can do is look at him, his mouth slightly parted in a loose smile, his lips shiny. And the fact that you're the reason, the fact that he was just between your legs, eating you out, is enough to make another pulse of warmth spread through your stomach.

Then, Steve looks down at you, his smile turning softer.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"You good?"

You exhale. "Yeah. Just... a little lightheaded."

"Sorry," he says, not sorry at all. "I'll try not to be so good next time."

He grins in a way thats too sweet, too genuine, and then, he presses a kiss to your forehead. He shifts, pulling back, and you're about to ask what he's doing when he reaches for the nightstand. He opens the drawer, digging around, and you're about to ask him why he's suddenly acting so weird when he holds something up.

A condom.

Steve glances at you, and his face does that thing—that half-shy, half-smirking thing—like he's still trying to play it off.

"We don't have to," he says. "If you don't want."

You hesitate.

It's not like you've never thought about it. You've imagined him more times than you'd ever admit, late at night, under the cover of darkness, when it's just you and your own mind and the things you'd like to do. But now the guy is currently in front of you, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes of all time, as if he didn't just give you the best orgasm of your life with his tongue a few minutes ago.

Your heart stutters, and it's not because you're scared or nervous.

"Yeah," you say. "Okay."

Steve blinks, and then, he grins.

"Yeah?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, asshole."

"Hey." He points a finger at you. "No name-calling while we're having sex."

You snort, and the laugh that follows makes him smile wider.

Then, without thinking, he leans down and kisses you.

The kiss is soft, gentle, almost hesitant, but you can taste yourself on his lips and it's enough to send a shockwave through your system. You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, and the second his bare skin presses against yours, the weight of him settling between your legs, the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh, your pulse jumps.

Steve reaches for the button on his jeans, fumbling slightly, but once he's kicked them off, he's on you again. His body is warm, the skin soft under your hands, and his mouth finds yours, his kiss a little more desperate now, like he's trying to ground himself, his fingers sliding into your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp.

When you shift underneath him, spreading your legs, his breath hitches, the friction enough to make him grind into you. You bite back a whimper, arching into him, and when you reach between you, palming him through his boxers, his cock twitches.

"Off," you say, tugging the waistband. "Now."

Steve huffs a laugh against your mouth.

"Demanding."

But he doesn't hesitate.

He sits back, just enough to pull them off, and the second they're gone, you swallow.

Fuck.

Steve Harrington is a lot of things.

Gorgeous. Annoying. An absolute idiot.

But right now, you're noticing a whole new set of adjectives.

He's hard, the tip flushed and swollen, and he's a little bigger than you were expecting. He's lean and fit in a way that has heat pooling in your stomach, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he reaches for the condom, and the sight is enough to make you a little dizzy.

"I can practically hear you thinking," he mutters, leaning in again, his mouth finding your jaw. And then, there's that stupid, cocky smirk. "Like what you see?"

"Absolutely not," you deadpan.

"Uh-huh." Steve's grin widens, but instead of saying anything else, he tears the wrapper open, rolls it on, and then, he's leaning in, bracing his weight over you. "You're cute when you're lying."

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, and when he leans down, kissing you softly, his hand finds yours.

He tangles his fingers with yours, pressing them down into the mattress, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand.

"Still okay?"

His voice is different now. Quieter, softer.

And something about it makes your chest ache.

"Yeah."

"Tell me if it hurts."

You nod, and then, slowly, Steve pushes into you.

He goes slow, inch by inch, his gaze locked with yours. It's intense, overwhelming, and you can't tell if it's the fact that his eyes are so fucking pretty, or the way his fingers lace with yours, or the way his breath stutters a little when he bottoms out, but whatever it is, you feel it everywhere.

Steve holds still, letting you adjust, his chest rising and falling unsteadily, his eyes a little more focused now, and you know he's holding back.

"You can move," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

He exhales, nodding, and then, he does.

The first few thrusts are slow, experimental. He's careful, gentle, and the feeling of him, stretching you open, the way his hips meet yours, the way his hand finds your thigh, pulling it up and wrapping it around his waist, it's all so much.

But when Steve looks at you, his hair falling into his face, his eyes dark, the words slip out before you can stop them.

"Harder."

His rhythm stutters. He blinks.

And then, the corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"Yeah?" He pauses, the smirk spreading. "Are you sure? Cause you might not be able to walk tomorrow—"

"Oh my god, Harrington."

"You know, I think we're past the last name thing at this point."

You groan, burying your face in his neck. The laugh that escapes him is so fucking dumb and beautiful and perfect, and then, without warning, he slams into you.

"Jesus," you gasp, your body arching, fingers clutching onto his shoulders.

"Still not my name," he quips, and before you can respond, he keeps going, his hips snapping into yours, and the noise that slips out when his cock hits a certain spot is obscene.

It's different, being with Steve.

With anyone else, you're always a little guarded. Always a little reserved. Always trying to keep yourself in check, make sure your reactions aren't too exaggerated, make sure you're not too loud, not too much, not too needy. But with him, it's different.

There's none of that.

Right now, the only thing in your head is him.

The scent of his cologne mixed with sweat, the softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice, low and breathy and perfect. His hand slides over your breast, cupping you, his thumb rolling over your nipple, and the pleasure shoots straight through you.

And then, he leans down, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

"God, you're gorgeous." He hikes your leg higher, angling deeper, and the drag of his cock inside you is almost enough to send you over the edge. "So beautiful."

You whimper, the sound high and desperate, and his lips press against your neck.

"Could stay here forever," he murmurs, and then, his teeth graze your skin. "Inside you. Just like this."

"Steve," you gasp, your head falling back.

His name on your lips does something to him.

It's almost instinctive, the way his body moves, the way he fucks into you, his hips grinding against yours. His fingers dig into your thigh, his other hand moving down, sliding along your hip, gripping your ass, and the way you react is perfect.

"Just like that, baby."

Steve keeps talking, his mouth running, whispering the most ridiculous things, like how he loves the way you feel and the way your nails drag over his shoulders and the way your breasts bounce when he fucks into you. And every single one of his stupid, filthy compliments has your body tensing, the heat building in your stomach.

Your legs are around his waist, the heels of your feet pressing into the small of his back, and when he leans forward, shifting the angle, his mouth finding your breast, his tongue swiping over your nipple, the sound that escapes is embarrassingly loud.

"Steve," you whine, the sound needy and desperate.

"I know," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Fuck, I know."

Steve knows what he's doing. And the fact that he's got you wrapped around his finger, completely under his spell, makes him feel like he's on top of the fucking world.

His hips start to lose their rhythm, his movements getting a little sloppier, and when you start to tighten around him, the whimper he lets out is downright sinful. He leans back, his eyes meeting yours, and when his fingers find your clit, his touch firm, the feeling is enough to send you over the edge.

You don't even try to stop the moan, the sound slipping out, and then, the words.

"Don't stop." Your nails drag down his back, fingers curling, and Steve nearly loses it right there. "Steve, please. Don't stop."

"I won't." His voice is rough, the sound making you squeeze around him. "I won't."

And then, his mouth finds yours, and the second your lips part, the second his tongue slides against yours, the sensation is too much.

"Steve," you pant. "Fuck. Steve."

The sound of his name, over and over, coming out like a plea, is too much.

It's the combination of everything—the way your body arches, the way you clutch onto him, the way you squeeze around him, the way his name slips out.

"Shit," Steve groans. "I'm gonna—"

"Me, too," you gasp, and when you squeeze his hand, the orgasm ripping through you.

He chases after you, the pleasure slamming through him, his hips stuttering as he comes, his forehead falling against yours. Your names spill out, mixed together, and then, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of ragged breathing, the scent of sweat and sex and his cologne mingling together, the faint buzz from the TV downstairs drifting through the room.

By the time Steve catches his breath, his head is spinning.

His limbs feel like jelly, and his arms shake slightly, his body half-collapsed on top of yours, the feeling of your bare skin against his making his pulse race. He doesn't pull out, doesn't move, just lets his forehead rest against yours, the sound of your breath the only thing keeping him tethered.

After a few moments, his brain finally catches up.

He leans back, watching you.

Your face is flushed, lips slightly parted, the light sheen of sweat on your skin making you glow. And the expression on your face—the blissed-out, relaxed, fucked-out expression—makes his stomach flip.

"Shit," Steve whispers.

And then, before he can stop himself, before he can think, he says, "I love you."

The words are quiet, a little shaky, and the second they slip out, his breath catches.

Your eyes go wide.

Fuck.

He didn't mean to say it. Not now. Not like this.

The thought comes, unbidden, and then, he's hit with the realization.

Oh.

That's exactly what he meant.

Because it's true.

It's always been true.

Steve has said those words before, a handful of times, and each time, it never meant the same thing. The first time was in eighth grade, during a game of truth or dare. It was a joke, an inside-out version of the words that had everyone laughing. The second time was to a girl he dated briefly during sophomore year. He wasn't in love with her, not really, but the way she reacted, the way her entire face lit up, made him wish he was. And the third was to Nancy, when he was convinced it was true. That it would be true. Forever.

But the second it leaves his mouth, the second he says it now, the weight of the words settles over him.

It's heavy. Solid. Like the kind of thing that can't be taken back, the kind of thing that changes everything.

And when he looks at you, when he sees the way you stare back, the look in your eyes making his chest ache, the words hit him again.

He loves you.

"Fuck," Steve says, exhaling sharply. "Sorry, I didn't mean—I shouldn't have said—"

"You love me?"

Your voice is soft. Small. A little incredulous.

"I..." He pauses, looking at you.

You don't say anything, and Steve doesn't know if he's ever felt this fucking terrified in his entire life.

And then, slowly, your lips curve into a smile.

"You love me," you repeat, the smile spreading.

"Yeah."

"Like, love-love?"

"Oh, so ‘love love’ is okay to say, but ‘like like’ is childish?"

You ignore his call back. "Like, 'I want to hold your hand in public and fall asleep on the couch together and wake up with my face buried in your hair and spend the next ten years wondering what took us so long' love?"

The corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"All of the above."

Your heart jumps, and without thinking, you lean in, kissing him softly. When you lean back, Steve's eyes are a little wider, and the hope in his expression is almost painful.

"Do you...?"

You grin, and the second the words slip out, you know they're true.

"Yeah. Iove you too, Harrington."

"Hey," he starts, tilting his head. "I told you, we're past the last name thing."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes. Your face softens as you meet his gaze, and you move your hand to fix some of the hair stuck to his forehead. "I love you, Steve."

He's never loved his name more.

"So," you start, "where does that leave us now?"

"Well, according to my calculations, you are currently in my bed, naked, and I am stil insi-" he pauses, realization hitting him. "Oh my god. I told you I loved you for the first time while I was still inside of you. What kind of maniac does that?"

"Is this what love is like for you?"

"Oh shut up," Steve says, smiling, and finally, he pulls out.

He rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, and then, without looking, he reaches for your hand.

"How about," he says, squeezing lightly, "we sleep, and then, tomorrow, we can talk about all the ways we're going to tell our friends and make them suffer?"

You snort, looking over at him. He's taking the condom off, tying it off, and then, he tosses it into the trashcan beside the bed. He turns back, shifting closer, and the fact that you're both naked, in bed, post-coitus, isn't lost on you.

"And the day after that," he adds, pulling you closer, "we can spend the entire day here, naked, in this bed, and we'll figure out a new plan."

"A new plan?"

"Yeah."

He's so close, his nose brushing against yours, and when his eyes flick between yours, there's a look there. A promise.

"We can make a new plan every day," Steve says, his voice a little lower, "for as long as you want."

And then, he kisses you, and it feels a little like the world shifts.

It's a small shift, just enough for everything to click into place.

Because now, everything is different.

Everything is new.

It's a promise.

And when Steve pulls away, when his eyes meet yours, when he smiles, a little crooked, a little sleepy, a little in love, you can't help but smile back.

[gffa]

Jedi culture & community fics, my beloved! They're a bit of a rare breed for what you're specifically looking for, specifically focusing on positive Jedi worldbuilding, so if anyone has genfic recs outside of the ones I know, please feel free to add them! But these should help scratch that itch for you, each of them has at least some focus on Jedi philosophy or how Jedi interact with each other or the lessons they teach! It's been awhile since I've read some of them, so there might be some that aren't quite as in-line with how I see the Jedi these days, but they're all ones I felt portrayed them pretty positively and they're all genfic (except one that I made an exception for) and all really lovely fics I remember enjoying for the Jedi worldbuilding aspects! And there are some that will make you absolutely melt with how much you love these characters and their beautiful culture, because by god if canon's not going to give us as much detail as we want, fandom will step up. And fandom made sure to not just focus on the disaster lineage--we love Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, we always want more of them, please don't stop writing Jedi worldbuilding with them!--but also Mace and Yoda and Quinlan and Qui-Gon and even some Jedi OCs get some love in these fics, which makes me want to explode with joy to see! So, come cry about how much we love the Jedi with me, I WILL GIVE YOU A CRAPLOAD OF FIC TO READ. STAR WARS & JEDI CULTURE & WORLDBULDING RECS YOU'LL FIND HERE:

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH

MID-LENGTH

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH: ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k     Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 8.7k     During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ eat well; be well by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & yoda & depa & shaak & quinlan & aayla & cast, 18.6k     Or, (almost) all of the Jedi High Councilors (plus Ahsoka) gather to eat dinner together. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & ahsoka & palpatine & yoda & quinlan & cody & cast, 126.3k wip     By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ Pragmatics of the Jedi by aroacejoot, ghostwriterofthemachine, loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & jedi, 31.3k     A series of fanfiction exploring the consequences and results of the Jedi having their own language, and speaking it still. ✦ light by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & mace & jedi, 56.1k     Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi and being a part of their Order means that he is protected and accepted. The war is over and the Republic has to recover from the crimes of the Sith Lord, the Jedi have to figure out what it means to be peacekeepers again and the Clones have to learn how to be more than expendable soldiers. ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ocs & cast, 94.9k wip     After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance.

✦ Knightrise by Deviant_Accumulation, obi-wan & yoda & satine & ahsoka & asajj & cast, 89.4k wip     "Strong enough to fight the Sith Lord, you are not.“ And just like that the fight drained out of Obi-Wan, the barely scraped together agitation running out of him like water from a broken glass. He looked at Yoda, the other Master already hobbling towards one of the back exits, his presence burning with focus, obviously expecting Obi-Wan to follow. ✦ Make a Brand New End by Batsutousai, obi-wan & anakin & feemor & qui-gon & yoda & mace & dooku & jedi, 118.6k     Feemor, Qui-Gon Jinn's first padawan, did not survive Order 66, but the Force granted him a boon: A chance to go back to days before Qui-Gon's death. He doesn't know why the Force picked him to remember that terrible future, but he's going to do what he can to change it. And if he can heal the rift fallen between himself and Qui-Gon, and finally get the chance to know Obi-Wan, well, he's not about to turn that down. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & bruck & feemor & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by orphan_account, obi-wan & anakin & jedi, 61k     Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ The Moments That Time Remembered by CallToMuster, obi-wan & mace & vokara & bant & quinlan & garen & depa & jedi, 82.4k     Obi-Wan’s first memory was not his own. Rather, it was a vision steeped in darkness and flashes of red and choking heat and you were my brother and the harsh crash of lightsabers striking one another. He woke up sobbing in the arms of the crèchemaster, Master Kitaddik, who was hushing him and gently stroking the top of his head with her furry hands. Obi-Wan hid his face in the soft folds of her tunic and, still crying, fell back asleep. The first time Obi-Wan collapsed due to a vision was not long after that. [Or: in all the various iterations of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life, the Force spoke to him. But in this one, it never stopped.] ✦ Starrunner by orpheus_under_starlight, obi-wan & jedi & oc, 80.2k wip     In what would have been the year 17 BBY, Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine is found slumped over his desk, dead to rights and emitting a foul odor. The coroners declare the body victim to a heart attack and the smell a result of a lack of a timely embalming—a bit of bowels humor, the head coroner says with a nervous laugh when interviewed by the Galactic Enquirer.

MID-LENGTH: ✦ 飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & quinlan & yoda & dooku & mace & bant & jedi, 13k     The Force is the first language that Obi-Wan learned to speak, the brush of one mind against another. But food is the second language that Obi-Wan learned to speak with, and he talks, he talks, he talks. A collection of fics about food and how food is an articulation of love. ✦ We Will Abide by naberiie, plo & shaak, 10.3k     Light. Dark. Balance. Beneath the Jedi Temple, far below the chaos of Coruscant's Galactic City, ancient halls and corridors sleep in silent darkness. Padawans Shaak Ti and Plo Koon are determined to explore them. ✦ What Is My Heritage? by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda, 7.7k     Qui-Gon, age 13, tries to find a place to belong. ✦ Coming Home by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda & dooku, 18.1k     A story telling how Qui-Gon comes to be Dooku's apprentice. ✦ Master by CJinn, obi-wan & anakin, 27.5k     Obi-Wan Kenobi had always wanted to become a Jedi Knight. What he didn't expect was to become a Master merely days after his own Master died. Adapting to his new role as the mentor and Master of the quite unusual Padawan Anakin Skywalker became a bumpy road.

✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cin & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Cave by Ria Talla (ronia), anakin & ahsoka & cast, time travel, 10k     Ahsoka Tano, post-Star Wars Rebels/? And there was something else, more important, though Ahsoka found herself loath to do it. Her lightsabers drawn, deep in the labyrinth formed by the stone warriors and the crumbled temple. Yet the words broke certain into her mind. Your eyes can deceive you. Her heart pounded, as though warning her otherwise. But Ahsoka withdrew her sabers, and closed her eyes. Rather than her weapons, she let the Force be her light. ✦ A Candle in the Night by phoenixyfriend, anakin/luminara & obi-wan, time travel, 12k     In which Luminara finds a heavily injured Jedi, nurses him back to health, and falls in love. Then they get back to the real world, and she just can't figure him out... ✦ Found Clan by silvergryphon, boba & ocs & obi-wan & anakin & cast, 25.3k wip     After the Battle of Geonosis, a Jedi Healer discovers young Boba Fett mourning the loss of his father. Not about to leave a ten-year-old boy on his own, she promptly adopts him with the full collusion of her Padawan. ✦ the heart of kyber by outpastthemoat, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & depa & kanan & jedi, 32.7k     Tales of the Jedi: Stories about lightsabers, masters, and apprentices. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & mace & kanan & obi-wan & rex & cast, 10.5k     After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye), obi-wan & qui-gon & yoda & cast, 17.6k     A few months after being taken as a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi faces a challenge: meeting his Master's first apprentice. ✦ Familes Found by fyrefly, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & mace & plo, 8.2k     In a universe where "The Wrong Jedi" never happened, the war ends under different circumstances and perhaps everyone will get a chance at a happy ending after all.

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH: ✦ The Mathematics of Repair by panharmonium, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.6k     For raw teachers and rough-edged students building in the rubble: tiny steps are enough, provided they carry you in the right direction. Immediately post TPM, in short snippets. ✦ The Living Force; Parables for Padawans by glorious_clio, obi-wan & cast, 6.1k     Since infancy, younglings are taught the Jedi Code, “Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.” Obi-Wan Kenobi learns these tenets backwards and forwards again. But even as a child, he is interested in nuance. And so his teachers tell him parables. ✦ A Jedi's Cloak ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cody & rex, 6.4k Jedi cloaks are made for children. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a year and a half old when he first sees this principle in action. He is fourteen, twenty-five, twenty-nine, and thirty-six when he gets a reminder.     Or: Jedi cloaks are weird. Here's a series of events showing why they're made that way. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, kanan & depa. 1.4k     Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ For the Future of the Order by thetorontokid, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.9k     There are important lessons to be found in the Jedi Temple creche.

✦ Memories of Peace by Margan, obi-wan & clones, 2k     It's not quite flash training, but the Clones are used to learning fast. It helps that this is something that they actually look forward to learning, to putting into practice. Obi-Wan teaches the Clones how to make dumplings in the middle of war. ✦ Liberosis by Be_Right_Back, anakin & mace & yoda & jedi, 2.2k     The war is over, the Sith are gone, and there is now Anakin Skywalker's secret marriage to deal with. While love is a wonderful thing, some truths are hard to face, and letting go is the destiny of all Jedi. Or: the Council and Anakin clash. It doesn't go as terribly as it could have. ✦ Accepting Emotion by LazarusII, obi-wan & ahsoka, 1.1k     Dealing with the stress and anxiety of being a prospective Padawan, Ahsoka Tano struggles to manage her emotions. Obi-Wan Kenobi finds her practicing in the dojo, confidence in tatters. His words make all the difference. ✦ A Long, Long Time Ago by ruth baulding, dooku & qui-gon + qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 5.8k     A wisdom tale handed passed down through the generations poses troublesome questions for a line of masters and Padawans, from Dooku to Ahsoka Tano.

✦ Duet by Silver Sky 1138, oc & cin, 2.3k     Asha Scarsi, the Jedi Padawan who feels the Force through music, isn't half as good at lightsaber combat as she is at singing and mindtricks. So she's a little nervous when Battlemaster Cin Drallig calls her to the training room after class. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by GirlwithCurls98, anakin & ahsoka, 1k     Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k     One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently.

✦ Night Shift at the Temple by ReneeoftheStars, oc jedi & cast, 1.8k     A Jedi Temple Guard sees all, speaks to few, and has attachments to no one. One must be prepared for any threats that may arise, especially at night, while most of the Temple sleeps. ✦ The Orchards by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.6k     When young Obi-Wan Kenobi is injured on a previous mission, Qui-Gon Jinn refuses to accept further off-planet missions until his Padawan's recovery. Yoda assigns the pair an in-Temple mission of utmost importance while Obi-Wan heals. Master and Padawan welcome the change of pace. ✦ Tipping Point by Ria Talla (ronia), adi gallia & finis valorum & eeth koth, 3.3k     "I believe that if what's happening on Naboo is allowed to continue, the other member systems will wonder what they owe to a Republic that can no longer protect them." ✦ A Personal Touch by DragonHoardsBooks, obi-wan & anakin, 6.2k     New jedi padawan Anakin Skywalker realizes that there is more to being a jedi then he tought. Discovering a completely new culture will take time and effort, but maybe he'll make some friends along the way.

✦ Jedi Parables by Peppermint_Shamrock, jedi, 5.8k     Values are often passed down generation to generation through stories, parables, and fables. What stories might the Jedi teach their children? ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & jedi, ~1k     The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ a thin thread of hope by wrennette, shaak & clones, ~1k     Shaak Ti introduces some cadets to one of her favourite crafts, under the guise of training. ✦ rah kat by js71, obi-wan & anakin & aayla, 1.6k     "Aay’shee," Obi-Wan murmurs into her ear, rocking her gently, like when jaieh was off on a mission she couldn’t go on, so her jaieh-raheniel would take turns having her over at their apartments. ✦ Lessons on Attachment by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin/padme & cast, 2.7k     "Anakin once told me that a Jedi is actually encouraged to love." She said after Obi-Wan had settled. ✦ Straw Dogs by Cymbidia, obi-wan & jedi & cast, 2.9k     An old Jedi Master imparts some wisdom concerning Mercy, Balance, and the Will of the Force to young Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and a gaggle of other younglings. It is a lesson that haunts Obi-wan for the rest of his life. ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra.

✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures. ✦ yellow, you're a dreamer by nightdotlight, jocasta & anakin (& obi-wan), 2.6k     Normally, it wouldn’t be unusual, but— Jocasta did not earn her post without listening, and from where she stands in the aisle, gaze fixed upon the back of the young child’s shaking shoulders, she can hear a sniffle reverberate around the space. There’s a child curled up in the corner of the Archives— and they’re crying. ✦ once upon a time (a long, long time ago) by thebitterbeast, barriss & mace & shaak & ki-adi & bacara & trilla & cere, 2.3k     The Jedi love children. Children love stories. This changes some things. ✦ not the place that I was born in (doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong) by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin, 5k     “What were you consulting Master Obi-Wan about?” “Tea!” says the other Padawan brightly. “I’m performing a tea ceremony for my Master, one that originates from her home world. It’ll be the first time I sit foveo with her!” She says that word— foveo— as if it should mean something to Anakin. It does not. ✦ A Friend Indeed by ExtraPenguin, plo & ahsoka, 3.3k     After their rescue of the colonists of Kiros, Ahsoka Tano's Master asks for her to be sent on a mission away from the front. She ends up being sent to the Deep Core with Master Plo Koon to investigate one of the first known locations of the Jedi Order, since abandoned. ✦ In which we burn bodies as bridges by GraceEliz, obi-wan & ahsoka & depa & kanan & ezra, 1.4k     Lineage mantras, and the processing of grief. ✦ Five Times Mace was There for Obi-Wan, and One Time Obi-Wan Returned the Favour by wrennette, obi-wan & mace, 4k     five of the many times Mace Windu offered Obi-Wan comfort over the years, and one of the many times Obi-Wan returned the favour

✦ as the dust settled around us by thebitterbeast, finn & jedi, 5.2k     Bravery has never been the absence of fear. Prompt: There is no emotion, there is peace. ✦ Adi Gallia, Master of the Order by Perspicacia, adi & jedi, 7.2k wip     Palpatine didn't expect it. It was too soon for that in his plans: which Jedi would have left the Temple under assault? But Adi had. Ashes in her heart, she had left the younglings and the elders and the wounded for her duty to the galaxy, choosing to stop the Sith instead of protecting her people. ✦ “The Padawan Chooses The Master” by lurkingcrow, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 3.6k     prompt: AU - The Jedi say “The Padawan Chooses The Master” Qui Gon lives, Obi Wan is very preoccupied, and Anakin is put into the creche as an Initiate to learn what he can until Qui Gon wakes up from his coma and gets yelled at by the Council. In the meantime, Anakin meets other Jedi Masters and when the Council asks him who he wants to be his teacher, his answer isn’t Qui Gon. Instead it’s *insert your fav Jedi here* ✦ The Only Home We Know by ReneeoftheStars, katooni & petro & ganodi & byph & gungi & zaft & cast, character death, child death, 2.4k     The Jedi Temple is under attack. Determined to fight for their home, younglings Katooni, Petro, Zatt, Ganodi, Byph, and Gungi make their way to aid the Jedi Masters in defense of the Temple. But the situation is far graver than they expected. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k     One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by Mini_and_Might, anakin & ahsoka, 1k     Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. Might become part of a series of missing scenes from the Clone Wars. ✦ Markings by wabbajack, ahsoka & plo, 1.6k     In which it is revealed that Master Plo Koon has always had a difficult time putting his foot down when faced with his Little 'Soka. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knigh, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k     Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum.

✦ Arrival by CJinn, obi-wan & yoda & jedi, 2.6k     Little Obi-Wan was only a few days old when he was brought to the Jedi Temple. His arrival caused some confusion among the Jedi. ✦ The Spire by skatzaa, obi-wan & jedi, 2.4k     The galaxy was on the brink of war, and Obi-Wan Kenobi had been assigned a new room. ✦ Room Arrangements by skatzaa, obi-wan & anakin, 2.2k     Anakin has some concerns about room arrangements at the Temple. Obi-Wan does his best to reassure him. ✦ Lineage by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, 1.5k     Anakin is new to the temple, and he does not yet understand that these are his brothers and sisters, his cousins, his uncles and aunts. He does not know yet, but he will learn, Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k     Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire's sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader's identity. ✦ Emotion is our Shared Tongue by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & quinlan & jedi, 2.1k     There are thousands of different species, with different languages and voices and hands, but what all Jedi have in common is the Force, and with the Force, they have language. ✦ To Know by Armin_05, obi-wan & anakin & shmi & kitster & fives & cast, 4.8k     Nearly all Jedi love learning. Anakin Skywalker is no different. Or, how Anakin found a love of learning and shared it with others. ✦ Shatterpoints and Students by soft_but_gremlin, mace & depa, ~1k     Depa always has shatterpoints hovering around her.

✦ Home-onym by virdant, jedi, 1.1k     Jedi younglings, like any other children, enjoy playing. Playing with lightsabers and playing with words. ✦ Threaded Lineage by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ezra & luke & rey, 2.9k     The journey of a single river stone through many generations of Jedi, allowing the Jedi of the old and the Jedi of the future to be threaded together. ✦ the river and the rock by nightdotlight, anakin & luminara, 1.8k     Lightsabers clash, and Luminara Unduli holds her ground. She doesn’t move, doesn’t lock her muscles, just makes herself an immovable object and lets her opponent strain against the lock. ✦ Five Meditations of Jedi Depa Billaba by skatzaa, depa & mace & yoda & kanan & kit, 5.3k     What is says on the tin. (Plus one more, for good measure.)

[essence-inked]

Man, being a therapist in the Trek universe must be absolutely wild. Like, imagine sitting down at work and hearing things along the lines of "I got caught in a temporal mess where I watched my son grow old and die and kill himself to save me, but now I'm pretending like none of that happened so I don't emotionally scar him because he knows none of this - is that healthy?"

Or "I watched my clone die an entirely avoidable death because he was convinced everyone was plotting against him, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust my instincts again.”

Or "My alternate universe self is intensely horny and also evil. Does that mean if I get unusually horny I'm going to turn evil?"

Or "I am literally a religious icon with prophecies about me. How do I avoid letting that interfere with my work-life balance?"

Or "...Okay I see why you think I might be suffering from paranoia, but I need you to understand the station's tailor actually IS a spy. Also don't breathe a word of this, please."

I wish we'd seen more of that with Troi, but I also realize that would've messed with TNG's tone a bit - honestly, it would've fit really well in DS9. I'm actually tempted to write a fic about this. If I posted it here, would people want to read it?

Edit: soooo I'm actually only halfway through DS9, and based on the comments, I see I'm going to want to catch up so I can meet Ezri

[pbpressure]

trust me? | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, sub!paige, soft dom!reader, sex toy usage, spit, slight tribbing, fingering, overstimulation(?), i think that’s all but feel free to lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 4.4k (pwp)

summary: reader wants to try something new with paige after an impromptu trip to the sex store. based on this request!

author's note: i couldn't finish up the fic that i wanted to upload for valentine's day so we're scrapping it for now and ima leave y'all with this! it's different for me to write sub!paige but i think i like how it came out and maybe i'll get more into it for future posts! once again, thank you to the anon that sent this request, hopefully you enjoy it a little more than everyone else! (ngl i didn’t really proofread this so we’re giving it to god…and as always if you hate it idc DON’T tell me)

also that uconn vs south carolina game has given me the serotonin boost needed to carry me through this month AND march, they make me so proud😭 y’all better be tuned in for the game tonight vs seton hall :) i’m manifesting more pg paige and some beautiful uconn hoops!

okay sorry i’m done talking, enjoy! x

nervous was an understatement. how do you bring up the idea of topping your girlfriend…to her? considering you hadn’t thought about how to do so prior to this moment, the nerves seemed normal.

you took a spontaneous trip to your favorite sex shop without telling paige and you blacked out when you got inside, overwhelmed by all the options without your girlfriend by your side to give you her opinion. 

immediately once you had eyes on it you’d settled for a dual bullet vibrator, paired with a remote. the thought of paige using it on you immediately causes you to hold your breath a little. but the thought of you using it on her had you b-lining to the register and giddy and running up the stairs at home to hide it while she was asleep on the couch.

after some pondering, you’d figured it would be a little too easy to ask. it was essentially a yes or no question, and she’d honestly answer in a heartbeat, but you wanted to ensure that she’d be at your mercy.

you settled on the idea of a nice candlelit dinner for the both of you to butter her up. then you’d “pop the question”. 

you were back out of the house as soon as you’d returned, texting paige that you were heading out for some groceries, tucking the “gift” away.

by the time you were back she was wide awake and pretty tuned in to whatever she had playing on the tv. she heard you coming in the door and met you there to greet you sweetly and take any bags from your hands. she sets them down on the counter and starts to reach in, almost too fast for you to remember that she was supposed to be hands off and out of the kitchen for tonight.

“noo, wait let me do it! i wanna cook dinner for you so i’ll put things away.“

“cook for me? baby, what’s the occasion? literally we just celebrated valentine’s day.” okay, so she was already asking you questions.

“shh, no occasion. i just love you and i want to practice making some things. then i’ll be cooking for you all the time instead of…almost never” you respond in a rush, sort of frowning at the last part but still prying her hands off the bags and lightly pushing her out of the kitchen.

you can hear her muttering under her breath but nonetheless she turns on her heels to press a kiss to your lips and whisper a quick “missed you” before turning back around to leave.

your heart swells in your chest at the thought of how sweet she is to you while you put away everything and set out what you were gonna make.

you wanted to get a little fixed up, or at least out of one pair of sweatpants and into another. slipping past paige, who was once again focused on the tv, you headed upstairs. 

after putting on the smallest bit of makeup and fiddling with your hair you grin at your reflection in the mirror. the thought of getting pretty for your girlfriend enough to make your stomach jump. you throw on a pair of loose fitting pants and one of your teenier tops. you’d even saved up to buy another overpriced lingerie set and you had it on underneath, intending for p to see you in it and immediately want it off.

paige walks into the bathroom ready to shower and stops directly behind you in the mirror, letting out a small noise of shock. 

“all this for me? okay now i really need to know what’s going on.” she questions, now standing so close that you could feel her body heat on your back.

“nothing is going on! i told you i wanted to cook for you tonight, can’t i look good while doing it?” you reply, holding eye contact with her in the mirror and ending your sentence with a mini eye roll.

she lifts a hand from her side and places it right underneath your bust, slightly on your ribs, pulling you even further into her.

“you always look good for me baby, but i’ll let you have this.” she teases, kissing your temple and continuing her stride to the shower.

as soon as she was facing away from you, you were staring hard. watching the muscles in her back strain against her shirt when she reached for a towel, you trailed your eyes up and down her frame.

you wish you had her underneath you right now.

stopping yourself you huff slightly and make your way down to the kitchen to get started on dinner. you get in with the “harder” more time consuming parts first so you could focus and shortly the whole process starts to breeze by. 

everything thus far was perfect, especially for a meal that didn’t technically require a recipe.

you hear the water of the shower shut off and a few other noises upstairs. this allows you to anticipate paige emerging from your shared bedroom and getting a whiff of the home cooked meal, immediately on track to fold for you like you needed. 

when she does make her way into the kitchen you’re standing over a cutting board gathering some stuff to chop.

“it smells so good in here baby, oh my god” you hear paige from behind you. then you feel her. hands gravitating to your hips as always and she gently places her chin on your shoulder, her front molding to your back.

“i’m just making a lil something…since i was finally given some time to put some groceries in the fridge. we’re gonna eat something home cooked and actually fulfilling tonight, no fast food, no take out. made with lots of love.” you say, a smile plastered on your face at the domestic feel of this entire moment.

just you and the prettiest girl in the world, standing in your shared living space while you prepared dinner as a way to treat yourselves. 

“i don’t even know what you’re making and i’m drooling over it, guess you’ve still got your touch.” she teases, nudging your cheek with her nose and leaving a light smack on your ass.

“STILL? get out of the kitchen.” you respond, stifling a laugh of your own at how ridiculous she was. “it’s almost done and i’ve already set the table, maybe pour yourself a glass of wine and get out of my way?”

“yes ma’am.” she snorts, holding her hands up in fake defense and shaking her head a little.

you quickly plate everything, mentally saving yourself a pat on the back for how good it truly did look.

sneaking a peek into the dining room you see paige on her phone, eyes low and cheeks already a little rosy as a result of her now finished glasses of wine.

“hey pretty girl, dinner is ready!” you call out, assuming she’d want to carry your plates to the table as she always did.

her lips form an “o” as she locks eyes with the food on the counter and then her eyes pan over to you. if looks could talk her eyes would definitely be confessing their love to you right now. 

feeling shy under her gaze you shake your head and go in for a hug, slightly nuzzling into her chest. you pull back, tilt your head up, and she’s already looking back at you. you both pull back cheesing, not needing to say much.

“babe this is a little too much, you didn’t have to– wait, are you tryna butter me up?” paige breaks the silence.

“butter you up? mmm, maybe…but that doesn’t mean i didn’t want to cook for you. it’s like the cherry on top, please just enjoy yourself baby c’mon!” you plead, stepping back from her to hold her hands in your own.

“okay…” she mutters, before repeating the words cherry on top underneath her breath and giggling. 

she grabs your plates and walks them to the table as you follow closely behind and take your spot across from her.

you’re only two bites in before you hear her again, “okay but seriously what is it? the suspense is killing me.”

“can’t you just eat your food first?” you laugh, shaking your head and taking another bite.

“i think we both know i can multitask, answer the question.” she responds, taking a bite of her food and a sip from her wine glass.

“i promise you will find out when we finish our meal,” you dodge again.

paige smacks her lips a little, a smile fighting for its life to stay hidden.

she does let it go, or so you’d hoped. and dinner goes well. eventually you’re just poking at what’s left on your plate while paige rambles a little. she’d cleared whatever she had in front of her a bit ago but you’d managed to get her talking to avoid her disrupting your own train of thought.

she pauses between sentences and your mouth moves faster than your thoughts.

“p, you trust me right?” you genuinely ask, already nervous again.

“of course baby, what’s going on?” she asks, placing her hand over yours on the table.

“i, i got uh– well i wanna show you something, if that’s okay?” you taunt a bit, lacing your fingers together and getting up from your seat at the table.

her eyebrows furrow a little and she smirks before getting up with you. you begin leading her to your bedroom and stop a few paces from the door to face her. you place your hands on her chest, before allowing them to creep up and secure behind her neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” you whisper, a very visible glint in your eyes.

before she can respond you pull her down to your height and connect your lips. you sigh into the kiss when you feel her hands immediately on your ass and her tilting her head to deepen the kiss. you open your mouth the slightest bit and feel her tongue meet your own. if you weren’t hot before from the wine, you definitely were now. 

you pull back completely and smirk before turning around and heading directly into the bedroom, a slight sway in your hips.

you guide paige onto the bed and she plops down a little, you perched at her side.

“earlier today, i was shopping around and i found something that i wanted to see if you’re interested in.” you trail off, getting up to fetch the discreet packaging that you knew for a fact paige was familiar with.

“mhm, and what is this ‘something’?” she proceeds, holding up her own air quotes. her eyes on yours and one of her eyebrows raised the tiniest bit. almost challenging you.

you pull the toy out of the bag, seeing as you had already taken them out of their packaging earlier to prep.

paige’s expression is hard to read and you can tell she’s leaving space for you to answer her unspoken questions, her breath hitching.

you climb on top of her holding the toy at your side. you catch her eyes fell onto your lips, glossy and parted to speak.

“i just saw this and thought we could try something new? specifically me, trying it out on the both of us.” you ask, or tell her rather. voice a little low but not wavering at all.

“baby i’m all yours, i want whatever you want.” she utters, hands lightly gripping your thighs.

“i’m so happy to hear you say that,” you smile.

you lean down, your weight falling onto your hand that’s now right beside paige’s head. you hold eye contact for as long as you can before you connect your lips again in another kiss. this one less gentle, some notable urge behind it. paige moans immediately kissing back, her hands back on your ass when your tongue slips between her lips to meet her own. 

you pull back to catch your breath, also opting to shed your shirt and reveal your other surprise for her. 

“fuck, are you serious?” paige groans. immediately drawn to the teacup bralette that held your tits just right, but also left you exposed with the mesh on the front of it.

“you like?” you ask, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from laughing at the expression on her face.

“baby you know i do, cmon” 

“let me show you the rest of it then?” you finish, pushing up onto your knees so you could rid yourself of your pants.

your panties are the same mesh as the bralette, but they’re lacking the smallest piece of fabric. 

they’re crotchless.

you swear you can see the girl in front of you drool a little when she realizes. paige’s eyes are blown out and her mouth is agape when she sees you kneeling in front of her, practically naked.

“do you wanna shed some layers too p? i’m getting impatient,” you tease, watching as she scoffs a little before sitting up to pull her own shirt over her head. 

you have to stop yourself from getting too distracted by her taut abdomen and the little bit of cleavage that’s exposed when she presses her arms together, tugging her sleeves off. as soon as the shirt hits the floor of your bedroom you have your hands in the waistband of her pants, locking eyes with her. she tilts her head in a small nod that signals you to continue.

when you’re both lacking a good amount of clothing you crawl over her. your panties allowing your bare clit to rest on her lap and you hiss at the contact. you grab her hand and place it over your front, hinting at her to fondle your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette.

“you’re unreal,” you hear paige utter from underneath you, her eyes watching your puffy clit glide messily over her slightly covered bottom half. the sight causes you to swallow a mix of a chuckle and a moan.

“yeah? tell me more.” you respond, breathless as you reach for her other hand, bringing two of her fingers up to your mouth. you kiss them gently and then wrap your lips around her fingertips.

knowing that this gets her going you’re not shocked at how her eyelids flutter before she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“you cooked me dinner and now you’re dressed in some of the best lingerie i’ve ever seen, plus you got your pussy in my lap. that’s as good as it gets, baby.” paige answers you, pinching your nipple between two of her fingers and smirking when you sigh and lick at your already glossy lips.

“only the best for you,” you start, pulling her hand away from your lips and toying at the waistband of her underwear, ready for those to come off too.

when her bottom half is completely bare you reach for the vibrators on the bed. 

“take off your bra.” you demand, raising an eyebrow at your girlfriend whilst putting some more distance between the two.

she complies easily and now she is beneath you, completely naked. a slight sheen of sweat on her chest that’s rising and falling a little quicker than before. she’s nervous.

you down and place a hand on her hip while you tongue at her nipples, they’re already hard from being exposed to the air in your bedroom. you don’t miss how pretty she sounds when she lets out a whine, her hand securing itself on the back of your head to hold you closer if even possible. 

“for once i just want to please you baby, i think this is the perfect way to make sure that we both get what we need. just lay back for me and enjoy yourself.” you utter into the empty silence, voice breathy while you sit up again and take one end of the toy, putting it in your mouth to wet.

paige’s mouth opens and she doesn’t say anything but you can tell she’s trying hard not to.

with the remote in your hand you immediately switch the speed to 2 and place it on the nipple that your mouth was on moments ago.

paige arches her back off the bed slightly, eyes immediately squeezing shut. this is already everything you want and you’re just getting started.

“fuck, baby what are you doing–“

“ah ah, remember just enjoy yourself, let me worry about what’s going on.” you shush her, circling her nipple with the vibrating bullet.

she looks beautiful under you like this. her cheeks are red, head thrown back in pleasure as her hips start to move beneath you on instinct.

“m-more, please i want more” she moans, lifting her head up, only to drop it again when she gets sight of you. 

your hair is a little messy from tossing your head side to side and the look in your eyes is sultry. plus you’ve got a vibrator held onto her nipple and she swears she can see a wet spot on her skin from you rutting against her. if it was possible she would’ve cum just from watching you touch her.

“more? what do you want? baby you have to tell me.” you taunt, already gripping the other end of the vibrator in your free hand.

“i’m so wet, i know you can feel it. t-touch me? please? mmmh–“ she cuts herself off when she feels the vibrations on her nipple intensify. the speed was now at 3…and then it was at 4.

“you’re even prettier when you beg p, have i ever told you that?”

“n-no, fuck” she hisses.

“well, you’re usually so in control. i just have to say i love seeing you like this.”

with a light touch you trace some shapes on the outside of her thigh before spreading her legs, your eyes immediately drawn to the wet spot underneath her on her bed. 

“you weren’t lying baby, you’re already making a mess and i haven’t even done anything yet.” you don’t give her much time to say anything in response, gathering all the spit into your mouth and pushing it from your lips so that it lands on her clit in a glob. it’s nasty, just how you both like it and paige lets out another surprisingly high pitched noise. her hole clenching around nothing.

sitting back on your heels between her legs you take your hand that’s holding the vibrator to her nipple and you switch sides. when you see how puffy and red the one that was previously receiving attention is, you almost feel bad, but that feeling doesn’t last long. 

while paige is trying to catch her breath you take the other end of the vibrator and start tracing circles around her clit, before pulling it away again. she cries out, realizing that you were going to keep teasing her.

landing a smack on her hip to get her to drop them down towards the bed again you drag the bullet up and down the length of her pussy, your eyes never leaving her face as she was putting on a show.

“mmm– please just do something baby, anything. i don’t know how much more of this i can take.” paige whines, then reaches out for you. you lean away from her touch.

“you’re good with the safe word?” you ask, tone a little more serious than you intended.

“yes of course baby, just– OH FUCK!”

before she can say anything else you’re pushing the bullet into her fluttering hole, holding in a moan at how tight she is.

“how’s that?” you tease, completely inserting the toy.

“shit– it’s perfect baby,”

“i bet.”

pulling away the end of the vibrator that was on her nipple you lean down again to take it in your mouth. once more she’s cradling your head, this time a little harder. she wants you close, it’s cute.

using little force you pump the bullet into her, listening for her sounds of satisfaction. 

pulling off of her nipple with a pop you watch as she fights to pry her eyes open.

“baby, k-kiss me?” she says, or rather pleads.

your heart beats faster at how desperate she sounds. you grant her the kiss and it’s hot, sloppy, and leaves a string of spit between the two of you when you pull away while she chases after you with her lips.

“my god p, you’re such a good girl for me. who would’ve thought?” you whisper right in her face, smirking a little as she huffs in disappointment when you lean back and away from her again.

“i’ll be a good girl for you any time you want baby, just please don’t stop.” she groans, gushing around the toy inside of her.

“oh really, any time? you promise?” 

an image flashes in your head and before you can think about it too much you’re releasing paige’s leg from your grip, pulling the vibrator out of her and increasing the speed to 5. you pull your left leg up and drape it over her right, almost in a split, pulling the vibrator out of her and pressing it down on her clit with a good amount of pressure. 

her upper half jolts once again, as she raises her head just in time to watch you press your clit down on the vibrator as well, sandwiching it between the two of you.

paige almost screams when you put your entire weight down. your own jaw falls slack and you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“p, oh my god– FUCK i can’t believe i thought of this. you’re doing so good, my messy baby. i wish you could see yourself right now.”

leaning down to smack a wet kiss in the middle of her chest you grab the remote in your free hand and turn up the speed to 6. whimpering and crying out into paige’s skin that’s beneath your lips. another loud whine leaves the back of her throat, followed by a grunt and a string of curses.

“i-i can’t”

“you can.”

you use her mouth to wet two of your fingers, she sucks on them sloppily, barely able to focus on the action due to the intense pressure on her clit from both you and the vibrator. you pull them from her lips, with a pop, before you trail them down to between her thighs, circling her hole one last time with your fingertips.

“SHIT– i’m so close baby” paige yelps, starting to huff her breaths out faster when she feels you pressing down harder, using your weight to move the shiny bullet against the both of you slightly. 

she attempts to close her legs around your hand and fails due to the position you were in.

“i know pretty girl i know, m-me too, just hold out a little more hmm?”

turning the vibrator to its highest speed of 7 you pump your middle and ring finger into paige, choking on your own breath at the feeling of her clenching around you and the bullet beneath you violating your clit at this point. 

paige lets out a sob, bringing one of her arms to cover her face. you reach up with the hand that’s not inside of her and rip her arm back. you watch her intently, tears hot and heavy on her cheeks blurring her vision.

“fuck–, paige you look so perfect when you cry.”

“it hurts so good baby, don’t stop“

“you’re close aren’t you? give it to me, cmon, i’m right there with you. i want all you’ve got.”

at this point you have no idea what’s coming out of your mouth but you don’t give a fuck, trying to hold onto your orgasm intending for the girl underneath you to finish first.

and finish she did. smacking your hand off of her arm she reaches down to hold your hips still against her own, tears falling rapidly from her eyes now. 

you don’t know if she’s just really spent or if it’s you that’s spent because you can’t register the words coming out of her mouth while she’s riding out her high. except the last three she matters as soon as you pull your fingers from her leaking cunt.

“i love you”

this sends you over the edge and you have to use every little bit of strength left in you not to collapse directly into paige. 

moaning pornography as your hole spasms around nothing you can only withstand the vibrator for another millisecond before you reach down to snatch it off of the two of you.

you do actually fall onto paige after this but she’s starting to catch her breath now so she welcomes you with open arms, still panting loudly.

you lay a mess between her legs with your head on her chest and your body trembling a little.

when you calm down enough you crane your neck to get a glimpse of your girlfriend. your hand instinctively reaching up to wipe the remainder of tears from her face.

“p, you did so well for me baby. thank you for letting me try that with you” you whisper, pecking her chest gently.

she doesn’t open her eyes, you assume she probably can’t after the amount of energy that orgasm must’ve exerted from her. but she replies nonetheless.

“i already told you, i’ll do anything for you anytime you want. all you have to do is ask.” 

“yeah yeah whatever, just kiss me and go to sleep.”

she actually does open her eyes. they’re glossed over and a little red and puffy from the crying but just as you had mentioned earlier, she looked so gorgeous. 

lifting her head just enough to meet you halfway she slots her lips against your own. the entire moment is so sweet, your entire body feels warm again. the thought of this girl being yours for the rest of your life crosses your mind.

when you pull back you’ve got a goofy grin on your face and you rest your head back on her chest before letting out a deep breath and closing your eyes again. 

paige’s body moves a little and you recognize the motion as her chuckling, before she opens her mouth one final time.

“i can’t wait to use that toy on you next. only. on you.”

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

perfectly imperfect.

summary: steve harrington comes into your campus workplace and flirts with you every chance he gets. after months of turning him down, you finally give in and decide to give him a try. after all, he’s the hottest ticket on campus among the girls, so there has to be something to it. right? 

word count: 3.5k

warnings/notes: smut, breast play, oral sex (brief; f receiving), grinding, handjob, premature ejaculation, catching feelings 

a/n: this is a college au with steve, based on a dream i had! i’m thinking he’s probably right around the age he was in season 4, so that would make him around 19-20 in this fic. as always, reader is 18+ and sorry if anything like this has been done before! i don’t have time to read fic much anymore, so i don’t know what is out there. i hope y’all enjoy!

also shoutout to my bestie @andvys for suggesting I write this dream as a one shot! ily and thank you for everything 🥺

_____

“what would you recommend, babe?”

you had to suppress an eye roll at the nickname. it was nothing new with steve harrington; every time he walked into the cafe where you worked, it was always the same old song and dance. he would walk in, smile at you, flirt, ask what you recommended, and would eat or drink it while sneaking the occasional glance at you. he was a blessing and a curse that you just couldn’t escape, not even outside of work. you had two classes with him–World History and Foundations Mathematics–and he would try to chat you up then, too. you knew his reputation around campus wasn’t a very good one; he was quite the player, apparently. you overheard girls talking about him at work and in class, talking about the time they had with him and how he never called or spoke much to them when he was done. you weren’t about that sort of life, but you had to admit you were growing curious about him. he had to be good if he was getting around and getting a reputation; the girls never said he was terrible. in fact, the opposite was true. you had been on many dates since you started going to college two years ago, but nothing ever stuck. you were mostly having flings yourself, but at least you let those down easily and didn’t just leave them hanging like he did. 

“i recommend what i always do every time you come in here,” you said. “the scones are good today; get one of those.”

“i think i have an appetite for something else,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “i think i want to experience something a little sweeter.”

“you think you’re really smooth, don’t you?” you asked, chuckling. “do you realize how many guys come in with the same line every day?”

“damn, i’ve got competition?” he asked, shaking his head. “here i thought i was special.”

“oh, you’re special, all right,” you said, grabbing a scone and putting it on a paper plate. “i don’t think you realize just how special you are.”

“well, that’s a relief,” steve said, digging in his pockets for money. “i really wish you’d go out with me, though.”

“why?” you asked. “so you could fuck me and leave me, like you do all the rest?”

he shook his head. “no, it would be different with you. you’re different.”

you laughed, shaking your own head. “how many women have you used that line on?”

“come on, harrington,” someone said from behind him. “i want my coffee.”

“just a minute,” he said, leaning in close to you. “one date. we don’t even have to have sex, if that isn’t what you want. just give me a chance.”

you eyed the line behind him, and knew there was no getting out of it this time. he wasn’t going to let up until you gave in, apparently. you sighed, rolling your eyes before meeting his. “fine. one date and i’m calling the shots.”

“thank you,” he said. “that’s all i wanted.”

“yeah, i’m sure,” you said. “it’s two dollars for the scone.”

he handed you two one dollar bills and a ten. “a little tip for you, babe.”

you went to hand it back, but he was already gone, the line moving forward as you were forced to be professional yet again.

****

the night of the date came faster than you wanted. he had pestered you about it every day in class and at work, until you finally set it for the following friday night. you were off work and didn’t have many classes that day, so you thought it would be perfect. it would give you a chance to get ready, to prepare yourself, and to brace for what might happen. you’d been giving it a lot of thought since he’d asked, and you decided that maybe you wanted to sleep with him, after all. you would see how the date went first, of course, but you had no reason to expect that it would be bad. steve seemed like a decent enough guy; he was just a playboy. most men his age were, though, especially college frat boys, so you didn’t know what else you honestly expected. 

you spent most of the afternoon working on yourself, and when the date finally came, he came to your room to pick you up. he couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you looked, and you had to admit that he looked handsome, too. he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt that was done up to just below his neck, showing off a spray of chest hair underneath and accenting his muscular arms. he wore blue jeans that were nice and not torn, brown dress shoes, and his hair was done up in its usual fashion. he looked damn good; even you had to admit that. you followed him as he walked, and he offered you his arm after a little bit. you took it, feeling your heart flutter as you did so. you had already decided, upon seeing him, that you were going to sleep with him. you couldn’t wait to break the news to him at the end of the night.

he took you to a nice restaurant just off campus, an classy little italian place that served the best food. you’d been there a few times, but never on a date. steve paid for everything, and when you were both walking back to campus, you decided to spring the news on him. you stopped walking and he did, too, giving you a puzzled look. you just smiled at him, hugging yourself for a moment before walking over and standing directly in front of him.

“so i made a decision,” you said. “one that i think you’re going to like.”

“what decision is that?” he asked.

“i think i wanna sleep with you tonight,” you said. “if you’re up for it, i mean.”

“i’m always up for that,” he said with a chuckle. “but why the sudden change of heart? you seemed pretty adamant to not sleep with me before now.”

you shrugged. “i guess i couldn’t live with myself if i passed up on steve harrington.”

he laughed. “well, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i passed up the most beautiful girl on campus, either.”

your cheeks heated at that, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “so…it’s on, then?”

“it’s on,” he said. “where should we go? my roommate is out with his girlfriend tonight, so my room might be the best bet.”

“okay,” you said. “let’s go there, then.” 

he walked you to his dorm building and up to his room, which was, in fact, empty. it was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the floor, fast food wrappers on the desks, beer bottles hidden not-so-skillfully under the two beds, and posters of half-naked women adorning the walls. you had to resist rolling your eyes for the millionth time; it was such a typical guy room that it was almost hilarious. steve walked over to the bed on the right, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same. he kicked off his shoes and you did the same, taking a seat next to him as he turned to face you.

“is it bad that i’m a little nervous?” he asked.

you looked at him, shocked. “you, nervous? why would you be nervous?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i guess because i’m not used to being with a beautiful woman like you.”

“yeah, and how many girls have heard that?”

“come on, i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

“i’ve never really used that on someone. you’re the first.”

“wow, i feel special.”

he put one finger under your chin, tilting your head toward him. “you are special, though. at least you are to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said. “are we doing this or not?”

“yeah,” he said, drawing you in closer. “come here.”

he put his lips to yours, kissing you gently at first. it stayed like that for a little bit, his lips working softly against yours as you followed his lead. soon, though, he was kissing you a little harder, his tongue pressing between your lips as they met. he mewled softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap. you straddled him, cupping his face as he kissed you more heavily. you whined, kissing him deeper as he began bucking his hips into yours. you picked up on his cue, grinding against him as you continued to make out. he groaned, grabbing your ass and guiding your movements. you moaned as well, continuing to move on him as he kissed you harder.

“fuck,” he said against your lips. “that feels so good.”

“you’re already getting hard,” you observed. “i can feel it.”

“i can’t help it,” he said. “you just have that effect on me.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, smirking at him as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “well, i feel pretty flattered, then.”

“i really wanna get your clothes off,” he said, tilting his head back to give you more room. “can i?”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “not yet. i wanna keep doing this for a little bit first.”

“you’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan. 

you nodded. “that’s right.”

“you’re such a tease,” he said. “but that’s okay, i like it.”

“oh you do, huh?” you asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“hey, i thought you said we had to wait.”

“i said you had to wait. i didn’t say anything about me.”

“that hardly seems fair.”

“i’m the one calling the shots here tonight, remember?”

that quieted him, and he mumbled a word of permission. you giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing him back on the bed. you started kissing down the middle of his chest, down his stomach to the top of his jeans, and then slowly back up. his breathing was slightly heavier as you worked on him, and he drew you in for a passionate kiss as you came back up. he pulled you on top of him again, where you resumed grinding him for the moment. his hands squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh there as you rocked against him. you whined, moving a little faster as he gasped against your lips.

“you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep doing that,” he said. “please, can i take your clothes off?”

you giggled, nodding. “fine. but not the bra or the panties yet.”

he eagerly removed your shirt and pants, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the clothes. he studied your body with hungry eyes, his pupils enlarging as he took in every detail. you couldn’t help but flush under his gaze, your cheeks hot as he studied you. you pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily, your hips moving again as he slapped your ass. you laughed against his lips and you could feel him smiling, so you kept going. after a minute, steve’s hands found the back of your bra, playing with the clasp. you smiled, knowing that you’d tormented him enough, and you drew back to grin at him.

“you can take it off now,” you said.

“i can?” he asked.

“yep,” you said. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he practically ripped the garments from your body, taking in every detail of your body as he did so. he licked his lips as he studied you, his eyes moving from head to toe and back again. your cheeks turned hot under his gaze, and you reached out to pull him closer. he went easily, his body pressed flush to yours as you chuckled.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you said. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

he nodded, hastily doing away with his clothes. as he did to you, you observed him from top to bottom, your eyes remaining glued on his cock. he was bigger than you expected, with good girth and even better length. a large vein ran up the underside, and his tip was pink and already oozing precum. you reached out to stroke him, and his lashes fluttered as he moaned under your touch. he looked at you with heavy eyes, his lips parted as his cheeks began to flush. you smirked at him, flicking your wrist as his body jerked slightly.

“who has the power now, huh?” you asked.

“you do,” he said, rutting into your hand. “god..”

“you know what I want you to do?” you asked.

“anything,” he said. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i want you to eat me out,” you said.

“can i?” he asked. “please?”

“mmm hmm,” you said. “go ahead.”

steve turned you over so that you were lying flat on his bed. he kissed your neck, stopping at your breasts to give them some attention. he kissed over each one, sucking one nipple feverishly as he rubbed the other with his fingers. you moaned softly, grabbing his hair and giving it a slight tug as he, too, moaned. you giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to work. he shivered, his eyes trailing up to look at you as he sucked your nipple a bit harder. you arched your back, bucking your hips impatiently as he trailed one hand down your body. he ran his fingers over your clit, barely ghosting it as you gasped. he smirked against your skin, his fingers ghosting your folds next. you wanted to slap him for being such a tease, but it felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“you’re so hot,” he said, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts. he moaned as he watched your nipples harden even more, his thumbs circling them. “the hottest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, whining as he started kissing his way down your body. “am i hotter than all those other girls you’ve been with, or did you use that line on them, too?”

“no, just you,” he said, winking up at you as he knelt between your legs. “i swear it’s just you. i told you, you’re different.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. you were curious as to what he would be like, and now wasn’t the time to offend him or piss him off. you would take him at his word for now; it’s all you could do. you watched as he kissed your inner thighs, painfully slow, and as he kissed around your mound, also painfully slow. he was kissing anywhere and everywhere but where you really wanted him, and you almost pushed his head there. but you didn’t want to do that, so you waited, letting him get it out of his system. he did it again, a little faster, and then finally he was right where you wanted him.

his mouth felt like heaven, and it was a feeling that you’d never felt before with anyone else. his tongue was like velvet, wet and soft and perfect. he lapped at your folds lazily, using the tip of his tongue at first to tease you further. you moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch him as he looked up at you. he groaned as he pressed his full tongue against you, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit and then back down. he did the same motion a few times, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you arched, falling back on the bed and writhing as he sucked harder.

‘steve…” you moaned. “that feels so good.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, and you could feel him smirking against you. “you think it feels pretty good, huh?”

“yeah,” you said. “you’re good at this.”

his smirk widened, and soon he was fucking you on his tongue. he replaced that with his fingers after a few minutes, paying attention to your clit as he sucked again. his tongue swirled the small bud, moaning against it to add vibration. you gasped and bucked your hips, feeling the tightness beginning to settle in your lower stomach. you didn’t think you’d be so close already, but it had been awhile since you’d gotten off–with yourself or with anyone else. you were pent up, and it was about to come to a head very soon.

“i’m close already,” you told him. “please keep going.”

“already, huh?” he asked, grinning up at you.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said. “it’s just been awhile.”

“sure,” he said, winking at you. “i’ll take your word for it.”

he kept going, fucking you harder on his fingers and sucking your clit harder. he shook his head back and forth, his eyes on you as he kept going. it only took a few more minutes before you were falling apart, cumming hard as you cried out his name. he kept going as you experienced your high, going slower and more gentle, watching as you arched your back, writhed, and tugged at his hair. he moaned, stopping once you came down from your high. he sat back and looked at you, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of himself for what he’d just done.

“that’s a first,” he said. “usually i have to go for twenty minutes.”

“you poor thing,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “how ever will you survive?”

he chuckled, kissing his way back up your body. “you’re so sassy. i love it.”

“come here,” you said. “i wanna pretend to ride you.”

“pretend?” steve asked. “why not do it?”

“because i wanna make you work for it, that’s why,” you said, smirking at him. 

“but i’m about to burst already,” he nearly whined.

“now who’s the one who might cum too soon?” you teased. “come here.”

he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. “okay, babe. i’m here. do whatever you want to me.”

you straddled him, positioning yourself over his erection. you began to grind against it, moaning at the heavy, throbbing feeling of him against you. he hissed, his hands coming out to grab at your hips. you kept going, gliding along him at a steady pace as he looked up at you. he leaned up after a few minutes and started sucking at your nipples, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him after a moment. you moaned, biting your lip as you started moving a little faster.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said, and you could tell that he was right. he was twitching, his cock throbbing against you as you continued to glide. “please.”

you giggled, getting off of him and taking his cock into your hand. “tell me what you want.”

“I—“ he began, but it was soon over. he came all over your hand, his body in spasms as he bucked into your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his hands into them as he came down from his high. “fuck, I knew that was gonna happen.”

you chuckled, holding your hand up to your mouth. “look at me, steve.”

he did so, looking at you with heavy eyes. you started licking the cum off of your hand, making eye contact with him as you did so. he moaned as he watched, and pulled you down for a kiss after you were done. you lay next to him, snuggling against him as he held you close. it was silent, save for steve’s heavy breathing, and you opened your mouth to say something. he beat you to it.

“wow,” he said. “i never…that’s never happened to me before.”

“no?” you asked. “never? not once?”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i think it’s because i like you so much.”

you looked up at him. “you do?”

“I do,” he said. “you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, y/n. i think I wanna keep you.”

you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him. “you wanna know something?”

“what?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

you kissed him again, a bit more passionately. “I think i wanna keep you, too.” 

—

taglist: @andvys @littledemondani @etherealxwitch @eddieschains @happylilthought @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @thisbrokencapulet @sunkillerencoder @thatredlipped-classic

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.