#he will always be the loser middle kid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannieehaee · 2 months

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LIKE YOU DO

18+ / mdi

summary: when your brother's best friend suddenly reveals his newfound crush on you, you find yourself at a crossroads, thinking back to your own unrequited crush on him from back in middle school, making you wonder if you should be the better person and give him a chance.

content: brother'sbestfriend!seungcheol, frienemies-ish to lovers, reader is jeonghan's adoptive sister of his same age, mentions of previous unrequited crush, lots of unserious banter, afab reader, they're both inexperienced, smut, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 7.8k

a/n: this one was kinda short sorry T-T i rlly enjoyed the concept though so it was fun to write! hope u guys enjoy!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"Jeonghan?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Seungcheol keep showing up during my breaks to bring me coffee?"

"Oh. He's trying to break you down so he can ask you out," He responded in the most nonchalant way possible.

"What? Since when does Seungcheol even like me?"

"Are you kidding? he's had a huge crush on you since we were seventeen."

"Dude, what? Where the hell was that attitude back in middle school when I was following him around like a fucking loser?", you grumbled at the memory of your former unrequited crush.

It was pathetic to think about, but it was true. You had sadly had a tendency to follow your brother and his friend around during the majority of your tweens and teens, always carrying the false hope that Seungcheol would one day look your way. As expected, he never even so much as glanced at you during that period of your life.

It's not like you could blame him. You were just a few years behind the rest of the herd when it came to puberty, you were still donning braces and also had a less than favorable sense of style. By all means, you were a bit of a loser up until turning 16. However, it was still sad to know that the guy of your dreams simply saw you as a nuance he had to deal with in exchange for being able to hang out with your brother.

Except that had been well over two years ago (give or take). By the time you were 16 and a junior in high school, you were confidently over your crush. You had stopped following him around by the time you entered the second half of your teens, but your crush would still occasionally show remnants of itself any time he was around (which was often, as he and Jeonghan were practically attached to the hip). However, it was far more lowkey than before and eventually died down altogether. You were long past those awkward years of tweenhood and now had a developed sense of style, along with an air of confidence you now carried with you. Puberty hit you all at once and your entire persona changed along with it. You had an established group of friends and were even a bit popular, no longer needing to hang around Jeonghan and Seungcheol just for a glimpse of the boy's attention. By the time you were 16, you were over Choi Seungcheol.

This carried over to the last two years of high school, now with a completely different dynamic between you and your former crush. Despite attending the same grades at the same time, you did not belong to the same social circles, so you would not see each other too often. However, since your brother (and brother's best friend) continued to attend the same school as you those last two years of high school, you still bumped into Cheol from time to time, specially whenever Jeonghan would bring him over.

Over the years, Seungcheol came to see you as less of a nuance and more of a friend. After turning 16 (upon your glow up and the dissipation of your crush), he would engage in casual conversation with you. He would even seek you out on his own at times, though you were never too enthusiastic about these meetings. Middle school you would've been elated at such development, but you didn't think much of it after having gotten over your crush, now bitter over how it had all played out so fruitlessly for you.

After having gotten over your crush, you came to resent Seungcheol a bit, now realizing the way he used to sometimes take advantage of your crush to get you to be his lackey and how he would even make you the butt of jokes among his friend group (whenever your brother wasn't around, of course). During the years in which you were infatuated with him, you truly believed it was just some sort of inside joke between the two of you; a 'will they, won't they' type of dynamic. However, upon leaving that childish phase of your life, you began to look back at it in embarrassment. After that, you distanced yourself from him. During ages 16 and up, you would even come to avoid him, something which Jeonghan thankfully never commented on despite having also been aware of your former crush.

And now. Now you were being made privy to the fact that Seungcheol had apparently begun to return your crush only a little over a year after you got over yours. At seventeen, Jeonghan said. That's the year you like to believe you truly got your act together. After your glow up at 16 years of age (appearance and personality-wise), you began to engage in new hobbies, new friend groups, and overall went through a full transformation of your former loser self (or at least that's how Seungcheol had made you feel all those years). You had put all relationship related interests aside since your catastrophic crush on Seungcheol left you high and dry. After graduating, you even left the country for a few months, deciding to start college a semester after your brother to explore the world a bit in order to find yourself before starting school back up again.

That period of time proved very useful to you. You mingled in the arts of casual dating in your absence (something which you had never done thanks to your irremovable crush), made friends, took up new interests, and most of all, grew out of any remnants of your former feelings for Seungcheol.

Except that all came crumbling down the moment you came back, suitcase in hand, and found Seungcheol at the door of your brother's apartment upon your arrival for your move-in day with your brother, which now seemed to include Seungcheol in the equation.

You had been less than elated when your brother suddenly informed you that instead of solely moving in with him in order to begin attending his university, you would now be sharing the apartment with an unwanted guest – Seungcheol. This had been the first time you saw him again after graduating, which had also been your last day to see anyone for the past six months over the duration of your trip.

Since your brother had begun attending school while you took a sabbatical from education, he had found himself an apartment so you would have a place to move into upon your return. The agreement had been for the two of you to be the sole habitants, until Seungcheol suddenly decided to attend the same university as you and your brother, promptly moving in with Jeonghan in your absence. It seemed like that had been the original plan, one which died when Seungcheol simply decided to stay, moving his things out what was supposed to be your room and moving them into what then became a shared room between him and Jeonghan.

This was when you first began to have suspicions about Seungcheol.

Although your crush had died down about two years back, you still felt awkward in his presence. His existence was a constant reminder of his consistent rejection of your feelings, something which had not helped your confidence much in the past. But it now seemed like Seungcheol had been the one seeking you out more than the other way around. Even back when you were saying your goodbyes before leaving on your vacation, Seungcheol had seemed even more disappointed at your prolonged absence than your own brother. You hadn't thought much of it at the time, except that this behavior kept up as the two of you became roommates.

Seungcheol would now walk you to class whenever possible, even when it meant going out of his way. He would lend you notes from the classes he had taken the prior semester; ones which you were currently having to take. He would show up between your classes with either drink or food in hand. He'd stop by your workplace at the school's cafe whenever he had down time. He'd stare down any guy that would try and interact with you in any of these instances. You were completely casual about it, trying to not read too much into it, but the worst thing about it all was that you liked it. You liked the attention he was finally giving you.

Though you were suspicious about Seungcheol's intentions, you had never considered the possibility of Seungcheol actually liking you romantically until your brother had so casually informed you just now. Even through your immediate complaint about it, your heart sped up at the thought. Your mind went back to every single memory of your own crush on him, thinking back to every single thing you used to like about him. Up until the moment in which Jeonghan called your attention once more, having answered your question but receiving no response from you due to the extended internal monologue you had gone through due to the sudden revelation.

"Sorry, what did you say?", you finally responded.

He chuckled at your absent-mindedness, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. "I said that your crush was just puppy love. He can't help that he didn't return your feelings at the time. It's been like what, three years since you got over him? Are you really still mad about it?", replied Jeonghan as he nudged you to eat the muffin he had bought you over twenty minutes ago.

Puppy love? It sure didn't feel like it during all those years in which you pined over him. But maybe Jeonghan was right. Maybe it had simply been interpreted as a harmless crush by both Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Except this did not justify every single remembrance of Seungcheol's constant dismissal and mockery of your feelings through the years, only ever looking your way once you were finally over him.

You took a deep breath, deciding to try and be rational in your response, "He mocked me over my crush for years, Jeonghan. He made me the butt of every joke and took advantage of how into him I was for his own entertainment. He only ever started respecting me when I changed my appearance and personality completely. Why should I even consider giving him a chance?"

"Hey, I'm not telling you to do that. Just keep an open mind, okay? We were kids. I'm sure he meant it all in good fun. You know he can be kind of an idiot at times," he took a pinch of the untouched muffin in front of you, "Is there no part of you that maybe still likes him?"

"Did you come to my workplace to harass me into dating your best friend?", you snatched the muffin away – the muffin he had 'bought' despite getting a discount due to your position as a barista, "I'm not the same loser I was in middle school, I have options."

"Oh, yeah?", he smirked, "Then how come you've never had a boyfriend?"

"I'm only 19, it's not like I've dedicated my entire life to celibacy. If I wanted one I could get one. Easy," you argued, "Are you gonna leave any time soon? I need to get back to work," you began to gather his and your cup to head back to your work duties.

"There's literally no one here," he whined, "And stop dodging my questions. Do you like him? Do you want a relationship or not?", he pushed, "I'm your brother, you're supposed to trust me with this type of stuff."

"Adoptive brother," you corrected as you wiped the table Jeonghan was still sitting at.

"Don't say that. I hate it when you say that," he whined.

"You know what? You're right," you decided, halting your movements.

"I am?"

"Yeah. I should get a boyfriend."

"Oh. You mean someone who isn't Seungcheol, don't you?", he sighed.

"Of course. I'm not just gonna come crawling back to him just because he decided he likes me now. And you're right. Now that I'm over my crush and I'm back home, I should get a boyfriend. Maybe that'll get Cheol off of me," you declared.

"So it is about Cheol then."

"Jeonghan, shut up!"

Things changed for you after that conversation. Or at least the way you looked at Seungcheol shifted.

While you had questioned why he would suddenly begin showing up as frequently as he did, showing genuine interest in your company, you had not once entertained the thought of him liking you. Jeonghan informing you of his crush in such a nonchalant way also made you realize that Seungcheol had been quite obvious about his sudden liking to you, always becoming standoffish when other guys were around and even carrying your backpack for you.

The thought of him liking you pleased you. Even if you wanted to be in denial about it, your crush finally being reciprocated was something you had given hope on back when you were about 15. However, knowing that Seungcheol only started seeing you in a non platonic way after your feelings had finally dissipated also annoyed you beyond belief. How was it fair? He got to tease you and treat you as if you were nothing but a nuance for years, only to turn around a few years later and decide he wanted you? You weren't about to stand for it.

You meant it when you told Jeonghan that you would consider entering the dating scene.

For years, you hoped Seungcheol would eventually like you back, so you never even as much as looked in anyone else's way. When you got over your crush, your pride was too wounded to even think about romance. The only exception had been during your trip overseas, where you dated boys here and there, but it was never anything that lasted over a few weeks. Now was finally the time to begin dating.

Okay, granted. Maybe part of you was doing this just to give Seungcheol a taste of his own medicine, but that part didn't matter too much. You decided you'd just disregard his crush just like he did yours; drinking in all the extra attention but never doing anything about it

"Hey, wait up!"

You slowed down without looking back, able to recognize that voice even in your sleep.

"Forget about me? I always walk you to your next class," he chuckled, breathless, "Uh, here. Got you your favorite," he said as he handed you a beverage of your choice.

"Thanks, Cheol," you replied, disinterested as usual.

Even before knowing about his intentions, you had kept a very clear emotional distance from Seungcheol for the past couple of years. You were sure he was aware that your crush had died down years ago, now leaving you completely indifferent towards him, but he never once brought it up. The most reaction you could gauge out of him was the way he deflated a bit every time you spoke to him and failed to show the same enthusiasm you once did.

"So, any plans this weekend?"

"Oh, yeah. Going on a date," you said nonchalantly.

This made him stop in his tracks, causing you to have to slow down your walking once again to turn back and look at him in feigned interest.

"A date? W-what, with who?", he spluttered, a frown making its way on his face.

"Just some guy I met on tinder," you responded, "C'mon, I need to get to class," you nudged him.

He took your instruction to keep walking, still frowning, "A guy from tinder? You don't even know him? I- Is your brother okay with this?"

"It's not really any of his business, now, is it?", you scoffed.

"Since when are you even dating anyway? I thought you needed time to 'find yourself'. Isn't that the whole reason you were gone for half a year?", grumbled Seungcheol.

"Not like it's any of your business, but yeah, I am dating. I'm 19, it's not like I've never dated. I went on dates while I was traveling. It's not that big of a deal."

"You dated? What? And you never told me?"

This made you stop in your tracks, turning to him and making him halt too.

"'Tell you'? Why would you need to know anything about my dating life? We're not even friends."

"Oh, so now we're not friends? I've known you literally since the day Jeonghan's parents brought you home and now we're not friends?", he was beginning to get agitated, you could tell.

Pushing his buttons was fun at first, but now you were also starting to feel frustration at his entitlement over you.

"As far as I can remember, we've never been friends. You just liked the attention I gave you and made a joke of me for years. Is that friendship to you?"

"We- we shouldn't talk about this here, okay?" he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, but saw that only a few other students were walking by, completely unsuspecting.

"You know what, Cheol? Thanks for the drink. I can get to class alone. I'll see you at home," you snatched your bag from his arms and marched away, leaving a confused Seungcheol behind.

"Cheol told me you guys got into a fight," was the first thing Jeonghan said as he walked into your workplace at 7:30 sharp in the morning.

"God, it's bad enough I have to live with the two of you, do you need to gossip about me too?"

"I told you about his crush in confidence! I can't believe you'd betray my trust like this," he said with zero emotion behind his words.

"No you didn't."

"No I didn't", he giggled, "Give me my usual, yeah?", he took a seat on the counter right in front of you, grabbing a nearby muffin to accompany the drink you were now making him.

"So you're really dating now?", he inquired after less than five seconds of silence.

"How much did Seungcheol tell you?"

"He gave me a rundown of the entire conversation."

You groaned at this. Men were truly the nosier gender.

"Yes, I'm going on a date with some guy from one of my classes tomorrow."

"I thought you said he was from tinder?"

"I just assumed it'd annoy Cheol even more if he thought I was choosing some random guy over him."

"That's mean", he pouted, followed by a grin, "Good job."

You handed him his drink and took a moment to sit down from your side of the counter, sighing dramatically at your brother.

"Are you really not interested in Cheol at all?", he rubbed at your arm to show comfort.

"I ... Maybe? I liked him for so long. It's hard for that to just go away, specially knowing he likes me back. But I can't just let him win me over so easily, you know?"

"Maybe you should talk to him? Let him explain his thought process and see if it's worth giving him a chance."

"Maybe," you sighed.

"Not 'maybe.' You're talking to him. Spending a single night with the two of you while you were icing each other out was enough for me. I told him I'd stay somewhere else tomorrow night so the two of you can talk after your date. It's a done deal."

"Dude! Can you stop making decisions for me? I-"

"I'm your older brother. It's in the fine print," he argued.

"Adoptiv-"

He grabbed the muffin and put it to your lips, interrupting your sentence, "That's enough of that."

You opted to just let him win (yet again) and mentally prepare yourself for your conversation with Seungcheol the following day.

Joshua.

That was the name of the guy you'd be going on a date with this afternoon.

He was cute, polite, smart, and seemed to be an overall great guy based on the few interactions you'd had with him during class. He was actually who you used to walk to class with before Seungcheol had intercepted your routine by forcing his way into your schedule.

You weren't particularly excited about going on this date. Joshua was the perfect guy by all means, but you didn't feel any type of spark when you were with him. You were pretty sure he didn't either. It was hard to tell. Nothing really compared to the way you felt for Seungcheol during the majority of your teens. You doubted you'd ever crush on someone so hard ever again.

You had never admitted it out loud, but you were pretty sure your crush on Seungcheol had at some point become love. You didn't just like Seungcheol, you (had) loved him, which made getting over your infatuation even harder. It had also made that unbecoming feeling of rejection much harder to let go of. The reminder of the constant rejection you had gone through was enough to not even entertain the idea of looking at Seungcheol with the same enamored eyes you always reserved for him ever again.

And so now you were getting ready for your date. Whether anything came of it didn't matter too much to you. You needed to show both Seungcheol and your brother that you were truly over Seungcheol. That you wouldn't fall for him when it was finally convenient for him.

The date was overall nice.

The two of you had opted for something casual, deciding to an arcade and have a casual meal that consisted of nachos and some convenience store ramen afterwards.

The date felt like an outing you'd have with any other friend. Maybe because that's what it actually was in the end.

It didn't take too much time into your date for both you and Joshua to say what you were thinking – You were better off as friends. You both chuckled at it, finding it comedic how you had both had the same thought, meaning there would be no hard feelings at the end of the day.

The night was spent playing games and bantering with one another. It was a casual and quite relaxing outing between two friends. Which is what left Joshua to inquire as to why you had asked him out in the first place as he walked you back to your apartment.

"There's, uh, this guy I'm trying to get over," you decided to be honest with him. You could really see a friendship forming here, plus he seemed like a trustworthy guy, so lying would be fruitless.

"Ah. Makes sense", he clicked his tongue, "Is it Choi Seungcheol by any chance?"

That caught you off guard. And it must've shown in your face, as Joshua chuckled in return before continuing.

"I've just noticed the two of you together a lot lately, that's all. What's the story?"

If only Joshua had known about the length of the story you were about to tell him, he likely would not have asked, but the simple question was enough to fire you up and let him in on every excruciating detail.

By the end of it, Joshua's face had gone through every reaction. From surprised, to angry (likely in empathy), to apprehensive.

"Well, he sounds like he was a dick in high school-"

"Right!"

"But ...."

"'But'?!"

"Listen. You were what, 15? Guys are so dumb at that age. I did my fair share of dumb things. And having a pretty girl be so into you at that age would give any guy a huge ego. Maybe he's being honest about his feelings," he had reasoned.

"Why is everyone on his side? What, am I supposed to just forgive him?"

"Of course not. But maybe part of you still likes him. You shouldn't let your pride get in the way of finally being with the guy you like."

That last statement had left you thinking.

You already had doubts about your feelings for Cheol, knowing that your conflict towards his newfound feelings was enough indication to realize that you might've still been holding a torch for him.

But it was his comment about pride that really had you reconsidering things.

Was it really just your pride stopping you from even giving Seungcheol a chance?

The way that you saw it, if you gave in to Seungcheol now that he finally liked you back, it only proved how weak you were for him, how easy it was for him to just snap his fingers and have you at his feet once again.

But you also needed to consider the fact that he had liked you since seventeen. You were both nineteen now, going on twenty. He had held back on his feelings for two years, hoping that you'd someday reciprocate once more. Clearly he wasn't hoping to use your old crush against you, or else he would've done so already.

These conflicting thoughts plagued your mind all the way until Joshua hugged you goodbye at your apartment door, while you were unaware of Seungcheol watching the two of you with a frown from the small window behind you, completely misreading the situation.

"Joshua Hong? That's the guy you're dating?", were the first words he said to you when you walked in, fully washed with venom and disdain.

This was starting off well.

"Were you spying on me?"

"You didn't answer my question," he rebutted.

You walked past him and let yourself fall back on the couch, sighing at the conversation you knew was awaiting.

"Cheol. Stop beating around the bush by snooping into my life," you started, the beating of your heart betraying the confidence in your voice, "Jeonghan told me you wanted to talk, so talk."

"Is there even a point? If you're already taken, do I even have a chance?", he chuckled bitterly, taking a seat across from you on a lone loveseat.

Oh.

This was the first time Seungcheol had ever acknowledged his romantic feelings towards you in the two years in which he's supposedly had them. It made you feel weak to admit it, but that statement alone already had your resolve melting.

"I- I'm not taken. Joshua and I are just friends."

"You came back home together at 10. You're wearing a skirt. I saw the two of you hug outside. Am I missing something?", he scoffed.

"Dude, I- What? Those are all completely platonic things. Not like you have any right to complain anyways .." you trailed off.

"Okay, if it's not a date then why did you tell me it was one on Wednesday? Huh?"

"Because I wanted you to know what it felt like!", you blurted, abruptly getting up from the couch.

"What? You-"

"It's not fair, Seungcheol! I liked you. For years. And you never looked my way. You made fun of me, you used me, you ignored me. I was just some dumbass who couldn't take a hint, and now you like me? Now you wanna know who I'm dating and who I like? Hah," you were halfway through your rambles before you realized it.

He got up from his spot and walked over to you, solemn and hurt look on his face. He seemed embarrassed by your statement, though also accepting of it.

"You- you're right. I never took you seriously. I ... I always just saw you as Jeonghan's weird little sister, I-"

"We're the same age!"

"Okay, but Jeonghan was always so protective towards you, I always thought of you as a little kid. I'm sorry, I know how harsh and unfair that sounds, but I don't want to lie to you. I don't know what changed, or when it did, but I- at some point I just couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathed out.

"Hah," you chuckled bitterly, "Was this when I changed my look, Cheol? Are you that shallow?"

"N-no! Listen, I know the timing was bad, but it wasn't that. I always thought you were pretty. I know you probably didn't see it for yourself, and ... I know my teasing probably didn't help your confidence, – and that's something I regret so badly – but you've always been beautiful. It had nothing to do with that, I swear," he held his hand to his chest as if to swear by his words.

You couldn't help blushing at his words, avoiding eye contact for a moment before responding.

"Then what was it?"

"I guess I just missed you", he shrugged sadly, "I got so used to having you around and to knowing how much I meant to you. I took you for granted, and I regretted it the moment I lost you," it was his turn to feel embarrassed, "When you stopped seeking me out, I finally began to see what you were like past your crush. You were so fun and carefree. So nice and, and beautiful. You saw me in rose-colored glasses and I just didn't see you at all. Not until then," he finished.

"What does this all mean, Cheol?" you said, almost exasperated, "Am I supposed to forget the way you'd mock me or just straight up ignore me for years? Yeah, sure, we were kind of beginning to become friends once high school was almost over, but it didn't mean anything to me by that point. I was just over it."

"And are you over me?"

"What?"

He lifted his eyebrow in question, taking a few steps towards you.

"Are you really completely over me? Do you feel nothing at all?", his eyes were confidently following your gaze as he questioned you.

"I- Yes, I am," you gulped unwillingly, taking a few steps back as he took some forward.

"I don't believe that. I mean, you left only for a few months and I never stopped thinking about you ... There's no way you got over me that suddenly, is there?"

"You think too highly of yourself, Cheol-"

"So you feel nothing at all?", he had made his way into your personal space by now, almost crowding you against the wall, "Aren't you curious, at least? Don't you wanna see if there's anything left?", he breathed out.

"I, Cheol, I-"

"Just tell me no. Push me away. Tell me to fuck off and I'll leave you alone," his gaze fell to your lips, slowly making its way back to your eyes again.

"I can't, I ... Cheol ..."

Due to your lack of rejection, Seungcheol closed the gap, gently pressing his lips against you as he let out a breath of relief in his kiss.

You'd kissed a few boys during your time away. Hell, you'd even kissed Joshua earlier today, but neither of those experiences had felt quite like this. During all those exchanges, Seungcheol had always somehow been in the back of your mind, making you wonder what it would've been like if he had been the guy you were kissing instead. Now you finally knew what it was like ... And you were already growing addicted.

It was only a few seconds into the kiss when the two of you let your desire for the other take over. He groaned against your lips as you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his face as close to your own as possible. His hands ran down to your waist and caressed your back in a way far too desperate for the first kiss shared between the two of you.

With no words, he kissed you until running out of breath, eventually lowering his head so he could attack your neck with licks and nips to the sensitive skin on there. You leaned your head to the side, allowing him more room to suck into as he rejoiced in your sighs of pleasure.

It was a mutual exchange. The two of you seemed to be equally desperate for the other, your wandering hands never halting in the exploration of the other's body. His hands eventually dared to venture under your top, slowly sneaking their way towards your breasts. He kissed your lips once more as his hands caressed and played with your tits, moaning against your mouth every time you'd whine at his touches.

"Angel ...", he breathed against your lips, "Are you still sure? Are you still sure you don't want me?", his words were slightly muffled by his inability to disconnect from you for more than a second.

"I need- fuck, Cheol ... Just-"

"I know ... It's okay. You don't have to say it," he pushed his tongue into your mouth once again.

Cheol separated from you and led you to your room by your hand, closing the door before pressing you up against it and kissing you again.

The way he kissed you was nothing but sensual and full of emotion, making you forget any complaint you had against him as his lips connected to yours again and again.

His hands took advantage of your caged in position, feeling up every curve and squeezing at his favorite parts. There was a depraved urgency behind his movements, almost as if he had been aching to do this; burning to finally have you to his full disposition. When he seemingly had his fill of caressing every inch, he pulled away barely enough to speak (which had been a feat, as your lips desperately followed his, and his own were unable to resist yours at first).

"Let me take you to bed," be begged, "I've wanted you for years. Please, let me have you," he plead against your lips, giving you a languid peck as he finished his request.

"Cheol ..."

He pulled away a bit more at the hesitancy in your voice, "I know I was an asshole. I know I hurt you for years. I know I don't deserve you," he took a deep breath before intensely looking into your eyes, "but I can't stop thinking about you. If you ever felt even an ounce of what I've felt towards you since we were seventeen, then I'm so sorry to have caused you such pain. I was a stupid teenager who felt too cool to look your way long enough to realize you were far too good for me. Please. Please, I'll beg if you want me to , just ... Give me a chance," he finished with a pained expression in his eyes, voice wavering by the end of his speech.

"You made me feel like such an idiot, like-"

"I'm the idiot – Me! You're perfect," he grabbed onto your hands and brought them up to his lips, "I love you. So much. Jeonghan's so fed up of hearing me tell him how in love with you I am. All my friends know how I feel about you. I'll embarrass myself time and time again proving it to you," dropping your hands, he wrapped his arms around you again, bringing you closer to him as his eyes dropped to your lips.

That had been a shock.

You had never expected for Seungcheol's feelings to be anything more than superficial, much less did you expect for him to confess to you in such a way. The thought of him gushing about you to his friends was enough to make you blush, but knowing that he was willing to prove his feelings for you as much as you saw fit made you weak at the knees. This was all you had ever wanted, tenfold. If your current reaction to his revelation was anything to go by, then you were now realizing that your feelings for him had never truly gone away. You had carried a torch for Seungcheol all these years, even when you thought you had completely gotten over him. Even when you weren't thinking of him, he was always plaguing your mind.

And so you kissed him.

You put all previous hesitancy aside and followed your desires, pulling him to you as you let passion take over.

He didn't question you, choosing to press you up against him instead, blindly walking the two of you towards your bed and laying you down in it, crawling on top of you once more to keep kissing you.

No words were exchanged for a while, the only sounds filling up the room were made up of your collective moans and the ruffling of the bedsheets – result of the way you were feeling each other up. You were glad Jeonghan had decided to stay elsewhere tonight. Hell, he probably knew the two of you would snap and end up in the way you evidently did.

Pulling away for a quick moment, Seungcheol pulled away and threw off his shirt, causing the cloudiness in your mind to clear up for a moment so you could lean up and run your hands through his bare chest, earning a chuckle from him.

"Like what you see?", he smirked like the cockiest shit you'd ever seen, except it kinda worked on you regardless.

But you couldn't let him have the upper hand here, so you did what any sensible girl would do and threw off your own top, leaving you in a pretty lacy bralette.

The smirk wiped off his face immediately as his eyes lowered to your breasts. To make matters worse for him, you decided to sensually pull off your bra, making a little show out of it just to see how much lust would overtake him at the sight.

"Fuck ...", he muttered, leaning down so he could get his hands on you.

You stopped him before he could, however. Smirking at him, "You have to ask, Cheollie."

"Angel ... Don't play this with me."

"Ask, or else you can't touch me."

"I- Fuck. Please. Can I touch them?," he breathed out, eyes still glued to your chest as you played with your own mounds just to mock him.

You nodded, taking his arms and leading them to your chest.

He took full advantage of this, feeling you up like a starved man devouring his last meal. His mouth joined in on the fun soon after, kissing and licking at your nipples, groaning whenever your hands would pull at his hair.

He undressed the rest of you during the following minutes, making quick work of your shoes, his own, and your skirt. His pants were the last to go, leaving the two of you in just your underwear.

"Help me take it off?", he led your hands to his hardened cock, hooking your fingers on his boxers so you could get them off for him. You pulled his face down to your own and sucked on his tongue as your other hand aided him in removing his boxers. He did the same to your panties, finally crawling on top of you again, with your bare crotches finally facing one another.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he breathed against your lips, beginning a slow grind against your cunt.

You ground against each other like animals in heat for a while, losing your breaths with the other's lips. The way his hardened length graced your folds with the perfect friction had you getting wetter by the second, making you wail against his lips.

"Can I eat you out, baby?," he groaned into your mouth, a desperate look in his eyes.

"Y-yes, fuck," you cried.

He kissed at your nude body on his way down, licking and sucking splotches of red and purple wherever he could until reaching your thighs, using his strong arms to open them and wedge himself between them.

"God ... Been dreaming of kissing up these thighs for years. You're so fucking gorgeous, do you even know?", he sounded pained as he said so, pressing soft kisses at the softest part of your thighs, "Dreamt about you since were seventeen," he blew cold air into your cunt, causing you to retract a bit.

"Cheol ..."

"Is this how you felt? Huh? Did you want me just as badly as I did you?", he finally gave you an experimental lick, groaning at the taste, "But you never got over me, did you? That's good," he nodded to himself, licking more and more, "That way I get to keep you," and that was all he could say before his mouth became fully occupied by your cunt.

And he was right. Even as your crush died down, you got older and began to have thoughts about him. Thoughts that accompanied you on the many lonely nights while you were abroad and away from him. During all those nights in which you swore you were over him. It was nice to know that you'd had a similar effect on him these past few years.

You didn't have much time to ponder about it as Seungcheol quite literally lost himself between your legs. His arms proved to be as strong as they looked, forcing your legs open even as the stimulation made you try and close them around his head. His groans of pleasure against your weeping cunt did not help matters, simply leading you to your end all the faster.

"Fucking delicious, fuck. No one's ever had this before, right, beautiful? You've been saving this cunt for me? Hmm?", he slurred his words while he made out with your pussy, groaning once more when you whimpered in confirmation, "Need to taste you, angel. Cum for me, fuck. Wanna be the first one to feel you like this," he rambled, delirious on your taste.

And you were equally as delirious, falling apart for him almost as if your body had been following his direction. He continued to make sinful sounds against your cunt as he tasted you all through your high, making you even more lightheaded than you already were.

Giving you no time to recover, Seungcheol climbed atop you once more and made you swallow any words you may have had by sealing your lips with his own, forcing your the remnants on your taste onto your own tongue. You battled each other like this once more, hands careless as they grabbed at one another in desperation.

"C-condom?", be pulled away to ask.

"No, Cheol. I- You don't carry?", you managed to let out.

"I, No. I- I've never ..."

He looked uncharacteristically bashful, making you tilt your head in curiosity. Until it hit you.

"You're a virgin?"

He pulled away at this, sitting up a bit on the bed and creating a small distance between the two of you.

"It's not- I've done stuff before, just not ... this. I, uh, I was waiting for you," he confessed, forcing his eyes away from your gaze.

This broke your heart, but in a good way.

If you had any remnants of doubt in your mind about his sincerity about his crush, they were gone now. He had waited. For you. He wanted you to be his first, so he waited for you to come back. He waited for you to like him again. In the same way you had never seriously dated anyone before, he waited.

"Cheol ..."

He must've misinterpreted your tone, as he continued to refuse eye contact with you, seemingly embarrassed at being a virgin for some reason.

So you took matters into your hands, grabbing onto him with a confident hand and pulling him into you once more. With some unexpected strength, you managed to switch positions with him, now straddling him as his back laid against your mattress.

Before he could question you, you kissed him again, this time with a passion you knew you could only reserve for Seungcheol. He kissed you back with equal want, making you feel like you'd reached a stage of nirvana no one had ever before. Every emotion behind the kiss was far too intense to even describe.

The rest of the exchange was almost wordless, with a few silences being filled by praise for one another. You finally sat yourself down on him, condomless, but not regretful at all for your decision. If you were to ever let anyone impale you without filter, it'd be him.

The bruises he left on your hips were accepted with delight. It was only fair, seeing as your nails also left marks on his chest. The two of you left your mark on the other; a silent way of letting the other know who they belonged to.

You bounced and ground on top of him, almost wailing at the way in which his hands guided your movements in such a desperate way. At some point you began shamelessly humping against each other, filling the space with depraved sounds of pleasure.

Cheol looked down to the spot connecting you, groaning upon seeing the wetness seeping from your cunt, but decidedly bringing a hand towards your mound in order to toy with your clit. The arch of your back and extra tightness of your cunt were enough for his orgasm to approach more rapidly than planned.

"With me," he rasped, "Cum with me ... Need your first time to be with me. Just like this."

You barely registered his words. Your eyes were already rolled back, and your back arched almost to the point of breaking. Your toes completely curled and your nails digging into his reddened chest. But you understood, and your body acted accordingly, bringing you into orgasm as he softly counted you down, leading to an almost perfectly synchronized high.

A few moments of comfortable silence (sans the heavy breathing) went by before Seungcheol carefully pulled out of you with a low groan and did his best at cleaning you up with some kleenex near your bed. He gave you a soft peck after he was done, settling the two of you under the covers and held you in his arms.

"Always wanted this part too."

"Hmm?"

"To hold you like this", he clarified, smiling down at you.

Blushing involuntarily, you agreed, cuddling further into his warm chest, leading him to softly run his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner.

"I meant everything I said. I'll always regret treating you the way I did. There's no reason why you should, but I hope you'll forgive me," he sounded pained at his own words, likely feeling genuine hatred for the way in which he behaved during your early teenage years.

You pulled away from his chest, creating a small distance between you so you could look into his eyes properly.

"Seungcheol, I ... I love you," you started, "And I forgive you. I was wrong to judge you so harshly for not liking me the way I wanted you to back then. I'm sorry for letting my pride get in the way. I shouldn't have iced you out after I got over you. It was the only way at the time to protect myself from the rejection and-"

"Stop," he went to hold your cheeks in his hands, "You have nothing to apologize for. You forgiving me is all I wanted, and ... and knowing you feel the same is more than I was ever expecting. We'll move past all that, okay?"

"Okay," you nodded sweetly.

"Now ... Is it too soon to ask you to be official?"

"You waited until after popping my cherry to ask me out?", you laughed.

"In my defense ..."

"You have none!"

"Okay, whatever! Just say yes so Jeonghan doesn't continue to suffer through my rants about how much I like his sister," he pulled you into his arms again, returning your laughter.

"Fine! Yes! We're official," you feigned annoyance, but were unable to not mimic his own smile.

It had taken far too long, but you finally had the upper hand. He liked you. He asked you out. He was yours. The wait had been worth it.

To read short 2k word continuation u can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, penetrative sex, deprived cheol, banter with jeonghan, etc.

wc: 989 (teaser); 2009 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Okay, I need the two of you to get the hell out of my apartment."

That had been the way in which Jeonghan welcomed the two of you upon walking in on you and Seungcheol calmly watching a movie together in your shared living room.

It had now been three months since you and Seungcheol began officially dating. Since you were roommates, this also meant that you were now living with your boyfriend. Despite the fact that Cheol and your brother shared a room together (leaving you with a room of your own), Seungcheol still had the tendency of spending a few nights per week sleeping over at your room.

So far, the dynamic between the three of you hadn't changed too much. The biggest difference was that now you and Seungcheol finally developed more of a friendship than you had during the period of time between high school and college in which you had begun to ice him out in order to protect your own feelings. That, however, died down as soon as you moved in, eventually leading to your current romantic relationship with each other.

Jeonghan had been happy for you, having known that if he forced the two of you (and subsequently left you two alone in the apartment) to talk, you'd inevitably end up confessing your feelings and finally getting together. He had seen it coming since middle school, he had said. It only took about six years for his matchmaking to come into fruition, but it led to some pretty interesting slowburn – his words, not yours.

In these past three months, however, some awkward moments had arisen.

Being your brother, Jeonghan always found it uncomfortable whenever he happened to be around when you and Seungcheol would do couple activities. Seeing you hang out was fine, obviously, but a few weird instances had already left him traumatized.

So far, he had walked in on you making out a total of five times, feeling each other up over your clothes two times, Seungcheol making eyes at you seven times, had come across your discarded underwear three times, and had even walked in on you having sex once. At some point a line had to be drawn, and apparently he had chosen that to he now.

"Dude, you're the one who wanted us to get together," you argued.

"I wanted the mutual pining to stop, not to almost walk in on my sister getting railed every other day. Leave!," he said, though he simply sat down on the couch, forcibly creating a wedge between you and Cheol.

"Let's just go to your room, babe," Seungcheol got up, taking your hand while giving Jeonghan a dirty look, "Nuance," he grumbled.

"You're the nuance," responded Jeonghan, though already immersed with the popcorn and TV he had stolen from you.

Seungcheol led you to your room, closing the door behind you and instantly turning to you.

"Hi, baby," he whispered, holding you close to him.

"Hi," you giggled at him.

He leaned down to kiss you, his hands on the small of your back and pressing you up against him. His lips were basically on yours before Jeonghan's sudden voice made the two of you jump back in surprise.

"Don't have sex! I swear to God, if I hear the two of you having sex one more time, I'm evicting you! Just sleep like normal people!," he had yelled from the living room.

He had a bit of a point. The walls were relatively thin here, and you weren't exactly quiet when you had sex.

Seungcheol groaned and buried his face in your neck, "Baby, will you still love me if I kill your brother?"

"I'll love you even more," you pouted.

He snickered, removing his head from your neck and giving you a singular peck on your lips, "C'mon, let's go to sleep."

The two of you had initially thought that Jeonghan's complaint about you having sex had been a fluke. You believed that maybe he was stressed that day and that he hadn't meant what he said when he stated that he did not want the two of you to sleep together anymore. However, his words proved to be more literal throughout the following week.

Any time the two of you were so much as together, Jeonghan would groan and complain, saying that if he caught the two of you doing anything less than PG, he would cause 'any trouble possible to stop it' (his own words). It was beginning to frustrate you, but your frustration could not compare to that of Seungcheol's.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm really doing it this time," he said decidedly, hearing Jeonghan's incessant attempts to interrupt whatever was going on behind your closed door.

"Babe-"

"I just want to have sex with you! It's been over a week since I've had you, I'm going insane", he pulled at his scalp.

"Yeah, I know, but he just-"

"Babe, I don't think you understand. I'm hard every day. Even seeing you gets me going by now. I can't do this anymore! Any time I try to touch you, he's there somehow!"

The manic look in his eyes spoke for itself. And it was true. Seungcheol's constant blue balling this past week and a half had him growing aroused at the mere sight of you in shorts. It was flattering, but it was beginning to affect you too. Knowing how badly he wanted you made you weak at the knees, causing the two of you to grow incredibly frustrated at your brother's antics.

You realized now that maybe you shouldn't have been so liberal in sleeping together while living with your brother. You should have known he would snap sooner or later, no matter how much he had rooted for the two of you to get together.

You wondered how this would end up playing out, because the two of you were already beyond breaking.

...

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prettiestlovergirl · 2 months

Text

PRETTY PLEASE

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; princess!reader; fingering; begging; period sex; best friend! luke castellan; loser! luke castellan.

a/n: period sex with your down bad best friend luke hehe. is this technically loser luke? idk tbh, you tell me. this is a quick one, but oh well. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

you were in agony today.

you'd just started your period and the beginning was always the worst in your case. you'd taken the day off from camp activities to stay and wallow in bed with your heating pad and abundance of pillows.

right now, it was about midday, so the rest of your siblings were all out doing their activities. you laid down right on your plush heating pad in an oversized t-shirt and some panties. you gently massaged your skin as you researched some other way to try and ease your cramps.

you'd been in the middle of an article about how orgasms can help with the pain when your best friend, luke castellan, walked into your cabin with a small bag in his arms. he always brought you snacks and drinks from the hermes cabin contraband stash.

he was coming in to check on you while the rest of his cabin finished up their archery lesson with the apollo kids. he liked to come and check on you, make sure you had absolutely everything you needed like ibuprofen and water.

"luke! thank the gods, i need your help!" you stated, looking at him over your shoulder as you hugged a pillow. your eyes were watery, and your pouty lower lip was quivering from the amount of pain you'd been in all day.

"course, princess, what's up?" he asked instantly, setting your bag of snacks down as he walked up to you. of course, despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but blush at the sight of your panties and bare thighs.

"so, i was googling more ways to ease cramps, cause they're soso bad, n it said that orgasms can help, but but i just got my nails done so i can't do it myself." you babbled, holding your hand out to him so he could see your freshly manicured nails.

"oh.. s-so what do you need me to do?" luke questioned, clearing his throat to disguise the fact that he was kind of freaking out at hearing you talk about touching yourself so openly.

"i need you to make me cum." you stated, sticking your lower lip out in an even bigger pout as you practically begged him. "it hurts so bad luke, pretty please?" you whined, batting your teary lashes.

"o-okay, yeah, sure." he nodded. he already struggled with telling you no, but now that you had tear-stained cheeks and were in visible pain? it was practically impossible.

so now here you were, folded over pillows with your heating pad still pressing against you. your panties were on the floor next to luke as his hands spread you open gently. he still couldn't believe this was happening, that you had begged him to help ease your pain.

he used both of his thumbs to gently stroke your pussy walls, not really minding the blood splattered on your folds. he'd been at camp for years; he could handle varying amounts of blood.

you whimpered softly as his thumbs moved, spreading the wetness and moisture around to make this as painless as possible for you. "luke, hurry..." you begged, gently resting your chin down on a pillow as his thumbs stroked you.

"relax, 'm getting there...." he reassured, gently pushing a single finger inside of you and instantly feeling just how tight you were around the one digit. "fuck..." you gasped, moaning softly at the feeling of his long finger inside you.

"you're uh, really tight, princess." he murmured, gently pumping his finger in and out of you while he brought his other hand down to rub your clit. "i know!" you whined, bucking your hips a bit in a childish pout.

"relax, relax, it's okay, you know i got you..." he tried to reassure, rubbing your swollen, puffy clit gently to try and ease your pain before slipping a second finger into you.

"m-move a little faster, please." you begged, gripping your sheets a little tighter as he started to move faster like you asked him to. you'd never actually tried to touch yourself while on your period, so you had no idea just how sensitive you'd be.

luke continued to pump his two fingers in and out of your wet hole, biting his lip gently at the soft squelching sounds. never once had he imagined he'd be doing this for you, but he certainly wasn't complaining. he liked to help you.

"'m gonna cum!" you whimpered, biting your lip roughly as he sped his fingers up just a little more until you came on his fingers, sinking down onto your pillows as you relished in the dulling of your pain.

you panted softly, already far too overstimulated from just the one orgasm. you happily collapsed on your sea of pillows, closing your eyes for some momentary relief.

luke started to pull his fingers out but you whined, instantly shaking your head. "leave them! i-it helps. lay with me, please?" you begged, turning once again to flash him your big puppy dog eyes and giving him a big pout.

"alright, alright, move over. you never have to beg me, princess."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#luke castellan #pjo luke #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #mwah <3

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wonbin-truther · 13 days

Text

casual jaemin x afab! reader - 6.6k words warnings- smut, jaemin can't commit for shit, some jeno x reader, jaemin calls the reader a slut, drinking and smoking, oral (m and f), fingering, pet names (princess, pretty girl, babe), overstimulation, unprotected sex

"not that loser again," chaewon groans as she watches you check your pinging phone for the millionth time. you rolled your eyes at her as karina scoffed, "girl, he's for the streets. please just block him and move on. you're hot. you can pull someone new easily." you gave them a sad smile as you packed up your things, "i have to go." you sped walked into the parking lot where jaemin was leaning against his car. when he spotted your figure he got into his car and started up the engine. you opened the passenger seat and threw your bag into the backseat. "hey jaem," you settled into the passenger seat of the car. you were quick to notice the bright pink acrylic nail on the door. you sank down into the seat as he gave you a kiss on the cheek and sped off towards his house.

"isn't that the girl you always fuck on the dorm couch?" jeno asked jaemin. he turned around and followed his gaze to your figure across the room. you were pressed up against the wall with a man in front of you. he recognized the 'fuck me' eyes you were giving the man as he was all too close to your lips. jeno patted his arm, "man, if you're jealous maybe you need to ask her out. "no, it's just casual."

casual is the word that rung in your ears since the day you met jaemin at a party for his frat. he had just fucked you dumb as the party echoed downstairs. your legs were shaky as you tried to get yourself decent, but as you looked over at him, you saw him throwing his shirt on casually. his eyes locked on yours before he left the room, "no attachments. remember, this is just casual."

obviously, the two of you had different versions of causal. casual to you wasn't this fancy dinner with his parents. they sat across from you as you sat next to jaemin. "honey are you okay?" his mom asked. you smiled and nodded the best you could with jaemins index and middle finger dragging along your walls under the table. "i-im fine. can i just excuse myself to the bathroom?" you asked. they nodded, concern filling there eyes as you fixed your dress and quickly ran off. "son, go check on her," his dad waved off jaemin who happily stood up and left behind you. that's how you ended up bent over his sink as he moved in and out of you. your moans were muffled by his hand over your mouth as he pounded repeatedly into you. for a moment, you forgot there was nothing casual about being fucked against the bathroom counter as his parents sat out there completely unaware. the thoughts were quickly pushed out by your incoming orgasm. jaemin fucked you through your release and then came inside of you. he waited for you to fix yourself up before leaving the bathroom. you stared at the makeup running down your face and the strands of your hair that stood up. "it's just casual." you reminded yourself.

you were cuddled up to jaemin's chest as he played with your hair. nothing had happened; he just called you over and pulled you into his arms. "you're pretty," he said, kissing the top of your head. you smiled and looked up at him, "so are you." "we make quite an attractive duo, don't we," he left a soft kiss on your lips. no matter how sweet the lingering taste of his chapstick was, it wouldn't overpower the bitterness you felt as he left kisses on your lips as if it were nothing. he always did it. he would kiss you with the passion of 100 men or leave sweet kisses on your lips as though he were in love with you. you hated the soft kisses more than anything. with every feather like peck, you imagined the white picket fence house and two kids but were soon pulled down to reality.

you were at yet another frat party with chaewon and karina. you hated them so much, especially after meeting jaemin. the reason why stood about 6 feet in front of you with his tongue down another girl's throat. "i'm surprised you haven't gotten mono yet," chaewon handed you a red solo cup filled with some mystery liquid. "you need to move on already. he's a bum," karina groaned. "he's nice," you could feel the tears brimming in your eyes. "do not cry over that loser," chaewon grabbed you harshly by the shoulders. "what you need to do is get some non diseased dick and show him what he's missing by playing around." you nodded, downed whatever was in the drink, and made your way through the crowd, knowing exactly who your target was going to be.

naturally you had met jeno within the first couple of weeks fucking around with jaemin. you knew jeno was attracted to you but had some kind of bro code going on. you were quick to find him sitting on the couch, smoking a blunt. you sat in the empty spot next to him, making sure to get as close as possible. he adjusted so that his arm was around you, pulling you into his side. "you saw him, didn't you?" he pressed the roll to your lips and you happily took a hit. "yea. it's nothing serious between us, so it's whatever." "so that's why you came to press on me? because it's whatever," he let out a low chuckle. you put your head on his shoulder, already feeling the weed mix with the alcohol in your system. "if he can go around with other girls then I can be with other guys. it's only fair," you pressed a kiss to jeno's jawline. "careful princess," his hand moved down to grip your waist as you continued to leave open mouth kisses and marks around his neck. he swiftly pulled you into his lap, so you were straddling him. you took a quick glance up and locked eyes with jaemin who looked like he was about to kill jeno. you gave him a smirk before you got up from jeno's lap, taking him by the hand and pulling him upstairs.

jeno watched from his spot on the bed as you cried into your hands. "i just want him to want me like i want him." you were pacing back and forth around the room. "yn that's how he is. did no one warn you?" he replied. "they did and i'm a dumbass for fucking around with that loser, but..." you let out a scream that you hoped was drowned out by the music downstairs. "you're in love with him," jeno laughed. you threw yourself face down onto the bed next to him, "i hope his dick breaks." jeno let out a louder laugh. "i hope so too. being his roommate is rough. maybe if it broke, he wouldn't have a girl over every night." "you're so not helping right now." you got up and gave a light punch to his arm. "if it makes you feel better he's never been as consistent as he is with you." you rolled your eyes and said, "Yeah, that makes me feel so much better. a new girl every night makes me feel a million times better." "just tell him you like him. trust me, he doesn't even know it yet, but he likes you back," jeno stood up and stretched. "i'll tell him we fucked if it makes you feel better." you stood up and followed behind him, grabbing his hand, "yeah we can tell him that."

contact with jaemin after that night had been minimal. "don't tell me you're stressing over that dumbass," karina sighed loudly. you were sitting beside her, jumping at every notification. "i'm not," you lied right through your teeth. "i saw you and jeno go upstairs at the party. why not get one over on him and start fucking his friend?" she stood up from her seat next to you. "maybe. good luck on the test," you pulled up jeno's contact and sent him a quick 'jaemin there?' text.

you paced back and forth in jeno's room. "is this going to become a reoccurring thing?" he asked. jeno was sitting at his desk shirtless for whatever reason and doing what looked like calculus homework. "no but why won't he text me?" you punched him repeatedly on the back. he spun around, grabbing your hands, "he's jealous, that's why." as jeno said that, the door swung open. "hey bro, have you seen my-" the clear voice of jaemin was cut off mid-sentence when he saw the two of you. he quickly walked out of the room as you freed yourself from jeno's grasp. "well now he really thinks we're together," jeno said. you stood there frozen for a moment before throwing yourself onto jenos bed, kicking and screaming into the sheets, "he hates me!" "he doesn't. he's just jealous. he probably hates me, though."

you rummaged around in your drawer, looking for the white lacy bra you had taken a liking to. "what the fuck, where is it?" you mumbled to yourself as you took out everything from your drawer. you sat on the floor with your back against the dresser, thinking back to where it could possibly be. if you could see your complexation right now, your face would probably be drained of color. you pushed yourself off the floor and made your way to your bed. you sat on the soft white sheets as you shakily picked up your phone. you stared at jaemin's contact.

hey jaemin ik we havent talked in a while and you're probably not too happy with me but do you have that white bra i really like

as soon as you sent the text, you practically threw your phone to the other side of the room. it took 15 minutes for a notification ping to come from your phone.

i think so. come over

you couldn't fight the smile forming on your face as you got up, grabbed your bag, and rushed out of the house.

you knew the directions to jaemin's frat house better than you knew your way around your childhood home. you rang the doorbell and bounced on your heels as you waited for someone to answer the door. you were met with the face of mark lee. "dude it's been so long," he said as he pulled you in for a hug. you returned the hug with a huge smile on your face, "it really has." out of everyone in the frat, mark had always been your favorite. you two became close through your late night cravings when you stayed the night with jaemin. mark was always up late, strumming his guitar in the living room as you made ramen. you would listen to him play, eventually growing into you eating in the living room as he told you stories about Canada and explained the meanings of each song he played on his guitar. "Is that yn?" another voice piped up. you pulled away from mark to look in the direction but were engulfed in another hug. you could recognize from the grasp the man had on you that it was haechan. he was another member of the frat you had a natural gravitation to. he had been your lab partner in your first year biology class but quickly became a close friend due to the amount of time you spent around the frat. mark and haechan were also the first to warn you about jaemin. you pulled away as he asked, "why are you here?" "why do you think?" you sighed out as you walked farther into the house. mark nodded, "figured. he's in his room." "I could treat you better. you need to leave him already," haechan whined. you just laughed as you walked up the stairs to his room.

you knocked on the door and pushed it open, not waiting for a response. jaemin was sitting on his bed but stood up when you walked in and said, "it's in the top drawer." you went over and opened it. it was the first thing at the top, along with a lipgloss you knew wasn't yours. you sighed as you picked up the bra and closed the drawer. you turned around and dropped the bra, nearly jumping back at the sight of jaemin so close to you. you tried to take a step back but bumped into the dresser. he held your chin with his thumb and index finger and lifted your head up until your eyes met his. "so jeno huh?" he smirked. you wanted nothing but to kiss the smug look off of his face, but you stayed strong, just nodding. "i'm not yours, jaemin," you moved away from his grasp and tried to move aside but he trapped you with his arms. "oh yea?" "yea. i was never yours to begin with."

jaemin moved some of your hair behind your ear. "you have quite the attitude now, princess." you could feel your resolve weakening with every inch he moved closer. all you could do was stare up at him. "no words now?" his nose was practically knocking into yours. you decided to close the gap, kissing him with as much force as you could muster. your hands found their way into his hair as his found their way to your hips. he picked you up and moved you to the bed, breaking the kiss. he was quick to move on top of you and pin your hands above you so you couldn't move. you squirmed in his grasp. "such a slut. fucking my friend and now wanting me?" he tsked. his kisses trailed down your neck to your collarbone. you let out whimpers and moans as he left love bites and hickeys all over. "jaem the door," you tried your best to free yourself of his grasp but his grip only got tighter. "what? don't want jeno to see how good I can fuck you?" he let go of your wrists so he could take off your top and bra. he was quick to rid himself of his own shirt. "gonna be a good girl?" he asked, leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

the kiss left you unable to speak, only nodding and staring at him. "use your words pretty girl," he tapped your cheek lightly. "gonna be a good girl," you whimpered out. his hands had found their way into your pants and his fingers were hovering over the wet patch on your panties. "does jeno get you this worked up," jaemin's fingers moved the thin material out of the way and slipped into you. "only you," you threw your head out as he moved in and out. he could feel the way you were clenching around him as he hit the gummy spot inside you with his index and middle finger. jaemin knew your body better than you knew your own so he could tell from the way you clenched around him you were close to your orgasm. he pulled his fingers out of you and you stared at him wide-eyed. "dont you think you deserve some punishment for being a slut? fucking my best friend and then coming back here. what would jeno think, pretty girl?" he pulled off your bottoms and moved down so that he was eye to eye with your clit. "jaem please," you whined as he kissed the inside of your thighs."have patience, princess," he said as he kissed your wet clit.

he flicked the bundle of nerves with his tongue as he started to suck and lick at it. jaemin always ate you out like a starved man. at first, you had been hesitant to let him after the bad experiences you had with your ex boyfriend but jaemin was quick to reassure you. you could feel your release coming quick again and you were a little embarrassed. you realized he was under the impression jeno had fucked you but in reality you hadn't been with another person since the last time you were with jaemin, which was around a month now. "close," you managed to get out, pulling at his hair and arching your back. "let go, princess. i got you," he pulled away for a moment to say but quickly got back to work. with those words, you allowed yourself to release all on his tongue. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit, overstimulating you. you pulled at his hair as you begged him to stop. it fell upon deaf ears as he continued to eat you out. jaemin knew if you really meant it, you would call out the safe word you two had made up around your second meeting. he continued to eat you out through your second release. he pulled away and made his way to your lips.

you pulled off his pants and boxers. "ready to repay the favor?" jaemin asked and sat on the edge of the bed. you nodded and rushed to your feet, only to drop to your knees in front of him. he tapped your lips with his cock in his hand and you happily opened up, taking his tip into your mouth. you could already taste the salty precum as you took more and more of him into your mouth. he threw his head back and let out low groans as you moved your head up and down his length. jaemin was never shy about the noises he made. it was another shock you got after being with him for the first time. he grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed your head down until you took in all of him. you gagged and dug your nails into his thighs as your throat adjusted to him. he waited a second before using the grip on you hair to move you again. you closed your eyes and focused on not gaging as he continued to use you. "eyes open, princess," he said between groans. you opened your eyes and stared up at him. the sight alone had him faltering in his grasp, allowing you to move on your own again. he came down your throat, and you pulled off him with a pop.

you climbed back onto the bed and laid down. jaemin moved on top of you and lined himself up, "ready? he never asked before he fucked you, so you hesitated a little before nodding. "we don't have to. i mean you can leave now if you want," jaemin was fumbling over his words as he rushed to get off of you. "please just fuck me already," you said, grabbing his hand. he smiled and kissed your nose, moving on top of you again and thrusting into you. he bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to him. you nodded, and he started to move. your nails dug into his back, and he lifted your legs to allow himself to move deeper into you. "jeno didn't fuck you this good huh, princess?" he said as he quickened his pace. "no one like you, jaem," you babbled out. you continued to babble his name as though it was the only word you knew. he hit your g-spot repeatedly, making you clench around him. your release hit you line a train, shaking and clenching around him. he was quickly behind you, opting to let out inside of you. he collapsed onto the empty spot next to you as both of you caught your breath. after a few minutes of silence, he broke it, "you should leave before jeno gets here."

"and I didn't even get my stupid bra I hate him," you screamed from your bed. karina sat on her bed across from you and chaewon was on the desk chair. "i cant believe you," chaewon groaned. "he's never made me leave right after sex before. what does he think i am? a piece of meat?" you cried. "yes!" the two yelled in unison. "you need to ignore him. block him on everything. he's no good for you," karina tossed her pillow at you. "i can't" you watched as the pillow dropped right in front of your bed. "give me ill do it," chaewon walked over to you and held her hand out. maybe a jaemin cleanse is what you need. you put your phone into her hand and fell back onto your bed. when she handed you the phone back, his number had been deleted, and any trace of him in your life was gone.

"she blocked me," jaemin yelled out. everyone around the table looked up at him. "which one?" chenle asked. there was some snickers from the other guys. "i'm not some common whore; what do you mean, which one," jaemin glared at the younger boy. jeno started laughing, hitting the table as he nearly choked on his food. jaemin switched his glare from chenle to jeno, "anyways. yn blocked me." "it's about time," haechan clapped. "it was bound to happen," jisung patted jaemin on the back. "you're all my biggest haters. i've done nothing wrong," jaemin went to check your instagram and noticed he was also blocked there."dude i mean you have led her on for a while now. girls are always blocking you, so why does it matter," mark asked. "it's different," jaemin sighed and placed his phone down. "how is it different?" the older male asked. "it just is." "so you like her?" jisung asked from beside him. "what happened?" renjun walked into the room, sitting on the other side of jaemin. "his crush blocked him," haechan responded. "oh yn?" renjun turned to jaemin who groaned and buried his head in his hands. "well dude, you fumbled, so now you need to find a way to get her back," chenle said as he stood up, excusing himself from the room.

it was hard to avoid jaemin when it seemed like he was everywhere you went. "he's doing it on purpose. just ignore him," chaewon said as she picked at her sandwich. "im trying, but it's hard when he's literally everywhere." the nerves from trying to avoid jaemin all day had severely affected your appetite. any glimpse of him had you feeling nauseous from anxiety. "think with your brain, not your pussy," karina scolded you. "what if i gave him one last chance," you whined. "be serious. he's been on his last chance for 10 chances now," karina hit you in the back of the head. "what good does he serve you anyway? and dont mention his dick," chaewon's question made you think for a moment. "see nothing," the black haired girl said. "he's nice to me," you pouted. "no he's nice to your vagina." "i need air," you said, standing up and walking out the cafeteria doors.

the school's campus had a lot of greenery. you always loved walks around the campus because of it. however you had no time to enjoy it as an all-too-familiar person walked up to you. you tried to walk faster, but he grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place. "please just talk to me," jaemin begged. you were about to give in, but decided it was finally time to stand your ground to the man, "let me go." "please. i didnt do anything wrong; please talk to me," jaemin begged. the sentence made your anger completely wash over you. "you didn't do anything wrong?" you laughed. "you never do anything wrong. leading me on for months is completely fine. so is treating me like your girlfriend and then telling me there's nothing serious between us? oh also fucking other girls but getting mad at me for even talking to another guy is completely okay too." "you had sex with jeno and i didn't say anything," jaemin tried to rebuttal, but you just scoffed at him. "i didn't. i didn't have sex with anyone. i went to that room and complained about you the whole time because i like you, jaemin. i've liked you since the moment i met you. but you're too much of an idiot to even realize what's going on in front of you. i'm done with your games, jaemin and i'm done being just another body," you turned on your heel and sped away from him. jaemin stood frozen in his place. the only thought that ran through his brain was that he fucked up big time.

you sat on your bed, crying into your hands. you sobbed from the anger you felt. his words echoed in your head. did he seriously think he did nothing wrong? did he really think screwing with your feelings was okay? you also sobbed from the sadness of it all. you missed him. you missed sitting on his bed as he helped you with chemistry homework. you missed the late night talks about the future and your lives, but the memories were overtaken by the anger of how you were just another girl to him.

"why did you tell me you two had sex?" jaemin yelled at jeno who was seated on his own bed. "i didn't tell you shit. you jumped to that conclusion on your own. all i said was, i went upstairs with her," jeno watched the brown haired man pace around the room, the scene all too familiar from the last time you were over to talk to jeno. "i'm such an asshole," jaemin groaned. "glad you've realized," jeno said, standing up and patting jaemin on the back. "it's going to take a while, but she'll come around. just don't screw it up in the meantime. which means stop fucking random girls every night." jaemin nodded in response. "i have class, but i'll try to talk to her after," and with that final word, jaemin was now alone in the shared bedroom. he laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. he definitely fucked up big time.

"babe whats wrong?" karina had walked into the room and was met with your figure bundled in layers of blankets and crying. "maybe i messed up," you wiped your eyes and moved over so she could sit on the edge of the bed. "messed up what?" she pushed some of the hair from in front of your face back. "with jaemin. i think i messed up," you cried harder as you told her what happened on the walk. she let out a soft sigh and pulled you into a hug, "listen. me and chae might give you shit about him, but if you're sitting here sobbing over him, then maybe there's things we don't know. if you like him this much then go for it. we'll support you." you sobbed into her shoulder and clung to her. "wanna go get ice cream from the cafeteria?" she asked. you pulled away and nodded.

it had been a week without contact with jaemin. to say it was hard on you was an understatement. you felt too embarrassed to unblock him and dm him like a normal person but every time you saw him in the cafeteria, you would feel a pull to talk to him. however whenever you started making your way over, he would walk away as if he had a fifth sense for your presence. "don't look now," chenle nudged jaemin at the table. jaemin looked up from his phone slightly and was met with you laughing with your friends at the table across from his. he didn't say anything and just looked back down at his phone. "she still has you blocked?" haechan asked. jaemin chose not to respond. the answer was already clear. haechan just groaned, "why can't you two just make up already?" I miss having her around." "no you miss someone doing the dishes," jeno sat down next to jaemin. "listen you just need to talk to her," jeno said. "i can't. she blocked my number and my instagram. how am i supposed to talk to her," jaemin put his phone down and put his head in his hands. "like a normal person. just walk up to her," mark chimed in. all jaemin could do was let out a groan and put his head down on the table.

it had now been a month since you cut jaemin out of your life. after that first week of regret, you started feeling better and better. you felt less on edge as the days went on. that's probably how you ended up at a frat party with chaewon and karina, who disappeared within the first few seconds. haechan had found you a few minutes into standing against a wall and pulled you into the kitchen, where the makeshift bar was set up. it had started with haechan making you do one shot with him. then mark walked in and you did one with the three of them. by the time you knew it, you had lost count of how much was in your system. you were stumbling around until you bumped into someone's broad chest. you looked up, and your eyes started to glaze over as your gaze met jaemins. you felt a tear slip down your cheek as the shocked look on his face only grew. you tried to get an apology out and move away from him but nothing came out. you tried to move back but stumbled over your feet. a strong arm wrapped around your waist, and a soft sigh was let out, "lets get you upstairs."

you were situated on jaemin's bed as he rummaged around for spare clothes for you. he pulled out an old t-shirt and pajama pants and laid them down next to you. "i'll turn around and close my eyes," jaemin said, facing the wall and shut his eyes, as to respect your privacy. it was a little ironic seeing as how many times jaemin saw you in your natural state. there was some rustling before you spoke up in a hushed tone, "can you help, please?" the quietness of your voice was something jaemin had never heard before. if it weren't for the silence of the room and the door drowning out the party downstairs, he would have never heard you. he turned around knelt on the floor in front of you. he slipped off your shoes and placed them on the floor next to the bed. he then undid your pants and slid them off you, replacing them with the pajama pants. he stood up and smiled as you lifted your arms up for him. he was quick to replace your disregarded shirt with the new one. as he folded the clothes and set them on the dresser, you spoke up again, "please dont leave me." your voice was shaky, and it broke jaemin to a million pieces to hear you so torn down because of him. "are you sure?" he turned to face you. "i need you to stay," a tear slipped down your cheek. he moved to pull you into a tight hug as you sobbed into his chest. you had fistfuls of his shirt as he stroked your hair, "i'm not going to leave, princess. not again. i promise." he whispered to you. eventually the sobs got quieter, and your breathing evened out. he laid you down on the bed, covering you with the cover. he was about to get up and move to jeno's bed until he realized you still had a handful of his shirt. so there he lay in his jeans and t-shirt with you cuddled into his chest and his arms wrapped around you as if you would fade to dust at any moment.

you woke up with a throbbing headache, but that was the least of your worries after you tried to shift around but couldn't move. you were too scared to open your eyes but you found the courage after you realized your arm was falling asleep. the first thing you saw was a chest. you followed it up and saw jaemin's sleeping face. you tensed up for a bit and quickly scanned your body, but you found yourself completely dressed. you relaxed, trying not to wake him up as you slowly wiggled out of his arms. his grip only gor tighter as his eyes fluttered open. he had a soft, peaceful look on his face as he tried to adjust to his surroundings. once he realized what was going on, he practically jumped out of bed. "i'm so sorry. i meant to sleep in jeno's bed i forgot," the apologies stumbled out of his mouth as you sat up and let out a laugh. "it's alright. we didn't do anything, right?" "no. of course not. you were drunk," jaemin ran his hand through his hair and began to fidget with his fingers. "we need to talk," you two both said at the same time.

"you first. i probably did enough talking last night," you could feel how sore your eyes were and assumed you had been crying, which also took you to the conclusion you let something spill. "yea you did and i'm sorry for being such an asshole. if you dont want to forgive me it's okay but i'm so sorry. you're the best thing to happen to me and i don't know how i fucked it up so bad," jaemin sat on the bed in front of you. "i forgave you a long time ago," you cupped jaemins cheeks in your hands, wiping the tears he didn't even know where coming out. "i'm so serious about you this time. please just give me another chance. ill treat you how you should be treated," jaemin put his forehead against yours. "and how should i be treated?" you asked. "like a work of art," jaemin's lips were ghosting over yours. "well show me how serious you are," you closed the space between you two.

the kiss was gentle, unlike all the others you two had shared. this one was slow, and nothing felt rushed. you could taste the fading vanilla of his chapstick as his lips moved rhythmically against yours. you pulled away but moved back with your arms wrapped around his neck. you pushed him back, and his hands met your waist. he pulled away, "we don't have to." "i want to," you said, moving on top of him to straddle him. "you sure?" "i've never been more sure in my life." he locked your lips again as his hands moved underneath your shirt. you broke the kiss so he could lift it over your head. he flipped the two of you over, taking off his shirt and then fumbling with your bra. he left open mouth kisses down your neck and towards your chest. he pulled away, "you're so beautiful." you could feel your face going red. this wasn't the first time he'd called you beautiful, but somehow it felt different. "i love you," the words slipped off your tongue as if it was a natural statement. jaemin smiled and kissed your forehead, "love you too." you smiled and started to pull at the button on his jeans. he helped you take them off along with his boxers and then took off your own pants and underwear.

he pecked your lips before sliding into you. the two of you let out matching groans as you fluttered around him. although you had told everyone you moved on from jaemin in the month the two of you weren't together, you found it hard to have sex without thinking of him so the stretch felt almost unnatural. you dug your nails into his back, eliciting another loud groan from him. "you can move," you said. he nodded and started to rock back and forth. he kept a gentle rhythmic pace. it was different from all the other times when he would drill into you with no care, moving hard and unsteady, just looking to chase his own high. he kissed you again, and he moved a little faster when you started to squeeze around him. you kissed him back, moaning into the kiss. you were close and he knew that. his hand traveled downward, rubbing circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb. you were first to come, leaving a white ring around his cock. he fucked you through the orgasm, pulling out and coming on your stomach when he felt it hit him.

he stood up, throwing on sweats and walked out. you threw your head back and sighed, thinking this was the same as all the other times you had been with jaemin. you were about to get up and gather your things when jaemin walked back in with a towel. he gave you a confused look and went over onto the bed. "lay back down. i got you," he said, cleaning you off with the towel as you let your head fall back onto the pillow. "i thought you were going to leave or kick me out like you always do," you were quiet, and jaemin could sense the sadness in your voice. "i told you yn. i'm serious about you. i want this to work," he threw the towel into his laundry bin and found an oversized shirt for you. he slipped it onto you and then laid next to you. you were hesitant to move closer to him, but he pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. "i want you to trust me. i know i haven't been that trustworthy for a while but i need you to believe me." you looked up at him with a small smile on your face, "i trust you. i've trusted you for so long already."

you sat on your bed, recounting the events to karina and chaewon. both of them were speechless by the end of it. "so what happened after?" chaewon broke the silence. "we took a nap and when we woke up we had a talk on how we wanted to take things slow," you were giggling and kicking your feet on the bed. "even if we dont like jaemin that much we support you. this is the first time i've seen you come back from a hookup with that man with the weird post sex glow," karina said, making chaewon nod. "how do i usually look," you tilted your head, staring at the two across the room. after a moment of thinking chaewon responded, "like a bus hit you." you were about to argue with her until your phone lit up. you were quick to pick it up, seeing it was a text from jaemin.

meet you in the park in 10?

you were quick to text back

yea see you there

the days flew by and soon enough, they became weeks. you were walking hand in hand with jaemin around the dimly lit campus. he suddenly paused, making you stop and turn towards him with confusion written all over your face. "be my girlfriend," he was practically yelling from nerves. "jaem quiet; it's nighttime," you scolded him, your voice hushed. you then processed what he had asked you, "wait what?" "be my girlfriend," he repeated. you tackled him into a hug, kissing all over his face. he caught you in his arms, stumbling back a little, "is that a yes?" you nodded and left a kiss on his lips, which he happily returned. so much for being casual.

#nct jaemin #jaemin imagines #na jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin #nct smut #nct dream #nct scenarios #na jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin drabbles #nct dream smut #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios

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starry-bi-sky · 5 months

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More clone^2 snippets

Snippet 12: hands

Lancer: dear god, Mr. Fenton, what happened to your hands!?

Danny, had a run in with Damian’s katana and both of his hands have stitches: um… cooking… accident. I can’t use them that much currently

Lancer, pale: right, yes, of course. You may have one of your friends right you notes until they are properly healed

————

Snippet 13: more hands (and dash is a dick)

Dash: I bet Fenturd’s just faking his hand injury to get out of doing class work. Getting out of classwork is my thing! I’ll show him.

Danny, minding his own business:

Dash, yanks on his fingers harshly: Freak! Did you think you could copy me and het away with it?

Danny, his stitches torn from the way Dash grabbed him: you’re the last person I’d want to copy Dash, let go.

Dash: we all know you’re faking the hand injury, there’s no way you’d— you’d—

(Danny’s hands are bleeding, and starting to smear on Dash’s hands.)

Danny, (fake) calmly: you were saying, Dash?

Dash: I - uh—

Danny: thanks for opening them up, jerk.

—————

Snippet 14: Danny is Bruce’s Clone and Bruce Wayne has been hottest man alive for many consecutive years

The A-Lister Girls are at a sleepover

Star: Never have I ever had a crush on Danny Fenton

All girls (including Star): puts a finger down

A-List Girl: Paulina put your finger down

Paulina, begrudgingly putting a finger down: he shouldn’t count - he’s a loser!

A-List Girl: he’s still the cutest boy in our grade. Put your damn finger down.

—————

Snippet 15: unstoppable force vs immovable object

(In the Clone Danny Au, since Danny is not a ghost Valerie doesn’t see Phantom as the guy who ruined her life, but a very exhausted vigilante trying his best. They’re allies with conflicting ideologies on how to handle ghosts.)

Red Huntress: are you kidding me, Phantom? You dragged a kid in with you to fight ghosts? I thought you were better than that

Wraith, offended: *opening his mouth*

Phantom, tiredly putting a hand over Damian’s mouth: *in ASL + one hand* you don’t think I tried to stop him?

Red Huntress: he’s a child, Phantom, how hard could it be?

Phantom: looks down at Wraith

Wraith: looks up at Phantom with the eyes of a hundred enraged bulls

Phantom, kneeling down to Wraith and pulling his mask up to show his mouth: *whispering inaudibly*

Wraith: *takes off in the opposite direction*

Phantom, standing up to Red: *ASL* well? go get him

————

Snippet 16: identity

(Danny and Damian are sitting on a rooftop, in the middle of a break from patrol. Damian sits between Danny’s legs and Danny is slumped over Damian’s back.)

Damian, playing with Danny’s fingers:

Danny: who are you?

Damian: Damian.

Danny: who are you not?

Damian: Damian Wayne.

Danny: do you have to be?

Damian: no.

Danny: who do you have to be?

Damian: I just have to be me.

Danny: who are you?

Damian: I’m Damian.

Danny: good.

Damian:

Danny:

Damian: who are you?

Danny, smiling: Danny

—————

Snippet 17: long hair

(In the Clone Danny Au, Danny’s hair goes to his shoulders. I was in a GNC mood at the time the au was made and it passed on to Danny.)

Tucker: are you going to cut your hair, Danny? It’s getting long.

Danny, laying against the bed frame with Sam doing his hair: probably to get the dead ends cut off. I like it long.

Sam: I like it long too.

Tucker: you like it long because he lets you do whatever you want to it

Sam: it’s also a stand against the oppressive stereotype that men can’t have long hair and must always have it short in order to appear masculine! Danny’s showing individuality and sticking it to the patriarchy at the same time!

Danny: and because I let you do whatever you want to it.

Sam, making a punk hairdo for danny: yea that too

——————

Snippet 18: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s clone and Bruce——

Danny, getting stuff from his locker: my parents have a new ‘Fenton anti-ghost sticky bomb’ they’re working on and—

Student with a photography camera: Hey, Fenton!

Danny, looking over: what?

Student: *snaps a photo* thanks!

Student walks away

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Danny: so… um…. Is that- is that another Wes? Should I be worried?

Sam: you should be angry! He just took your picture without your consent! That’s a violation of your bodily autonomy.

Danny: we can keep an eye on it, Sam, and if it becomes an issue then I’ll report it to a teacher.

Danny: and as I was saying, I can’t wait to have to make sure that that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Danny: i love having to stay up late sabotaging my parents’ inventions. Yay…

—————

Snippet 19: Danny is Bruce’s clone and—

Wes: ranting about how Phantom = Danny and how there’s proof and he has it and—

Random Student from his photography club: you wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.

Wes: I do nOT

Student: Its okay Wes, so does literally everyone else.

—————

Snippet 20: Lookalike

Danny: the only good thing about being Bruce Wayne’s clone is that my Brucie Wayne Impression is spot on

Damian: what??

Danny: my Brucie Wayne impression. It shouldn’t be as fun as it is doing it

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dp x dc au #dpdc #dpxdc au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #danny being bruce’s clone opens up funny shenanigans that I have yet to see be used in another aus #like the fact that Bruce Wayne is Incredibly Attractive and Danny being his clone means he looks like him #and is thus ALSO very attractive to his classmates #danny having a secret club of admirers is insanely funny to me #wes weston: ranting about danny being phantom #his classmate: u have such a crush #wes: yes but NO #danny and damian have a little mantra that they repeat back at each other #to remind themselves that they are their own people #ellie gets in on it too when she’s around no worries #red huntress at wraith: child #wraith: and i took that personally fUCK YOU #damian doesnt know any asl so he currently Cant Say Shit in front of the living #he’s learning english danny will save the asl for later #this also means bby dames gets Smug bc he’s (one of) the only living person danny talks to as phantom #young children are possessive and bby dames being slightly possessive of his older brother #is very funny and very endearing to me #clone^2

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love-that-we-were-in · 1 month

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pretty as a vine (sweet as a grape)

pairing: luke castellan x reader summary: luke castellan might be everyone's favorite councilor over the summer. he might be a little too sweet for you in the fall. word count: 1.7k warnings: none

authors note: thank you to @wlntrsldler for letting me steal this concept from you even if making luke a real tried and true loser was a struggle. hope y'all enjoy!!

It was rare to see Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy without his signature smile on his face; always ready to help, always ready to please.

You’d only had a handful of conversations with Luke Castellan, passing words in the height of hectic summer heat. Most of them in the middle of the night, when all the campers should be tucked away in the cabins, but you’d take the brief moments of quiet to wander the grounds with a lit cigarette hanging off your lips.

Luke would approach you every time, always the same way, a pink flush on his cheeks and a quiet, timid voice telling you that he had to enforce the rules, that he had to send you back to your cabin because it was past curfew.

You’d roll your eyes, lick your lips, wave the smoke obscuring your view of him away playfully and promise to head back after this one. He’d nod and walk away, and you’d pretend not to notice his silhouette hidden behind one of the trees, not quite obscured enough by the lack of lighting to go wholly unnoticed, waiting for you to make your way back to where you’re supposed to be.

He was sweet, too sweet, sometimes. Making sure you were safe, that nothing bad would happen to you even after taking his supposed leave. It was cute, really, how he acted around you underneath the starlight, always so nervous and flustered, like he’d never seen a woman before. You supposed, confined to the parameters of camp for so many years, he really hadn’t seen many of them.

It’s something you carry with you this year, watching as summer fades into fall, how camp suddenly empties. You’re not sure what to make of it, how still everything seems now, how the usual noise dampens into almost nothing and you itch for the hurriedness of July to return.

You’re lucky, really, to have spent so long exploring the world beyond camp, seeing what growing up had to offer as if it were normal. A lot of the kids you see now, they haven’t experienced a half of what you have, trading high school for battling dragons at someone else’s request, and it shows each year like clockwork.

If you’re honest, hidden behind the treeline near the lake, camp makes you uneasy like this. Less busy, less extreme - walking the thin line between a place to train and a place to live - and it has you more on edge than before. It could be that you’ve grown accustomed to the bustle of the Boston streets. It might just be that Luke has been hiding just beyond view since you lit your cigarette.

“I know, I know,” you say when he finally approaches. He stumbles, familiar flush blotching the skin of his neck, climbing the tips of his ears. “Just let me finish this one.”

He nods and you wait for him to walk away, follow his usual path back into the forest. He doesn’t, standing on the damp grass nearby without saying a word, and you look at him again.

You’re used to seeing Luke Castellan in different forms - it’s part of how he lives. Nervous and unsure and so confident with a sword that it’s a little insane that he’s the same person during training as is standing in front of you now.

He’s got this little dip to his shoulders, fingers tapping against his own thigh as you stare at him. His curls are slightly longer than when summer started, curling around his ears and resting just above his brows. He’s got a sweatshirt on, dark green and oversized, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip the longer you take to look away.

“You can head back,” you say eventually, flicking ash to the ground at your feet. “I promise to be good and go straight to bed.”

It’s not meant to be anything, merely an assurance. But there’s this way Luke reacts to it, how his fingers stop tapping in favor of clenching his first, how he breathes deeper for a few breaths, how he swallows around nothing, that ignites something under your skin. Makes you want to push that little bit further.

“You really need to stop coming out after curfew,” he mumbles in the end, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his sweater. It’s soft and a little warm and you wonder if it’s the humidity or Luke himself that’s responsible. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You’re sweet, Castellan,” you crush the butt of your cigarette out, brushing past him to start the trek back to your cabin. “It’s kind of adorable.”

You hear him suck in a breath. You don’t hear his footsteps directly behind you as you walk through the foliage. You kind of wish you’d turned around to see the blush rise on his cheeks.

Maybe you will next time.

Next time doesn’t come for weeks. It gives you space to observe Luke now, when he’s being pulled in fewer directions, when there’s lower expectations. You learn that neither of those things exist where Luke is concerned; that he has this inability to not be helpful, to not put himself forward when no one else will. He somehow takes up more responsibilities as fall gets underway, smiling wide when you know you’d be stretched thin.

It’s admirable, to a point, and you want to know how he does it.

A few years ago, you convinced yourself Luke was only on when the sun shone brightest. Watching him demonstrate a throw to a young Athena kid, you think he might be the sun itself.

“Nice arm,” is what you greet him with when the little girl runs off, ball in hand. He pauses his hands where they rest on the fabric of his pants, still slightly bent at the knees from helping and lips parted as he glances up at you. “She seemed happy.”

“She just needed some help with the technique.”

He shrugs and stands to actually face you.

Mid-afternoon at camp has never really sat well with you. Always slower, sun burning and campers left to fill their own time before dinner. You’ve never really known what to do with it; Luke squints at the grounds before you as if he’s searching for who needs him next.

“Do you ever take a break?” Is what you say when the silence drags on for too long.

Luke blinks, lips parting. A group of Hephaestus kids laugh from down by the lake. You wait.

“I go to bed at midnight.”

“And what time do you wake up?” You kick at the grass below your feet, taking in how Luke stumbles for an answer, brown eyes darting each way as if it’ll fall from the sky.

“The apollo kids really love watching the sunrise,” he chokes out in the end, digging his hands into his pockets. You wonder if he thinks it makes his nerves less obvious. “It’s a really nice sunrise.”

“Come watch it with me tomorrow.”

You say it partly for the reaction itself. That same quick breath Luke takes each time you say something that shocks him, the red tint to his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the harsh movement of his adams’ apple. You kind of also really want to see how Luke Castellan changes between day and night - if it’s a version of him you just haven’t read yet.

You don’t mention that you’ll have to force yourself out of bed, unused to early rising.

He nods, three quick nods like he thinks you’ll take it back if he’s not enthusiastic enough.

You smile then. “I’ll see you later, Luke.”

He meets you where he usually does, further north than anyone tends to go at any hour, let alone this early. There’s less hesitation to his steps than a few nights ago, your invitation dangling between you both something like a promise.

“I’m not gonna bite,” you say when he stops just short of the rock you’ve claimed. You glance over at where he’s just feet away, bright orange camp tee peeking out from his grey hoodie. “It’s too early for that.”

“Oh.”

There’s some shuffling before Luke is perching himself on the stone next to you. He’s close enough to touch from here, the makeshift seat just barely big enough for two people to share, and you take in how he tucks his hands into his pockets, makes himself take up as little room as possible.

Outside of his swordsmanship, you’ve never seen Luke take up much space at all.

“This is nice,” he says eventually, the sun starting to peer over the lake.

There’s something almost beautiful about what the sunrise does for him, you realise. Neither of you have moved, Luke’s gaze still locked on the horizon, but you’ve transferred your attention to him. You’ve seen the lake enough times. You’ve never seen Luke Castellan’s chest rising and falling with each steady breath, or the way his eyes turn a little gold when the sun hits them just right. How he relaxes in the autumn chill.

“You’re really pretty, Luke.”

It slips past your lips before it fully forms in your mind. His head snaps to the side, cheeks flushing and lips parted. You hadn’t meant to say it, too caught up in the slow start to the morning, but it’s out there and you don’t want to take it back.

“Such a pretty boy,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“I-“ Luke starts, before clearing his throat. You see his hands twitch in his pockets. “What?”

You twist on the rock underneath you, lifting your legs so they’re crossed, knees brushing the edge of Luke’s thigh. His eyes drop at the movement.

This should feel weird at camp. You’d fallen into the habit of flirting back in Boston, something to fill the gaps and score you a cigarette when you really needed help to get them. Never like this though - like the moment was delicate and its shattering was solely in your hands.

The ability to shatter Luke Castellan, Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy, rests on your shoulders in an early sunrise.

When his breath hitches as you push yourself closer, you think you’d like to watch him shatter in the sunlight.

Pretty doesn’t even come close when it happens.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

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fawnchives · 2 months

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♡𓂃 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, christopher sturniolo & fem!reader.

episode summary: sleepovers with your cutie pie, energetic, & borderline insomniac boyfriend.

parental advisory & ratings: fluff galore + established relationship between reader and chris, slightly suggestive, some swearing, & chris being the professional yapper he is.

♥︎ ⋆ ͘. behind the scenes. NEW LAYOUT + first time writing headcanons, i swear i’m a matt girl but chris lately? yeah.

◌ sleepovers with this man in one word? chaotic.

◌ but it’s that fun kind of chaotic — though the sleepovers usually start off pretty tame at first, him being all giggly and excited when you arrive, immediately grabbing your bags as both head to his room, catching up with each others lives while he helps you unload your stuff.

◌ with that being said, you two would end up gossiping for what feels like hours. though he grew up with all brothers, he definitely got his interest in gossip from eavesdropping on his mom and her friends.

“wait, so he’s dating her and her sister?” chris looks at you with a surprised expression. his elbows are propped up on each side of his pillow as his nintendo switch remains in the middle, paused on some sort of mario level.

“yes, but get this,” you grab your iced tea from his nightstand and scoot closer towards him. “he’s also dating her best friend. the dude is totally sleeze but hey, are we surprised?”

◌ taking pictures for your insta photo dumps.

◌ baking together! a little tradition you two decided to make after the first few sleepovers. he always make sure to pick up baking mix and other crucial ingredients two days beforehand.

◌ even though it always ends up a disaster…

“fuck fuck fuck!” chris shouts as you both race down the hallway, clothes halfway falling off your bodies from the fun that was had not too long ago. you quickly grab a kitchen towel and start fanning the smoke detector before it goes off as chris opens the oven, a thick cloud of whispy gray smoke escaping from the center.

“what the hell are you two doing in here?” nick questions as he and matt waltz into the kitchen from the living room.

“yeah, and why do your clothes look like th…” matt chimes in, face soon flushing red as the realization hits him. “forget it.”

◌ take out is usually ordered after you two nearly burn the apartment complex down, followed up by some tv or a movie.

◌ and of course, he yaps through the whole thing. you do too, which leads to neither one of you paying attention to what’s actually going on in the episode or scene.

“i don’t remember this happening,” you mumble as you lay back against of one chris’s pillows. “isn’t he from euphoria?”

◌ video games video games video games. every time you come over, this man would swear up and down that he’ll “smoke your ass” in mario kart — but does he actually? nope!

◌ he’s actually the biggest sore loser on the planet.

◌ pulling pranks on matt, you and chris know better than to mess with nick after a certain hour while matt is a little more tame. one time, while you two were in the middle of prank calling him, chris accidentally blew his cover after sneezing mid convo.

◌ doing your night routine together; skin care, hair care, etc.

◌ and if you’re the type of girl to sleep with an emotional support / childhood stuffed animal and accidentally leave it behind, he’ll snatch one of matt’s stuffed animals out his room and hand to you.

“i know it’s not the same as yours but look, it’s still cute and cuddly right? like those squishy-marshmallowy things?”

◌ matt tiptoeing into chris’s room in the middle of the night to rightfully take back his animal-shaped belonging.

◌ lowkey? nick taking off guard pictures and videos of you two being idiots and posting them on his snap and insta stories.

◌ cuddles galore. kid is actually such a snuggle bunny like oh my gosh? always cuddled up into you no matter what — especially when he’s feeling sleepy. the Baby Boy energy would be at an all time high. you’d be yapping away about some sort of friend group drama, pausing mid story when you hear him lightly snoring with his head against your chest.

“…and that’s when i told her that she should just go with the guy she was talking to before. i don’t get it, but see if i was—are…you sleeping?”

“…huh…”

likes + comments & reblogs are highly appreciated.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 tags. @sugrhigh @sugariea @1117sblog @emssturniolo @teapartyprincess4two

#𝒇𝖺𝗐𝗇𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌. ─── copyright.#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader

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mykneeshurt · 1 year

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Hello! Can I please request a hc or little scenario of 141 reaction to y/n flashing 🍒 in middle of a argument?

Sfw/nsfw you choose, also I'm over 18 (just to guarantee 😅)

Thank you 🫶🏻

I’d flash 141 anytime, anywhere. Bra, no bra. This is NSFW ofc cause I’m a whore. With this scenario I have our drunk a rugby team before lmfao I’d try and out drink these gorgeous bastards too.

Walking down the hall in the barracks you heard raised voices coming from the rec room. They boys had invited you to join them for a few drinks after a successful mission. Soap and Prices voices were the loudest, with Gaz trying his best to settle the commotion. You rolled your eyes and laughed to yourself as you entered the room.

They were huddled round a table, you craned your neck to see what they were doing. You approached Ghost and placed a hand on his shoulder, ‘what’s wrong this time?’ You chuckled. Ghost led back in the chair and crossed his arms. ‘Soap is pissed Price beat him downing his pint. So naturally he’s kickin off.’ You laughed, the others still not having noticed your presence.

‘With all due respect sir, you fuckin cheated!’ Soap yelled, his face twisted with frustration. He was such a sore loser. ‘Soap I won fair and square and you know it!’ Price slurred, how long had they been drinking? You tried a few times to grab their attention with zero success. Gaz poured new pints and placed them back in the middle of the table.

Price and Soap hadn’t noticed, now throwing childish insults at each other. Ghost sat back enjoying the show, Gaz looked exasperated, when these two got going it was like herding cats. Again you tried to intervene, it was no use. Feeling pissed off at them eating into your drinking time you decided to go for shock value instead.

You placed yourself to the side of both of them, throwing a wink and Gaz and Ghost you lifted your top. Your plump breasts fully on show in your dark green lacy bra. You threw a loud whistle in for good measure as the two men finally stopped and whipped their heads round. Your breasts pushed against each other, your skin flawless and smooth. The dark green lace delicately decorated you, bringing their attention straight to you.

Soaps eyes almost fell out of his head, his mouth suddenly dry. Not often you could make the Scot speechless but you succeeded. He desperately licked at his lips trying to regain some moisture. He couldn’t even think of a witty remark, he went completely blank. They were just as perfect as he always thought they were.

Price quickly looked away but not before making a mental snapshot of your perfect plump tits. ‘Oh fuckin ell kid!’ He’d make great use of the image later when he was alone in the shower. The thought of his cock in between them, milking every last drop from him.

Gaz looked shy, bashful. But he couldn’t help but look mouth open. Drinking you in, he always thought you were attractive and may have had a tiny crush on you. But this? Christ he felt like a horny teenager seeing boobs for the first time.

Ghost, remained stoic, as per usual. His hand twitched against his knee, the only reaction he’d give you. But from where you were stood you couldn’t see his pupils blown out with complete lust. Little did you know he thought about you most nights, about how you’d feel beneath him. Fuck he wanted to mark your beautiful breasts and make them his own. He had to subtly relieve some of the pressure he felt building in his jeans.

Lowering your top you grabbed one of the pints on the table, downing it. Splashes of amber liquid fell onto your top, making the material cling to you. Outlining your breasts once more. You slammed the pint glass back on the table before flashing Soap a shit eating grin. Turning on your heel you blew a kiss to Ghost and Gaz, Gaz looked away instantly, Ghost held your gaze before muttering ‘fuckin hell.’

As you got to the door you flashed your eyes at Soap before biting your lip. Reaching down he necked the other pint, breathless he patted Price on the shoulder ‘don’t know about sir, but I think I’ve won here.’ He wiped the remaining lager from his lips before following you like a love sick puppy.

No one got much sleep that night, but they’d be liars if they said they didn’t get off to your sultry moans whilst picturing your tits bouncing on top of them.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw22 #ghost x you #fan fic smut #ghost x reader #smut #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #kyle garrick #captain price #john price #soap x reader #soap mctavish #cod ghost #modern warefare 2 #price x reader

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rizsu · 1 year

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graduated delusional boys shoyo, kuroo, sunarin.

-> tokrev & jjk version

it's a simple night out with the hinata family. after another successful karasuno match, shoyo's mother suggested a restaurant dinner and well some shopping.

busy on his feet, shoyo walk-runs after his sister. she's certainly a little too fast on her feet—especially if you don't hold her hand or use a leash like their mom usually does. finally reaching her, he lifts her onto his hip before ending the mini race with a little scolding.

“natsu! don't speed off like that!”

“but the candies!!”

shaking his head, shoyo shuffles his way through the sea of people until he makes it back to his mother's position.

“sho', natsu, come here!” motioning to her kids, their mother takes hold of the five year old before pushing shoyo to walk in front of her, “stay in my vision, sho'. you're still young!”

well, shoyo would've done as she said without complaints but the last sentence made him turn his head back one hundred and eighty degrees. immediately warping his face into one that expresses confusion, shoyo raises a counterargument.

“but i'm already a third year! with a girlfriend too y'know.”

nodding her head to act as if she's paying attention to his words, shoyo's mother argues back, “yes, yes, but you still live with me so—wait.”

from the tone of her voice in the last word, shoyo tries to speed up his pace but a mother's hand is always faster.

“what do you mean by girlfriend, young man.”

“whoops..?”

turning around on his heel, he raises a hand behind his neck trying to think of a way to properly explain. it doesn't take long before he starts his own sign language while giving his mother the detailed lore of your relationship—which didn't last for long because natsu had other plans.

“sho's not a loser!” she juts in her opinion, looking at her older brother with an open mouth covered by her hand.

“NAT-SU,” feeling shocked, betrayed and offended, shoyo goes to press his palm over her hand to seal her mouth shut. as the color red diffuses to all of his ear, he feigns a limp as he takes baby steps away from his family.

kuroo is not kuroo if he doesn't bother kenma after twelve a.m during the weekend sleepover. if there's a sleeping kenma, there's a wide awake kuroo waiting for the right moment to strike.

“psst, kenma, wake up.”

“please shut up.”

“KENMA!”

“NO.”

covering both ears with his pillow, kenma turns around to block off kuroo and whatever he's got going on at 1:43 AM according to his watch. but oh no, don't get it twisted. kuroo is not one to forfeit that easily—persistent may as well be his middle name!

“i was going to show you my girl but i guess not!” changing his tone to a teasing one, kuroo backs off kenma's bed and goes to his futon.

as if it was an auto-response, kenma sits up straight, sharply turning his neck to kuroo, “pause.”

and with that, kuroo adds one point to himself on his imaginary scoreboard. snickering to himself, he turns his back to kenma, waving him off by repeating what he previously said, “you told me shut up.”

“wait i'm sorry,” kenma says. slouching off his bed, he uses his right foot to nudge at kuroo's “sleeping” figure. it takes about five nudges before he speaks again, “you know i love knowing people's business. please, kuroo.”

adding another point to himself on the scoreboard, kuroo turns on his back with a grin and a phone to his face. raising the phone to kenma's height, kuroo shows him a picture of a girl and kenma thinks kuroo's gone delusional. maybe he's just tired.

“whose daughter did you find on pinterest?”

“okay fuck you.”

snatching his phone back, kuroo actually feels quite offended. is kenma implying he's not attractive enough to pull a pretty girl!?

“I WAS NOT FINISHED LOOKING.”

“privileges REVOKED.”

shoving a middle finger in the air, kuroo pulls his blanket over his head to quietly sob in peace (this is an exaggeration).

kenma, tired of kuroo's antics, steals kuroo's phone to look at your picture and find proper evidence that you guys are indeed together.

“don't go through our chats by the way.”

“ew.”

three adults, three cushions and one bottle. in osamu's living room sits him, his brother and rintaro. how'd they get here? boredom. extreme boredom. when they were no longer entertained by the alcohol, atsumu brought up the idea of truth-or-dare with using a bottle.

spinning the bottle, osamu watches it land on rintaro and immediately asked him a question he's been dying to know, “rin, is it true you're seeing someone?”

throwing his head back, rintaro groans. he knew it'd come sooner or later but he still wants to be mysterious.

“nosy much?” and to that, both twins responded, “SAYS YOU!?”

dragging his palm over his face, rintaro laughs before confirming osamu's question. he's twenty-six with nothing to lose and he thinks he's sexy—so obviously he'd not be single..!

osamu's jaw drops. although he was the one who asked, he's still shocked. to his defense, rintaro's always seemed like the type to stay in the talking zone.

“oh, that poor woman. save her now before it's too late.” using a napkin, atsumu wipes his crocodile tears only to be kicked by no one other than suna rintaro. cackling at rintaro's reaction, atsumu defends himself, “'m just messing with ya!”

rintaro rolls his eyes. turning around to grab his phone, he proudly shows off his lockscreen that's a picture of you from your anniversary date, “isn't she pretty?” with a small smile on his face, he feels his pride emotion being activated.

“i dunno...i've seen better,” atsumu states his (unwanted) opinion. tapping a finger on his chin, he squints at the phone.

and as for rintaro? his heart dropped. looking directly at atsumu this time, he questions him, “such as..?”

“like myself duh.”

one.

two.

three.

and cue the fight scene with rintaro and atsumu while osamu tries to catch his breath from laughing.

“I AM SICK OF YOU.” stifling atsumu with his cushion, rintaro makes sure to smother his face with the fabric. he, atsumu, must feel the pain.

“hey—HEY. GO EASY ON THE HAIR.”

#+ rizsu: haikyuu.#haikyuu x reader #hinata x reader #kuroo x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you #hinata shoyo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #suna rintarou x reader

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alphajocklover · 6 days

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No longer a Spider, finally a Man

**Hey! First time doing a fanfic muscle growth. Or at least posting it. I hope you guys like it! Please tell me how I can do better, and send in story suggestions if you want!**

Peter Parker loved being Spider-Man. He loved saving people, he loved using his powers to make a difference, he loved swinging through the sky line. But he also hated it. He hated the pressure, the responsibility, the fact that he nd his loved ones were in constant danger, the fact that he was always lying to everyone. He hated that he could never be normal. But then again Peter had never been very normal. Even before becoming Spider-man he had been a nerd. Smart, socially awkward, and tormented by the popular kids. That didn’t exactly change after becoming Spider-Man either, though his social issues had definitely gone to the back burner with him constantly fighting crime. If he was being honest his social life had only gotten worse since becoming a superhero. He had gained some muscle and no longer needed glasses, yes, but he couldn’t exactly show that. He hadn’t had time for his friends, his normally fantastic grades were slipping, and Flashes bullying had only gotten worse.

As Peter, out of costume, walked to Midtown, he wondered what it would be like to be a normal teenager. Not just what it would be like to not be Spider-Man, but to not be a nerd. He wondered what it would be like to be a regular teenage boy. Maybe if he wasn’t Spider-Man he could have even been… cool or something. Probably not, but it was still a nice fantasy. Just as he was imagining this, his spider-sense went off. He looked around, prepared to jump out of the way of any danger, but, even with his super reflexes, he couldn’t get out of the way before the strange something hit him right in the middle of his chest. Peter stumbled back, not realizing that the reality stone, one of the infinity stones, had lodged itself inside of his heart. Normally such a thing would kill someone, or at least hurt them, but due to the magic nature of the stone it phased through his chest and inside of him without harming him. Peter blinked. What… just happened? He had sworn something had just flown into his chest but… wouldn’t that have killed him or something? Before he could investigate further, an alarm on his phone began to ring. Crap, he was late for class! Peter ran into the school as the power of the reality stone seeped into his blood. He turned a corner, just a hallway away from his classroom, when he almost ran straight into a wall of muscle, his super-reflexes being the only thing that saved him. As he skirted to a halt, he came face to face with his biggest tormentor (supervillains and news editors notwithstanding) : Flash Thompson. The most popular jock in school and Peter Parker's personal bully. The blond quarterback sneered cockily at Peter before he spoke

“Hey there Puny Parker. Running late again? I thought geeks like you were supposed to be punctual and shit?” Flash said with a cocky mocking laugh.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asked with a scowl, trying to keep his patience.

“Just checking up on my favorite nerd.” Flash mocked, grabbing Peter’s arm. Before Peter could react, Flash had shoved him up against the locker, peters arm pinned behind his back. What the heck? He had super powers, enhanced reflexes, he should have been able to see that coming. Peter didn’t realize that his subconscious desire to be normal was repressing his powers. Unable to fight back, Peter was shoved into a nearby open locker and locked inside. Peter sighed. Stuck in a locker again. Peter didn’t notice as the orange light in his chest began to glow. He closed his eyes and deeply wished… to stop being a loser. To be normal. To be… anything else than who he was. The orange light grew brighter and brighter… until it completely consumed Peter. Suddenly he heard something

“Parker… Parker!”

With a start Peter Parker woke up, looking around in shock. He was… in a classroom? He was sitting at a desk at the back of a class he didn’t recognize, one that he seemed to have been sleeping through. Had all of that been a crazy dream? He looked over to see the remedial math teacher, Ms Jones. What was he doing in remedial math? Before he could say anything, Ms Jones spoke once more

“Mr Parker, please try to stay awake during class. Your grade is already low enough.” She said, sending a chuckle throughout the room. Peter spoke without thinking, his voice deeper and fuller than he remembered.

“Sorry teach. I’m still tired from our ‘study session’ last night. Thanks for the extra tutoring by the way~” he said. Did he just… flirt with a teacher? He did! And weirdly enough the slight embarrassed blush on Ms Jones face suggested that it was working. Ms. Jones spoke again, more timid this time

“While.. just don’t be late tonight.” She said with a slight wink, before walking over to the front of the classroom again. This caused the class, which now that Peter was looking consisted mostly of the football team, too laugh loudly, one punching Peter on the shoulder in a playful manner. Peter felt a smirk he couldn’t control come over his face, and his eyes involuntaries followed Ms Jones' ass as she walked back to the front of the class. In a daze, Peter tried to figure out what was happening. Wasn’t he just in a locker? What was he doing in remedial math? And why was he acting so weird? Before he could wonder any further, the bell rang and class was dismissed. Peter ran out without talking to anyone, and headed to a nearby bathroom. He looked in the mirror and froze. It was Peter but… completely different. He was bigger, taller, with wider shoulders. He had full, bouncy pecs that were barely contained by his tank top, shredded abs that he could grate cheese on, and truly impressive biceps. Peter had gone from a geek who gets stuffed into lockers to a huge muscular jock! Peter wanted to be shocked, to be horrified, but… he felt another smirk cross his face. He began to flex his muscles cockily. He smirked and felt his thoughts turn. He looked fucking amazing! I mean, of course he did. He was big Pete Parker, the big man, the quarterback, the stud! Slowly Peter began to forget about his old self, too absorbed in the strong, dull thoughts going through his head. He wondered what he and his best bro Flash would do after football practice? Maybe beat up some geeks, or find a hottie to hook up with? Peter had a lot of girls to choose from already, including MJ, Liz, Gwen, Charlie and of course Ms Jones, but… he wouldn’t mind another. Pete smirked and strut out of the bathroom, not noticing a light orange glow between his pecs. Life was fucking sweet.

#jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #muscle growth tf #nerd to jock #reality change #muscle tf #Spider man TF

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carolmunson · 1 year

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okay, since some of you asked for it:

unpopular opinion but i don’t actually think eddie was a nice soft boy at all. dustin and mike are literally afraid to ask him to move hellfire. ‘he’s always revved up,’ implying that he’s always like this, always a little close to snapping. he’s not nice to them when he asks them to find a replacement. he also guilt trips them about 'taking them in like lost sheep' and shoves them off to find a replacement instead of keeping lucas included. which is why i don't understand the 'fierce protector of his friends' take because he's so quick to drop lucas just because he's 'moved to the dark side.' aka, throwing balls into laundry baskets.

which leads me to when he gets up on the table, people are not trying to fuck around with him. this is a common occurance, people are not surprised to see him up there and yelling. they aren't surprised that he's making a spectacle of himself. if eddie was soft and sweet, he would’ve gotten beat up. if eddie was soft and gentle, he'd probably be scared of jason. guys like jason in the 80s loved being macho and punching out losers — eddie just gave him the devil horns and called it a day. eddie’s absolutely gotten in fist fights before and won (his dad is a literal criminal!) otherwise someone would've thrown something or told him to shut the fuck up. people are scared of him, even his own friends! there’s more reasons than just playing DND and metal that make town certain that he’s a cult leader. you don't just assume someone is a murderer if they haven't shown any interest in violence before, especially considering his dad was likely a shitty dude. he even bullies erica when she first shows up to hellfire and only respects her when she bullies him back and bests him. he is someone you have to EARN respect from. he will never respect anyone outright or be understanding outright. he doesn't fully respect dustin or mike to start either, he views them as underlings.

even chrissy assumes he's going to be mean and scary, there's gotta be reason behind that. he's not nice or kind in school, which is likely a defense mechanism. he’s sweet with chrissy because he likes her, he has a crush on her. it’s very clear that he has since he was a kid, otherwise why would he bring up them hanging out in middle school? why would he even remember that if he hasn’t been pining for her this whole time? he admits too, albiet flirtily, that he thought SHE'D be mean and scary too, because he doesn't like people 'like that', people he assumes are 'on the dark side'. i’m sure he hoped they’d kiss a little when she went to his trailer. he's even a little sarcastic when she's there, again, defensive. 'the maid took the week off'. but ultimately, he's nice to her because he wants to kiss her and has a crush on her. i don't think it's because he's fully 'showing her who he really is'.

also he's a literal drug dealer????? like?????

he only becomes more gentle and open with dustin and co. when he gets pulled into the upside down/vecna stuff because he needs support. they grow a bond over shared trauma. and i do believe eddie had a big brother type relationship with dustin, but just like steve he loves him begrudgingly 'i love you, you little shit bag' kind of shit. i do believe he liked and cared for his friends but i also think he always had a big layer of mean kid armor on because he had a hard life growing up. how i percieved the character is 'mean bully whose secretly nice but is mean and boisterous and loud as a cover' trope. when he explains that his father taught him to hotwire, he seems bitter about it. of course he is, all the other kids were learning to play ball. but he obviously still retains this information and a whole bunch of other crime tricks from his dad. he's BEEN partaking in this shit. he KNOWS he's a shitty guy. you don't just get taught how to hotwire once and then suddenly know how to do it years later. he's done it before! multiple times! he has practice! he likely knows about warzone cause his daddy absoLUTELY had a gun or two. his dad probably took him there once. he was pulled left and right into bad shit growing up and that will HARDEN YOU. wayne says that murder 'ain't in his nature' and i'm sure it's not. i'm sure he's different with wayne, but idk, to me, it doesn't erase the fact that outwardly, i don't think eddie was nearly as sweet and gentle as people think he is canonically. i think he's a very hardened and tortured person and that even becomes clear with his reaction to chrissy's death and how he goes about things going forward. he was a weird kid with weird interests in a cookie cutter conservative town, had a criminal father, and an unconventional family situation in the 70s and 80s, that shit'll fuck you up and over -- look at boomers y'all! they are emotionally stunted! but, i could go on forever with this character analysis. so i'll stop here. but -- in the words of the real housewives reunion meme: that's MY OPINION!

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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CAMP UPSIDE DOWN PART TWO Steve Harrington x fem!reader [33K] summer camp, broken kayaks, too much tension and that boy you hate. an enemies to lovers camp counsellor story.

I can’t stop, the way I feel.

Camp Upside Down was about eighty miles outside of Hawkins, Indiana, just past Belmont and hidden amongst the trees of the YellowWood State Forest.

It held too many kids, a collection of old wooden cabins, a few impressively sized lakes, sports equipment that was made in the sixties and Steve fucking Harrington.

It’s not like you had always hated the boy, you just couldn’t really remember the last time you liked him.

The first of June brought blue skies, summer rolling in with thick white clouds, the kind that didn’t look real. The Indiana air was warm and hazy, growing hotter in the afternoon, long days, bright nights and the return of fireflies and open air pools.

Each year you left Hawkins behind, a kiss pressed to each cheek by your parents, your old car packed to the brim as you headed west for six weeks, to your home from home, buried between cedar trees, amongst giant redwoods and overgrown wildflowers.

You rolled out of town and took the sun with you, windows down, radio blasting music and static, that soft buzz that you loved so much. You sped past the water tower, the quarry and the wheat fields, the strawberry patches and the forest that no one liked to wander too far into.

You hated that Steve Harrington followed, his car newer, shiner, faster. You hated when he overtook you on the straight, before you had even had a chance to leave town. So you would hang your arm out the window, middle finger poised in a pretty salute just for him and he’d send you one back, like clockwork, like you’d practised it, like it happened every year.

If you could get close enough, your car bumper threatening his, you could just make out the scowl behind his raybans, the twist of his lips cursing you out in the reflection of his rear view mirror.

It went on like that for the whole drive, never stopping unless the boy did, refusing to fall behind, because bathroom breaks were for losers and you did not fucking lose to Steve Harrington.

It was flat out, foot down, wind whipping in on the highway; a game of cat and mouse, curses yelled over the radio, hair messy in your face, just pushing the speed limit until overhead signs and four lane roads turned into something else.

It’s like the sun got softer when you turned off the freeway, the light hazy between the trees and it made this part of the world seem like it was just for you.

Single track roads took you through the forest, past rivers and lakes, mountains in front of you, Hawkins behind you and the air was sharper, muddled with pine and moss, still wet tree trunks from the morning rain, wildflowers and something too sweet to name.

Smoke threaded through it all when you got closer to camp, the big wooden archway greeting you like an old friend, the cabins appearing through cracks in the forest, the doors open, staff carrying in pillows and sheets, prepping for the arrival of the kids in a few days time.

And when you pulled your car into the staff parking, a clearing between trees behind the big gymnasium, you turned off your engine, closed your eyes and listened to the little slice of peace you’d get in your six week stay.

No kids, no screaming, no arguing, no singing. Not yet.

Just bird calls and the buzz of insects, soft wind between branches and the slow crackle of the main campfire if you strained your ears hard enough.

“Your shitty car gets slower every year, princess.”

You swore, low under your breath, the soft “for fuck sake,” mixing with a sigh as you let your head fall onto the seat and you opened your eyes.

Steve was standing at your open window, hip leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed, expression smug. He grinned at you.

“Harrington,” you greeted, a drawl that lacked any sort of warmth, tinted with annoyance instead.

The boy tsked, sarcasm dripping from him as he leaned in, arms on the window ledge, peering into the car and peering at the pile of cassettes on your passenger seat.

“Blondie? Really?”

You swatted at him, brows knitted together already because you’d been at Camp Upside Down for quite literally three minutes and the boy was already doing his best to infuriate you.

“That’s not very nice,” he told you but he was still grinning. “You didn’t miss me?”

You pushed the car door open, knocking Steve out of the way in the process and you scowled as you popped the trunk, turning to him with a glare.

“Miss you? I saw you at the store two days ago.”

Steve watched you haul out your bags, snorting when you let them fall to the forest floor without much care.

“Yeah, but you called me a dickhead and hit me with your cart.”

“You yelled across the store and asked me where my cauldron was.”

You set the boy with a stare, a little dead behind the eyes, just like you’d perfected. Your lip twitched into an almost smile when you let another bag tumble out of the trunk, narrowingly missing the boy's foot when he flinched out of the way.

Steve shrugged, tongue pressed to his cheek to stop his grin as he stared at you right back.

“It was a valid question.”

You slammed the trunk, your gaze on the boy withering and you kicked at one of your bags. You hated this part.

“Are you gonna help me with these?” You really didn’t know why you were bothering to ask, because the boy was already backing away, hands shoved into the pockets of his Levi’s and he was still fucking grinning.

“Why would I do that?” He questioned. “Besides, I only came round to tell you Hopper wants everyone in the office. Now.”

You glared at Steve, seething, lips parting with a high pitched scoff as you threw an arm out and gestured to all your belongings, most of your life packed into four too big duffel bags.

“You fucking just watched me unload the car.”

Steve hummed happily, too far away for you to throw a pine cone at. He tutted, all faux concern and sad brown eyes.

“Damn, I did, didn’t I?” And then he was walking away, heading to the offices that were housed in the row of cabins by the lake. “Don’t be too late, princess, Hops already in a shitty mood.”

——————

Camp leader Jim Hopper, was indeed in a foul mood when you arrived twenty minutes later, out of breath and just as annoyed as he was.

The cabin was full, bodies squeezed between desks and the moth-eaten couch was piled with people. Faces new and old stared back at your sudden entrance, the scowl that was already on your face only deepening when Steve, who was leaning lazy against a wall, wiggled his fingers at you.

“Hawkins,” Hopper barked, “how nice of you to finally join us. You think after doing this for four years, you’d know that the first day meeting is always at eleven o’clock sharp.”

Hopper's habit of calling people by their hometown should’ve been insulting, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a teddy bear looking man, moustache twitching when he was either annoyed or amused, but he had soft eyes and an even softer patch for the camp kids.

When you first pointed out that there were three counsellors that came from Hawkins, he merely started calling you Hawkins number two, so you tended to not remind him after that.

“Sorry,” you huffed, not sounding all that sorry, and you glared at Steve as you squished yourself between Eddie Munson and Robin Buckley.

“Okay, shitheads, listen up,” Murray, Hopper’s right hand man, stood with a clipboard, thick rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. “Roll call.”

“Muson, music. You’ve got three new kids that have signed up for private guitar lessons, you’ll get their info by tonight, make sure you check in with Joyce at reception.”

Eddie Munson, one of the older boys nodded, long, dark curls already frizzy with the warmth that the forest trapped beneath its canopy. Originally from Philadelphia, the boy was still dressed in his leather jacket, a denim vest that had ripped sleeves and a giant Dio patch sewn messily onto the back, ready for a metal concert rather than s’mores around the campfire.

“And for the love of god, wear the proper uniform this year.”

On cue, Hopper started throwing out the mandatory shirts, white and years old, the sleeve cuffs red, just like the printed ‘staff’ on the back, in bold, capital letters.

“Nancy, you’re moving up this year, senior counsellor,” Nancy Wheeler, another Hawkins native, nodded sharply, her hair clipped back and uniform already on. “We’re gonna need the first week's schedule done for the kids arriving at the weekend and christ, make sure these idiots turn up for their shifts.”

Robin snorted from beside you and Murray rounded on her, a finger pointing accusingly. “Buckley, any more missed shifts from you this year and you’ll be on clean up duty for every dinner shift. Bob wants you in the mess hall tomorrow for lunch prep.”

The girl scowled, mumbling under her breath about how it wasn’t her fault she never heard the morning tannoy. A pretty girl from Detroit, Robin was all ripped jeans and backwards caps, sarcastic comments and sleeping wherever she could make herself comfortable.

Hopper threw a shirt at her, grinning when it landed against her face with a soft thump.

“Jonathan.” The boy who was busy fiddling with the camera around his neck suddenly looked up, eyes wide as if he’d been caught half asleep. “The parents are more than happy to buy more of the photo packages this year and we need new prints for the newsletters so we want content, content, content. No slacking and distracting your girlfriend or you’ll be sleeping on the other side of the lake.”

Jonathan Byers, from Bloomington, just a few hours from Hawkins, mumbled an agreement before walking over to sit by Nancy and resting his head on top of hers.

“Hargrove,” Hopper barked from behind his desk, “you’re back on sports but we’re a lifeguard down this year so you’ll be splitting shifts with Harrington.”

Billy Hargrove, California bad boy, was sliding an unlit cigarette between his lips, getting the tip slick as he grunted his agreement. He caught his staff shirt as it flew through the air at him, winking at you when he tucked it into the waistband of his too tight jeans.

“And for fuck sake, Billy, no non staff members in the cabins after six,” Hopper groaned, “I’m not having screaming mothers at my door at one in the morning this year, corrupt the girls of Indiana on your own time, not mine.”

“You two,” Murray finally rounded on you and Steve, a sardonic grin pulling at his lips. “Lovebirds, you’re both on games and swimming.”

Steve and you both huffed out a protest at the term, features pulled into a scowl and you flipped off both Robin and Eddie when they chuckled.

“And Jesus Christ, if any more of your lovers' tiffs result in more broken equipment, it’s coming out of your wages.”

You scoffed, a sound of protest as Steve swore. “Bullshit, what broken equipment?”

The rest of the team snickered as Hopper levelled you with a stare from over the top of the computer screen. Murray snorted from behind his fist and even Steve had to try to hide his grin at your words.

“There’s three cracked kayaks, fourteen broken tennis racquets and a box of punctured basketballs sitting behind the gym as we speak, sweetheart, don’t even go there.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off of the couch, grabbing Robin’s hand and yanking her up with you when she batted at your arm.

Everyone else shuffled to their feet, leaving the few newbies in the corner, wide eyed and worried as they waited for their orientation.

Hopper glared at the seven of you as you lined up at the door, restless and waiting to escape to your cabins, to steal some food from the kitchens when Bob wasn’t looking.

“No drugs,” Hopper announced before Eddie could open the door. “No smoking, and for god sake Munson, don’t tell the kids that you can eat the mushrooms, not again.”

Eddie had the audacity to look bewildered, brown eyes big and doe like as you held in a snicker from behind him. He swatted at your leg and you thumped him back, grinning when the back of your hand caught the edge of his rolling tin in his front pocket.

The older man moved onto Billy, glaring when the boy only smirked, sliding a pair of gold rimmed aviators over his eyes.

“Nudity is for the showers and your own cabin, California, I don’t wanna see your ass comin’ out of the lake, I don’t care how early it is in the morning.”

Billy simply grinned wider, snickering when Nancy blushed, rolling his eyes when Robin dug her fingers into his ribs.

“And you two,” Hopper lifted a hand, gesturing between you and Steve once more, “if I gotta break up any more fights, or play couples therapist, you’ll be paying for my own before summer is over, you hear me?”

The pair of you sulked, eyes lowered to the floor and feet shuffling as you weighed up your options of arguing back, but the office room was lacking its usual cloud of cigar smoke and the coffee machine in the corner had a piece of paper with a big ‘out of order’ scrawled on front.

“Loud and clear, chief,” Steve smirked, eyeing you from where he stood, Eddie grinning between you both.

Murray opened the door to the forest and the sun, the wall of heat seeping in and fighting with the old aircon unit and Hopper’s last words to you all before you slipped out were:

“Play nice and don’t kill the kids.”

Billy caught Steve by the shirt as they left, the boy’s watching as the rest of you walked down the gravel path that led through the trees, splintering off from cabin to cabin.

The blonde boy turned, grinning sharklike, sunglasses still on. He nodded to your retreating frame, taking a second to watch the way your shorts rode up the backs of your thighs as you climbed the cabin stairs behind Robin.

“You tapped that yet, Harrington?”

Steve glowered, ripping away his arm from the other boy but his reaction only made Billy smirk wider, a lighter appearing from his pocket as he lit his cigarette.

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Steve did his best to sound bored, like he didn’t care.

But it only made Billy laugh, blowing smoke to the blue skies and he followed Steve down the opposite trail, heading towards the same cabin that Eddie was currently dragging a small amp into.

Steve huffed when the blonde boy stomped up the stairs behind him, stepping over the forgotten bags that lay unpacked on the floor. “Maybe that’s Hawkins' problem, you know?” He asked, referring to you. Billy eyed Steve, leaning against his top bunk, the air in the wooden cabin so much cooler than outside. “Maybe she just needs a good seeing to.”

Eddie raised his brows, looking carefully between his bunkmate and Billy, wondering if there was about to be a new record for how quickly a fight broke out. The current sat at seventeen hours after arrival, but there had been a lot more vodka involved that time, and maybe a comment or two about that one time Billy got the clap from some girl in the next town over.

“Now now, boys,” Eddie intoned, “I’ve not nearly had enough sleep to deal with this shit.”

He went ignored.

Billy continued, teeth sharp and white and bared as he followed Steve around the bunks, leaning against the dresser before the boy had a chance to open it and his eyes flashed when he watched the muscle in the brunette’s jaw twitch.

“Think she’d let me?” Hargrove asked, “think she’d get a little wild for me?” “Don’t you have shit to do?” Steve snapped, refusing to look at Billy, ‘cause he could feel the tips of his ears getting hot, a horribly uncomfortable tightness clawing at his throat.

But Billy could see right through him, years of spending summers together, watching the way you and Steve argued, nose to nose and chests panting. He always made sure he had a front seat to the show and poking the angry bear only made the inevitable first argument so much more fun to witness.

Billy clicked his tongue, still grinning unbearably wide. “Maybe I can go visit Hawkins… I’m sure there’s something heavy that your girl needs help with.”

“She’s not my fucking girl.”

The blonde winked at Eddie as he passed, the longer haired boy doing nothing to hide his smile, knowing fine well what game Hargrove was playing. And shit, he was winning, ‘cause by the time Billy left and Steve spun back around, his fists were clenched and a heavy scowl pulled his brows together.

“You’re too easy, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve muttered, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. He liked Eddie, and god, he knew he was right.

——————

“You know, every summer I expect you and Harrington to walk into camp, hand in hand, talkin’ all sweet to each other,” Robin wasn’t looking at you as she spoke, too busy stuffing already crumpled shirts into the shared dresser, but you knew she was grinning. “The sexual tension has to break sometime, you know?”

“Over my dead, fucking body.”

Your reply was one she’d heard before, year after year, summer after summer, because every June, the same thing happened. Fall outs, arguments, screaming matches in the mess hall, head to head battles on the dock, late night yelling over a campfire and a bottle of cheap bourbon.

“I still don’t get it,” the girl smirked, finally eyeing you from over the top bunk. The late morning light made the small cabin glow, the surface of the lake reflecting in through the open window and off of the panelled walls. “Steve isn’t that bad.”

“That’s because you didn’t have to go through high school with the King himself,” you deadpanned, already bored of the conversation. You’d had it before, several times over with almost all the camp staff, each one wondering why you and Steve fucking Harrington wanted to kill each other over a game of dodgeball, the last poptart at breakfast, picking teams on games night. “Harrington got everything I worked hard for, just ‘cause his daddy has some money.”

You threw your now empty duffle bag to the ground kicking at it until it slid underneath the bed. Your own pillow was in its rightful place on top, the peach coloured case clashing horribly with the army green duvet, but it smelled like home.

“I announced I was running for class president in sophomore year, and then that asshole decided he would to,” you levelled Robin with a stare, still petulant after so many years. “He threw a party at his stupid rich house and by Monday, everyone was talking about Steve Harrington’s pool and how they were voting for him.”

“Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to hold onto such a grudge-”

You cut the girl off, on a tangent now she’d brought the sore subject up. “Like, wasn’t it enough that he was the swim team captain? And then! When we got into that stupid fight in Junior year, we both ended up with a weeks detention but no, no. Mr Harrington swoops in with a little two grand donation to the school’s library upgrade and low and behold, little Stevie is suddenly off the hook.”

You kicked another bag, this one not as empty and you tried not to wince when your toe made contact with what you assumed was a collection of books.

“As long as his record is squeaky clean, right? S’not like his dad won’t just pay his way into fucking Yale, or Princeton, for him anyway,” you were grumbling now and when you looked up to see Billy Hargrove walking by with a too smug smile, you flipped him off, trying to make yourself feel better.

He just wiggled his fingers at you in a wave, winking when you grimaced.

“I think I need a drink,” you said, throwing yourself down onto the bed and concluding your Steve Harrington rant, more than likely only the first of the day.

The sheets smelled the same, like they always did. A little musty, like the back of a storage cupboard, almost hidden by the laundry detergent you knew Joyce made Hopper use. Fresh like pine needles, like the forest floor and mountain air. Kinda like another home.

Robin barked out a laugh before coming over and standing between the space between your knees, your legs splayed over the too narrow mattress. She offered you a hand, exaggerating a loud groan when you took it and she pulled you back up to sit. An affectionate pat fell on your head before she looked around the mess of your half unpacked cabin, sheets and folded towels on the dressers, drawers open and half full, a litter of shoes by the door and an unplugged radio on a chair.

“You know what?” She huffed out, “we both need a drink.”

——————

The keg party by the lake was a first night tradition, the older staff members long gone to their beds after a tiring first day in the forest heat, lugging around equipment and furniture.

The rest of you gathered at the dock, crowding the small part of the water front that had sand instead of rocks, the air still warm from the leftover sun despite the stars in the sky. It was inky black in the middle of the woods, the clouds navy, the lake a mirror and the fire gave off an impressive amber glow.

Everyone was painted in orange light, pink and red on their cheeks, smoke in their hair and a different kind of fire in their chests when Billy produced a few bottles of cheap whisky, a half bottle of bourbon and surprising everyone, Nancy had added a bottle of vodka to the pile. Cheap beer came in the form of lukewarm kegs and despite the effort it took, Jonathan pulled the short straw and drove out of camp, meeting the delivery boy on the main road to pick up a pile of hot pizza boxes.

It smelled like summer, smoke and god awful decisions.

The dirty beat of Need You Tonight by INXS started through the tannoys above you, the old, tinny speakers hidden in the trees.

Some people cheered, others moved to the sand to dance, a slow grind of bodies with their bare feet in the lake, water lapping at ankles as they moved. Steve was grinning from the dock, a rip in the one knee of his jeans, the skin underneath already tanned as if he belonged under the sun. The white t-shirt he wore was threadbare, years old with ‘camp upside down’ faded in green on the chest.

He was watching you, a feeling that used to make you unravel, like you knew he did it just to earn a rise from you. So you waved instead, sugary sweet and full of sarcasm, huffing when he beckoned you closer with a hand that was holding the last of the bourbon, and you told yourself it was the promise of alcohol that made your feet move.

You rolled your eyes before narrowing them at the boy in front of you, your red cup clutched to your chest and you couldn’t help but take another step forward, just a small one, until the toes of your shoes were touching his.

He looked down at the wooden boards, the water lapping underneath, barely seen between the cracks in the dark, but the boy was too focused on the way your converse bumped his nikes. It felt like a challenge, like everything with you did and when he looked back up, your chin was tilted high and your eyes were glittering.

You looked like trouble and he hated it.

“Is this another one of your shitty mixtapes, Harrington?” You let the words drip from your lips, whisky mixing with distaste and the late night air.

Everything was warm and sweet, bourbon and peaches, campfire smoke and leftover lake water on your skin. Steve looked at you, eyes shining, freckles on his nose like stars and he grinned.

“How’d you know, princess?” He took the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear, slid it between his lips as he kept your gaze, always undefeated in the staring contests you both never meant to start.

“‘Cause it sounds like something a boy would make when he’s trying too hard to get a chick in his bed.”

He lit the cigarette, still grinning, the end of it caught between teeth and Steve Harrington looked so unbelievably ready to play one of your little games with you. The ash burned red in the dim light, the sounds of your friends and co-workers dull behind you both.

“Does that mean it’s working?”

“You fucking wish, wonder boy,” you scoffed and you made a grab for the bottle he was holding, twisting your lips to hold in the annoyance when Steve moved it out of reach, holding the amber liquid above your head.

“So mean already,,” Steve tutted and you hated the familiar warmth that wrapped around his words, like it was supposed to be a compliment. “Don’t you usually wait for day three before breaking out that one?”

“Give it,” you demanded, and from over Steve’s shoulder you could see Eddie and Jonathan watching, expectant smiles on their faces and interest in their eyes.

“Make me, princess,” Steve answered, voice just as short as yours but he sounded too amused, like he always did when he was trying to push your buttons. The boy was too tall, his hand and the bottle well above your head, leaking into the night sky above and you weren’t going to humiliate yourself by trying to jump for it.

So you drained what was left in your cup, the vodka was too cheap and it burned your tongue but the mix of cherry kool aid made up for it, staining your tongue red. You swiped at your lips, grinned and planted your hands on Steve’s chest much to his surprise.

But just as his mouth fell into a pretty ‘o’ shape, his brown eyes darkened to that dark honey shade you were used to, you pushed, hard. He hit the water with a splash and to the raucous sound of whoops and cheers, a wolf whistle when he emerged, white top soaked and clinging to the ridges and dips of his muscles, tangled at his waist.

He spluttered, waist deep in the lake as he stared back up at you, hair dripping into his eyes and oh, he was mad. You were fucking joyous, wrapped up in the way people were laughing and you didn’t break eye contact with the boy as you bent at the waist and picked up the bottle that’d dropped as he fell.

You pulled off the lid, grinned and brought it to your lips, draining the rest of the smoky drink, another burn that nipped at your throat, your chest, your skin. You felt too warm when you chased a stray drip of it with your thumb, sliding over your lip before sucking it back between your lips.

“Made you,” you told Steve.

The things you do, don’t seem real.

The kids arrived in a wave of colours and chaos, bags forgotten on buses, new cabins already turned inside out and Joyce had a queue as long as the lake outside of her office, her hands full of allergy medication, inhalers and requests to change bunks ‘cause ‘Kyle Jamison snores like a seventy year old with a lung condition.’

The camp itself was just as messy, it always had been. The old cabins littered the space, winding dirt tracks leading you into a cluster of trees, surrounding the old wooden huts, the porch light almost always flickering in the dark.

There was faded bunting hanging from branch to branch, the old gym that sat with its rusting tin roof near the back, the dock with its splintering planks by the lake. The grassy hub at the centre was worn down by constant running and makeshift picnics and the wildflowers that free in between it all were getting too tall, bursts of red, yellow and orange between green moss.

It was getting old, things were a little broken but the entire forest smelled like morning dew, that ‘it’s just rained’ kinda way and old campfire smoke. It was another home.

Camp Upside Down was officially in full swing.

You were pleased to see you had some of your returning favourites in your group that year: Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Suzie Bingham and Dustin Henderson.

You were just going through the last of the names on your list, kids gathered in front of you and awaiting their assigned cabins when Steve snatched the clipboard from your hand, huffing.

“Harrington!”

“What the hell is this?” Steve grumbled, looking at the sheet of paper and at your group. He singled out Dustin, and the boy flushed, all nervous grin and bright eyes underneath his curls. “Henderson, I thought you said you were requesting my group this year?”

The young boy shrugged, glancing at the trees instead of Steve.

“I, uh, I said I was happy with either of you,” Dustin grinned, front teeth coming in more than they were last year and you beamed back. “Besides, Hawkins sneaks us extra cookies before bed.”

You shot the boy a look.

“Hey! I told you not to tell anyone about that,” you admonished, eyes rolling. “And that’s not my name, Dustin, we spoke about this last year.”

But before Dustin could argue back, Steve was pulling you aside, his hands shockingly warm as they wrapped around your wrist. You stumbled into the tree line with him, shoes sinking into moss, senses surrounded by cedar and cicadas and Steve.

“What the fuck? Steve!” You hissed, pulling yourself from his grasp with a scowl.

Before either if you could say anything,Lucas Sinclair, a tall, dark haired kid tapped a passing new counsellor on the arm. They looked concerned when the boy pointed to you both, hidden in the trees.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” he told them, voice bored and lacking any real worry.

“You’re stealing my kids, princess!” Steve’s voice was just as annoyed as yours, his brow furrowed as he stabbed a finger at your sheet of names.

“Stealing?” You scoffed, whacking your clipboard against his own. The metal clip narrowly missed his fingers and he swore at you hotly. “Stealing? They’re children, Harrington, not collectibles.”

The kids in question were giggling where you’d left them, your group mixing with Steve’s as they stared in that unabashed way only preteens could. You flushed when you heard one of them - Nancy’s brother, Mike, you were sure - made wet, kissing noises. Immature and highly ironic, you noted, considering he was standing hand in hand with a girl called El.

You glared at them all and they quietened, but only just.

Spinning back round to deal with your other problem, you pointed a finger to Steve’s chest, hating the way he smirked at your sudden frustration.

“And what’s your point anyway, huh?” You huffed, “you have Maxine this year, I always have Max in my group!”

Steve looked entirely too smug as he bent a little at waist, crowding down into you so you were both toe to toe.

You hated it.

You hated his brown eyes, the way they caught the sun. You hated the smattering of freckles he got every summer, the moles on his neck, the ones you knew dotted the rest of his skin. You hated his hair, how it fell into his eyes when he got mad at you, how he was too focused on you to push it back.

“Maybe Max just likes me better.”

You gasped, entirely offended at his accusation and before you could hurl something sharp and quick back at him, the girl in question raised her hand from the middle of the crowd, face scrunched in uncertainty.

“Hi, uh, yeah” You both turned to look at the redhead. “Yeah, no, that’s absolutely not true.”

You rounded back on the boy, a shit eating grin on your face as you raised your brows, your expression victorious.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, almost nose to nose now and you could smell the spearmint gum he’d chewed, the clean smell of his cologne, whatever body wash he’d used that morning. “Good luck keeping mini Byers alive.”

“Hey!” Will piped up, louder than he’d been last summer and he was scowling at Steve. “I only have three inhalers now.”

Steve rolled his eyes, finally moving out of your space and rounding up his kids like some sort of rogue cowboy, sans horse. He waved the boy away, sounding somewhat placating when he congratulated him.

“That’s great, Will, honestly buddy,” Steve offered a fist bump, one that the smaller boy happily accepted. “Just don’t let Hawkins here let you forget them yeah?”

Steve turned back to you once more, still smug, still infuriating. “We wouldn’t want her to get in trouble now, would we?”

——————

“Camp has been in session for five minutes.”

Murray was standing in front of you, hands open in a gesture that screamed ‘for the love of god, explain yourselves.’ Hopper was sitting at his desk, eyes closed, fingers running circles at his temples and he sighed heavily.

Neither you nor Steve spoke, eyes trained on the old, worn floorboards, converse shuffling, shoulders shrugging, lips twisted to hide your matching smirks.

“Does someone want to explain what happened this time? Because we can’t keep throwing kayaks in the trash like they’re broken cups, people! They're not cheap!”

“Well, you see, Steve has this real annoying habit of-”

“- just because the princess feels then need to win at everything-”

“I need to win at everything?! Me?! Are you fu-”

“Yes you! Always breathin’ down my back, waitin’ for me to fuck up so you can-”

“Enough!“ Hopper jumped up from his chair, hands slamming on his desk as he hunched over it, shoulders heaving, face too red. “Who. Broke. The Kayak?”

You and Steve sighed, shoulder slumped, heads tilted to the ceiling as if you could avoid the question, each other, the inevitable punishment that was coming your way. You sighed, Steve groaned and you both swore.

Because, honestly? You weren’t sure who’s fault it was. Maybe yours, probably Harrington's. More than likely both. ‘Cause the kids had stumbled out of the lake, giddy and a little sunburnt, leaving you to haul the kayaks onto the shore on your own.

Steve had only watched you for a few minutes, smirk on his face as you struggled with the faded red boats, huffing as you attempted to lift them onto the racks, feet clumsy and damp hair sticking to your forehead, your cheeks.

In fact, he looked entirely too amused as he leaned against the dock and by the time he’d come over, offering a rare display of help, you stubbornly told him to ‘fuck off.’

He’d laughed at that, angering you more and you squeaked as he stretched out behind you, his chest still bare from helping his group in the water, and the solid warmth of it brushed against your back when his hands moved to help yours.

He jumped when you did, hands stuttering over your own, over the kayak and you had to push yourself up onto your toes when the boat slipped from the railing. You both caught it in time, Steve pressed into you, cedar and mint and boyish cologne as the curve of your ass settled into his hips. As soon as the kayak was in place, you spun, pushing at his shoulders.

“I can do it myself,” you mumbled, suddenly far too flustered to sound overly annoyed. “I don’t need your help.”

“Christ, princess, you sound like a five year old,” Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t help but notice the flush on his cheeks, looking like you felt. “Can’t admit when you need help, huh?”

“I don’t need help from you, wonder boy,” you tried to laugh, but it came out too pitchy, too forced.

The camp was quiet now the kids had gone back to their cabins, the lake settling after the afternoon swim, the smell of churros and pizza rolls coming from the mess hall. The air fizzed with summer heat and something else and you weren’t sure why, but your chest was heaving, the straps of your swimsuit suddenly feeling too tight.

“Stop calling me that,” Steve growled, eyes flashing and he moved into you again, the way he did when every argument started. “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“No shit,” you spat, meeting him in the middle, chin raised in a taunt, a dare, a challenge. “You think I’m here to make your life easier than it already is?” “You’re fucking infuriating,” Steve hissed, “you know fuck all about my life, princess, don’t act like you’re so hard done by.”

You pressed a hand to Steve’s stomach, ignoring the way the muscles there clenched under your touch and you pushed at him, something inside you crackling when he didn’t budge.

You hated his stupid smile, the way his lips twisted when he made you mad enough to scrunch your nose at him. You hated the way he looked down at you when you were this close, through his lashes, like you were something to be studied. Like he liked the way got into his personal space.

“Well damn, why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Harrington?”

Steve pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek to try and hide his grin, and he shrugged, trying to look entirely unbothered at your pushing. He took another step towards you, chasing you slowly when you stumbled back, body pressed to the stacked kayaks behind you.

The old boats were warm from the sun, the cheap pvc hot on your skin, back bared down the low cut of your swimsuit, your shorts doing nothing to protect the backs of your thighs. You wondered if that’s why your chest felt flushed, if that’s why your face was heating up.

“Can’t do that,” he said, tutting before taking his time letting his eyes drop down your body, before trailing back up again. He caught your gaze, held it, bolder than ever. “I’ll get in too much trouble.”

And then, he fucking winked.

So really, it was Steve’s fault that you stumbled into the racks, the kayak that the boy had just helped you push into place rocking on the rails. Neither of you had the reflexes to do anything about it when it slipped backwards, landing on the hard ground, the dull thud ringing out across camp, the sound ending with a sharp crack, the pvc splitting across the bow of the boat.

So that’s how you both ended your night in the mess hall, waving after Bob as he finished serving up sloppy joes and went to find the gaggle of kids that demanded that he needed to fix their broken Walkmans and waterlogged Mattel electronic games.

Murray had stood in front of you both, grinning widely as he handed you mops and cleaning supplies, gleefully pointing out the mustard stains on the linoleum, the spattering of jello that had somehow painted one of the windows.

It was times like these that you were almost sure you preferred Hopper’s red face and grumbled lectures.

“I want this place spotless,” Murray told you both, waving a pair of yellow rubber gloves at Steve. The boy snatched them, face less than impressed when the man simply chuckled. “If you can flirt somewhere away from expensive camp property, you can work out some of this sexual tension by trying to get rid of that dried in chilli from last year.”

You would’ve gagged at the mention of the fossilised food if you hadn’t burned at the insinuation of flirting. And sexual tension. With Steve fucking Harrington.

But the boy beat you to it, as always, his eyes widening and he brandished the mop like a weapon as he pointed at you.

“We were not flirting,” he insisted, “we do not flirt.”

Murray chuckled, “alright Casanova, keep your hair on.”

You snorted and Steve scowled, shooting you a look that clearly was meant to tell you to shut the fuck up, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Murray, I’d like to think in all the years that we’ve known each other, you’d think I had better taste than to pine after Harrington,” you turned to the boy, smiling as sweet as the summer outside. “Wonder boy has enough of the fifteen year olds twirling their pigtails for him.”

“Stop calling me that.”

You ignored him, splashing his trainers with your mop instead and he kicked your bucket in return.

“Yeah, no, this?” Murray clicked his fingers at you both, pointing back and forth at you as if you were a science experiment. “This is ridiculous. Do something about it before you both implode. I’m not having you take the entire camp down just because you’re both too horny to come to terms with normal human emotions.”

Your jaw dropped, a small noise of indignation coming from you and Steve looked completely bewildered.

He grinned once more, smug as he shook his head, like he was the only enjoying whatever inside joke was going on. He turned to leave, not before reaching into his pocket and flicking something at Steve.

The boy caught it instinctively and he turned to the man with wide eyes. But Murray was already walking away, a stern hand raised in the air, finger pointed to the roof as if he was giving you both some sage words of wisdom as he called out:

“Keep it clean!”

You realised he wasn’t just referring to the mess hall when Steve held up the object, face aghast and cheeks positively on fire, the square, foil packet pinched between his fingers.

You were burning, mouth open in surprise and you panicked, batting Steve’s hand and making the condom fall into the sudsy water you had both already spilled onto the floor.

You definitely preferred Hopper’s way of punishment.

“Put that in the trash, right fucking now,” you demanded, staring at the offending object like it was a ticking time bomb, waiting to blow.

“Christ, settle down, princess priss,” Steve huffed, “it’s not gonna bite.”

But for once, he did what you asked, the highs of his cheeks still tinted pink as he snatched the silver packet from the floor, stuffing it deep into the trash bags you’d both been equipped with. He didn’t look at you.

You both worked in silence as the late afternoon turned into dusk, the sky outside the window a pretty lavender, the clouds over the lake turning the water tangerine and it was so quiet.

Most of the kids would be in their bunks by now, some excitedly making their way over to one of the older cabins where Eddie would organise a game of Dungeons and Dragons for them all. Nancy would be in Hop’s office, going through the next week's schedule and Jonathan would be hidden in his makeshift darkroom, a small shed that was once used for bikes.

You were almost certain Billy would be skulking the woods, looking for a ritual sacrifice or some lone kid to blow his shrill whistle at. Either option seemed likely.

Robin would probably already be back in your shared cabin, music on, one of Eddie’s free joints hanging from her lips and you wondered if Steve would normally spend his down time alone, or if he liked to wander the collection of bars the next town over had to offer. If he brought some girl back to his cabin, if he pressed her down onto his stupid bunk that probably smelled like sunscreen and his cologne.

Your stomach twisted ugly at the thought and you slammed the soaking mop down onto the floor harder than you needed to.

You were positively glowering at the streaks of leftover over pudding some kind had smeared across the floor, kicking the forgotten baseball cards and tiny action figures so they skittered under the stacked chairs.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” The boy called out.

He was sitting on one of the long lunch tables, legs swinging with a smirk on his face. He’d hardly cleaned, you’d come to realise, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You had other reasons to be mad now.

You stared at him from across the empty hall, chest heaving with an annoyance that only Steve Harrington could pull from you. You let mop clatter roll the floor, uncaring as you rounded on him.

“You,” you spat, hands on your hips and hair messy from where the late night heat made it stick to your forehead.

“Me?” Steve asked, all faux shock and innocence with a hand pressed to his chest. He grinned, wolfish and sharp edges. “Didn’t realise I had an effect on your underwear, princess, wanna elaborate?”

There it was again, you realised. That flirting lilt that weaved its way through his usual taunts and teases, Steve’s normal bite not quite cutting as deep. Not this year, not this time.

It made you flustered, on edge, unable to formulate the kind of barbed reply you usually kept on the tip of your tongue, just for him, and oh my god, it infuriated you.

“You have absolutely no reason to be thinking about what’s under my shorts, Harrington,” you told him, eyes narrowed as you went about moving the stacks of chairs against the wall.

“Bold of you to assume I’d want to, Hawkins.”

The light was leaking from the day and what was left of the sun made the shadows on Steve’s face lilac and peach. You didn’t know you’d marched over to him until you were able to reach out and touch him.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, “don’t call me that as if you don’t come from the same shitty, backwater town as me.”

Steve leaned forward, his hands curling around the edge of the table as he raised his brows, ready for another argument. You could feel the heat radiating from him, like he’d trapped the sun in his chest, like summer lived inside of him.

“D’you prefer princess? The princess of Hawkins, is that it?” His voice was mocking, his eyes sarcastically soft.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” you snarled, and you couldn’t help but lean in too, Steve’s knees pressing into the front of your thighs, your fists clenched by your sides. “At least I’m getting away from that place without my daddy paying my way out.”

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart,” Steve spoke lowly, more serious than you’d heard him before. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ooh, did I hit a nerve, sweetheart?” You bit back.

The boy stared at you, gaze heavy and hot in a way that made you squirm. The air was buzzing, popping and crackling like there had been a fire lit between you and suddenly, you didn’t know how you were supposed to end this fight.

The tension was too thick to walk away from, sticky like honey, trapping you there.

“You’re fucking impossible,” he whispered, staring at you like you were a puzzle piece that just didn’t fit. “You’re a pain in my ass, you have been since fucking freshman year.”

You scoffed, pinched and nipped by his words because you were just as aggravated by his presence as he was yours. Maybe more. And probably for longer.

“Freshman year?” You said, surprise colouring your tone. “That’s real cute Harrington, but you’ve been getting on my last fucking nerve since seventh grade.”

“Seventh grade? What the fu-”

You sucked in a breath, preparing yourself. You’d been waiting for this moment for eight years.

“Mrs Duncan’s science fair!” You burst out, “I worked my ass off making those vegetable batteries!”

Steve was staring at you blankly, lips parted.

“I had my tables and all my charts, I even bought a metre to measure the voltage with just my pocket money!” You jabbed a finger to his chest, lips twisted into an almost pathetic pout but you felt twelve again and Steve Harrington still pushing your buttons.

“And you! You waltzed in half an hour late, with a stupid bottle of coke and some mentos, claiming that you’d been the one to discover fucking CO2.”

Steve, unable to hide his amused smile, just shrugged. “I was barely thirteen, Jesus Christ princess…”

“And then your dad came in behind you,” you sniffed. “He walked right up to Mrs Duncan and handed her a piece of paper. And I remember it had a few zeros on it,” you laughed without much humour.

The smile slipped from Steve’s face.

“It was so weird, y’know? How that happened and then you won? And then the next week the library had been restocked and suddenly there were new bunsen burners in the science lab.”

You were genuinely surprised when Steve shoved past you, his hands a shocking heat on the dip of your waist as he grabbed at you to tug you out of his way. You didn’t know when you’d moved to stand between his legs, close enough to see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way there was a small freckle just below his left brow.

He was marching across the mess hall, mop and trash bag forgotten and you were so shocked that it took you a few seconds before you called out, weaker than you had previously been speaking.

“What’s wrong, wonder boy? Don’t like it when you’re called out?”

You weren’t sure if you felt smug or concerned when he spun on his heel, stalking back towards you and moving into you, close enough that the mess of his hair brushed your forehead. But you stood your ground, your legs bumping into the back of the table he’d just left, and you watched through interested eyes as Steve’s chest heaved.

He looked like he wanted to say something, to yell at you even. But you tilted your chin in one last act of defiance, the tip of your nose just, just brushing his and you swore on everything that was holy that you watched the fight leave him.

He was still breathing heavily, like he’d run a mile, took a few hits in a boxing ring, got into a fight with a pretty girl and walked back in for more. You hated it when you realised your chest was moving the same, breaths leaving you in short bursts but you didn’t dare let your stare drop from the boy’s.

You watched lips part, you watched his gaze drop to your mouth and suddenly the birds outside stopped chirping and you could’ve sworn that the world ceased spinning. It felt like the forest was waiting.

Like it was holding its breath.

But then the mop that Steve had left resting against the table he had crowded you against fell, clattering to the floor with a sharp echo. It startled you both, jumping apart as you shared one last breath together, eyes on the floor, cheeks burning.

You didn’t try to stop him when he left a second time, managing to disappear out of the door and into the summer night. You watched the trees and the shadows swallow him, fireflies and leftover smoke in the air and fucking hell, you hated that you watched him walk away until his cabin door could be heard slamming shut.

Tell me what you’ve got in mind.

By the end of the second week of camp, the staff was starting to show the stress of running after a bunch of kids twenty four hours a day. Some of the younger children in Robin's group had caught a bug, and between your friend, yourself and Joyce, you were all run ragged, hauling buckets across camp and dishing out cold compresses like sweets.

So when Saturday rolled in, warmer than the last, you were all ready to let off some steam, meeting behind the gymnasium when the sun went down, greeted by a small fire that Eddie got going in an old trash can. He brought some pre-rolled joints, some stolen bags of chips from Bob’s secret stash and the gym was far away enough from the rest of the camp that no one heard the noise of the boombox Jonathan brought with him.

You threw your own additions into the middle of the makeshift circle that the seven of you made, the newer counsellors still too scared to toe the line of what might get them fired. You stared at the pile of paraphernalia in the middle of the halved logs, makeshift sofas in the too long grass.

A baggie of weed, a grinder and Eddie’s tin of joints, Billy’s favourite whisky, another bottle of vodka - loaded with cherry jolly ranchers that made it pretty and pink. A few cassettes, some homemade mixtapes, the stolen chips, some red vines and sour patch kids, the packet already open and sugar coating the grass.

You hadn’t really spoken to Steve since the mess hall incident.

You’d rather immaturely begged Eddie to switch block sessions with you, allowing you to take your kids to the other side of camp, far from where Steve spent time with his group. You’d organised a massive arts and craft project with Nancy instead, avoiding her knowing looks and pointed questions, letting Dustin go crazy with googly eyes, glitter and neon felt tips instead.

It didn’t matter if you’d asked the kids to make their favourite animal, you’d accept Henderson’s four eyed, sparkly green lizard looking thing over Nancy’s inquisition any day of week. You felt a little bad though, when you all discovered as a group that Will was most definitely allergic to the new type of glue sticks that Hopper had bought.

But it meant that you’d only seen Steve during some meal times, a glance over breakfast, a small collision during one dinner, fries and a bottle of iced tea falling to the floor and everyone had stopped, stared, waited for the yells.

They hadn’t come.

You’d watched him argue with Max when she climbed a tree that he’d already warned her was too tall, you and your group stopping mid swim in the lake to bob around in the current, watching as the boy kicked a dead branch in frustration before scrambling up after her when Max inevitably got stuck.

You knew he was listening in when Dustin started asking why you worked at the camp, a question he asked you every year. You always told the boy it was because you loved seeing him and the rest of the rugrats he called friends. And it always worked when he was younger, ‘cause he’d smile and let you muss up his curls, overjoyed with such an answer and a piece of bubblegum from your pocket.

But he was older now and less believing and when you gave him the same adoring monologue, he simply raised his brows and asked again.

“College,” you had told him simply. “Or money really. I need the cash to be able to leave Hawkins and go somewhere else.”

“Where?” Dustin had asked you, sincere in only the way kids could be.

You were overly aware that Harrington was sitting behind you at the other table, back to back with you on the benches as he showed El how to tie her elastic just right, so that her slingshot would definitely beat Sinclairs. You didn’t have it in you to tell both of them that that kind of craft project definitely wasn’t allowed.

You leaned into Dustin instead and shrugged, smiling softly despite the way you saw Steve in your peripheral, turning just enough so he could hear you say:

“Anywhere.”

So it was a little jarring when he arrived at your little staff get together, camp shirt replaced with one of his own, a sunshine yellow tee that made his eyes look like honey and his skin more tanned. You hated that you noticed, that you knew he looked good.

He greeted everyone warmly, bar you, sending you a curt nod of his head over the burning fire that had Nancy rolling her eyes and Robin poking you in the ribs. Because there were no barbed wire words exchanged between either of you, no jabs, no bites, no smug smiles or sarcastic grins.

“What is going on with you two?”

You ignored her question, giving her a warning glare that she also chose to ignore, ‘cause she went and sat next to Eddie and Jonathan instead, whispering to them behind the plumes of smoke they’d created.

After a few drinks and several people telling Billy to shut up, the night turned darker, the sky navy and the air still stiflingly warm. The fire was more a source of light than heat at this point, or as Eddie liked to remind everyone, ‘it’s for the ambience,’ and everyone was doing their best to stay away from the flames, skin already tight and sore with fresh sunburn from that day.

It only took the vodka bottle being emptied before Billy announced a game of truth or dare, to which everyone groaned and asked what age he was. But he tutted, unperturbed and dropped the empty glass bottle into the middle of the messy circle your bodies had made.

“Don’t be so fuckin’ boring,” he intoned, “it’s either this or hitchhiking into Bloomington to find a chick that likes being on top-”

The girls groaned, faces pulled into disgust and Jonathan was shaking his head, a bemused look on his face.

“-and quite frankly that seems like too much effort tonight.”

Steve scoffed, taking the joint Eddie offered him, pushing it between his lips for a hit before he turned to Billy, one eyebrow raised.

“You mean finding a girl that doesn’t already know you’re a giant dickhead is gettin’ harder to find?”

Sometimes you wondered if Steve hated Billy more than he hated you.

“There’s always your princess,” Billy grinned, eyeing you in a way that made you feel like you were under a microscope. “She’s gotta give into me sometime, right?”

“Keep dreaming, Hargrove,” you butted in, doing nothing to hide the disgust in your voice. You wanted to kick yourself when you realised you’d responded to being Steve’s princess, your name never even being mentioned. “I’d rather kiss Harrington.”

The wave of something washed over the group at your words, wide eyes and soft smirks, and you felt your stomach sink. Steve was staring at you, eyes lit up with something that looked akin to a challenge, a dare that you hadn’t yet been asked.

Fuck.

“Is that so?” Billy laughed, a harsh noise that let everyone know he wasn’t happy at your statement. But he grinned, sharp teeth and sharper blue eyes, steely on you. “You always pick dare, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“That’s not-”

“I dare you to give us all some entertainment and make out with Harrington,” Billy continued, talking over you without even blinking. “Maybe if both of your mouths are busy, we’ll get some fuckin’ peace and quiet around here.”

Nobody breathed.

But someone must’ve picked your mixtape out of the pile, ‘cause the opening beat to ‘I Think We’re Alone Now,’ by Tiffany, started to play. You stared at Billy, shocked at his suggestion, his demand. The game suddenly felt less fun and the only sounds were the echo of your strangled scoff and the crackle of the fire.

But then Nancy was pushing her foot into your ankle from where she sat on her boyfriend's lap, eyes glittering.

“On you go,” she told you, and you think she was trying to be encouraging.

“What?”

“What?” Nancy repeated, doe eyes innocent and wide, like she didn’t know what she was doing. “You picked dare!”

“I didn’t say shit!” You exclaimed, looking around at your friends for help. Robin and Eddie were cackling, faces pressed into each others shoulders, and being absolutely no fucking help to you. “Guys!”

“C’mon, Hawkins, you don’t like to lose now, do you?” Billy was grinning from where he lazed across some old crash mats, his voice a slow drawl as he chewed some gum obnoxiously. “Give Harrington a little lovin’.”

‘Children, behave… that’s what they say when we’re together.’

You turned to Steve, who was still leaning against the gym wall, his eyes finding yours even in the dim evening light. He looked unsure, nervous even, like he was ready to tell the rest of them to shut up, to pack it in. But then he watched the way you brought the bottle of wine to your lips, letting the rest of the sweet drink trickle past your lips and god, he looked at you like he was ready to fight.

Dark brown eyes, smirk on his lips, cocky tilt of his head like he was waiting for you.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth as he watched you stand there, thinking, weighing up your options.

“What’s my forfeit?” You asked cautiously.

You turned when Billy chuckled, blue eyes looking as navy as the sky. He let his head tip back, smoke slipping from his lips and into the trees before he grinned at you, far, far too happily.

“Me,” he told you.

So Steve sighed, overly dramatic before he spoke to the group, voice full of that easy confidence you hated so much.

“Don’t worry princess, you can give it your best shot and I promise I won’t feel a damn thing.”

Your friends cackled and hollered around you; always thoroughly amused by the show you and Steve put on. Robin shook her head from where she sat beside Eddie, a shit eating grinning pulling at her lips and she spilled some beer as she leaned forward and called out:

“What’s that they say? It’s a fine line between love and hate?”

More laughs, whispers and knowing nudges, dollar bills exchanging hands as the group placed their bets on what would happen next.

“I bet your dick says otherwise.”

You don’t know what made you mention Steve Harrington’s dick, but it made the boy’s jaw go slack and the rest of the circle lost it. More whistles, jeering and catcalls broke the quiet of the night, loud over the music, louder because of the vodka and you couldn’t help but set Steve with a smile and a shrug.

This felt like a game you wanted to win.

So you walked over to where he stood, leaning lazy against the gym wall, watching you move towards him like a predator stalking its prey. He was looking at you the same way he did when you ended up on opposite teams for a game of capture the flag, all red hot intensity, pride and confidence bubbling over.

You were surprised when Steve’s hands settled on the dip of your waist, holding you there as you pushed up on your toes to find his lips. Your hand grabbed at his shirt, fisted at the collar to pull him down to you and something in your stomach tumbled when he obeyed.

He didn’t make any more moves though, eyes almost closed as he looked at you through his lashes, watching, waiting, seeing if you fulfilled your dare.

It was awfully quiet now, your friends silent, the radio and the fire both crackling and you could hear how you and Steve’s harsh breaths fell over each other’s faces.

You’d never been this close before. And then it all happened a little too fast.

His fingers flexed at your sides, digging into the soft there and you weren’t sure if it was out of anticipation, impatience or annoyance. There is as something screaming inside of you to move away, to take the loss, that kissing Steve fucking Harrington wouldn’t be worth the five second glory of completing a dare behind the gym hall.

But then Steve was whispering and it fell across your lips, his breath sweet like raspberry sour patch kids and rosè wine.

“If you’re too scared, princess, I totally understa-“

One more push was all you needed. A poke, a pinch, from him, the one person who knew how to rile you up the best.

You kissed him with a surprising softness. Your mouths clashed rough at first, like you did it just to shut him up, to prove a point. And that was true. But your lips gave way to him with surprising ease, a push and pull that felt less like a fight than you thought it would.

It was easy to pretend it wasn’t a dare when Steve let out the prettiest sound, a half sigh, half groan that came from the back of his throat and when he tried to move into you, to take a little more control, your hand that was still curled into his shirt pushed him back into the wall he was leaning on.

He seemed to like that though, ‘cause you felt the curve of his lips on yours, smiling into the kiss and his grip on your waist got almost too tight, like he was planning on leaving marks on you.

Maybe he was.

But then it was a fight, like always, the most dizzying kind. His lips were hot and he tasted sweet, like summer and candy and too cheap alcohol. It felt nice to be kissed, it was all very nice until you remembered it was Harrington and you pushed into him a little harder, nipped at his lip and tugged on his hair. He gave it back just as good, nails scraping against your back, just catching bare skin as he lifted the shirt from your sides.

No one said a word when you parted. Not you, not Steve, not your friends. Not even Billy. You left Steve with a small gasp, a soft noise as you finally parted, so entirely unaware of how long you’d been caught up in his kiss. You felt bruised, on fire, like you’d just stumbled away from your most heated argument yet.

The only saving grace was that he looked as dizzy as you felt.

—————

When a team meeting was called early the next morning, you walked into Hopper's cabin last, only to find everyone in different stages of a hangover, but all equally happy to see you.

They were all grinning, wide, knowing smiles that set your own teeth on edge, your headache worsening when you caught sight of Steve slouched low on the sofa.

He had a pair of Ray Bans perched on his nose and he didn’t look at you when you walked in, eyes on the floor and wincing.

Why the fuck did you kiss Steve fucking Harrington?

“Good morning to you, darlin’,” Billy drawled from where he was leaning against Murray’s desk, smirking with tired eyes. “Sleep well? You didn’t come knockin’ on my cabin so I assume Harrington took real good care of you.”

Oh, you remembered. That’s why.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

It was all you could muster when your mouth still tasted like bourbon and Steve, and Murray looked thoroughly interested when he took to the middle of the floor, clipboard in hand.

“I don’t know what went on last night,” he chuckled, “but I’m sure your hungover asses will be pleased to know that it’s hike day.”

Please for the love of god, no.

Everyone groaned, faces dropping in upset and Robin, who had already been sitting on the floor, her back to Nancy’s legs, slumped over, cheek pressed to the old carpet and she made a noise that was akin to a wail.

“Lucky for most of you, we already have sign ups,” Murray crowed gleefully. “Harrington, Hawkins número dos, have a great day.”

Your mouth fell open in protest - hypocritical, you knew, considering you went through the training for hiking safety last summer, but you weren’t on the schedule until next week.

You stared at Nancy who was flicking through the rota with confusion knitted into her features and when she caught your eye, she just shrugged.

“No, no, no,” you told Murray, a strange laugh bubbling in your throat that sounded like panic, “I’m not taking my kids out until next weekend, with Robin!”

Murray shrugged, not looking like he really cared and he crossed his arms, nodding his head towards Eddie.

“No, I know,” he told you in a voice he probably thought was soothing. “But Eddie Munster here-”

“Um, it’s Munson actually.”

“Whatever - your idiot colleague here decided that the road less travelled was the best way home last night.” Murray grinned and pointed down to where Eddie’s foot sat on a small stool, his ankle wrapped tightly in a haphazard bandage. “He’s sprained it.”

You gaped at the boy and Eddie had the right to look sorry, his teeth bared in an apologetic grimace and he mouthed “sorry” at you from beside Steve. His bunk mate hardly stirred.

“Can’t someone else go?” You asked, spinning back to Murray and you didn’t even care that you sounded desperate. “Like, literally anyone else?”

But Murray kept smiling, his clipboard clasped to his chest like a schoolgirl with a secret diary and he sighed dramatically at you before shaking his head.

“No.”

“But Hopper specifically said that we’re not allowed to group together anymore!” You tried, gesturing wildly to Steve who barely answered with a groan. “Not after summer eighty three when he almost drowned me.”

“Okay that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

You rounded on the boy, hands still flapping around yourself. “Oh, he speaks! Don’t you have anything to say about this?”

Steve peered at you from over the top of his sunglasses, brown eyes weary behind them. He groaned, frowned and pushed his head onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no, I’m too tired to argue right now, princess.”

Murray looked entirely too amused and he crooked his finger in air quotes when he snorted and said, “sure, tired, gotcha.” He turned back to you, still grinning obnoxiously. “Anyway, chief isn’t here today and I figured there isn’t any boating equipment for either of you to break out in the mountains.”

The group tittered.

“So hop to it,” he clapped his hands, board tucked under his arm and everyone leapt to their feet when the older man made a move to grab the whistle that hung around his neck. “The kids are finishing breakfast and I want both your groups at the meeting point for a safety debrief before nine.”

—————

You were busy smearing another layer of sunscreen on Will’s nose when Dustin appeared at your side.

The two groups had made it halfway up the trail, the sun lazy and warm, the way it could only be on an early morning hike. The sky was still hazy, a soft blue lavender that made the clouds in the sky seem dreamlike. The kids were still quiet with sleep, trailing happily behind each other, trading secrets and sips of water with their assigned hike buddies.

It was nice. Apart from Steve leading the way with a scowl on his face.

“Are you and Steve fighting?” Dustin asked, curls stuffed messily under a Camp Upside Down hat.

You finished patting at Will’s forehead as you turned to the other boy with a soft frown. But the two kids stared up at you expectantly, as if waiting for some sort of answer.

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Henderson,” you laughed softly, “but Harrington and I fight all the time. Argue, I mean. Hitting is bad.”

Will rolled his eyes as he fell back into step beside you, the three of you continuing up the path a little behind the rest of the group. But Dustin tugged at your shirt sleeve, clearly not finished with the conversation, nor satisfied with your answer.

“But that’s the point,” he proclaimed and you huffed as you pulled him out of the way of a fallen branch, his attention focused too much on you to notice it in his way. “You haven’t been mean to each other all morning.”

“Or called each other names,” Will pointed out from the other side of you.

“That’s because name calling isn’t nice,” you tried to protest, but your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

“You call each other names all the time.”

For the love of god.

Suzie Bingham had appeared beside Dustin, coke bottle glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose as she set you with a knowing look. Dustin grinned at the girl's appearance, cheeks pink as their shoulders brushed together on the narrow path.

“That’s not the point,” you told her, grappling for an explanation. You glanced up ahead, over the crowd of children’s heads to see Steve bickering with Lucas and Mike, Max poking him in the back with a long stick as she trudged behind them. “We’re adults.”

All three kids stared at you, expressionless and less than impressed.

“Have you and Steve ever kissed?” Will suddenly asked, letting the words burst out from his chest like he knew he shouldn’t have asked.

You tripped over a branch, the same fallen sticks that scattered the trail that you’d pulled Dustin away from. You turned to look at the boy so fast that your neck protested, your eyes wide.

“Because Steve looks at you like he wants to kiss you all the time.”

And then you were on the ground, gravel stuck to your bare knees and dirt on your hands and shins, swearing at the forest floor because all you could think about was the press of Harrington’s lips on yours, the way he dug his fingers into your sides like he couldn’t let go.

Fuck.

“Shit!” You cried out, hot, frustrated tears brimming at your lash line and you winced when you tried to stand back up.

Suzie dropped to the trail beside you, eyes worried as she took note of the blood that slipped down your leg, a nasty gash on your knee that looked like it came from the jagged piece of bark that lay beside you.

“Someone get Steve,” she started to say, a small hand on your shoulder that brought a little comfort.

But Dustin was already cupping his hands over his mouth and positively hollering over the line of kids that were oblivious to what was going on behind them.

“STEVE!”

You groaned, “Dustin, no, I’m fine, honest.”

“You’re bleeding!” Will protested, looking rather sickly at the sight of the red line that was quickly seeking into the white of your sock.

“STEEEVE!”

“Kill me,” you whispered to the ground, “just kill me.”

You saw Steve’s trainers before anything else, the soft thud, thud, thud of his soles on the dirt as he pushed his way through to you. You managed to shove yourself back, your knees protesting before dropping to your ass, inspecting your bloodied leg, wincing.

“Shit, are you okay?”

No comment about your clumsiness, or how you were dumb, or how your dirty, cut up knee looked gross. No, Steve’s voice was shockingly soft with concern as he dropped down on his haunches to inspect your injury.

“M’fine,” you muttered, cheeks warm because he was almost as close as he had been last night, smelling like leftover cologne and sunscreen, the strawberry smoothie you’d watched him grab at breakfast.

“Really?” He mused, his tone disbelieving. “‘Cause that looks pretty nasty, princess.”

His hand moved to cup the back of your sore knee, fingers tucked into the sensitive skin there as he went to inspect the scrape. You jolted at his touch, body electric underneath him and you watched the way Steve’s eyes widened at your reaction.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“What? No, yes, fuck,” you were panicking, you could hear it in your voice and from somewhere behind you, you heard the distinctive sound of Max Mayfield’s laugh. “Just, Christ, don’t touch me.”

“I’m trying to help, idiot,” Steve snarked but he backed off scowling. You watched how he flexed his hand after he let go of your leg, like his skin was burning the same way yours was, like he’d been scalded. “You need to go get that cleaned.”

You hated that the boy was right but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing out loud. Instead, you wrestled to your feet, grunting as you did so, wiggling your ankle to make sure you hadn’t suffered the same fate as Eddie. It seemed fine, nothing crunched at least, but the sting around your split skin screamed at you.

Another slide of red rushed from your cut and down your leg as you moved it and beside you, Will groaned, quickly moving into the crowd to find Mike, his head pushed into his friend's shoulder and his hands clutched at his own stomach.

A chorus of “eww’s” came from the kids and you weren’t fairing much better, your expression pitiful as you watched your white converse turn crimson. You held your leg out awkwardly, hardly balancing on your good one and every time you pushed your foot to the ground, you hissed.

It stung like a bitch.

But then Steve was clapping his hands, well into camp mother mode as he demanded the kids attention. To his credit, everyone looked at him, waiting for further instruction. Well, everyone except Max, who’d found a larger, longer stick and was holding it, javelin style.

“Okay, let’s go,” he announced, his eyes still on you, and you were still surprised to see worry knitted in the space between his brows. “Turn it around gremlins, everyone in front of us and take your time going back down, okay? Stick with your buddy.”

The kids obeyed, muttering between themselves about how much blood was on your leg and would Hopper let them go to the lake now instead? But they trailed back down the path, two by two, and you and Steve waited for the last pair to pass you before he turned, grimacing.

“Put your arm ‘round me.”

You baulked, staring at the boy as if he’d suddenly grown another head.

“What? No,” you hated that you sounded so nervous, and you wondered if he could tell.

“Christ, woman,” Steve rolled his eyes, offering a hand out to you, the warmth of it hovering close to the small of your back. “Can you swallow your fucking pride for a second and let me help you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed, but you wobbled on your one good leg and Steve didn’t try to hide his smile.

“Stubbornness, then,” he mused, eyes on you and his hand still hovering over your back as you started down the hill, an uneven step that had you swearing and muttering to yourself. “Spite, maybe?”

“Fuck you, Harrington,” you told him plainly, hardly any heat behind it for once due to all your attention focused on the pain you were in. Your poor sock was ruined.

Steve’s shoulder bumped yours, his body too close, acting like a buffer in case you fell again. You huffed every time you touched, bare arms brushing, hips grazing and his damn hand still an almost touch on your spine. You could feel the warmth radiate from him.

“Is that dare, princess?” He was smirking.

You stumbled, swearing profusely as you had no choice but to reach out and grab the boy. Steve was already halfway to you, his arm resting at your waist, his other hand catching yours as it grappled for purchase on something. His fingers curled around yours and you were surprised to realise, that aside from the night before, this was the most you had touched the boy in all the years you had known him.

It was dizzying. But maybe that was the blood loss. His palm was even warmer where it was pressed against your back, the dip where the band of your shorts sat, fitting into the curve rather nicely. Steve guided you down the trail, taking more of your weight when the ground became rockier, the gravel under your soles making you slip, your side falling into Steve’s.

“We’re not talking about that,” you told him, teeth clenched as your knee bent at a funny angle, a new kind of pain nipping at you.

“Oh, we’re not?” Steve asked, voice annoyingly light. You could feel his grin without having to look, like you knew the way the air changed when he smiled, everything warm and dizzying around you.

“Nope!” You declared, your tone leaving hardly any room for argument. Luckily for Steve, he always liked a challenge. “In fact,” you crowed, “it didn’t even happen.”

The boy snorted, a soft sound that you felt through your body, half of your back pressed into his chest as you both toed your way down the steepest part of the mountain. He held you to him, careful not to let you drop your weight onto your leg, one hand still curled large around your own, the other holding your waist now.

You swallowed, throat tight.

“It didn’t happen, huh?” Steve asked, voice low in your ear as you approached the back of the kids, Lucas and Suzie’s ears pricking up at the idea of eavesdropping. “That’s what we’re doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeated again, voice airy, nails digging into the back of Steve’s hand, a warning, another fight blooming in your chest.

Another snort, a tighter grip at your waist, as if he was trying to remind you of the way he held you last night, calloused fingertips pushing at the cotton of your t-shirt, barely touching the skin underneath.

You were so much warmer than when you were climbing up the mountain.

This waiting ‘rounds killing me.

The third week went by in a blur, your incident on the hike leaving you with a nasty cut on your knee that Joyce had to dig gravel and dirt out of, and a sudden overwhelming awareness of where Steve Harrington was at all times.

Your body lit up like a warning light every time he was near, a new agitation at the sight of his stupid hair and his stupid sunglasses and his stupid, stupid smirk.

He didn’t try to talk about the kiss again, he wasn’t that idiotic. But the energy between you both was a little different than before. It was still fiery, buzzing with tension and an electrical current that kept you on your toes, but it was different.

You weren’t sure if you liked it.

The week led up to the annual game of hide and seek, the entire camp split into two teams, the cabins turned into bases, the inside of the old gym a ghost town. No one was surprised when Murray declared you and Steve team leaders - one seeking, the other hiding - the camp cheering and whistling as you both took your new shirts, both with ‘captain’ printed on the back.

You’d barely led your team away from the middle of the camp before you heard Steve declare:

“Okay listen up, we need to win.”

You appraised your own squad with the same focused stare that Steve had, your gaze settling over Eddie and Nancy, the gaggle of kids that were all smearing face paint over their friends. War stripes on their cheeks, bandana’s wrapped around their foreheads and Dustin had even gone as far as to don a green ski mask.

You squinted at him, wondering if you should ask where he got such a thing but you decided against it, voice endearing as you said, “Dustin, sweetie, I don’t think you’re going to be able to see very well out of that.”

And before he could argue his case, Eddie pinched the top of it, whipping the fabric from his head, curls spilling out messily. The boy pouted, but he didn’t argue, instead standing still enough to let Lucas smear blue lines over his face.

“You gonna force me into the smallest corner you can find?” Eddie had turned to you whilst Nancy handed out some bottles of water, hushing the trash talk that was starting to get out of hand between Lucas and Suzie.

You grinned, looking at Eddie with an easy smile, shrugging, “maybe. You’re pretty flexible, right Munson?”

The boy snorted, shoulder nudging into yours, “like a fucking gymnast, sweetheart.”

You fell into a soft conversation with Eddie, a rare occurrence in the craziness of the camp, all gentle laughs and hands pushed to arms, cracked jokes and the promise of a joint after the game was over. And then Steve was there, almost too close, brows knitted together as he watched the way his bunkmate pressed teasing fingers into your ribs, making you squeak.

“Are we flirting or are we playing?” He snapped, shoulder brushing yours. But Steve wasn’t looking at you, his stare heavy and trained on Eddie. “Hey dude, didn’t Joyce tell you you’ve got to stick with Will?”

Eddie could read his friend like a book. He smirked, unable to help himself when Steve was making it so obvious, but he nodded, moving away from you to tussle at Will’s hair.

“Sure am, Harrington,” the longer-haired boy smiled good naturedly, “little Byers and I are gonna find the best spot, right kid?”

Will nodded enthusiastically, inhaler in hand and Mike at his side. But Steve was still scowling, eyes finally meeting yours before he turned suddenly, marching back to his team as if he couldn’t bear to be around you for any longer.

And that was fine with you. Totally fine.

From then, it was chaos, carnage across the camp with kids running riot, wrestling for the best hiding spot as Hopper and Murray watched from the office window, cups of coffee in hand.

It went the way it always did, with Mike and Will caught first, the latter giving away their hiding spot way too soon because his allergies made him sneeze, the other boy refusing to split from his friend.

Eddie trailed behind them, lazy and unbothered about being out of the game so early, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, waiting for Murray to stop watching.

The kids spread around the camp in clusters, hiding in beached kayaks, under the dock, squeezed between the crash mats in the gym. Max was caught out in the open - after being refused sanctuary in Hopper’s office - scowl on her face, El dragged behind her, grinning as you laughed.

“Hit the benches,” Steve had told them both, watching as they took their consolation s’mores from Joyce and sat with the rest of the captured kids around the fire.

Steve’s team took out the other kids one by one, screams and laughter heard across the forest, campers crawling out from underneath decking and out of trees, covered in mud and nettle stings, but so, so happy.

And then there were hardly any players left.

But Steve bypassed Dustin and Lucas, the two boys snickering underneath an overturned canoe, and he headed to the gym instead. The old building was empty, his footsteps echoing on the linoleum and the lights were off, the sun that was starting to set just barely shining in the high set windows.

It painted stripes of light and shadows on the floor and the air seemed golden. Steve kicked at the crash mats that were stacked and

pushed against a wall, his movements playful and throwing dust mites into the air. They caught the light, floating, glittering and Steve saw a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the ball cage and he grinned.

If you heard him walking over, you didn’t show it, stubbornly standing your ground until Steve rounded the corner, eyes bright on yours.

“You’re losing your edge, princess, that was far too easy.”

You were scowling at him and you pushed yourself away from the cage, the wheels squeaking as you rounded the other side, eyes on the boy. It was familiar, that feeling, that push and pull, a chase, a challenge, a dare.

“Don’t kid yourself Harrington, I’ve been waiting here for about an hour now.”

Steve followed, eyes trailing over your bare legs, the swell of your ass in your shorts, freckle on your thigh, the silver scar on your knee from the hike. You noticed, brows raised and you snorted when he shrugged, unapologetic in a way you hadn’t seen before.

He didn’t care if you caught him staring. Steve Harrington had always been the first to call you annoying, stubborn, a thorn in his side. But he’d never tried to deny that you were good to look at.

“That’s only ‘cause I was enjoying the peace and quiet,” Steve shot back and you smiled at him, eyes narrowed, overly fake. “But it looks like I win, who would’ve thought?”

But you were still moving, stepping around the pile of mats, the cold material brushing against your shins and the light from the window made you glow, eyes too bright, smile sharp.

You stared at the boy from across the crash pads, voice sticky sweet when you asked, “don’t you have to tag the other opponent before they’re out?”

Steve stopped, level with you across the hall and he grinned. And fuck, he looked pretty like that, standing in a sunbeam, freckles on his nose, hands on hips and eyes burning on you.

You weren’t arguing, not quite, not yet. But it still felt fun.

Steve looked around, eyes conspiring, and he smirked. “There’s no one here to say I didn’t, princess.”

And then you were moving again, circling each other, smiling a different kind of playfulness and you tutted, pushing your hands into the back pockets of your shorts and you smirked when Steve followed the movement of it.

“Cheating? C’mon now, wonder boy, you’re above that. Daddy’s not here.”

Steve twisted his lips, ran a hand through his already messy hair and made it flop into his eyes and he pretended to think, just for a second or two, as if he didn’t already know what he was gonna throw back at you.

“Usually,” he told you, voice low, a little rougher than before. “But I think you owe me one, princess.”

You quirked a brow at him, standing still, one knee lifted and pressed to the mats to steady yourself.

“Is that so?”

There was a fizz in the air that hadn’t been there before.

“You got to win your little dare ‘cause of me,” he told you and god, something shifted. Maybe the sun dropped, maybe the shadows got darker, maybe the air got heavier. “I saved you from the clutches of Hargrove.”

You scoffed, turning and going back to walking around the mat, hiding the way your cheeks burned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, remember?”

But Steve just grinned, that wide, bright kinda smile that showed off the dimples you almost forgot he had. He looked boyish like this, handsome in a pretty way, soft and full of sun. Maybe it was because he was looking at you without the lines between his brows, the downturn of his lips.

“Oh but you do, don’t you, sweetheart?”

‘Sweetheart’ was starting to sound less like an insult, less like a jab, when Steve said it. His voice was softer, a teasing pitch to it, that sounded so much different than you’d heard and you decided that you didn’t hate it.

Not at all.

But the boy was talking about the kiss and he was looking at you like you both shared a secret, despite the very public location it happened in. He was acting as if he liked it, as if he wanted you to admit that you did too.

You stopped, converse digging into the wall the mats made, eyes wary on the boy because Steve kept walking. He found one side, then the other, only pausing when you were a foot away from him. He mirrored you, hands shoved into his own pockets as he watched you through messy hair.

“What d’you want me to say, Harrington? Huh?” you smiled, sardonic, lips twisted to the side and gaze careful. You didn’t want to give anything away. “You want me to tell you that I liked it, is that it?”

Steve smirked, enjoying your tone, the teasing, the push of the taunt, the bite to your voice. He knew it so well.

“You want me to tell you that you’re a good kisser? Does wonder boy need a little ego boost?”

“Oh princess, I don’t need anyone to tell me that.“

Steve’s voice was a drawl. Heavy, warm, sticking to you like the summer heat, all low, hot sun and sweetness.

You were too warm, a tumble low in your stomach, a flush across your chest.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Steve continued,voice far too casual, as if he wasn't making you think about the dirtiest things imaginable.

“You’re a pig.”

“You love it.”

“You fucking wish, Harrington.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, princess.”

You weren’t sure when you’d moved closer. Neither was Steve, really. But you were once again in your favourite position with the boy, toe to toe and your chin tilted up defiantly to stare at him. He looked too happy, excited even.

“I’m not playing your games,” you narrowed your eyes at him, hands on your hips in an arrogant display, trying your best to prove that you weren’t as affected by the boy as you actually were.

The toes of his shoes brushed yours and you could smell his cologne, the forest on him, campfire smoke and pine, leftover rain and something minty.

“No?” Steve asked and his eyes were tracing the features of your face, the length of your lashes, the dip of your Cupid’s bow, the curve of your lip. “Not even if I pick dare?“

You swallowed, hard.

You weren’t sure what this was. Not anymore. Because it didn’t feel like the arguments you usually had, the poking and pushing and pulling at each other until something snapped and the yelling started. In fact, you were sure this was the quietest you’d ever been around Steve Harrington.

Except for the thundering of your heart. It beat against your ribs, a drumming sound that you wondered if Steve would hear. It made your body vibrate, it made your chest feel fit to burst and you couldn’t help but part your lips under his stare, sucking in a breath that you suddenly so desperately needed.

Steve did the same, an instinctual response to watching you, his tongue wetting at his bottom lip, his eyes heavy and hooded. You didn’t remember taking another step towards him, but you don’t recall Steve moving either. It was all a slow lean, a curl into each other’s bodies, slower and softer than the first time.

Your hand was on his chest again, fingers splayed across his shirt rather than fisting it in your palm and god, you still really weren’t sure if it was to encourage him closer or shove him away.

But then his touch was at your waist and the sun finally dipped below the windows and the hall went dark. The shadows sparkled as you got used to the lack of light, Steve’s face a pretty palette of lilacs and navy, the rosy tint of his lips looking deeper and closer to you than ever.

The slide of your nose against his, stuttering and a little clumsy, unsure and nervous. Everything in your body was screaming at you. To push him away, to pull him towards you, to chew him out, to devour him.

Steve fucking Harrington made you want to yell, to fight, to roll your eyes and rant for an hour and a half. Steve fucking Harrington made you want to be slammed against a wall, pushed down onto a bed, lips on your neck and kisses that were all tongue and teeth.

His breath huffed against your cheek, slow and careful like he was still deciding what to do too. Steve was cherry cola and the heat of an argument, cedar and spice and bad decisions. Steve was a hot touch on your waist, a white hot burn through your shirt and a tight grip that was sending you to another level of frustration.

Then light flooded the gym, a bright burst of it coming from the main doors as the very last of the low setting sun leaked through as they slammed open.

The noise of them hitting the wall made you both jump, the angry squeak of the hinges bringing both back to the harsh reality of who you were about to kiss. You stumbled and Steve tripped, falling backwards onto the crash mats with a soft “fuck” as you turned to see Nancy and Robin standing in the doorway.

No one spoke, not for a few seconds and the quiet was painful.

But then Nancy cleared her throat, a smirk on her face that she covered with her hand and Robin grinned.

“Um, all the kids have been found,” she told you both, glee in her voice that she couldn’t cover and god, you were burning with a new kind of heat. “We’re doing story time.”

“And uh, one of you needs to take over,” Nancy explained, still smothering a laugh under what she thought was a serious expression. “Billy started talking about demogorgons and made Will cry, so…”

“Again?” Steve muttered from his seat on the mat. “I thought Eddie told him that it was all made up.”

You didn’t dare look down at him, your body still overly aware of his, his shoulder brushing against your thigh as he moved and when he clambered to his feet, you were spurned into motion, your legs carrying you quickly across the gym.

Your shoes squeaked on the floor and your heart was still racing, leaving you feeling like a hormonal teenager who was out of control and unable to handle some stupid boy being too close. Grabbing Robin’s hand, you mumbled some sort of thanks to Nancy and then made up a lie about feeling sick, and how you needed to go back to your cabin now.

Looking at your flushed skin and glassy eyes, no one could really argue with that. So you left Steve with the responsibility of the nightly campfire story and ignored Robin’s husky laughter as you pulled her through the trees and the dark until you got back to your shared bunk.

You flew into the cabin like a bat out of hell, doing everything in your power to get away from the boy as quickly as you could. Robin was close behind you, still cackling before she slammed the door, just as you dumped yourself onto your bed, groaning.

The other girl braced herself, back against the wood, facial expression scandalised as she stared at you wide eyed and through messy bangs.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looked like you and Harrington were about to rail each other on those fucking crash mats.”

You spluttered, the sound of protest getting caught in your throat as you tried to sit up, pushing yourself onto your elbows so you could glare at Robin, trying your best to look appalled.

“What?!” You choked out, and you knew you were beetroot, you could feel the heat in your cheeks, the flush over your chest. “No we weren’t!”

“You know,” Robin mused, head tilted to the side as she looked at you, “your summer could be a lot more fun if you just admitted you don’t hate him as much as you claim to.”

Another noise came from your throat in response, strangled and panicked as you paced the cabin, old floorboards creaking under your feet.

“I do hate him,” you insisted, turning your back to the girl to fuss over a pile of clothes you’d left on your dresser after laundry day. You wondered if she’d be able to see the lie on your face, if she could hear it in your voice. “Harrington is a pain in my ass, he has been since-”

“Seventh grade, yeah, yeah,” Robin interrupted, her voice bored and impatient, and she waved a dismissive hand at you. “Science fair, vegetables, Steve and mentos and his dad, I know.”

You glared at her, clothes abandoned, clean shorts dropping to the floor, your arms now crossed. You hated that you were pouting.

“He didn’t look like he was causing you too much grief when you had him up against the gym wall the other week…”

“That was a dare!”

“And now - in the gym again actually - do you have some sort of kink?”

“Robin…” you were groaning, pleading.

“Is it a competitive thing? It gets you both going?”

“Nothing happened! We were- we were arguing!”

The other girl smirked, eyebrows raised and her back still pushed against the doorway. “Yeah, but babe, that’s foreplay for you.”

“I hate you,” you lied and there was no heat behind it, in fact, it only made your friend grin wider.

“As much as Steve?” She asked, voice sweet. “Should I light some candles? Pop a mint?”

“You’re a dick,” your voice was mulish but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“You’re in denial,” Robin shot back, still sounding far too happy about the discussion. “Don’t you think all that pent up frustration could be easily solved?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing where this was going. The girl was moving towards you, eyebrows wiggling as she ran her hands over her chest in what you assumed was supposed to be a suggestive manner.

“Y’know, there’s other things your mouths could do instead of arguing.”

You pretended to gag, face scrunched up at the thought of it and you went back to sorting through your laundry. “You sound like Murray.”

“I knew he was a sensible man,” she told you and you scoffed because you’d watched Murray Bauman light a firework with the end of Billy’s cigarette last summer.

“But seriously, you’ve got to be attracted to him, right?”

“Murray?” You asked, all faux innocence, “he’s a bit old, no? Hopper, however-”

“You’re disgusting,” Robin snorted, grabbing at the pile of clothes you were hoarding, taking some of her own shirts to fold as she levelled you with a stare. “And you’re not fooling anyone. I’m very much gay - like, with a capital ‘G’ - and even I can say Steve is easy on the eyes.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” you tutted, “his head will get bigger.”

“Oh absolutely not.”

You fell into an easy silence then, clothes folded and sorted on your beds and you were surprised when Robin - perpetually messy - even went as far as to make her bed from that morning.

It gave you too much time to think. About how the boy had been almost nice to you at some points this summer, helping you when you fell, teasing instead of scathing, always too close, always nearby. It made you notice him too much, made you far too aware of him.

Like how his skin tanned so easily, new freckles every other day, how blue and yellow looked good on him, how when he got too close you noticed he had some green in his eyes. You knew he liked a smoothie for breakfast, he turned softer and quieter when speaking to Will, he encouraged Max to run faster, jump higher, swim deeper, that it was okay to be a little scared sometimes.

You stopped, a choked breath of complete indignation leaving your lips and dropped the pyjamas you’d been folding and marched to the door.

“Uh, where are you going?”

“To tell fucking Harrington that I know his game,” you seethed, “and that it’s not fucking working.”

Robin looked startled. “What?!”

You flung the door open and cringed when it hit the wooden wall behind it but you barely paid it any mind. The woods were dark, the sky inky and it smelled like rain was coming.

“His game!” You urged, and god, you sounded a little manic, didn’t you? “He’s trying to get me to like him. And it’s not happening, he’s not winning!”

“Winning what?” Robin was almost yelling, confusion colouring her tone and she squinted at you.

“I don’t know!” You told her, mouth agape because Jesus Christ, you really didn’t know, but you’d be damned if you let the boy think he had some kind of one up on you.

“Babe, curfew is in like, ten minutes.”

One glance at the clock on the wall told you that Robin was right, but stubbornness won out over sensibility so you made a strangled sound and shrugged, closing the door behind you a little too loudly and you made your way over the carpet of pine needles, heading towards the other cabins.

—————

Eddie answered when you knocked, wearing an old, Metallica hoodie that was too big, his long curls pulled messily back into a bun and he grinned, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

“Now, I’m pretty certain you’re not here for me,” he told you, voice all light and full of a humour that you didn’t appreciate, “but there’s absolutely no fucking way you’re here for Harrington.”

You scowled.

“Is he in?”

Eddie cackled, pushing himself away from the door as he called out over his shoulder, looking thoroughly entertained.

“Hey, big boy, you’ve got a lady caller.”

This was starting to seem like an incredibly bad idea. Your irritation had waned slightly as you’d marched across the dark forest, the fresh air soothing your anger just a touch. But before you could change your mind, Steve appeared at the door, barefoot and shirtless, his hair messy and wearing nothing but a pair of low slung grey sweats.

For the love of fucking god.

He had a towel thrown over his shoulder, like he’d planned on taking a shower, but he seemed content to stay and talk to you, his body leaning lazy on the door frame like Eddie had.

“Princess,” Steve greeted, sounding bemused, “is this a booty call?”

From inside the cabin, Eddie snorted and you both made a point of ignoring him.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you told him, outraged at the idea of it. But you were warm again, tongue feeling clumsy and too thick in your mouth and you started to wondered when the fuck Steve Harrington made you feel nervous. “And that’s the reason I’m here, actually.”

Steve simply raised his brows, crossing his arms over his chest. He tilted his head, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” you were stalling, trying to remember why you were actually standing outside with Steve at nine o’clock at night. His arms were entirely too distracting, the muscles there tensing and flexing as he moved. “I know what you're up to, Harrington.”

“You do?” Steve smirked, entirely entertained the way your gaze landed on his shoulders, his bare chest. “What am I up to, exactly?”

“This shit, that you keep pulling,” you told him, gesturing between the two of you. The space there crackled, it popped and buzzed with something unseen and electric, and you swore Steve felt it too. He had to, right? “This flirty, ‘lemme help you walk down the mountain’ crap.”

Steve was staring. And from inside, on his bed, Eddie was cackling again.

“Would you rather I’d left you to hobble down by yourself?” Steve asked, lips twisted to hide his amusement. Your eyes were flashing with annoyance, and you’d leant against the porch fence for support, back to the wood and hands curled around the ledge. “Let a mountain lion get you?”

“There aren’t any mountain lions in Indiana,” you replied scathingly.

“A bear then,” Steve shrugged, and Christ, he was grinning again, dimple and all. “Anyway, you think I’m flirting with you, princess?”

You stared, suddenly speechless.

“I’d have more luck getting Munson into bed with me than managing to have a pleasant conversation with you, sweetheart.”

But then Eddie was yelling from inside the cabin, a pillow hitting Steve’s back as he called out, “ready when you are, honey.”

Steve ignored him, eyes still on you. “If you think that I’m flirting with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He oozed too much confidence, sarcasm and charm.

It pissed you off.

“Well then stop it!” you growled, pushing yourself off of the porch fence and moving towards Steve. You stared up at him, stubborn, face tilted up to him, eyes defiant. You couldn’t help but push a finger into his bare chest. God, he was warm. “Stop doing-”

“Stop doing what? Huh?” Steve was smiling. Why was he smiling?

You stumbled over your breath, it hitched in your throat and honestly it only caused more anger to bubble in your chest. Was it anger? Annoyance? Frustration?

“Stop - stop, getting all close to me all the time, stop calling me princess and stop doing this thing where you’re clearly trying to distract me.”

Steve raised his brows, looking down at the small space between the two of you. He tilted his head, smirk dripping with amusement and you knew you could argue anymore. You’d moved to him, chests almost brushing, warmth radiating off of him to you, sharing the same air.

Fuck.

“Do I distract you?”

The facade dropped. The game, the challenge, the fight - whatever it was - it stopped. Genuine surprise coloured the boy's tone and he uncrossed his arms, leaving his chest open and more space between you both. He was so warm, you could feel it from his skin, like the sun lived in his chest and he swallowed the summer.

Steve looked shy, all of a sudden. Face flushed, eyes bright and wide and his lips dropped into a pretty ‘o’. Even in the dark, you could make out the pink of his cheeks, the tips of his ears and he was looking at you like an entirely different kind of challenge. A puzzle maybe, a new type of game.

“What?” you were panicking inside. That white hot flash of embarrassment ran up your spine, blooming over your chest until blood rushed loud in your ears. “What? No, I didn’t say that.”

“You definitely just said that.” There it was, that smile again.

“I didn’t,” you scoffed, eyes searching anywhere but his. You stared at the door behind him, groaning when Eddie waved from his bed, grin wider than Steve’s.

“You did,” Eddie added to the conversation, all soft smiles and messy curls. “I heard you.”

Suddenly you had had enough of boys.

“Oh for fuck sake.”

You stormed away from Steve with more swears mixing in with the night air, your frustration taken out on the stairs as you stomped back down them, trainers kicking up pine needles and fallen acorns as you made your way back to your own cabin, completely done with Steve fucking Harrington.

PART TWO

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