#i have no one to get this off my chest to who'd actually care lmao 🙃

[sn0tcl0wn]

i deadass skipped halloween this year lmao. it's such a fucking bummer when you're alone and nothing related to the holiday is any different than how i spend most of my free time or already dress lmao. hopefully next year but this year i've just been so depressed due to personal shit that i just want to skip to christmas music because i'm too tired to do the mash (🎶 the monster mash🎶). i feel like a bad goth but i just want to listen to some bells and think about toyland or some wholesome shit. 99% of my life revolves around horror and i think i have too many bad recent memories tied to halloween to enjoy the actual day. i celebrated spooky season as soon as it started and if you do christmas right it doesnt end until new years so i dont feel like i'm missing out on anything outside of just wishing i got to hang out with people in silly costumes which, again, is part of christmas if you do it right. today may be halloween to you

[velvett-tearss]

Inertia — Jean Kirschtein

summary: A little gravity and spilled coffee never hurt anybody, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt Jean, especially if coming from you.

warning: cursing, gender-neutral reader (no pronouns mentioned), you won’t get the gist of it if you don’t remember 8th grade science lmao ❤️ (laws of motion)

genre: modern au, fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: very much an impulse post, this has been collecting dust in my drafts for too long lmao, I hope you enjoy this <3 I sure didn’t 😀

     Jean has never been good with science.

     He learned it for a number of years in different classes — biology, chemistry, physics — and he still couldn't tell you anything other than that mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell.

It wasn't all that bad at first. He did enjoy it in the earlier years of school where most of his teachers breezed past it along with social studies. It was when the class actually started to learn periodic elements that things took a turn.

He learned it, nonetheless. There really wasn't a rule that gets you out of being taught a subject, as uninteresting as you may find it or the class itself.

     Despite this, Jean isn't exactly a lost cause in the science department. A few things have stuck with him, believe it or not. Gravity, photosynthesis, some Charles Darwin dude.

     But now, he wishes he payed attention more in science class. Maybe he would've understood what you were saying the first time he met you.

     "Geez, do you always have somewhere to be?" Jean had asked you with a scowl. He was sprawled on the floor, looking up at you. The two of you weren't acquainted yet. Not necessarily.

He placed you very easily, though. He'd seen you running around the university's campus a lot of the time. You never seemed to be still, in one place, in one piece.

     The reason behind it? He didn't know or care.

You had bumped into him a number of times. The first three times, Jean waved the incident off in good-nature. He thought himself to be a man with patience, something you didn't seem to have. There was no harm in running into someone from time to time.

It was the fourth time that he wasn't so pleased with. Each time you bumped into him, you sent him tumbling on his ass. Hard. He always landed on the floor in a comedic position like those cartoon characters on T.V.

    And each time — no matter the day — you, somehow, remained perfectly unscathed and standing. That wasn't even the worst of it: you always stood there, a hand on your hip and an impatient expression painting your face.

     All that ever did was bruise his ego and ass a bit. You usually went your separate ways after quick apologies, and Jean would see you leave in a quicker speed than when you'd arrived.

But this time around, you had a cup of coffee in your hands.

"What if I do?" you had countered, bending down to help him off the ground. You were scowling. Scowling! How could you look so displeased when it was him who'd been spilled with coffee?!

“Maybe you should manage your time better.” he bit back, allowing you to help him up.

"Maybe you shouldn't walk along the inner corners of hallways."

"Maybe you shouldn't run in the building." Jean told you, trying to ignore the large patch of his damp shirt that clung to his midriff. It was sticky and hot, and he didn't like it one bit. "Besides, everyone knows the inside lane is for leaving."

"No, it's not." you threw back quickly, as if you had been prepared for this interaction. Had you had this conversation with someone else before? How many other people had been victim of your coffee throwing and iron step?

"The outside lane is for when someone is leaving, and the inside lane is for coming in. Same goes for stairs."

Jean raised a brow, patience running dangerously thin on him. "Who made that rule up?" he questioned, unimpressed by your words. He refrained from calling you something that might’ve gotten him a smack to the face.

     "Rising is harder than descending." you explained, crossing your arms over your chest. You gave him an expression that mirrored his. "Plus, the inner lane is shorter than the outer lane. It's— Well, it's the law of gravity."

     You spoke with such conviction he feared he'd been wrong about everything in his life. Besides, he didn't know a thing about gravity other than that it kept him from flying into space.

     "Alright, fine, but why would you run with a steaming cup of coffee in your hands?" Jean asked in retaliation. He may have lacked in the science department, but he knew his common sense quite well. "It's like you want to spill it all over people."

Your mouth opened and shut quickly. He raised a brow, awaiting for your comeback that never came. Instead, you did the weirdest thing.

You laughed at him, eyes crinkling slightly at him. It was then that he realized maybe he wasn't so mad at you after all, Spilt coffee never hurt anybody, right? He would live to see the next day, so was there really any harm?

     "Okay, you're right." you admitted, almost bashfully. Your eyes traveled down to the brown stain of coffee on his dress shirt. "I shouldn't run around with hot drinks anymore, but you shouldn't walk along the inner lane when you're leaving the building."

     "Alright, deal. No more walking in the corners."

     You nodded, lips pursed. "No more running with coffee."

     It wasn't long after that he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out to dinner. He isn't gonna lie and say it was all sunshine and rainbows because it wasn't.

You were always running, always on the go. Were you running out of time? You had nowhere to be, yet you feared the thought of being late. Had you ever stopped and smelled the roses?

It was pretty hard at times. Getting accustomed to your way of things was hard. You were a mess before you met him. At least that's what you always say. Jean doesn't think so.

Maybe you were, in a sense. That was fine, too. It didn't bother him. Messes were made to be cleaned up after all, and he didn't mind leading the clean-up crew if you let him.

Things started sailing smoother as time flew. It was nice. Being with you was nice. You stopped spilling coffee on people. He stopped walking along the inner corners of hallways.

You never seemed to stop running, though. That was a constant in your lives. That was okay, too. Jean had to learn how to keep up with your never-ending speed, but you always let him set the pace. Maybe that's his favorite thing about you.

He taught you that being at rest isn't always a bad thing. You don't have to rush to get things done. Sometimes it's okay to just stop and be grateful for what's now and not what can be.

You taught him a fair share, too. You explained to him that the law of gravity isn’t actually about rising and descending. That had just been a lie to get you out of a bad situation. There was such thing as a law of gravity discovered by Isaac Newton.

Maybe Jean should've payed attention in science class when they talked about Newton because perhaps he would've understood what you were saying that first day.

All he knew was Newton's Laws of Motion, mainly the first: an object stays at rest or in motion unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.

     He figured it was something like you.

As fast as you walked, you never seemed to stop. Not until you sent him to the ground on his ass with a coffee stain on his shirt. Maybe he was the unbalanced force that acted on you. He wasn't completely sure.

     After all, Jean had never been good at science.

note: self-projected here bc I fucking hate science too ,, does this make sense or was I spitting gibberish skdkskdn

[roguerogerss]

Sorry is a Sorry Word

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Plot: Steve fucked up - bad. He doesn’t really know how, or if, he should say sorry, until Dustin gives him a pep talk.

W/C: 3.1k

A/N: Just now realising how long this is oops, sorry. My first Stranger Things fic! Finally. (watch this flop so hard lmao) Remember to like and reblog if you enjoy! It really helps me out. As always, requests are open and any and all feedback is appreciated <3

————

"Dustin, Please, just leave me alone." She lay back on her bed, tears streaming down her face and hair amiss from where she'd run her fingers through it. "I'm fine, I just...give me some time."

"But, we tell eachother everything." Her little brother sounded so small and defeated that it almost broke her heart in two. She could hear him leaning his back against the door, the back of his head thumping dully against the wood a second later. "I feel like we're drifting apart. You don't talk to me anymore."

"Dustin-"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry." Dustin cleared the remnants of his upset from his throat, "We can talk later. I get that you need time."

And with that, he'd left. She could hear his muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor of the hallway, walking away from her bedroom and back to his own. She knew that she wanted to talk to him and vent about all of the happenings of the day, but she couldn't bring herself to let her walls down in front of anyone about her current situation just yet.

It was Steve. And it was bad.

They'd been together for a year and ten months. He'd been there for her through thick and thin. Whenever their mom went MIA, something that happened more often than not, during the days and weeks and months that Y/N was left to take care of her thirteen year old brother on her own with no notice whatsoever, Steve was there. And he'd take Dustin out to the cinema, give him free ice cream, play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends - even though Steve had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons. He'd sleep over, make her feel like she wasn't alone. It filled her with pride to see him taking Dustin under his wing, more like a dad than even an older brother.

When they lost Hopper, who'd become more of a parental figure than she and Dustin's mom was to her, he was standing by her side at the funeral, hand grasping her own smaller one with force and squeezing it every so often, just to remind her that he was there. He was there after the funeral, too, when they went to the cabin and went through Hopper's things. He was there when she found the birthday present that Hopper had bought for her, a necklace with, 'you're pretty cool, kid', engraved on it. Hopper's way of saying that he loved her. It came with a letter, one that she cried so hard while reading that she couldn't see the words on the page.

The point was, that Steve had been there through everything. And now that they'd had a huge argument over - of all things - Nancy Wheeler, she was unsure of whether or not she'd have Steve to lean on anymore.

It wasn't so much a stupid argument as it was a stupid mistake on Steve's end. He even admitted to himself that what he'd done was more than a dick move. Tina was having a party, a big one, for old time's sake. Y/N wasn't invited, having been socially considered as 'uncool' while in High School, while Steve was invited. He said that it wasn't a big deal, it didn't matter, he wouldn't go.

Except that it was a big deal, it did matter, and, well, he did go.

He'd gotten really drunk, so drunk, in fact, that he had no recollection of the night at all and managed to stumble to Y/N's front door at five in the morning.

He'd told her that he went to the party, that he was sorry. She'd been mad, but she was so tired that she said she'd deal with it in the morning and told Steve to sleep it off on the sofa. Before going to sleep, however, Steve had told Y/N that he 'thought he might've kissed Nancy' that night.

They'd argued about it the next day. She'd dropped him off at home, neither of them speaking at all in the car, and they'd screamed at eachother in Steve's living room. Little did either of them know, Steve hadn't actually kissed Nancy, he was just so drunk that he made himself believe that he had. And then, Y/N told Steve that they were done, and he'd said 'fine', and she'd left and cried in her car for an hour.

And now, she was here. Crying on her bed, little brother probably thinking that one of her friends had died or something.

She hated herself for blowing up and flying off the handle and literally breaking up with Steve. Steve, on the other hand, hated himself for even going to the party, hated himself for - possibly - kissing Nancy, hated himself for going to Y/N's front door and waking her up so early in the morning.

In the grand scheme of things, Steve Harrington had been an asshole. And he was all too aware of it.

It had been around half an hour since she got home when Dustin knocked on the door again. This time, she'd managed to calm down enough to allow him to come inside. She looked horrifying, hair messed up, tear stained face, cuddling a pillow and wearing one of Steve's shirts, but Dustin was her brother, he had no right to judge her.

The door swung open slowly, and Dustin was there, grinning and holding two pints of ice cream, spoons, and some movies. "Thought we could put a movie on and eat. And you can tell me about your problems and I promise I'll listen."

"Is the ice cream cookie dough?" Y/N asked, sniffling, and a watery smile crossed her face. Dustin laughed, happy to see his sister perking up at least a little bit, even if it was over ice cream, and turned the carton to reveal to her that it was, in fact, cookie dough.

"Only the best." He tossed one of the cartons and a spoon at her, and turned on the TV set that sat across from her bed. "Besides, I know it's the only one you'll eat when you're sad."

"You know me entirely too well." She hugged her knees to her chest and dug into her ice cream, relishing in the taste of it for a second, "Oh my God, I haven't had this in so long. And the Scoops cookie dough is so bad."

"Right? I know Steve thinks it's the best, but he is so wrong." Little did Dustin know, one mention of his name would make Y/N's meltdown begin all over again. Soon enough, she was crying hot tears into her ice cream, and she allowed Dustin to lay his head on her shoulder while she explained everything.

"Okay, I have to go somewhere." Dustin knew what he had to do, and Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he got swiftly up from her bed. "I'll be like, maybe half an hour. But you can eat my ice cream if it starts to melt."

"Dustin! Don't leave me!"

"Watch the movie!"

And then he was gone, and she was by herself, with only some ice cream and E.T. to keep her company.

Meanwhile, Dustin had found Steve at work. He was insanely hungover - although, the headache and sickness had gone away thanks to Robin and her Tylenol, but the tiredness still remained - and reminded Dustin faintly of a particular zombie in Day of the Dead when he walked into Family Video to find him leaning on the counter. The grim look on his face wasn't so much because of the hangover, though, it was more to do with the fact that he and his girlfriend of nearly two years had broken up half an hour ago, and he'd been forced to go to work.

"If you're here to talk to Steve, I wouldn't. He nearly punched me when I asked him if he wanted Tylenol. And I'm a girl." Robin stopped Dustin at the front door, a serious look on her face, but he shrugged her off.

"It's fine. He won't do anything. Besides, I know what this whole thing's about. That's why I'm here." He tried to walk off again, but Robin grabbed his upper arm, tugging him back and making him elaborate.

"Is it Y/N? I think there was a fight between them or something. He’s never looked this rough.” Robin looked concerned, and she was. She’d never seen Steve so upset before. “He was crying when he came in.” She added.

Dustin shrugged, “Yeah, I’m gonna talk to him. He’ll be fine tomorrow.” He decided not to give Robin any more information on the situation in case Y/N or Steve would've gotten mad at him for it.

"Henderson, hey." Steve said quietly when he noticed that Dustin had entered the store. He looked like he'd been crying, and Robin was definitely right when she said he’d never looked rougher. "If you're here to hang out-"

"I'm not here to hang out, Steve. We have to talk." Dustin crossed his arms sternly over his chest, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head in the direction of the store room. Steve grumbled and complied, unlocking the door and ushering Dustin inside.

"You have to apologise."

"Apologise? Apologise for - what exactly are we talking about?" Steve rubbed a hand exhaustedly over his face, leaning against a sealed box of movies that he was supposed to have put away by now.

"You know what for, Steve. Y/N. You hurt her. Like, really badly. I don't think I've ever seen her so upset." Steve already wanted Dustin to stop, but he continued, really wanting him to get the message of just how hurt his sister was. "She cried in her room for half an hour before she even let me talk to her, and now she's at home by herself, probably crying some more because you went to a stupid party. I mean, seriously man, couldn't you just have stayed home? What was so important about it?"

Steve threw his head back and hid his face with his hands, wanting the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He knew that he'd been a dick, he knew that he'd hurt her, but, Jesus, knowing the details made his heart flip in his chest and his stomach hurt. He hated seeing Y/N upset at the best of times, nevermind when it was his fault.

"Yeah. Yeah, I should've just left it. Jeez, Dustin, I'm such an asshole."

"Yes. An asshole, you are. And what was that other shit? About you kissing Nancy?"

"I didn't kiss Nancy, okay? My drunk mind just kinda...made me believe that I did. I called her today just to confirm." Steve swallowed, suddenly having the nausea of his hangover coming back to him.

"Does Y/N know that?" Dustin had his arms crossed, back against the wall, looking unimpressed as Steve shook his head. "Seriously man? Don't you think that the first thing you should've done after finding out that you didn't actually cheat on your girlfriend, was tell your girlfriend that you didn't actually cheat on her?"

"My head's all over the place, Henderson. Cut me some slack, okay?"

"You have to come say sorry, you know that, right?"

"I will. I will, I promise. I finish in an hour, why don't you go home, I'll buy some flowers, take a shower and get changed, and I'll come chap on your door like none of this even happened." Steve had suddenly perked up, gesturing with his arms and almost getting excited to initiate his plan.

"Yeah. Sure. But it better be good, Harrington. You better make her happy."

Steve didn't even have time to respond before Dustin was running off, getting on his bike, and cycling back home to his sister. He promised himself internally that he'd do all it took to make her happy.

Y/N had finished her ice cream and Dustin's had started to melt by the time he got home. She hadn't cried any more, had been too focussed on the movie, and Dustin was relieved to see her laughing at something on the screen when he entered her bedroom.

"Hey." She smiled. "Your ice cream's melting, you'd better eat it."

Dustin smiled and bellyflopped onto her bed, sending her into a fit of laughter. They both laughed so hard, in fact, that they barely heard the doorbell ring, and Dustin almost got up to go and get it.

He stopped himself though, not wanting Steve to call him an idiot or something along those lines. "You should go. I have to eat my ice cream before it melts." He said sheepishly, sitting back down from where he'd jumped up. Y/N rolled her eyes and threw the pillow that she was holding at Dustin's face.

"Alright, make your sad sister get the door because you have to eat ice cream." She stood up even as she spoke, knowing that Dustin wasn't going to budge. "Nice one, asshole."

Y/N had left her bedroom before Dustin could retaliate, bounding down the stairs and realising that, if anyone saw her the way that she looked now, they'd probably never respect her again. The doorbell went again, and she sighed quietly at the lack of patience from whoever was on the other side.

She - stupidly - didn't even bother to look out of the window that stood next to the door to check who it was before opening it, and nearly closed it again when she realised who was standing there.

"Hey, woah, don't close the door yet!" It was Steve, his eyes widened from the possibility that he'd come all the way to her house so that she could slam the door in his face, holding white lilies and a box of chocolates, which was - in Y/N's opinion - the cheesiest apology ever. "Just...listen? For like, a minute."

She slowly let her hand slide off of the door knob, watching as Steve relaxed a significant amount even from seeing her do that. "A minute." She crossed her arms over her chest, chewing her cheek. "You have a minute."

"Okay, uh, yeah, okay." Steve began his rambling. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone to that party, I know I shouldn't have gotten so drunk that I managed to convince myself that I kissed Nancy. Did I already say that I didn't actually kiss Nancy? I called her, and she said we didn't even speak. Bottom line is, I'm an asshole. I know that, and I hate myself for hurting you. Dustin told me how upset you were and I...I couldn't even comprehend the fact that I did that."

He paused, looking down at his feet and waiting for Y/N to say something. Something that didn't come, she simply stood, looking at and biting her fingernails, trying to figure out whether or not she should give in and forgive him or not, so he stopped waiting and spoke some more.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I love you so much. And I know that I fucked up, and I don't expect you to forgive me-"

"Steve." Y/N stopped him. He looked up at her, expecting that she'd look upset or annoyed, but she was smiling and shaking her head. "Come here."

"Seriously?" He already wished he hadn't said what he did before he'd even finished speaking. Seriously? What kind of thing to say was that? "I mean, you know-"

She was already hugging him before he could finish speaking. She knew that he'd ramble on for hours if he could, but she also knew that she already forgave him and didn't need to listen to his rambling. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost you, really, I did." He sighed into her hair, realising that he was probably ruining the bouquet of flowers with the way that he was crushing them against her back.

"Well, you were an asshole. You had every right to think you'd lost me." Steve had always loved her subtle sassiness, it was a habit that she often fell into unknowingly, but it made him chuckle.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I was an asshole."

She let go of him, finally, and stood back. He was wearing his light blue jeans, a black t-shirt and belt, with a blue jacket. It was an outfit that she'd seen him in before, quite a few times, but he never failed to look good in it anyway. His hair was slightly amiss, as though he'd gotten ready as quickly as he could - which was true, but she didn't know that for sure - but it still had his Steve 'the hair' Harrington charm.

"So, can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there and mock me?" He grinned and she stood to the side, allowing him to join her in the hallway. He went straight for the kitchen, taking out a vase and filling it up with water, then placing the flowers in it and leaving it on the kitchen counter.

"I didn't say you could-" She was trying to joke with him, but he didn't seem to care much, as he cut her off by dipping his head towards hers and kissing her passionately. He hated to admit it, probably something to do with the small part of his King Steve persona that he still carried around with him, but he'd missed her, and it had only been a few hours.

"Woah, easy tiger." Y/N laughed, pulling away when Steve's hands started to travel downwards. "We haven't even properly spoken yet."

"Yeah. Sorry." Steve said sheepishly. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and smiled down at the floor. "Do you wanna talk?"

She shrugged. "Not particularly."

"So, really, it's okay for me to do this," He closed the gap between them again, beaming at her while he searched her face for any sign of disapproval and admired the little flecks of contrasting colours that danced in her eyes. And then he kissed her again, lips soft against her own, gentle - something that wasn't widely believed, Steve Harrington was actually one of the most gentle people that Y/N had ever met.

"Well, yeah." She grinned, breathless. "But I'm sort of in the middle of watching a movie, wanna join?"

And so they spent the rest of the day, wrapped in the blankets on Y/N's bed and Y/N wrapped in Steve's arms, watching movies that Dustin fished out from the cabinet under the TV that Y/N didn't even know that they had.

She had to say, Steve's apologies were often cheesy and terrible, but this one wasn’t so bad as it was enjoyable.