#strangers to crushes to lovers (?)

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin���?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[miakate-writes]

A sub set of protective/possessive

Someone getting really possessive/jealous over someone getting hit on, but they didn’t realize they were into them yet.

A “why do I care so much?” Thing

"Why do I care so much?" (protective/possessive prompts pt 2)

[a/n: ok this "prompt list" came out as more of a train of conscious thought, so enjoy]

all that C did was kiss A at a stupid party

it was just a stupid kiss

but for some "unknown" reason, B felt their skin crawl and knuckles tighten at the sight

did C think that was okay? no one wants to see that. they should get a room. they shouldn't though, B didn't want them to do that

did A look like they liked the kiss? I mean, they didn't pull away. they didn't look capable of pulling away either. B should do something about it

"what are you doing?" B pulled A's swaying body away from C's

"what are you doing? leave me alone." A slurred, frowning at B, B noticed how pretty their eyes are even in their not quite focused state

"you don't want this, you're just drunk." how dare C take advantage of them like that. even given the circumstances, B couldn't shift the feeling that A's lips should have been on theirs instead

"what the fuck? how would you know? just leave me alone, go ruin someone else's fun." A's words kind of stung

so B left, hesitantly, but they left all the same

A watched as they went... how dare B only start paying attention to them right as they had decide to move on and let go of their stupid little crush

that stupid little crush

[shewrites7]

Only a Matter of Time

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary - You and Steve decide to spend the whole day together, as friends of course, and all you can do is try your best not to stare at his lips. in other words, The Three Times You Want To Kiss Steve Harrington And The One Time You Do.

type - one shot

word count [6.4k]

tags: Steve Harrington x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, secret crushes, head over heels in love, a fun day with steve, movie dates and a kiss underneath the night sky. (no specific mention of appearance, race, etc.)

warnings: none

a/n: check it out on my ao3!!

10:30 AM

You didn't know how many more of these car rides you could take. You were sitting next to Steve in the passenger seat of his car, with three middle schoolers in the back seat that were bound to push you to the brink of insanity if they kept it up. It, meaning, the way they loved to torture you about how you felt about Steve.

They'd picked apart everything about the two of you, mentioning Steve to you when you were alone, giggling in the back seat every five minutes when car rides like these happened. You'd never mentioned to them how you felt about Steve—you weren't even sure what you felt. But, whatever they thought, they were certainly sure of it. And they were relentless.

You wondered if they did the same to Steve, if they ever made fun of him or had him blushing like you did when they'd mention his name to you. He acted practically oblivious to everything that came from the backseat, vision properly aimed at the road as he drove. Meanwhile, all you could do was try your best to look straight ahead, to not glance to your left at Steve. To not notice the way his hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, sleeves rolled up to show his forearms, or the way he tucked his bottom lip when he was really focused on the road, it coming out glossed over and pink.

God, you really had to stop. You weren't doing anything to help your case. Even if you were looking forward to today, your body tensed at the idea of close contact with Steve all day long.

You and Steve were supposed to share the day together doing fun things, like you'd do with him all the time, practically every week. You would spend the entire day in each other's company, no worries, just having a good time. It was tradition, your special thing. Today though, for some reason, felt different. Your leg was bouncing up and down and you were sure the kids had noticed how quiet you'd been. They notice everything.

After you dropped them all off at the arcade, it would be just you and Steve. Steve and you, completely alone. Nobody around to stop you from falling victim to his smile, or unwillingly letting your mind wander towards the tip of the iceberg, the fine line that echoed out to you, what if? A place you knew you shouldn't even think about, but you couldn't help it.

Steve may have never appeared to notice the mess of thoughts going on inside of you, but the others always did.

"How much slower could you drive?" Dustin called up to the front seat, voice full of attitude and impatience. He sat behind Steve in the driver's seat, squished next to Lucas and Max. Steve and you had agreed to drop the three off at the arcade before spending your Funday together, but you started regretting the decision more and more as the minutes ticked by and they still managed to come up with more to say.

"I'm going the speed limit, Henderson," replied Steve, shutting him down. You heard Dustin scoff from behind.

"You'd think he'd wanna get there faster to get to his date." The three snickered in the back in agreement with themselves.

"Date?" Steve asked, peeking in the rearview mirror with interest. You sighed. Here we go.

"The one you two are going on today, that you do, like, every week." Max's tone hinted at the supposed obviousness of the answer that left you sputtering.

"Max, cut it out, " you said, giving her a firm look. You saw her smirk flash at you evilly from the rearview mirror. She was the worst of them. "This has never been a date."

You saw her shrug. "I mean, it's practically a date." The other two murmured in agreement and you wanted to make the unethical choice of forcing them out of the car to walk the rest of the way, but soon enough you noticed Steve pulling into the parking lot of the arcade, and your thoughts were soothed when you realized you wouldn't have to.

"Enough, you guys." You rolled your eyes with a stern tone, but neither of those things masked the flush that you knew had risen into your face. "We're here now. Out."

Sensing your anger, the trio rushed out of the car and into the arcade, waving goodbye hurriedly and turning around, but not before Max threw a look from over her shoulder to you from behind the car's windshield, one that made you shake your head softly to yourself. You shut the suggestion down mentally. You had to.

Trying to pull yourself out of your thoughts and what the kids had been hinting at, you took a peek over at Steve, who seemed unfazed. Had he had any sort of reaction to what the kids were teasing about? Had he even been focused enough to catch on? Steve's face was anything but revealing at this moment, eyes following Dustin, Max, and Lucas as they hurried into the arcade.

Your heart always bloomed in your chest sweetly when you watched the way Steve looked at the kids, ones he'd grown so accustomed to. They were like his family, more than just some random preteens to him. You'd never failed to notice the way they looked at him too, like he was a safe space for them. They'd been so comfortable around him from the start, and you knew he'd do anything for the bunch of them.

It was sweet, and so Steve. He'd always been caring like that, protective and determined. At least, that's how you'd always seen him. You watched him as he watched the three of them, making sure they got in safely. Seconds passed, and then your glances at him pulled you in to study him in the same way you were helpless to ever actually keep yourself from doing, no matter how hard you tried.

Your eyes flickered over to his, and then down to his lips and up again, and you cringed at yourself as you shut your eyes tightly. You were doing it again. It was like your brain ran amuck at times like this. You weren't sure you knew how to stop it.

"Steve! Steve!" came a voice, Dustin's voice. When you looked out to the arcade, Dustin was running back towards the car, hand on his hat to keep it on his head from his pace.

Steve looked at you and then turned back to Dustin, confused. "Whoa, what's wrong?" he yelled. Dustin practically sprinted to his side of the car with a pound on the window. Steve lowered it.

"I need some cash."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Of course," he drawled, but he was most definitely laughing, hardly hesitating before digging into his wallet and handing the kid a few bucks, to which he smiled gratefully and ran off again, Steve's face wearing a warm smile at his retreating form.

You swore you had heart eyes.

Steve laughed to himself and watched Dustin leave again before turning to you, amusement glinting in his eye. He shrugged with a crooked grin that you wanted to get as close to as possible.

"Kids, what can ya say?"

You just laughed, breathlessly. You could say a lot of things.

12:30 PM

You thought it'd be dark enough in the movie theater to keep it from happening. To stop your heart from doing that agonizingly annoying thing that made it beat ten times louder in your chest and had your eyes glancing down to Steve's lips more times than you'd like to admit.

You and Steve's first destination on your traditional day of fun had been the Movies, a classic tradition. You'd been grateful that Steve had suggested the downtown movie complex. There's no way anything could have happened in a dark theater, right? Wrong, so wrong you could've laughed.

You didn't know how much time had passed since the movie started—it could've been minutes, it could've been an hour. Some action movie was playing, but to you, it was practically background noise. Gunshots and the loud whirr of a helicopter were playing on the big screen that had Steve clearly immersed in it all, meanwhile, all you're thinking about is just how much Steve's brown eyes could glitter in the low light of the theater.

Even in the darkness, you could see the way his long lashes brushed against his cheek, the way soft, chocolate strands of hair brushed against his forehead and had your fingers itching to run through them. And, of course, how his lips glistened every time he went back for more buttery popcorn. Steve's lips took up an embarrassingly large amount of space in your brain.

You needed to distract yourself. You knew that this, whatever it was, couldn't keep happening. At least not while you still were painfully aware of how you and Steve stood. Friends, and just that. You wanted to drill the fact into your mind, keep it from wandering to places it shouldn't.

You stuck your hand in the popcorn bucket you and Steve were sharing, thinking desperately that having something to snack on would shake you out of whatever was going on up inside your brain. With a feeling that spread up right through your arm like wildfire, you realized you and Steve had reached for popcorn at the same time. Your hand had grazed his, fingertips brushing against each other softly.

You turned to face Steve right away without thinking, and he was already looking back at you with a smile and a soft, breathy laugh. If only he knew the way that simple touch sent fireworks straight to your chest so quickly you swore your heart skipped a beat. You smiled back at him and looked back towards the screen, trying to pretend as if you'd been focused on the movie all along.

Then, you felt Steve come closer to you, face angled next to yours as his eyes stayed focused on the movie. He was leaning in even closer to talk to you and your body went tense in your seat.

"Hey," he whispered to get your attention, not knowing that he'd already had all of it for, like, the whole movie. "What's your rate of the movie so far?"

You scrambled for an answer that didn't make it sound like you'd been distracted the whole time.

"Good," you breathed, like an idiot. "It's, uh, it's really good so far." You'd settled on "good," a safe answer. If it'd been bad, you figured, Steve would've been talking your ear off in critiques by now.

Somehow, he leaned in even closer, and the heat from his body radiated around you, impossibly warm and steady. Your body didn't budge at all, too scared to brush against another body part of Steve and turn you into even more of a flustered, sweating frenzy.

"Don't you think the secret agent guy's a little unrealistic? I mean, where'd he get that bomb from? And how does nobody recognize him without his glasses?"

You wanted to listen to Steve, you really did. But, his breath fanned against the side of your neck and you could feel the hair that flopped in front of his face brushing against your cheek. It made it pretty hard to, but you nodded with a tight-lipped smile like you'd drank in every word.

"Totally, yeah."

You thought you'd fooled him. He'd hummed in response and didn't say anything else for a good ten seconds, but that was the last of it. Steve knew you too well.

"What's going on?" he asked with his attention now turned fully on you. "You usually chat the whole way through these kinds of movies. That's why we sit in the back, 'member?"

His eyes peered into yours with such concern and a furrow of his strong brows and Holy, he was touching your shoulder. You shrugged like the wind hadn't just been knocked out of you.

"Yeah, sorry, I don't know what's the matter." You offer him a weak smile. "I think I'm just, uhm, hungry." What?

"Sure," he said, and his voice sounded so kind and positive and not judgy because he was Steve and he was perfect.

He even went to pick up the popcorn bowl to give to you, but you reached for it too, and then you were knocking into it and popcorn was everywhere, as in, all over Steve's lap.

"Oh my god Steve, I'm so sorry," You whisper yelled, freaking out and not thinking straight at this moment, at all. Or, really, for the last couple hundred moments. You fumbled to pick up the bowl from his lap with one hand and scoop up popcorn from his lap in the other.

"It's okay," came Steve's amused voice, but you didn't stop, not when your hands brushed against his legs and not when you dropped the bowl a second time and had to re-scoop what you'd already scooped. Your face was hot and you didn't take a moment to think about what you were doing until you saw Steve shift in his seat a little. He cleared his throat a little bit from next to you, the sound almost like a coughed laugh, and you stopped your hands in their place. What were you doing?

You were all over Steve's thighs, and way too close. Too close to him, too close to his lap, too close to... What were you doing?

You were utterly horrified at yourself, and your eyes must have shown it because Steve laughed. It was sweet and clearly trying to soothe the awkwardness, but you still were frozen in place and had to quickly take a deep breath down before you forced your arms back in your lap and shamefully looked anywhere but to your right at the boy next to you.

You peeked over with dread slowly at Steve, who you made eye contact with before he started laughing to himself again, silently of course. The movie was still playing, but you hadn't watched a second of it in the past ten minutes. You were sure he could see how much you were blushing, even in the dark. You swore you could see the tips of Steve's ears flushed red.

"Steve, I'm so sorry," you said again, worrying even more when he stood up from his seat. Was this the time he decided to escape from you?

You were about to get up too, but he held out two hands to stop you. "Stop worrying, alright? You're fine, really."

He picked up the fallen popcorn bowl and flashed you a warm smile. "I'm just gonna go get us some more popcorn or something. You want anything? Candy?"

You looked up at him, shaking your head wordlessly and wanting to crawl into a hole.

"Alright, be back in a few."

He took off down your row of seats, turning back and waving a little at you before climbing down the rest of the steps.

You waved goodbye back, probably too late for him to see anyway, but cursed yourself internally because, God, you could've really gone for some skittles at that moment. Anything to forget about what had just happened. You were drained beyond belief and delirious. And the day had only just begun.

3:30 PM

You didn't know what was wrong with you today, but you knew you had it bad. You'd always felt little butterflies in Steve's presence, but it seemed like today they were just impossible to tame, and they made you do things like spill hot popcorn into his lap. Oh, and now? The butterflies were just refusing to be pushed down.

But you couldn't blame yourself, not at a time like this. Steve was being absolutely amazing, beyond dreamy. You were both at the state fair and knee-deep in fried goods and lemonade that was both sweet and sour.

Steve had spotted one of those fair games that you reminded him were an easy way to lose your money and fast, but he shook his head and started towards the milk bottle toss booth, taking your hand in his.

Ignoring the fuzzy feeling that came from his hand in yours, you shook your head as he asked the man for a set of baseballs and handed him a few singles.

"Steve, you know these are rigged," you reasoned. He looked down at you with a smirk, waving one of the baseballs around in front of your face.

"Not for Steve Harrington. Just watch."

He motioned towards the walls of the carnival booth, all lined with too many stuffed animals to name. Steve put a hand on your shoulder, pointing towards all of the different stuffed bears and more.

"Pick a stuffed animal," he said, eyes glimmering with confidence. "Any one."

Your jaw dropped as you looked at him, but you were smiling and couldn't help the way a laugh tore from you.

"Fine, fine." You took a second to look around at the options, aware of the worker waiting for Steve to take his turn.

"Maybe the pink panda bear, up there." You pointed to a stuffed animal at the very top, one that happened to be one of the biggest ones in the booth. Steve nodded easily and turned to the worker.

"What do I have to do for the pink panda up there?" He pointed to the one you'd mentioned. The man's eyes followed before his eyebrows raised as if the preposition was impossible.

"You gotta knock all six down, one shot."

Leave it to you to pick the most unachievable option. Steve rubbed a hand over his chin, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

"I have to say," he said turning to you, "you play a hard game. But I will get you that panda bear. Count on it."

He mock-saluted you before turning back towards the inside of the booth, unfazed, where six milk bottles sat stacked on top of each other in a pyramid.

He took a deep breath in and shook out his shoulders before picking up the first ball and throwing it at the milk bottles with great force. With a wince, you saw the top three bottles fall to the ground, three left standing.

"Crap," said Steve, brows furrowed. Almost with no effort, he threw the next two baseballs back-to-back and knocked down two more, but the middle bottle was left standing. You tried not to pay attention to the way the muscles in his arms flexed at each throw.

Steve was visibly frustrated, but the man working the booth seemed even surprised that he did that well. With a smile plastered on his face, he handed Steve a reasonably sized teddy bear.

"Great," remarked Steve, who was looking at the teddy bear in his hands like it was a piece of trash.

You took the stuffed animal from his hands and held it to your chest.

"It's adorable Steve, I love it."

Steve just shook his head with an annoyed sigh, hands on his hips. "It's not the pink panda you wanted."

You smiled, trying to comfort him with a hand on his bicep. "Don't worry about it, really it's-"

"No," he cut in, eyes looking determinedly into yours, unwavering. "I'm getting you that panda if it's the last thing I do."

His tone was firm and you wanted to melt at how adorably stubborn he was being. "Steve," you tried to call, to tell him he really, really, didn't need to, but he was already asking for another set of baseballs. You were all too aware of the small group of people who were beginning to line up behind you and Steve, probably watching this all unfold.

Steve didn't seem to notice. He locked his eyes on the milk bottles, a look of determination on his face that reminded you of the days you'd watch him on the Hawkins High basketball court during the heated moments of a game. He blew out a puff of air, trying to focus. He stood still for a few moments and then BAM, you blinked and all of the milk bottles were lying scattered on the floor with a single throw from Steve.

You blinked. "Oh my gosh." Your jaw was on the floor.

"We have a WINNER!" Yelled the man, his smile genuine. He splayed out an arm at the wall of stuffed animals behind him. "What'll it be, young man?"

"I'll take the pink panda bear, the big one," Steve said confidently, not missing a beat. He was grinning from ear to ear, his smile contagious.

With a nod, the man went to get the very stuffed animal you'd pointed at just a moment ago, having to get a step stool just to reach it.

He finally managed to get it down, and when he did, you could see just how huge the stuffed animal really was.

"For your girlfriend," said the worker, handing Steve the panda.

You coughed. What?

Some claps came from behind you and Steve, and you turned around to see at least twenty people standing behind you and Steve in line, watching with happy smiles on their faces. Did they think you were a couple, too?

Steve didn't make any move to correct the man, too excited and carried away with taking the stuffed animal and immediately handing it to you.

"For you, my dearest," he said jokingly, only that it didn't seem much like a joke, especially not to the worker who smiled down at the two of you like he was watching a happy couple.

The weight of the panda bear almost had you dropping to the ground. It was almost half your size, fluffy and pink with a bow tie and you absolutely loved it.

"Steve, oh my gosh," you said, trying to meet his eyes from over the panda bear. "You shouldn't have."

He shrugged, waving a hand dismissively.

"Of course I should've." He just smiled down at you with this huge grin on his face. "Anything for my girl."

He didn't stop smiling, and you could feel your knees almost buckle, but you couldn't tell if it was from the weight of the bear or Steve's words. Did he know just what he was saying? The words were playful, too good to be true, but they only sounded sincere coming from his mouth.

Your eyes got lost in his, and, in the moment, you wanted nothing more than to drop the panda to the ground and take a turn holding Steve in your arms instead.

But then you noticed all the people still waiting to take their turn at the milk can toss, no doubt watching the both of you, and you broke eye contact, clearing your throat a little.

"C'mon," you said, motioning to the right with your head because your arms were occupied with the toy. "Let's get the expert milk bottle-tosser something to drink. On me."

Steve stood still for a beat, still looking at you, before shaking his head quickly and clearing his throat with a nod.

"Yeah, let's."

He stepped to your side, put his hand on the small of your back, and you both walked forward, leaving the booth. His touch was anything but steadying.

"I'm paying, though."

You rolled your eyes softly. "Oh please, you won this for me, it's only fair."

Steve looked down at you, and to your surprise shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine," he said. Then, he sprinted out in front of you.

"Only if you get there first!" He hollered from over his shoulder.

"Steve!" You yelled with a laugh, voice wobbly as you tried to run with this ginormous stuffed animal in your grasp. Your head barely poked out from behind it.

With just a second more gone by, Steve had run far into the crowd of people and you'd managed to lose a clear view of him. All you could hear was his gleeful laugh that rang through the warm summer air from in front of you, and you wanted to bottle up the sound. You could never get enough of this boy.

9:00 PM

The rest of the time you and Steve had spent at the fair had been the textbook definition of perfect, if perfect included having to hide your heart eyes from Steve every time he did something you found swoon-worthy. Which, because he was Steve and you were you, was about every five minutes.

The hot summer sun had faded into the horizon, leaving the sky to turn slowly into a dark blue that had the streetlights turning on and tinting everything in warm, yellow lighting.

You and Steve were walking side by side, cheeks hurting from how much you were smiling. Steve had always had that effect on you.

He'd taken to holding both of the stuffed animals he'd won for you at the carnival game hours before, despite your protests that you could carry them both on your own. (You couldn't). But, somehow, Steve could hold both with one arm, and hold your hand with the other. A man of many talents, he'd called himself. You smiled at the memory.

Though you'd been fighting your tiredness for the past hour, you let out a yawn into the nighttime air. Steve noticed right away.

"You tired?" he asked, and you lifted your shoulders a little.

"I'm alright. Long day."

Steve nodded silently in agreement, before he stopped abruptly in his place, eyes looking off to something in the distance. "Would you be up for one more ride?"

Following his line of vision, you caught sight of the Ferris wheel that you somehow hadn't gotten to riding yet today, a sight to see with bright lights in juxtaposition to the darkening night sky.

You scratched your head with the hand that wasn't holding Steve's, acting like you were deep in contemplation.

"Hmm, I don't know," you said, the side of your mouth turning up into a smirk at Steve's annoyance.

"Well," he said, the beginning of his famous grin creeping up on his features. "I guess you don't have a choice then."

Before you could say anything, Steve was crouching down and lifting you up with a single arm, throwing you over his shoulder with an embarrassing amount of ease as he started jogging towards the Ferris wheel.

"Steve!" you managed to yell from where your head was hanging, laughter bubbling out from you. You could feel the heat rushing to your face that you could surely blame on the blood rushing to your head from hanging upside down over Steve's shoulder, and not from the feeling that shot through your body from Steve's hold on the back of your bare thighs. He ran quickly, but all you could see was his back. Not that you were complaining.

Before you knew it, Steve was setting you back down on the ground, only to grab onto your hand and pull you towards the Ferris wheel that was a whole lot closer to you now, almost right in front of you.

Steve pulled a rope of tickets from his pocket and held them out to the woman running the ride. She eyed over the two of you and then speedily shook her head.

"No riding with the stuffed animals."

You only now remembered that Steve was still holding both of them. How he had managed to carry the ginormous panda bear and you, you don't know.

"Oh, c'mon," said Steve, but the lady didn't budge. Sighing, Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. You looked down at your shoes. This man.

"What about now?" He questioned, a suggestive edge to his tone. The woman hardly glanced at the cash. Then, she pointed a firm finger at the exit.

Steve deflated slightly, pocketing the money but politely nodding at the woman before taking hold of your hand again to walk a couple of yards away from the woman.

Steve was looking down at the pavement. You put a hand on his shoulder in what you hoped was reassuring. "Don't worry, the day was amazing, we don't need to go on the Ferris wheel, Steve."

He looked up at you then, looking anything but sad. His eyes were fiery and determined in the same way they'd been when he'd been set on getting you that panda bear. And he'd gotten it.

"No, you don't worry, because we are getting on that Ferris wheel." He held the panda bear closer to him. "No man gets left behind."

Your brows pulled together, nervously. Steve turned to face the Ferris wheel, staring at it while chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. You didn't want to know what he was planning, but you knew you probably should find out.

"Steve," you called, "what are you thinking about?"

He turned back to face you, body suddenly alight with excitement. "Plan B."

With that, he tightened his grip on your hand and ran ahead, pulling you quickly behind him. And, instead of stopping at the entrance to wear the lady was collecting tickets, he bolted past her, you in tow.

"Steve!" you yelled, at the same time you could hear the lady working the ride shout at the two of you.

Quickly, Steve threw the panda bear stuffed animal he'd won for you and the other teddy bear onto the nearest bench on the ride and lifted you up onto it with an alarming strength that had you flushing pinker than humanly possible. He hopped up onto it too and hooked the chain from the bench across you both to secure you. Your jaw dropped for the umpteenth time that day.

"That was your plan B!" You yelled, out of breath from all the running. The ride hadn't stopped moving the whole time Steve had gotten you both on the ride, and you were already high up in the air.

"I got us on the ride, didn't I?" reasoned Steve, voice raised from the wind that began whipping against the two of you. Steve's hair was already wild, and he had this excited look in his eyes that had your worries fading away and your words of reason dying before they could reach your lips.

Knowing you well enough to see your shakiness, Steve grabbed onto the teddy bear and waved its arms around, pulling a smile from your lips.

"See," he grinned, handing you the bear. "How could you say no to this face?"

You shook your head as you looked down at the bear in your hands, laughter escaping you. You giggled and looked up at Steve who was laughing too, and your giggles turned into loud laughter that rocked the bench back in forth in the air as you both shouted out your laughter into the night.

It took over a minute just to reach the top of the Ferris wheel from its sheer size, and by the time you did, the ride stopped, probably to let on more people on the bottom.

As you looked out into the night, your laughter softly died from your lips as you took in everything around you. The streetlights shining, the hundreds of people down below you, and the stars glistening in the sky. You felt so close to them. The sight was perfect--the whole night was. You'd been having the greatest time with Steve, him being heartachingly sweet the whole day.

Your body was fighting against you, and you gingerly leaned your head onto the shoulder of the giant panda bear in between you and Steve, and when you peaked to your right, Steve's head was resting on the other.

You felt Steve's hand brush against you and interlock his fingers with yours. Something warm and fuzzy bloomed inside your chest as your hands rested against the fluffy stuffed animal, holding each other.

Besides the delicate sounds of the wind rushing past your ears, it was silent up where you and Steve sat. It felt almost like time stopped. You listened closely, hearing the sounds that the breeze brought to your ears. The ringing of a church bell. The music from the carousel down below. It sounded so peaceful and had your eyes fluttering shut.

Behind the safety of your eyelids, your brain started flooding with thoughts of the boy next to you, with memories from the entirety of the day. The car ride with the kids, the fiasco at the movies, the way Steve had won you the stuffed animal you lay on and was spectacularly perfect throughout all of it. He was the most wonderful boy you'd ever met and you wanted to tell him that. You didn't want to have to hide all the adoring thoughts you had about him. It was tiring. And it wouldn't last forever, you knew that. It was only a matter of time before everything came spilling out. You figured now was as good of a time as ever.

You opened your eyes and broke the silence with a soft call of the boy's name. He didn't respond at first, and you wondered if he could even hear you over the wind.

"Hmm?" he said lowly, a soft hum in response. Suddenly, the wind didn't seem so loud anymore. All you could hear was the beating of your own heart as you willed yourself to let words out, anything.

"Do you-" you paused, thinking about what you were about to say. "Do you ever wonder about the things the kids say? Or, you know, what the worker at the milk bottle game said?"

You swallowed. "Not that you have to think about it or anything you, uhm, you just don't ever have a reaction whenever they poke fun at us and I was just wondering if, ugh, sorry this isn't making sense."

You wanted to melt into your seat. Your voice had breaks and pauses in it and you made absolutely no sense. There went your chance. The silence was eating you alive.

"I, uh," came Steve's voice. "Yea. I do."

You swore you felt your heart drop. Wait, what?

"You do?" You wanted to slap yourself at how surprised your voice sounded.

"Yea, I do," he said. Both of you still leaning on the stuffed animal, all you could see was the scene in front of you. You had no idea what Steve's face looked like at the moment, and you didn't know if the fact discouraged you or made you relieved.

"And," came Steve's voice again, slow, like he was just testing the water. "I guess the reason why I never have a reaction to them is because what they're saying just ... never seemed like it was that far of a leap, you know?"

It felt like there were gears in your brain, spinning and smoking, trying to process Steve's words and their meaning. When you stumbled on what they could possibly mean, you didn't feel like it was possible to believe.

You lifted your head from off of the stuffed animal, wanting to finally see Steve's face. When you looked over at him, he was already looking at you, chocolate eyes having never looked so big, having never shone so bright. It was like you could see the stars in the night sky reflected onto his eyes.

You chewed on the skin of your bottom lip.

"Steve I-," you broke eye contact, feeling like you wouldn't be able to get out what you had to say if Steve was gazing at you like that. "I want to say something more, but I just want to be sure I know exactly what you're trying to say."

Taking a breath out, you looked back up at him again. "What are you saying?"

Steve took a moment to respond, looking down at your interlocked hands before holding yours a little tighter.

"I'm saying ... I think about us being together. A lot."

You couldn't help the way your eyebrows raised. You'd wanted this moment to happen for so long, and, now that it was, you were in disbelief that it was even remotely going well.

"And, uhm," you swallowed, "what do you think about it? Us being together?"

"I," he started slowly, eyes working around in thought. "I think that it makes sense. It makes sense, because I've fallen in love with this amazing girl and, that's what you do when you love somebody, right? You get together with them, spend every moment with them." He looked into your eyes, his hopeful and bright. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

You looked back into his eyes, nodding quickly when you realized you hadn't said anything. "Yeah, yeah I do. I guess I'm just trying to take it all in. Inside it's just ... hard to believe."

Steve frowned, softly, never judging. "What about?"

"About how you feel. I never thought ... " you didn't know what you were trying to say, but Steve took hold of your other hand and any words died on your lips.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Why wouldn't I fall in love with you? How couldn't I?"

You were melting inside, putty in his hands. Steve was amazing and always had been, but this? You were helpless.

You didn't know if Steve could see how much his words were affecting you, searching his face for a sign of anything. He'd never looked more sincere and vulnerable, eyes looking down at you.

"Well," he said, voice soft. "What do you think about it?"

You offered him a smile, squeezing his hands in yours like he'd done before, foreheads touched as you leaned into him. This time, when you looked down at Steve's lips, you didn't feel like you had to hide it.

"How about I show you what I think?"

Your voice was soft and had Steve's forehead creasing against yours.

"Show me?" he asked, lips tugging upwards in a grin. You wanted to kiss that smile so badly. Press your lips to his, once and for all. So, finally, you did.

When your lips found his, it took only a second before he was pressing his right back into yours. Your hands were still holding each other's, and you moved one set of hands to his thigh, needing to steady yourself because the kiss was everything you'd imagined and more. It was delicate but full of a passion that had your chest twisting.

You moved in tandem with Steve, steady and trying to get as close to each other as you could from your seats. You reached your other hand into Steve's hair, finally getting to run it through the soft strands, the ones at the back of his neck that had him letting out a beautiful sigh into your lips. You didn't want the moment to end, smiling into his lips from pure serotonin with only the moon and stars as your witnesses.

You felt a change in the wind that blew against both of you, and you realized the Ferris wheel had finally started moving again and that you both were nearing the bottom. Pulling back from Steve, you smiled up at him. You felt like you could pull an endless amount of smiles from your chest.

"So," you asked, words soft as you kept playing with his hair because you loved how it felt, and what it did to him. "What do you think?"

Steve looked at you with so much love in his eyes that you couldn't believe you'd never noticed it before.

"I, uh..." he swallowed, cheeks flushed. "I agree."

[kuzure-collapse]

childhood rivals to lovers prompts

because it took me until high school to realize that the annoying boy i knew in 7th grade might've liked me

—-

being the top of their classes but only having eyes to compete with each other

being nerds and doing homework together after school but only to compare answers and smugly correct each other

X finds out Y's favorite color and starts wearing more of it, Y secretly likes it

having insulting nicknames that only THEY can use on the other

neither of them know how the beef started, could be that X already liked Y and didn't know what to do with feelings + Y being friends with kids that liked to argue with X

they end up hanging together bc of mutual friends and Y ends up enjoying this group more than their old friends

or X is friends with Y's sibling so they end up encountering at Y's house unexpectedly

maybe teachers note the rivalry and seat them together/pair them for projects. the class likes to watch their back-and-forth

"you look dumb with your hair up like that" "fix your chapped lips" "short" "weak" other immature digs at each other

losing contact as they end up at different high schools and eventually go to different colleges, maybe out of town

both were too stubborn to get each other's contacts, or didn't have ways to personally contact each other after middle school

neither said anything at middle school graduation, last they'll ever see each other

maybe one cries, or X randomly hugs Y before running away, maybe a small picture together taken by their parents who don't know about the rivalry

cut to college, they return to their hometown during a school break. maybe the breaks happen to line up

see each other in passing on a crowded bus/train, almost don't recognize each other

"was X this attractive?" sort of thoughts. maybe one notices and the other doesn't, or both make awkward eye contact for a split second before looking away

maybe they end up visiting the old bakery/cafe they always went to as kids and see each other on line, or X is working register as a summer job

brush it off bc maybe they've been thinking about their crush for so long that they're hallucinating the scenarios they made up

do they keep feigning ignorance? at this point, haven't there been too many coincidences?

one decides to take a chance and calls out to the other with the old insulting nickname

it works and they respond in kind with a smile

"It's been almost a decade now"

"you look different"

taking a closer look and seeing how the other has developed. the awkward baggy clothes have been replaced with better fitting stylish clothes.

the baby fat is gone but the smile's undoubtedly the same

noticing the changes they made in appearance and remembering the old insults they threw. maybe one did change their hairstyle and looks way too attractive, maybe one got muscular and is much stronger than the other

even better with height differences, especially if the one who used to be shorter grew way taller

or the shorter one stayed short and the other grew substantially

making snarky but lighthearted remarks mentioning inside "jokes" from the past

"still got chapped lips?" "still looking at my lips?" even better if one knows about the other's crush

one has the courage to ask for the other's contact info, finally arrange something close to a date (they never specify)

reminisce about old times, maybe meet up in the old playground/cafe/bakery near the middle school

realize they get along well as adults, talk about high school and college and where they're going in life

sad if one is going abroad, or if their careers are so separated that they probably won't have time to see each other a lot

maybe they secretly kept mementos of each other. if not that graduation picture, then the mean doodle Y drew in X's notebook, or the post-it X left in the book Y lent them, or the hat that Y never gave back, or the pen that X stole from Y's bag, etc.

"are you with anyone?" "no, you?" "me neither"

"i used to like you when we were kids" "used to? what about now?"

or "what am i supposed to do with an expired crush" to be sassier

meeting again is stirring up old feelings

happy end, they get together and have a strong long distance relationship or smth

sad end, they part ways for the final time

[soniclion92]

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

[ashes-writing]

stranger things ● the new girl pt 5 ● g.emerson

warnings

heavy public displays of affection / idiots in love + bicker like an old married couple tropes at play, bullying -because we're merely taking a small break from Jason and Co and their bullshit, underage drinking / mentions of 🍃, mentions of an Ouija board and it's use ( this chapter only ) reader is female but vaguely characterized, absence of sci fi elements.

word count

4483 exactly. Welcome to part 5, babes.

y'all are gonna get so fucking tireddd of my attempts at a slow burn and the bullshit that goes with i s2g.

summary

continued from ( here )

You're falling in love with your best guy friend Gareth after you've moved to Hawkins. How will this go for you?

( my summaries are shiiiit and traaash omg man )

taglist

-- if you want to be tagged in my stranger things works, please go ( here ) and add yourself. Or lmk and I'll add you. if you're not on my taglist, i won't tag you.

@tbmunson you knew I was going to tag you in this, we love our grumpy drummer sm. you're my inspiration bestie and I luhh you.

@allelitesmut

@chaoticcancer

@dylanwritesgood

@littlestarfighter03

@just-a-blue-nerd

other links

masterlist ● gareth's masterlist ● about + rules

The sound of the local rock station follows you out to the deck as you throw open the French doors and make your way out, arms loaded down with pizza boxes. Edith rushes over, taking some of the boxes to sit them on the dining table. Adeline tears her eyes off of the abandoned house next door and sniffs the air. “Ooh! Pizza.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Edith taunts, with Adeline flipping her off as she climbs out of the pool and wanders towards you both. Maria wanders back into the house and grabs the bottle of rum you were all passing around as you watched MTV. She pauses in the open doorway and leans against the frame as she takes a sip from the bottle and burps. Edith glares. “Fucking rude, Mar.”

Maria flips her off too. As you all grab a slice or two of pizza, you make your way over to the edge of the pool and seat yourselves. Staring up at a darkening sky as Bon Jovi plays in the background.

“How do you live next door to that monstrosity?”

You shrug at Maria’s question and take a bite of your pizza. “For starters, I tune it out.”

“How? Place is massive.” Adeline speaks up, shifting her gaze to you. She holds out the rum bottle and you take it, turning it up and grimacing at the way the alcohol burns it’s way down your throat. You hand the bottle off to Maria and glance over at the house next door.

“Easy. I just don’t look at the damn place much.” you answer after a few seconds.

Edith speaks up quietly. “Girl.. Was Gareth Emerson hugging you in the cafeteria earlier?”

You can feel your cheeks flame up and you take a few bites of your pizza. It’s a clumsy attempt to get out of answering, but when Maria and Adeline glance your way expectantly, you laugh softly and lean back a little. “Yeah. Why? I mean, I’m pretty sure he was just being nice because he could tell I cried or whatever.”

“That guy is not a hugger normally.”

“And.” Edith is sitting up, finishing off her slice of pizza so she can reach into the box sitting behind her on a cushioned lounge chair to grab another, “And, he looks at you. A lot.”

“Have you seen her staring at him though. It’s cute, okay?” Maria laughs, turning her attention to you. “Your whole face lights up.”

“Does not.”

“Does so!”

“Do you like him?”

You bite your lip and stare down at bare legs. “I do. But.” you counter, going quiet, “we’re friends.”

“Girl, he almost called you babe.”

“Probably a mistake, Edie.”

“Mistake my ass, ___.” Edith laughs and takes the bottle of rum from Adeline, taking another long sip. She grimaces and shakes her head, passing it over to Maria. Then she locks eyes with you. “And he kept calling you bunny during lunch.”

“Because he always does that. I eat salads at school because I don’t trust anything else, it always looks questionable.” you laugh and shake your head. Splash your feet around in the water a little bit. 

“Or.. hear me out..” Maria starts, laughing softly, “He likes you. Like.. a lot. Like enough that last week, when you wore that plaid skirt that kinda looks like the plaid vest thing he’s always wearing, I watched him, with my own two eyes, as he was staring so damn hard he almost walked straight into the girls bathroom.”

“He did not.” you laugh and shake your head. “You’re lying.”

“And the sexual tension.” Adeline fans herself before taking a bite of her pizza. “Don’t even get me started there. All the lingering looks. And the way he makes himself taller and leans in doorways. He’s always touching you too.”

“Okay, one.. That leaning thing is sexy.” you fan yourself and giggle and this makes your three friends burst into laughter as they share a look. “Two, he’s not always touching me?”

“Girl, oh my goddd. He is.”

“He totally is. Like.. the way he grabbed you by the hips in the hallway on Monday?”

“Yeah! To pull my dumb ass out of everyone’s way, Mar.” you counter, shaking your head. And you’re sitting, you’re thinking about everything your friends seem to be hinting at.

There’s a logical explanation for nearly all of it and you know this but deep down, maybe a tiny part of you wishes that weren’t so. That you had just some small -but sure, sign that the way you felt was mutual and you could stop fighting the way you feel as hard as you’ve been fighting it.

“Okay, well.. He’s always sharing his french fries with you at lunch.”

“So? Friends share food. I offered him my salad, he just refuses to take a bite.”

“I’ve caught him staring at your ass, totally zoned out. When we were all in gym last week?”

You nearly choke on the bite you’d just taken. “You’re full of shit, Adi.”

“Am not, ___.”

“You are!” you’re laughing as you reach for the bottle of rum again, pouting when you find that it’s empty. “Who drank all the rum?”

“We all did, woman. We’ve been drinking the same bottle since about 5.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” you rub your face. The alcohol has your face on fire, the tips of your ears burning. And you’re giggly now. So are your friends.

“Y’know, if we gave a shit about everyone else at Hawkins High, your house would be killer to throw a party at.”

“Parties get busted by like 9 around here though.. Right?” you question, making Edith laugh and shrug. “Depends. If Chief Hopper is the one on duty, he’ll let ‘em go a while.” and she’s gazing in the direction of the backyard of the house beside yours on the opposite side. “Hey, those kids go to our school! They’re freshmen.”

You glance over and spot Dustin, Mike and Will all out in the Wheeler backyard. You wave at Mike and he waves back.

“Dustin, Mike and Will. I think they’re in Hellfire.” you answer, the long burp following has your friends laughing. You pull yourself up off the cement pool surround and you grab a box of pizza, wandering over to the fence separating your backyard from the Wheeler backyard.

“Hey! Psst!”

Mike looks up from where he’s got the board for their last minute three person DnD campaign set up on the picnic table. He sees you just barely peek over the fence so he pulls himself up and wanders over. “Yeah?”

“Have a pizza, kid. My friends and I, we.” and you’re slipping a little, this has your friends laughing and you’re laughing too. You hold up a finger and duck down, pulling the bucket you were standing on onto level ground, then you pull yourself back up. “We ordered too much, little dude.”

Mike takes the pizza and raises a brow at you. “Are you guys drunk?”

You snort in laughter. “What? Us? No. Absolutely not, little  dude.”

The bucket’s slipping again and you jump down.

Mike, Dustin and Will all gaze at the fence and then share a look before going back to setting up their usual weekend campaign. And a few seconds later, Bob Seger is echoing off the night, accompanied by the sounds of loud laughter.

Mike shakes his head, laughing to himself. “They do this every weekend. One weekend, she had a slip and slide set up.”

“Dude, where are her parents in all this?”

“Barely home. Kinda like Steve’s?” Mike shrugs it off. Dustin chuckles. “Gareth’s into her.”

Will speaks up. “She likes him too. She sits near me in creative writing and we had to write letters we’d never send. She wrote hers to Gareth.”

“Oh really?” Dustin muses, “Did you see what it said?”

Will chuckles. “It was uh.. Dirty. Sweet but dirty. She balled it up and tossed it in the trash at the end of class.”

–

“Dude, why don’t you just go for it? She basically admitted she was into you. I mean..” Jeff’s laughing because the joint they’re all passing around is starting to get to him. It’s starting to get to everyone, they’re all laughing about anything and everything. Gareth takes the joint from Jeff and takes a long drag, feeling instantly that he’s made a mistake when he starts to cough. He passes it off to Ethan with an annoyed glare. Then he flops back to lay on the concrete as he stares up at the dingy ceiling.

“That’s not how this works, Jeff. You know that man.”

“Dude, that’s exactly how this works, Gareth. You’re just a little bitch.” Jeff argues, sitting up. Staring over at his friend with an amused smirk. “You could’ve invited her to watch us jam tonight.”

“Her friends were coming over. Sleepover. They do it every weekend.” 

Eddie chuckles. “You still could’ve asked her. They could’ve come too.”

“She’s busy, dude. Jesus.” Gareth flips Eddie off as Eddie mimics what he’s just said. “She’s not into me like that.”

“She wears a plaid skirt that just happens to match your vest, man. And she wears it a lot lately, come to think of it.”

“Ooh, the one that bounces a little when she walks. I like that one. A lot..” Gareth admits, doubling over as a laughing fit hits him. “Her fucking legs.. Ahhh.” he rubs a hand over his face and takes a few deep breaths as the laughter dies away. Then he shrugs. “She happens to like that skirt?”

Eddie, Ethan and Jeff still haven’t recovered from the tangent he’s just gone on about your skirt. Ethan is practically wheezing that he’s laughing so hard but he manages to get words out at last, “She’s always huddling against you whenever the hallway is too crowded or there are a lot of jocks in it. Girls don’t do that unless they feel safe, Gareth.”

“He’s not wrong, man.” Eddie speaks up. “And she’s always looking at you, then when you look up, she looks down.”

“I’m telling you, man. She’s into you. She’s not just your friend like you’re assuming.” Jeff’s got his eyes locked on Gareth intently. “She admitted it.”

Gareth grumbles, shakes his head. “She didn’t say it.”

“She didn’t have to, buddy. The implication was there when she didn’t immediately react to what Molly Fletcher said in the hallway today.” Eddie rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “By Ozzy, you are the single most infuriatingly stubborn asshole I’ve ever known, Emerson.”

“Fuck you, Munson.”

“You wanna fuck somebody alright. And we all know who it is.” at Ethan’s outburst, the three of them have doubled over laughing. “The sexual tension is killing me, man. Watching you two.”

Gareth coughs for a second or two and then he flips Ethan off. “There’s no sexual tension. It’s.. It’s not like that, Ethan. Everything isn’t always about sex, idiot.”

“True..” Eddie muses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Look, what we’re trying to say here is you gotta do something, man.”

“You have to.”

“We only have a few months left until grad, dude. Do you really wanna look back ten years from now and wonder what might have happened?”

“Well no, but..” Gareth’s staring at his hands. Twisting the ring he always wears around on his finger. “I’m telling you, she’s not into me. Girls like her never go for us. We all know it. Besides,” he pauses, taking the joint from Jeff and taking a hit or two, “Everything you guys are saying all has a perfectly good explanation.”

“It does, but.. Have you seen the way she looks at you? And she’s always touching you. She’s not really a touchy person, either.” Jeff points out calmly. “Just think about it, man. She fucking tackle hugged you when she came back after missing those three days. Tackle hugged. Not just a normal hug.”

“And it kind of looked like she had her legs around your waist at one time during that, by the way.” Ethan points out. Gareth glares at him a second or two, “First of all, what the hell are you doing staring so hard?”

Ethan shrugs. “The whole school saw it happen, Emerson. People are starting to assume you guys are a thing.”

Gareth’s a little stunned by this. Then he remembers that at one point last week, a girl named Hayley from one of your classes -Creative writing, she was talking to you while he was standing there and Hayley mentioned something about “Oh, well your boyfriend is welcome too.” as she nodded at him. And he didn’t think anything of it then, but you didn’t rush to correct Hayley. 

And it’s not the first time this has happened in the short time you’ve been getting to know each other, either. Now that he’s thinking about it.

As the sliver of hope that maybe you feel the same way about him starts to grow, he has to fight ten times harder just to keep it from happening.

“We’re right about this and you know it, Gare.”

“There’s no way. I’m telling you guys.” Gareth argues, but he’s sitting there and he’s replaying everything that’s happened since the first time you talked to him in the hallway. And if he were a more hopeful person…

He can’t entirely say with 100 percent certainty that maybe his friends aren’t onto something.

“Are you finally getting it? Tell me you’re gonna do something.”

Gareth rubs his reddened face and takes a very shaky breath. “ Okay, even if it were true.. What the hell do I do, huh? I don’t know how this shit works.”

–

You’re not entirely sure whose bright idea it was to whip out the Ouija board but it’s currently sitting on top of the coffee table with you and your three best friends gathered around. “This isn’t a good idea.” you mumble.

“It’ll be fine. As long as we stick to the harmless questions.”

“And say goodbye to close the session.” Maria speaks up from where she’s sprawled out on the sofa.

“As long as we ask it stuff about our future. Like for example, will ___ ever get brave enough to finally pull Gareth Emerson into the supply closet at school and kiss the hell out of him? Because ___ you stare at his lips so much. And it’s not the dark ages anymore. There’s absolutely nothing stopping you from making the first move, girl.”

“I’ll do it when you tell Eddie Munson exactly what you said about him earlier today in the bathroom.” you stick out your tongue as you say it. Maria takes a sip from the new bottle you’d all opened after wandering in from the heated pool out back. You gesture for the bottle and she leans forward, nearly falling over onto the table. 

Giggling. You take the bottle and take a small sip, passing it off to Edith as Edith closes her eyes and breathes in and out. “Okay. Here we go.”

Kate Bush is playing softly on the stereo. 

“Is there anyone here with us?”

The planchette doesn’t budge. The four of you let out a collective ragged breath. The lights flicker a second or two and all of you are tensing up.

“Did you just make the lights flicker?”

The planchette feels warmer. And with everyone’s hands on it, it attempts to move but it goes still.

You kind of have a feeling at least one of your friends are behind it moving, and you laugh. “Funny. You guys are hilarious.”

“I didn’t..”

“I didn’t do it either.”

“Me either.”

“Can you make the lights flicker again?”

The second Edith asks the question, the lights go dim and less than half a second later, they brighten again.

“Can you tell us why you’re here?”

You shoot Edith a warning look. And you’re kind of scared, after all, you do have to spend most of your time in your parents house alone in it. With a murder scene right next door, abandoned. And maybe you are a little more scared about it than you thought.

But one of them has to be making the planchette move… Right?

Adeline speaks up. “Is it getting colder in here to you guys?”

“A little.”

“Maybe it’s just the thermostat. Let’s go look. We can bring that box of Twinkies in here too because I’m a little hungry.” you pull yourself up off the floor and the lights throughout the house go off all at once as the rainstorm that drove you all in from the pool kicks up another notch, thunder rolling outside. You shriek and the instant you stub your toe on a piece of furniture, you’re swearing and flipping off the piece of furniture.

“Okay, we’re done here. Goodbye. Session is over.” Edith springs off the floor, the planchette hits the board on the tabletop with a clatter and this is how the four of you wind up huddled together in the kitchen, staring at the basement door intently.

“The breakers are downstairs.”

“Mhm. Right, well.. I’m not going down there.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Guys.” you laugh a little. “It’s just the storm.”

“The lights flickered when we were asking questions, ___.”

You take a step towards the basement door and you’re about to reach for the handle when a loud clap of thunder has you jumping and screaming. And the four of you share a look. “We could um.. We could call somebody.”

“Like who, Adi?” you question, gazing at her with a hand on your hip. “My parents are both gone on separate cruises.”

“Well.” Edith mumbles, “You do have Gareth’s number.. Right?”

“ I do, but I’m not.. What the hell would I say, huh? Hey, Gare, we were playing with a Ouija board and now every single noise scares the living shit out of us? Be serious, Edie.”

“Or.. we could get out of here and go over there. Hawkins is small, we could totally find them.”

“It’s almost midnight.” you point out.

“Guys?”

“What?” the three of you answer Maria in unison. She’s staring out the panes in the French door. “I think I saw a light on over at the Creel house.”

“What? No way. That place hasn’t had electricity since the fifties or something.” Adeline shoves her way through you all to stand at the door beside Maria. Then she sees it too, for a split second in the upstairs window. 

“We’re being babies right now.”

“No, we’re not. And I  vote we all get in my car and go… Somewhere.”

“Or.. Hear me out. We could grab some flashlights and go over.”

“Are you insane, Adi?” you’re gaping at her when she suggests going over. Adeline shrugs. “There has to be an explanation.”

“Yeah! We shouldn’t have played with that damn thing because now for all we know, we unlocked something.” Maria’s pacing. Edith glances at you. “Screw it. I’m calling someone. You’ve got a phone book, it’s not hard, it’s not like there are a thousand Emersons in Hawkins.. Or Munsons.”

As soon as she blurts this out, you and your friends all share a look.

You walk over and take the phone out of her hands. “Give me that. I’ll call Gareth. He’s probably sleeping, I can’t believe we’re all such big babies.”

You dial Gareth’s number and you wait. And wait.

He finally answers, voice thick with sleep. And the storm kicks it up another notch, the clap of thunder making all four of you release ear-splitting screams as Maria stands and says “Yeah, that’s it. I’m outta here.”

“You’re the one who said it’d be fun to play with that damn thing!” you whine.

Gareth’s sitting up in bed at his house now and he’s yawning. “___? What’s goin’ on?”

“My friends and me we were..” you hiccup, “Playing with a Ouija board.”

You can hear him grumbling on his end of the line. Gareth rubs his forehead and jumps a little himself when a loud clap of thunder makes his bedroom window rattle. There’s a long enough pause that he asks, “Still there, bunny?”

“Y-yeah.” you answer after a second or two.

“Okay, I am not seeing shit. There is a light on upstairs at the Creel house. It was on a little longer this time.” Adeline calls out from the kitchen window. “Everyone else’s lights are out though, so maybe we didn’t release the spirit of a killer or a demon or some shit.”

Gareth’s snickering to himself. Until you scream at the thunder as it cracks loud. There’s static on the phone lines, he’s straining to hear.

“You’re scared, huh?”

“This isn’t funny, Gareth.”

“It’s actually kind of hilarious.” Gareth’s teasing, he can’t help it. On your end of the line, you pout a little.

Adeline and Edith have both just left and this leaves you all alone in your parents big and empty house. “Those little shits! They all bailed.”

Gareth chuckles quietly. “Breathe for me, ___.”

You take a deep breath or two, pacing your living room and scowling at the phone when the cord is starting to wrap around your body. You take a second to breathe -and untangle yourself from the phone cord- and Gareth speaks up quietly. “You alone? Like.. totally alone, bunny?”

“Mhm.”

“If you wanna come over..” he suggests, going quiet. Wanting to punch himself in the throat because he’s suggested it. And he can’t stop thinking about everything he was made aware of and how much he wishes that just once, it’d be true.

“Gareth, your parents would flip.”

Gareth pulls himself out of bed and he starts to slip on the jeans he wore earlier. “I’ll come t’ you.”

“Gareth, it’s storming out.”

“You live what.. Two? Three blocks away? Think I can walk that far in a storm.”

“Lightning, Gare.” you protest.

“Do you wanna sit there alone all night or not, huh?” Gareth argues back, grumbling about how stubborn you are as he looks for his old flashlight and a t-shirt that isn’t dirty and waiting to be washed.

“Okay, alright.” you realize that Gareth’s made his mind up and one way or another, he’s coming over, no matter how much you protest. And you want to feel awful about calling in the middle of the night and waking him up, but there’s a bigger part of you that’s just glad she won’t be all alone in her parents house in the middle of a bad storm.

And you’re frustrated, because you know if you let yourself get used to this, even a little, when he decides you’re too much to deal with and ditches you like others in the past, like your own parents do now, it’s going to be so hard to go back to the way things were before you opened up.

“I’ll be over in ten, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Gareth. I should be used to this, I just… don’t like storms and then we went and got tipsy and thought playing with my old Ouija board was a good idea for some reason.” you’re rambling and it’s kind of cute. He chuckles quietly. “It’s fine. I wasn’t sleepin anyway, I hate storms too.”

You hang up with Gareth and you’re pacing your living room, jumping at every noise you hear. The emptiness of the house has taken on a creepier feel and the more intense the storm outside gets, the more it feels as if the walls are closing in all around you. When you happen to look out the French doors leading to the pool, you see a flash of light in one of the upstairs rooms at the Creel house for just a split second and then it’s gone. 

The door is being knocked on. You hear Gareth call out to you through the other side and you rush over, throwing it open.

“There’s someone in the Creel house.”

Gareth doubles over laugh and he shakes his head. “There’s not.”

“It’s not funny. I saw the lights.”

“You saw headlights from a passing car on the mirror up in the attic.” Gareth explains, stepping into the house. You shut and lock the  door behind him and for a few seconds, you’re body to body. Gareth steps closer.

You’re shaking. Gareth notices and he pulls you into another awkward hug. Smoothing his hands over your hair, letting his fingers catch in a few thick curls. “Hey. It’s just a storm. And I promise you, bunny.. There’s nobody at the Creel house. I know, okay? I got dared to go up to the attic.”

You look up at him and take a deep breath or two. You’re breathing in the scent of him and using that to calm you down a little. And you’re laughing softly. “You.. you saw the mirror in the attic, right?”

“Mhm. It’s sitting in the window. So whenever a car goes past at night, the headlights reflect off.” Gareth’s got you sitting down now, you’re leaned against his side. And he’s teasing you a little for freaking out, but the entire time this is happening, he’s also trying to wrap his head around the fact that you called him.

Not one of your friends parents, not your own parents. You called him.

His mind is blown.

“I’m an idiot, oh my god.” you’re laughing sheepishly. Gareth shakes his head. Comes out of the daze he’s in and looks at you. “You’re not. You were scared. It’s okay.”

“I woke you up for no reason. Literally everything that happened when we were playing with that damn board had a rational explanation.” you raise a hand and palm at your face. “I’m sorry.”

“Will you stop apologizing? It’s fine. I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.”

“Okay. I owe you. I owe you so big because you shouldn’t have come out in this shit.” you mumble, getting lost in his eyes. Or the way each split second flash of lightning illuminates his face just enough that you can’t help but stare at his mouth, helpless.

You shove the overwhelming urge to do something dumb like go for it and kiss him to the back of your mind and you take a few very long and shaky breaths as you lean against him. Feeling calmer.

“I didn’t mind. I wanted to,okay?” Gareth speaks up after a few seconds. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to. This place is fucking creepy at night. I don’t blame you.” Gareth admits after a long pause.

“It really is… Thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal.” he shrugs, fighting off a yawn.

But to you, it is. Because he didn’t have to do this. The fact that he has done it, well.. It’s only made you fall even harder. 

[gayofthefae]

hot take: elmike shippers think they’re childhood friends to lovers but the only real childhood friends to lovers ship is Byler because children who become lovers =/= childhood friends to lovers.

[buckley-simp]

I WANNA BE THE ONE BEHIND THE CAMERA SO BAD!!!

[wangxianficrecs]

Something Wicked

Something Wicked

by theroyalsavage

G, 6k, wangxian

Summary: It's very simple, really: Wei Wuxian is a necromancer whose spell keeps inexplicably failing. Lan Wangji owns a magical supply shop. Their relationship is purely business - until it isn't.

Mojo's comments: A sweet magic shop AU, wherein wwx totally falls for the shop owner while trying to keep the spell he's (repeatedly failing) a secret. (Lwj is gathering clues, though. I mean, it's not like he doesn't know what these ingredients are for, after all.)

modern setting, modern with magic, magical realism, strangers to lovers, canon-typical necromancy, tenderness, witch lan wangji, witch wei wuxian, spells and charms, getting to know each other, crushes, soft, fluff, light angst, happy ending, @theroyalsavage

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[emblazons]

The fact that I’ve been searching for true and actual positive reactions to the mlvn romance from the duffers and have yet to find a single comment about it 12 pages and 20 min deep into a search is absolutely wild to me fr.

Like…I literally typed in the duffers, Mike and Eleven, “romance” + other keywords…and not only was there never more than anything vague, by the second page of google (even when i filtered byler) it was always talking about how there was either a platonic inspiration or an issue between them…or how they switched to some other duo or grouping (especially in S2/S4) because it more compelling when they got to the writing.

Those brothers can’t stand that ship for real 😭😂

[joekeerysguitar]

lemonade

overview: your parents are fighting and it’s gotten to the point where you cannot handle it anymore. you’re only solution is packing your bags and going over your best friends house… but are you two more than you seem?

tw: mentions of parental fighting

steve x reader, fluff, comfort steve, use of y/n, mutual feelings

•••

The night was fairly new and you sat glumly on your bed listening to the bickering and fighting of your parents in a distant room. This has become a daily occurrence within the household. Most of the time you could plug your headphones into your walkman and listen to music. Tonight, you couldn’t. You felt a sense of hopelessness, sadness, anxiety, and worry for the future as you listened to the non relenting bickering.

Quickly, you stood up from the foot of your bed and paced back and forth. Your head was whirring with thoughts. By now, your moms voice was louder and more angry. You needed to leave.

You grabbed a small pink duffel bag from your closet and walked over to your bed placing it down. Walking over to drawers you pulled out blue pajamas, a purple sweater and blue jeans for the next day, and your hairbrush from your vanity. Luckily, you had a joined bathroom in your room. You walk in and you grab your toothbrush and perfume. Neatly placing all the items within the duffle bag. You turned off every light within your room besides your bedside table lamp. Sighing at your parents still fighting, you run your fingers through your long auburn hair. You slowly tiptoe over to your window and place your hands on the cool surface opening it slowly. Your breath hitches as the window makes a slight squeaking sound. You pause listening to your parents to see if they noticed. They continue to fight and you exhale. Opening the rest of your window, you grab your duffel bag and place it over your shoulder. Your house is one story so the drop isn’t too bad. You swing your legs out and jump down onto the wet grass. You reach your fingers up and close your window slowly. Walking slowly you feel each foot sink into the wet grass as you walk around the house to the front. Dodging the windows you walk towards the sidewalk illuminated by the yellow street lights. It was slightly drizzling as you walked along the sidewalk and away from the chaotic house.

There was one place you were going… your bestfriends house..

..the one and only…

…steve harrington.

Your houses weren’t too far away from eachother. It usually took about 15-20 minutes to walk to eachother houses. Turning the corner to leave your neighborhood you could feel the rain pick up from a slight drizzle to a steady rain. “Oh shit.” You curse underneath your breath. Picking up the pace, you walk faster. The weather decided to be against you today. The steady rain picks up to pouring. “Fuck.” You curse once more as the rain soaks your hair and your clothes. Water drips from your hair as your clothes cling to your body like a toddler leaving their mother. You shiver with the cold water touching your skin.

After a few long dreadful minutes you finally arrive. The giant house is all dimmed besides a faint light within the living room. The only car within the puddled driveway was Steve’s maroon BMW. You exhale gladly wiping the wet hair out of your eyes. His parents were not home.. per usual.

You hesitantly walk to the door. You’ve only been here a million times yet it feels like the first time. Walking up the steps you pause once you reach for the doorbell. Building up the courage to ring it, you press your finger against the smooth surface. In an instant, you hear a faint song inside. Your breath hitches as you try to listen for any signs of humanity. A couple seconds go buy until you hear soft running and a voice so recognizable you could pick it out in a crowd of people “Im coming.” The lock clicks open as Steve scrambles to open the door.

“Hi, can I he-“ he says before coming to a complete stop. His mouth slightly open as his facial expression changes from a confused and respectful look to a concerned and gentle look. His outfit makes you want to faint on the spot: a yellow crew neck and gray sweatpants. His hair was a little messy as well.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” he says looking at you soaking wet while running his hand through his hair.

“Please Steve let me in, i’m freezing.” You say darting your head at your feet.

“Come in.” He says opening the door wider and shifting out of the way. “Stay here.” He says dashing away to get what you assume was a towel. You take your bag off your shoulder and place it on the ground next to you. Looking around you observe the house. Everything was neat and clean like it has been ever single time you came over. You could hear the faint talking of the TV. It felt very homey. A few seconds later you see Steve reentering the room with a towel.

Once he reaches you he draped it over to shoulder. “Thanks.” you say breathlessly feeling warmth for the first time in 30 minutes.

You two are face to face now. His gentle eyes meet yours and you slightly smile. His heart begins to race at the sight of your smile. Your face then returns to an upset and bothered look as you dart your eyes away from his. Steve notices and in his mind knows you aren’t acting right. “Is everything okay?” He asks trying to grasp your attention once more.

“I’m going to go change.” You say ignoring the question and walking to the nearest bathroom. He turns to look at your dumbfounded as you rush to turn the corner and move out of sight. He thinks to himself, “Something isn’t right.”

Dropping the duffel bag onto the ground and draping the now soaking towel onto the sink, you scour through your bag. Everything was soaked. “For fucks sake.” You say under your breath as you open the bathroom door to find Steve in the same spot caught in his thoughts.

“Steve… Steve” You snap your fingers as he finally looks at you with that lovesick stare that gets your heart beating every single time.

“My clothes are all soaked.” You say defeated fighting away tears.

He stammers for a moment, “You-you can borrow some of mine.”

You look at him and smile once more “Thank you Steve, I really appreciate it.” His heart flutters as he slowly walks over to you. Placing a arm gently around your shoulder he walks with you to his room. Butterflies flutter inside at his touch. The warmth from his body warms you up and you feel happy for once in a long time.

His room was the opposite of neat. There was clothes littered on the floor and papers flooding his desk. His bed was unmade and the sheets were wrinkly. “Excuse the mess.” he says taking his arm off your shoulder he walks over to his dresser. You stand a few feet away from the door just looking at him. The light from the street slightly lights up the room. You admire his side profile as he gently looks through his drawers for something for you to wear. You notice his tongue peak out in concentration and you try to stifle a giggle. A few minutes later he grabs a pair of his flannel pajamas and an old Hawkins High Swim Team shirt. He walks over to you placing them in your open arms. You smile wide as his heart skips a beat at the sight of it. He is down.. bad.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom. Steve stays in the room as he sits at the foot of his bed. He listens as he hears the unzipping of your jeans and the dropping of each item on the floor. He smiles unable to contain his feelings. He likes you.. no fuck.. he loves you.

Once you finish changing you open the door. Your arms hold the wet clothes from outside. He looks over at you and at the sight of you in his clothes he smiles really wide. Your cheeks blush as you grow more shy. The shirt is 2 sizes too big as it drapes around your body like a bag. The black and white flannel pants pool around your feet. “You.. you look beautiful.” Steve says quietly with a smile.

“Shut up.” You say blushing even more now. A red crimson envelops your cheeks as you drop your head in embarrassment.

Steve gets up and walks over to you. “They look better on you then they do me.” He looks at you sincerely in the eyes. You smile unable to contain it. He just makes you so so so happy.

“Let’s go down stairs. I have your favorite!” He says eagerly.

“Lemonade!” You smile feeling warmth pool inside you.

You rush in front of him and run down the hall. You leave a strawberry perfume scent in your path. He smiles so wide at the sight of you being happy ever since you got here. He knew lemonade would cheer you up. He buys it just for you.

“Jesus Christ y/n, slow down” He says laughing running after you. You quickly hurry down the stairs initiating a race.

“I win” You say giggling reaching the kitchen first and turning around to see Steve smiling. You watch his chest rise and fall and he catches his breath.

He walks past you opening the fridge to reveal a full container of lemonade. Almost like he knew you were coming. You grab two glasses from the cabinet and place them on the counter. He walks up behind you and slightly brushes your side as he stands next to you to pour the contents inside the cups. Butterflies form at the touch. You look at him and he looks at you and you two both smile. Feelings of giddiness and butterflies buzz in both of your stomachs. You grab your glass and walk over to the couch. Steve follows behind you. You both sit down a few inches from eachother. Steve watches as you raise the glass to your lips taking a small sip. Seeing this brings him back a few years when he first ever laid eyes on you.

a few years earlier:

Steve recently just broke up with Nancy Wheeler and dropped all of his douchy friends. He was alone. No longer top of the school. No longer King Steve.

One day he strolled into the cafeteria. After grabbing his disgusting lunch he looked around for an empty table. He laid eyes on one of the prettiest people he has ever seen. He almost dropped his tray. You were sitting at the table by yourself fiddling with your can of lemonade and looking glum. Wearing a pink sweater and light blue jeans with your auburn hair draping over your shoulders made him almost melt in the middle of the cafeteria. He stood there building up the courage to walk over and sit with you. Taking a deep breathe he walked over to your table and pulled out a chair placing his meal down. Obviously, this action diverted your attention as you look up to look at him. You looked almost confused and nervous.

“Hi i’m Steve.” He says sitting down and adjusting himself “Mind if i sit and eat with you?”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. Yeah uh go ahead” is all you mutter out.

He was handsome. He was wearing a dark green shirt and dark blue jeans with white shoes. His hair was perfect and he smelled of cologne and the ocean breeze. You admire his facial features as he looked at you with a smile. He had dark brown eyes and two little freckles on his cheeks. Adorable.

“Are you new?” Steve asks with a mouthful of chicken in his mouth.

Trying to stifle a giggle at the sight you reply “Yeah I moved here last week.” You look down and fiddle with your lemonade. He notices.

“Are you just drinking lemonade?” He askes again.

You nod and take a sip. The other hand pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I can buy you lunch if you’re hungry.” He says getting caught by the way you push your hair behind your ear and smile when you finish drinking.

“It’s okay, thank you though. I’m fine with lemonade. Its my favorite drink.” You reply.

He smiles at you and you smile back. His stomach does somersaults as all he can do is stare at you and drink in everything just like you were drinking that lemonade.

For the rest of the lunch period you guys chatted about random things and you’ve been best friends ever since.. And..

He’s loved you.. ever since…

And you.. loved him ever since

•••

Now you sit, several years later anxiously bouncing your leg while staring at the glass of lemonade. You aren’t your normal bubbly self. Steve knows something is bothering you.

“Are you okay y/n?” he asks looking at you. You don’t reply or look at him. You continue to stare at the glass. He reaches out a hand and gently brushes against your hand not holding the cup. “Y/N?” You cannot hold back these feelings any longer. You begin to cry. Tears begin to flow down your face as you start to sob and shake. Steve takes the glass from your hands and places it on the ground before enveloping you in a hug. “Shhhhh” he coos rubbing your back and running his hands over your hair. “It’s okay, i’m right here.” He says. You hide yourself into the crook of his neck. These feelings are poured out. It feels like a dam has been released.

After a few minutes when your sobs recede to a sniffle you unbury yourself from Steve’s neck and let go. He lets go of you as you two look at eachother. He raises his hand up to wipe a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. You brush the hair out of your eyes.

“What’s wrong y/n, you can tell me.” He whispers.

Trying to subside more tears, you blurt out the truth. “It’s my parents. I only came because I had to get away. They were fighting and I can’t stand to hear it. It’s really upset me. I’m sorry I never told you, i just couldn’t. I was too scared.”

Steve’s face turns gentle and almost pitiful. “Oh y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“It only made it worse when it began to downpour on my way here.” You exclaim slightly laughing at the no luck you have been getting lately. “I came here because I needed to get away. I knew you would do something to help me. That’s what bestfriends do.” You say with a slight smile as you sniffle.

Steve smiles back “My door is open forever and always.” He grabs your hand in comfort as you wrap yours in his. He rubs his thumb over your hand as you rub your teary eyes with the other.

“Thank you Steve for always being here for me and of course the lemonade” you say with a slight giggle.

“I knew that would make you happy.” Steve says. “Y/n Im always here for you. I will always be here.”

You greatly appreciate these words as you look at his sympathetic face. His eyes gentle and comforting as his lips curve to a slight smile. Your body gets filled with warmth as you dart your eyes from his eyes to his lips.

“Steve?” You whisper breathily.

“Hm?” He says looking at you with adoration.

“Kiss me.” You whisper darting your eyes back to his lips.

“What?” Steve says growing a blush on his cheeks.

“Steve, kiss me.” You repeat with your cheeks blushing a rosy pink as you two move closer. Your breath hitches as you are nose to nose with him.

Without a second thought, Steve closes the gap between your lips. You shut your eyes as you two kiss. One of his hands finds it’s way to the small of your back as he unconsciously pulls you closer. The other placing it’s self on the back of your neck tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your lips taste like sweet and crisp lemonade. Steves new favorite flavor of all time. One of your hands grips on to his yellow crew neck in an effort to keep him as close as possible as the other gently rakes through the back of his hair. After a few time- stopping moments you two break apart. Pent up emotions and feelings were poured out within this kiss, ones pushed away for years. Love was officially reciprocated. Your lips feel numb and tingly as you just stare at each other with adored stares. You breathlessly sigh with your mouth still slightly open. He stares back with a huge smile. You two were both drowsy with the kiss.

“I love you Y/N” Is all he mutters out. “I’ve loved you since I met you at the cafeteria when you were drinking that can of lemonade.”

“I love you too Steve. I always have.” You reply feeling like you are on a cloud. This cannot be real. It feels like a dream…

You just kissed your crush. Your best-friend.

And you liked it. You loved it actually.

“Do you want some more lemonade?” He asks innocently before you laugh and lean in to kiss him once more.

Lemonade never tasted as sweet.

[alba8688]

Danielle Henderson comes back to Hawkins after graduating from college to persuade her dream to be a History teacher.Also running away from a bad breakup .

But what happens when she meets this handsome metal head at a bar who she doesn't even know his name but ends up in his bed that same night/Van.Not knowing that he goes to the same schoolShe will Be teaching ,but he is her Student .Will Danielle risk her job to be with the crazy metal guy?

Eddie is 20 and Danielle is 22 ...

I don't own rights to the stranger things character ...

Warnings 18+ minors DNI!!!

Smut=🔥

Chapter 1 🔥. Chapter 30

Chapter 2. Chapter 31

Chapter 3. Chapter 32

Chapter 4. Chapter 33

Chapter 5. Chapter 34

Chapter 6. 🔥 Chapter 35

Chapter 7. 🔥 Chapter 36

Chapter 8. 🎃🔥 Chapter 37

Chapter 9 Chapter 38

Chapter 10. 🔥 Chapter 39

Chapter 11. Chapter 40

Chapter 12. Chapter 41

Chapter 13. 🔥 Chapter 42

Chapter 14. 🎄 Chapter 43

Chapter 15. Chapter 44

Chapter 16. Chapter 45

Chapter 17. Chapter 46

Chapter 18. Chapter 47

Chapter 19. Chapter 48

Chapter 20. Chapter 49

Chapter 21. Chapter 50

Chapter 22 Chapter 51

Chapter 23 🔥 Chapter 52

Chapter 24 Chapter 53

Chapter 25. Chapter 54

Chapter 26. Chapter 55

Chapter 27. Chapter 56

Chapter 28. Chapter 57

Chapter 29. Chapter 58 “Epilogue”

[findafight]

Any thoughts about Stobin's reaction to the 80s masterpiece that was the musical Chess? I have a feeling "Pity the child" would do a number on Stevie boy... "Pity the child who knew his parents; Saw their faults; Saw their love die before his eyes; Pity the child that wise; He never asked "Did I cause your distress?"; Just in case they said yes"

Prefacing this with: You literally asked for this

Listen. Listen. LISTEN. I have been holding back on projecting too much on Steve, specifically with him being a lifeguard with an outdoor pool but also must admit that I have had to hold back on making a poto reference in RASEPSM because it hadn't come out yet. Physical pain from that.

But you came to me, on this blog with my headcanons, with the musical that I have such a clear memory of listening to for the first time in the most Steve Way (cleaning an outdoor pool in the rain with nothing but a bra and short shorts on, no clue what the hell I was getting into with this musical)

Chess is one of those batshit musicals that has a bunch of different versions and reorderings. (More drastic than just moving I Dreamed A Dreamed to after Lovely Ladies in Les mis 2012) so, unlike my OBC (i think? it may have been the west end version. it's been years) first time listening, we are saying Steve got the original concept album in fall of 1984. Not because he'd heard anything about it, but because he's spent two weeks listening to the Voulez-vous album after Nancy and he broke up and the music of Chess is written by the two B's of ABBA. It's a natural transition for a man who has a secret musical theatre stash.

(he doesn't really need to SEE them, he just likes listening to them. figuring out the plots by the songs. Also he's in love with Julie Andrews this is fact [aren't we all, though?])

He likes to listen to musicals while doing water tests and vacuuming the pool, but it's November so he doesn't do that, just. Lies on the floor of the livingroom trying to figure out what the fuck is happening in the musical. It is difficult. (He thinks there's a love triangle between the American grandmaster man, the Soviet grandmaster lady, and her loyalty to her country. Takes YEARS for him to figure out he's wrong. Just like meeee)

He likes the motifs, (Budapest is rising my beloved...) and how dramatic everyone is about this tournament. One Night in Bangkok is a fucking bop and a half. (I love how there's some interpretation of Freddie being ace because of the line "I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine"[objectively iconic ace line in a pretty queer song], versus whatever the fuck Raúl Esparza had going on in 2018 that was. Uh. Not what I'd call an asexual interpretation of the character in that song but my god i doubt anyone was complaining.)

But. Pity The Child hits a bit close to home as he lies on his back on an immaculate carpet in a hollow house. Especially if you consider his mother may have used him to fill the emotional void where his father was supposed to be and put her emotional baggage on him with his father away on business and being unfaithful. (and also if you headcanon Steve as bi because that song is queer. I'm just saying. it is. even without the line "I was a fool and probably queer" but that line is there so. make of that what you will) And the line "I wouldn't call: a crazy thing to do/Just in case she said who?" STEVE LINE STEVE LINE

But also. That entire musical is chock full of people belting their hearts out about struggling to choose what they want. How they're supposed to go, what they're supposed to do. It's not about chess, or the cold war (well. It IS but...) It's also a lot about people wanting to be someone they aren't, and concerned about how they are perceived. Hmmm. HMMM. INTERESTING.

Like. Heaven help my heart?? I know him so well?? post s2 broken hearted Steve is called tf out. Basically the entirety of tape 2 of the concept album knocks Steve on his ass. Mentally, he is here:

And ofc Robin finds his little mixtape of sad musical songs is like "steve. why are you obsessed with this musical. I am IN drama and I haven't heard of it. what the fuck. there's russians. we aren't fond of those guys." and steve has to go

"Robin listen. The guys from ABBA wrote the music and it's KINDA queer, and also please listen to this song. you can't even tell who's russian it doesn't matter"

and robin listens which finally makes her realize

"wait. why did you get this to begin with? Just because of the ABBA guys?"

"Robin. I have a collection of possibly every officially released musical from the past twenty years. I just like 'em. Have you heard Colm Wilkinson's voice? Julie Andrews? ABBA guys were a bonus."

and now I'm thinking of Musical Theatre actor Steve but let's not get a head of ourselves but also imagine... steve on broadway and robin in the pit as trumpet... being besties

anyways yeah I think they'd like the musical Chess.

[thesapphicsoldier]

Do you guys think that there was a moment™️ that Mike and Will feel in love with each other? Because ik most of us believe that they started liking each other before season 1, but when do you think they fell in love? Is there a specific scene in your head or just like a rough timeline?

[howtotrainyouragents]

Channeling all my extrovertedness into my DnD character

[acerathia]

labeling my relationship with obito as 'complicated' bc it just is