Stephen Strange Viewed 14,000,605 Possible Futures To The Confrontation On Titan. He Answered, “one”

Guys, guys, did you already watched 200 Cartas: Looking for Maria Sanchez?

Because I did watched it a time ago and it's so good. The kind of movie that we watch eating some chocolate and some popcorn and laugh and think that the characters are cute...

Man, what a precious movie. Lin is so cute in this, just make me want to hug him and never let go.

If you guys didn't watch it yet, I do recommend it!

The cutest thing 😭

Ok so I saw this (https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMF5bYbN5/) on TikTok and I can just imagine this is how reader tells spencer she’s expecting 😍 the whole team would already know, and they are playing scrabble on the jet, and everyone’s watching his reaction but he’s just not getting it, until she pulls out the test and then the penny drops and ahhhhhh I NEED this 🙈 please can you write something along these lines? You’re the best Reid writer ever!! Xxx

link, i love this, and thank you, and thinking about his reaction is just mwah

You know Spencer's in need of a pick-me-up when you get on the jet. It's been a long case, and he's been unknowingly doing his job as a soon-to-be-dad by holding up your hair while you were sick in the mornings.

So you break out the scrabble board, earning smiles from everyone as they know what you're about to do. He goes to get you tea first, and you use the opportunity to take the letters you need, putting some on his slider so he doesn't get suspicious.

"I bet you cheated." He accuses you, scowling at you playfully.

"Promise I didn't." You claim, holding your hands up in defense.

"I hope you're putting down a word like cat then." He scoffs, nudging your feet under the table.

That is definitely not the phrase you plan on putting down. Secretively, you put all your letters on the board and bank on Spencer's focus being on his own letters, no doubt trying to think up the most complicated word while you arrange the letters.

There's no doubt the only times you win are when he lets you.

You eagerly wait for him to read your word, heart thumping with anticipation for his reaction. He's been talking about having a baby for years and you know he's going to be elated.

It's an edge-of-your-seat event for the rest of the jet, as well, all excited for what his reaction's going to be. JJ's got her phone out, subtly filming it for you to keep the treasured memory, and so Penelope can see it when you get home.

"Y/n." He shakes his head, looking at you like your an idiot. But you're doing the same thing. For someone so intelligent, he is not getting it. "One, you can't have ten letters, and two, you can only have one word. Pregnant wouldn't even be okay. With those letters, you can have pigment for 16 before any double scores, but you can't cheat. You have to redraw."

Behind him, you can see Morgan, JJ, Rossi, and Emily laughing. There's even a smirk on Hotch's lips.

You bite down a smile. "Spence, read it out loud." You try.

"I'm pregnant." He repeats what's written on the board. Morgan and Emily can't contain their giggles, highly amused by your husband's obliviousness. "You still can't have it. I'll let you get away with knowing my letters, but that's worth at least 20 points."

"You're a genius, right?" You question.

He frowns again. "Provably."

"Okay, so what does that mean?" You prompt, trying to help him make the connection.

He's struggling, still completely baffled about why you would need a basic middle school biology lesson. "Being pregnant? When there's an embryo that turns into a fetus growing in someone's uterus."

Even you can't bite down your laughter that time. You realize you're going to have to ditch the original plan of him deciphering the board, and take the test out of your bag.

His eyes widen as he reads the same word as was on the board. Then he looks back up at you, slightly teary-eyed as the connection sticks. "You're pregnant." He says with deep realization.

You nod, still waiting for a reaction that wasn't him stating a fact. He quickly gets out of his seat, buzzing with excitement as he drags you up and wraps his arms so tightly around you that he can pick you up and spin you around.

"I'm an idiot." He shakes his head when he puts you down, holding you tightly in a hug.

"I know." You agree with a laugh, pulling away to kiss him in a rare public display of affection.

When you're done, there's a round of hugs and congratulations from the team, all equally thrilled for you two to be embarking on the next step in your lives together.

I can not wait for this! If you can, tag me, please. I don't wanna miss a thing! 😍

Coming Soon.

“BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE” (ROGER TAYLOR X READER)

Summary: After losing a bet, Roger has to be nice to you for an entire an entire week. He hated it at first, but he slowly begins to warm up to you.

Note: This will be out once I passed all my requirements, I’ve already started it, and this might be a series. So if you wanna be tagged please inform me!

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay, so this idea popped into my head today. Marc Spector, injury dialogue prompt 16, and a nurse reader. It’s just chef’s kiss

"I'd hate to be a burden..." || "It's alright, (Name). I don't mind taking care of you"

a/n: nurse!reader x marc is something that can be so personal actually....warnings for blood, injuries, etc.

"That guy is here again."

You glance up from the chart in your hands, frowning at your smirking coworker. She raises a brow and takes a long sip from the water bottle in her hands, not breaking eye contact.

She smacks her lips when she lowers the bottle, "Y'know, the really hot one?"

You don't respond, turning back to the chart and sliding your finger down the page, looking for the information you'd been trying to input into the monitor in front of you.

"I can tend to him, if you like. Slow night and all." She tilts her head, like she knows she's already got your goat, laughter in her voice. "Plus, he's all sweaty and miserable and I'm dying to see the abs he's clearly hiding."

A flare of jealousy you have no control over rears up.

"No," you respond, a little too fast. "I'll get him."

"Mhm," she hums. "Let him take you home this time," she advises.

You roll your eyes and squint at the screen in front of you, vision doubling as you stare, your eyes tired and body aching after such a long shift. "He doesn't want to take me home."

"Sure," she nods, eyes wide, tone sarcastic. "Just has a way of showing up here broken at the end of your shifts."

You don't respond, gritting your teeth instead, eyes sore with strain, a headache beginning a slow pounding at your temples. "Just let him know I'll be there in a minute. If he's not bleeding to death."

"He's right as rain, I imagine. He could patch himself up, I think. Says he'll only see you anyways."

You don't grace her with a response, and she laughs as she walks away, back in the direction of the clinic's waiting room.

After you finish entering the patient's information, you take a moment to breathe. In, out. In, out.

You can do this. You're almost to the finish line.

You shove the patient's chart back into the filing stand before turning to make your way to the lobby.

Lo and behold, Marc Spector stands alone in the clinic's lobby, leaning carefully against the wall, idly watching the silent children's movie playing on a TV in the corner. Something in your chest cracks, knowing that he hasn't sat down to avoid staining the newly reupholstered waiting room chairs.

He looks just the way he had the first night you met him, when he was just some blood speckled guy in the lobby, grouchy but kind.

"Marc?" You call, jerking your head toward the hall to the exam rooms. "C'mon."

His eyes snap to you, gaze softening a fraction as he pushes himself off the wall and follows you easily.

"That other nurse thinks I come here to hit on you," he says when you shut the door of the exam room behind you.

"Well," you lead him to the sink in the corner, holding a hand up to him. "Don't you?"

Marc grunts and looks away as you wash your hands thoroughly. "Your turn," you nudge him in front of the sink with your knee. "All the way up to your elbows. Scrub."

"I know," he grumbles at you, perpetually cranky.

You lean next to him, watching the pink and rust of blood swirl down the drain. "At least you've stopped scaring the staff."

"I don't mean to scare anyone," he rumbles calmly.

You smile, some of your exhaustion peeling away. "I know you don't." You want to touch him, but you turn to snap on a pair of gloves instead as Marc finishes washing and pats his hands and arms dry with paper towels.

"Do I scare you?"

"Not nearly as much as you'd like to believe, Spector." You follow him to one of the plastic chairs where he finally takes a seat with a groan. You know he hates sitting on the exam table and so you don't make him.

His eyes are hard, a little crease between them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'," you tilt his face up, examining the cuts that litter his skin. "Are you hurt anywhere I can't see? Linda wants to see your abs."

Marc chokes out an unexpected laugh. "Got a slash on my leg. Sorry I didn't get my guts torn out."

"What she doesn't know if that you've got a cute little belly," you say as you turn to grab the supplies you'll need to clean and bandage and suture him.

He's trying to hide a smile when you turn back. "That's not very nice."

"It's very nice actually. You're strong and it shows. Abs are over-fucking-rated. All show, no strength," you inform him, cleaning a cut along his cheekbone with long, measured, careful pressure.

Marc doesn't answer you. Though you notice his cheeks are a bit pink as he watches you staunch the bleeding on a couple of wounds on his arms and hands and along his jaw. You examine the cut on his thigh and sigh. "That's going to need stitches. Christ, Marc, what were you doing?" You ask, deciding that needs attention first.

"Nothin'," he lies. "Nothing you need to worry about."

You raise a brow at him, cutting some of the fabric around the wound away, before you set to cleaning it too.

"I hate to - I don't mean to take up your time like this -," he stutters suddenly. "You're always so busy here. I -,"

"It's alright, Marc. I don't mind taking care of you," you say gently, interrupting him. "I'd rather you come here. To me."

Marc's chest hitches, but you don't look up, not sure you'll be able to handle whatever expression is on his face.

You make quick work of the stitches, dabbing on numbing cream and angling your body to block Marc's view of the process as much as you're able to. "There," you say when the bandage is in place, straightening and stepping back a bit.

Marc remains silent, his face a carefully schooled neutral mask as he watches you work slowly up his body. You treat the cuts on his arms and face. He's stoic and silent but his eyes are revealing when you dare to look into them, the hardened cut of his resting face doing nothing to hide what lay in his gaze.

Guilt.

Your ribs tighten, squeezing at your lungs. You hate when he looks at you like that, like he would only ever take things from you.

"When Linda told me you were here," you start, swabbing some cream onto the bruises he's laden with. "She said you were all sweaty and miserable and hot."

He laughs again, the sound clearly unexpected to him, and you smile, having gotten what you aimed for. "And hot?"

You nod, "Precisely. And hot."

"Am I missing something here, baby?"

You finish with the last bruise and slide your gloves off, tossing them away and stepping between his thighs, to cup his jaw between your hands. "Probably. Like, I guess there's just something about a pathetic, miserable man, waiting for his partner that really does it for the ladies. Y'know?"

"Not really, no," he says, curling his arms around your hips, tilting his head against your belly as you bury your hands in his sweat dampened hair. "Sorry. I only want you."

Your heart flutters, even though you know he means to take care of him, that he doesn't like anyone else patching him up, touching him when they don't know how and when it's okay to touch him.

"Hey," he pulls back. "I am sorry. I know you're exhausted. I don't do this on purpose -,"

You smile, "You kinda do. That's okay." Marc lets you kiss him, hums when you slide your tongue against his bottom lip. His mouth falls open to you easily, breath warm against your mouth. He waits for you, waits for you to make the decision to kiss him again. When you do, again and again and again, he tastes like the coppery tint of blood, but underneath that, like Marc.

He hums again, tightens his arms around you. "You can always tell me to fuck off, y'know?" He says when he pulls back, eyes still closed. "If you don't want to deal with me."

"Deal with you?" You ask, cupping his cheeks between your palms, thumbs sweeping over the strong arch of bone. "Marc, I don't deal with you. Dealing is, like, something you don't want to put up with but you do anyways."

"Is that not what's goin' on?" He asks warily, blinking up at you.

"No," you say, only a little horrified. "No, of course not."

"So Linda's not gettin' the chance to see my abs anytime soon," he pats your hip and labors to his feet.

You laugh, and Marc does too. "No. Definitely not. You're my favorite patient."

"Hope I'm a little more than that," he touches the space beneath your eyes. "Let's get you home. You're exhausted. When's your shift over?"

"Now," you yawn, snuggling into his arms for the brief moment he hugs you close. "You're my last. Lemme go get my stuff."

Marc holds you longer than he usually does, nose against your temple. "Thank you."

You're not sure what he means, what he's thanking you for. Still you answer, "anytime, baby."

I want a romance like that 🥺 so cute. Marc is such a big baby 🤭

Magic Kisses

Steven Grant x GN!Reader x Marc Spector

Summary: When Marc and Steven fall and hurt themselves, you know exactly what will make them feel better.

Word Count: 1,434

Warnings: Mentions of cuts and bruises from minor injuries, a bit of suggestive language, kissing, lots of fluff. Also no pronouns are used for the reader, but the reader is implied to have longer hair.

a/n: This is based before they’re aware of Jake. That’s why he doesn’t make an apearance this time. But even without him, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Marc cursed loudly as you cleaned the large cut on his hand with disinfectant. “That hurts you know!” He hissed trying to rip his hand out of your grasp. You rolled your eyes, firmly holding it in place as he whined at you like a child. This was probably the fifth time he’d done so.

“Oh hush, you big baby. I’m almost done,” you teased, the corners of your lips twitching as they threatened to smile. He huffed at you and rolled his eyes just as you had. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago,” he mumbled in a grumpy sounding voice, though you could hear that he was also slightly teasing.

Now you smiled and laughed out loud. “Marc, baby, I’ve only been cleaning you up for five minutes at most.” He grumbled but didn’t disagree. “Besides, it’s not my fault you and Steven got into a fight with the sidewalk.”

You laughed at his gaped open mouth at your apparent audacity to say such a thing. “First of all, how dare you,” Steven said now getting in on the conversation, “I didn’t have anything to do with that. It was Marc’s fault we fell. He was too busy staring at your-” “Shut up, Steven,” Marc forcefully butted in, a faint blush settling into his cheeks.

Continuar lendo

Ugh, the cutest thing I've read today 🥹❤️

♡ asking steve harrington to be your first kiss!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

pairings ; steve harrington x shy!reader 

warnings ;  friends but with mutual pining, shy!reader, first kiss, food, pet names, mentions of steve biting ( i promise it’s just a wee joke and isn’t as weird as it might sound. )

word count ; 1704 — whoops.

additional notes ; i swear harmonia, i see your concepts and stuff in people's asks and i think you're literally the best at it so thank you so much for sending this sweet blurb idea through <33

“stevie?” you ask into the empty air, tearing your eyes away from the view in steve’s passenger seat as you previously pondered silently. “mhm?” is all he mumbles back, to show he’s listening while scooping another spoonful of the chocolate ice cream from his tub.

you weren’t sure why you were having ice cream on a cold winter’s night, but steve had suggested it and you never tend to question steve’s random motives as such. your half-eaten raspberry tub rests on your lap, slightly melted from neglect during the reverie you coaxed yourself into. parked atop a hill overlooking the town below the moonlight.

you don’t continue at first, looking down to your knee which now bounces anxiously. and with the extra space of silence, steve looks up from his ice cream, eyes peeking beneath the strands of hair that poke his face.

sitting the tub into one cup holder, steve moves back against his seat, one hand beginning to drum the steering wheel aimlessly while he watches your body language. “you don’t like it? thought it was one of your favourites?” steve continues worriedly, and nods towards the dessert in your hands.

you shake your head, ushering it into the cup holder beside his with a very small, “no, no. i do… i’ll have it in a second.”

“okay.”

the car falls silent again, steve watches as you slump against your seat and lose yourself in the view again. however, steve can tell it isn’t the landscape you’re thinking of, but if only he could pinpoint exactly what you were thinking.

penny for your thoughts, steve thinks and hesitates upon saying. in the end leaving you be at first, instead reaching a hand over to your restless knee and it suddenly stops moving. steve squeezes it affectionately, a small message that he’s still listening as he turns down the radio ever so slightly.

“what was your first kiss like?” you splutter all of a sudden, voice quiet and a deep nervous inhale following. steve wasn’t expecting it, eyes blinking and eyebrows raising as he processes the question. he taps your knee once more before moving his hand back to his lap, and you immediately miss the warmth.

“eighth grade with vanessa johnson. i freaked out so bad i bit her lip and she never spoke to me again.”

with steve’s statement you giggle. of course he did just that. “you bit her?” you repeat, hand covering your mouth as more laughter falls from your lips, and steve joins you with an amused nod, “sure did.”

your hand falls from your mouth while you lean your head back to face the car roof, laughter slowly falling back down and steve can only watch you with the fondest smile. “do you bite every girl you kiss?”

“no. funnily enough it was an accident and she hated my guts for it,” steve responds to your teasing with another chuckle emitting his throat. your head tilts to the side, cheek pressed to your shoulder as you look over at him, his gaze intoxicating as he smiles so warmly towards you.

“i got much better, y’know?” steve smirks, ego boosting himself. “i know,” you reply without thinking and steve pulls a face, confusion and amusement packed into one before nudging your arm gently, “what do you mean you know?”

you laugh again, embarrassed and quietly when you reply, “high school girls locker room. steve harrington was the topic of conversation most days before gym class for the popular girls.” steve grimaces, unamused and worried about the fact that you had heard those conversations about steve’s kissing techniques.

“god, high school. don’t miss it a bit.”

you don’t reply. looking out the passenger door window and to the couple of cars upon that side, distractedly staring as you sigh sadly. and steve’s not an idiot. he’s your best friend and also someone who’s been infatuated with you for years, he can tell what you’re thinking this time.

“it’ll happen, you just need to find the right person.”

your first kiss. still in your twenties without having ever kissed someone, while others around you were now in serious relationships.

you close your eyes and sigh at steve’s words. that’s the problem; you have always had the right person but you’re too terrified to make the first move. the unbearable fear that steve wouldn’t like you back was excruciating while he dated several girls during your friendship that you hoped he would be brave enough to do something instead.

maybe he just wasn’t interested in you that way. since he had no problem asking all those other girls out, as far as you can tell.

“i have an idea.”

steve’s quiet and patient to match your timid voice, you can usually get more shy in conversations you’re scared of and he’s willing to hear you out. but when is he never. “yeah?” is all he asks, practically a whisper.

your words get lodged in your throat, how are you supposed to ask your best friend to kiss you? that’s not easy. what if he hates you after? what if he thinks you’re impatient? or what if it ruins your friendship?

you wave yourself off, cringing on yourself and about to change the subject completely while leaning a hand down for your tub of ice cream but steve grips your hand and bends his head down to meet your gaze.

“hey, hey, hey. you can tell me your idea. i won’t judge you.”

“i don’t know, steve, i—” steve turns, his body facing yours while he grips your other free hand and you follow his movements to face him more clearer. the car light was on while you previously ate and it illuminated the tanned skin upon his face, showing off the sweet dark freckles spotted across his cheek and neck. 

“i know who i want to be my first kiss.”

your forehead falls into you and steve’s held hands, embarrassed while a small ‘o’ shape forms on steve’s mouth as he thinks. “oh,” is all steve says, a pang of hurt sprawling across his chest rapidly at the word. someone. someone.

before you can lift your head to ramble an apology about how stupid it is, steve beats you to it by holding onto his pride and storing away his sadness. “any guy would be so lucky to have you, yeah? so lucky, baby. and if you know who you want to be your first kiss, i say go for it.”

steve’s ready to continue, busy trying to seem like he’s okay with this idea and not noticing that you lift your head back up to look at him properly. he doesn’t notice the way you squeeze his gripping hands or giggle at his rushed voice, he doesn’t notice anything until you say, “steve.”

it’s quiet. your voice barely audible but steve thanks his good hearing because he immediately cuts himself off to listen to you. your faces are close, his pupils rapidly moving when they scan over your features as if he’s figuring out what you’re trying to say.

“what, baby?”

“steve.” you say again, tone knowing and desperate and almost a hint of feeling shameful and steve’s eyes widen when yours fleet to his lips for the shortest second. this can’t be real, steve thinks. there’s no way.

you huff when he still sits still, hands keep holding yours tightly, “don’t make me say it,” you whine and steve chuckles. he tilts his head down, forehead pressed against yours as he replies, “oh, but i want you to say it. please say it.”

you can feel the warmth spread to your face as another shy whine threatens to break your throat, but just as you move your head in an attempt to tuck it into his neck, steve’s hands are shuffling from yours so he’s cupping your face.

“it’s okay, baby. it’s okay. i can do it, i’ll gladly do it. if you want me to?” his thumbs swipe your skin so delicately and his eyes are gazing with such a genuine stare that you feel you might crumble. with a nod, there’s a strangled sentence you let out, “y-yes. i do, stevie.”

he chuckles once more, a mixture of how cute he thinks you are but also in disbelief that he’s about to kiss you.

steve’s so slow, head tilting as he leans forward so his nose runs across your skin and you can feel the ghost of his lips closer and closer. in a warm daze, you whisper into the cold car when steve’s lips touch the corner of yours, “don’t bite me.”

you feel the curve of his smile while his nose drags down your face so he’s tucked under your jaw, both of your chests heaving with laughter. your hands reach up so they are holding onto his wrists, and he looks back up at your cupped face, “no promises, you’ll probably taste of raspberry ice cream.”

this time steve’s patience isn’t as strong, leaning forward to crash his lips against yours in what you believe will be most breath-taking kiss you could ever receive. corners of both your lips threaten to smile as you feel the sparks within your chest and squeeze the skin of his wrists.

he tastes of chocolate from his ice cream and the coffee he had earlier on and you go light-headed at the thought, never wanting to pull away. he’s so sweet and slow, lips guiding yours against his so tenderly that you pray to god it won’t be the last steve harrington kiss you receive.

you both reluctantly pull away, lungs begging to be filled with air but steve only pulls away for a moment before pecking your lips again. your mind feels foggy from the gesture that you almost don’t notice the nip to your bottom lip as steve pulls away.

you gasp mockingly, opening your eyes with steve’s smug smirk, turning his palms from your face so he can hold yours again, resting them against your lap. “i was right,” steve says, leaning forward when you dip your head to contain your happiness.

“you taste like raspberries,” steve murmurs just as happily against your lips.

⤸

taglist form . the library . all blurbs

steve harrington; masterlist. blurbs

Please, my heart 🥹😭

bakugou has a tiktok account where he bakes or cooks but the only thing that’s shown are his hands— nobody knows that it’s him behind the screen.

he bakes or cooks late at night, when he comes home from missions and the sights that he’s seen keep him up for longer than he’d like. the hum of his whisk or his food processor provide him solace and escape from his blood stained thoughts. the scrape of bakugou’s knife against a perfectly cooked and crisp pork katsu soothes the night demons tormenting his soul with screams from the people he couldn’t save.

in his videos, katsuki always serves up two plates, two hearty portions and a lot of his viewers like to think that he does it for them— so that they have someone to eat with, to share a meal with late at night when they can’t sleep either. that’s true, for the most part. but more often than not, katsuki bakugou shares out another plate because he knows that you’ll wake up and join him so that he doesn’t have to be alone.

and if you watch his videos closely enough, you can see arms wrapping around him from behind— the glint of your silver wedding band firm against his mid section, letting katsuki know you’re here for him too.

Crying screaming throwing up 😭😭 KISS YOU FOOLS!

Would you be willing to do hide from the prompt list with Steve?

your wish is my command ♥ sorry, it's a bit angsty cause i'm feeling down today

[HIDE; Allowing the smaller friend to hide in the bigger friend’s jacket, arms closed around them and the smaller one’s face tucked close. ]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You lean against the wall, hugging yourself in hopes of warding off the cold. And God, it is cold. Your breath creates little white clouds, but the cold isn't as bothersome as the anxiety that's been squeezing your throat minutes ago.

"What are you doing here?" asks Steve, a step away from joining you. He rubs both hands together, seeking some kind of warmth. "It's freezing out here."

Steve is a good friend — the best. It's always been hard for you to talk, especially about your own feelings, and with Steve sometimes it feels like you don't even have to. He seems to be able to read your thoughts, to always know when to give you space, when to make sure you're not alone.

You hope that's not true, though. That he's not able to read your thoughts, that is. You don't want him to know a few in particular, the ones you have when you say something that makes him laugh, truly laugh, the kind that has him throwing his head back and making the most wonderful sound in the world. Or when Steve squeezes you into a hug and his scent seems to linger on you for the rest of the day. Or when…

Well, better stop there.

The sound of your name makes you turn your head to look at him. "Hmm?" you ask.

"Are you cold?"

You rub your own arms. Except for your hands, you're not feeling that cold, but it was definitely warmer inside the house. Too warm, somehow. Suffocating.

"I'm not taking your jacket," you say, already all too familiar with Steve's kindness and the way his ridiculously nice brain works. He gives so much to others that someone needs to remind him that he is also a person with needs like everyone else.

"But-"

"No."

Steve takes your hands between his and blows hot air into them. "You look like you're cold."

You're not — well, at least you don't feel like you are. It feels like you're burning hot right now, this close to him.

He doesn't let go of your hands. Instead, his fingers close around your wrists and he gently pulls you closer.

"Come here," he whispers, and you let him wrap your hands around his own waist, under his jacket, fluffy and warm and incredibly cozy. You enjoy the feeling of his chin resting on top of your head, of his hands rubbing your back slowly. "Better?" he asks.

You let your eyes close for a moment, hugging him a little tighter.

"You're my favorite person," you whisper against his chest, kind of hoping he won't hear.

Of course, he does.

"Oh, I think I'm going to need this in writing," Steve says, and you can pretty much hear the smile in his voice. "Just wait until I rub that in Eddie's face."

He feels your laughter in his chest, as if it were inside his heart. Maybe it is.

After a moment, he whispers against your hair, "You're my favorite person too."

😍😍😍😍😍

I'm Not The Only One Part 2

Summary: The aftermath of your enemy Steve telling you that your boyfriend cheated on you.

Word Count: 2387

Note: Not revised. Part 1 here

As you walked up to Matt’s door, you were afraid of what might happen. You desperately wanted to speak to Robin about what happened but then Steve dropped a bomb on you. Instead of worrying about the Friday incident, you were not concerned your boyfriend was cheating on you. You really hoped that Steve was just being his usual asshole self, but the way he said it and the look in his eyes told you he was being sincere. So here you were, at Matt’s doorstep, knocking pathetically.

After a few moments that felt decades long, the door swung open to reveal your boyfriend. His smile grew when he saw you and you nearly melted at the sight. “Hi baby,” he reached out for you.

“Baby?” You shook yourself out of your trance. “I’ve been calling you all weekend. Where have you been?”

“I just thought maybe you needed some time to cool off from Friday.” He shrugged. “You were really mad at me.”

“I think I had the right to be mad.” You scoffed.

“I mean come on Y/n, we’ve been dating for a month and you still haven’t let me kiss you.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

“Is that why you were kissing another girl after I left your house?” You question. “And don’t lie to me.”

“Look, Annalise called me to hang out and yeah we kissed but we’re not getting back together or anything. We can just forget it ever happened.” Matt reached a hand out to you.

“Are you insane? It may seem like no big deal to you but it is to me. That’s cheating.” You slap his hand away. “You’re unbelievable really.” You turn, heading back down the path. “Oh, and Grease is overdue, idiot.” You slam your car door as you finish getting in.

The first thing you can think of is to go see Eddie. You know his weird antics and personality can cheer you up in a heartbeat. The drive to his trailer is filled with the noise of sad ballads and your sleeved hand constantly wiping your eyes. Why were you crying? Matt was definitely not worth it and you knew that but you couldn’t help feeling worthless and unwanted.

As you park outside Eddie’s trailer, you look into the mirror and sigh. Your eyes were red, your hair was a mess, and your skin was sticky with old and new tears. You see Uncle Wayne on the porch, “Eddie, your little friend is here!”

You chuckle at his words and grab your bag before stepping out. Eddie rushes down the three steps and opens his long arms to engulf you. “Hey, come ‘ere.” He says quietly. You immediately enter his embrace and wrap your arms around his waist. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” You sighed and lean your cheek against his chest. 

“You staying for dinner kiddo?” Wayne asks and you nod. “I’ll be heading to the store for food them. Be back in a bit.” Wayne gives Eddie a look.

“Let’s get you inside.” Eddie smiles and pulls you inside. “I can show you the new guitar strap that Dustin got me.”

-

Steve had called Eddie as soon as you left the store. He had filled him in on the entire situation.

“Okay so we’re going to go kick his ass right?” Eddie had told Steve through the phone.

“Eddie, you’re her friend. You have to do it.”

“Okay but you’re…meatier. I’m skinny. You’ve seen me shirtless. I need backup.” Eddie states. “Plus, someone has to comfort Y/n and I know it is impossible for you to be nice to her.”

“Hey, I can be nice.” Steve whines. “I was nice today.”

“Only because you had too.” Eddie snorts. “Look, you go kick his ass and I’ll go comfort Y/n.”

“I’m not kicking his ass alone Eddie.” Steve rolls his eyes. 

“How about neither of you kick his ass and both of you just go check on Y/n.” Robin adds, holding a box of new tapes. “Y/n is plenty capable of kicking Matt’s ass by herself.” 

“That’s true.” Steve laughs. “Well, I don’t think she’ll want to see me so… Eddie just take care of her okay? Let me know if she needs anything.” He ends the call after a few more moments, saying goodbye to Eddie.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Robin laughs. “So so bad.”

“Robin.” Steve scolds. “I’m just being nice because she’s going through a tough time.”

“This could be what you need to start dating her. Swoop in to be her knight in shining armor or whatever.” Robin’s eyes light up. 

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Steve shakes his head, “I’m going on break.”

-

“So what did you tell Steve when he told you?” Eddie asks, sitting on the floor, rummaging through an old storage bin. You look down at him as you lay on your stomach across his bed, flipping through a magazine. 

“I mean, not much really. I basically interrogated him on what he saw and tried to verify if it was the truth.” You shrugged. “I seriously thought he was playing a joke on me.”

“I know he’s mean to you but not that mean. I think he likes you honestly.” Eddie bites his lip. “Imagine you and Harrington.” He ponders, “actually I think I almost threw up.”

“Shut up.” You toss a pillow in his direction. “He doesn’t like me. He can barely be in my presence. He said I was the Wicked Witch of the West, ya know?”

“If you’re the bad witch then I must be Glinda the good witch, huh?” Eddie raises a brow.

“Absolutely not. You have the hair to be Dorothy though.” You laugh. 

“I would look good in red sparkly heels and we both know it.” Eddie flips his hair off his shoulder. “But seriously, Harrington’s got the hots for you. He was all like,” Eddie switches his voice to mimic Steve’s. “‘Take care of my beautiful, wonderful future wife Y/n’ and ‘let’s kick Matt’s ass to avenge Y/n’s sweet soul’ and the best one ‘let me know if Y/n needs anything. And I mean anything Eddie.’” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows.

“He did not say any of that, you weirdo.” You toss another pillow at him. 

“You’re going to be pillowless in the next five minutes.” Eddie stands up to hit you in the head with the pillows, then stands a seat on the bed in the most obnoxious way making the entire bed bounce. “Remember when I first introduced you to the group? You thought Steve was cute. You even asked if he was single.”

“Which he technically wasn’t with all the dates he was going on.” You roll over onto your back. “I don’t know Eddie. Steve is cute but the past two years of bickering kinda just made me not really find him attractive.”

“Yeah yeah, I bet you’ll be dating or fucking by the end of the year.” Eddie lays beside you. “There’s so much sexual tension between you guys.”

“I hate you sometimes.” You laugh. “Let’s go see if Wayne needs our help.” You sit up and climb over him.

-

You had decided it would be a good time to thank Steve for looking out for you. It was Friday, only four days since you found out about Matt from Steve and confronted Matt yourself. As you walked up to Steve’s door, you remembered the last time you were here and how Steve had yelled at you. Maybe this was a bad idea. As you reached the porch of his house, you thought better and decided to just give him a call instead of your original plan. You turn back and start racing back to your car when you hear the door open.

“Y/n?” You hear. Your body freezes and you really wish you could just disappear.

Without turning around you reply with a quiet “Hey Steve.”

“You okay?” Steve asks, stepping out onto the porch after grabbing a jacket hanging near his door. “Did you just get off of work?”

“Um yeah, I just wanted to stop by to thank you.” You slowly turn around, scolding yourself mentally for not changing out of your uniform before coming to his place.

“Are those flowers? For me?” He points to the small bouquet in your hand. “You got me flowers?”

“Um… yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to bring over. Robin said you were laying off the sweets so I didn’t bring any desserts over. I’m sorry this is stupid. I just wanted to say thank you for being so kind on Monday and throughout the week. I know you asked Eddie and Robin to keep you updated on me. I’m fine now. Really. So thank you.” You rush out, turning to leave. “Oh wait, here.” You turn back around and shove the flowers into his chest. “Bye. Thank you. I’m sorry. Bye.” You hug your body and run back to your car. He’s quicker than you, shutting the door just as you open it.

“Do you want to come in?” He searches for your eyes. “You look cold. I can make hot chocolate or something?” He offers, unsure. “Only if you want.”

“You sure?” You squint your eyes and meet his.

“Yeah, I wasn’t busy or anything. Just making some food.” He smiles softly. “There’s enough for two.” 

It’s his smile that has you immediately locking your car door and following him into his house. He waits for you to step inside his house before going in himself, like a gentleman. He shivers as he takes off his jacket. 

“I’m supposed to put the flowers in water right?” He sets the bouquet on the counter. You had momentarily forgotten about the flowers. Your cheeks flush with heat and somehow he senses your embarrassment. “You know, no one has ever gotten me flowers before? I don’t even think I have a vase.” He mumbles as he searches the cabinets. “You okay? You’re quiet. You know you can have a seat.” He looks up to see you still standing near the entryway to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be awkward.” You laugh.

“You’re not.” He assures. “We haven’t had a good relationship so it makes sense why this is weird.” He smiles again and holds a red tinted vase he found under the sink. “I found one.”

“Let me help you.” You offer, holding the vase as he runs the water. “So you’ve been on hundreds of dates and not one girl has given you flowers?”

“Surprisingly no. I guess it’s just the whole gender roles and norms. I hope I didn’t embarrass you, I was just surprised.” He turns the faucet off.

“Well, I’m glad I got them then. Robin wasn’t much help. She wanted me to get you a funny greeting card. There’s not really a card that says, ‘I know we hate each other but thanks for saving me from a potential shitty relationship.’” 

“I guess that’s true.” He shrugs. “You know I don’t hate you right? Slightly dislike but not hate.” He nudges your arm as he takes the vase and places it on the counter.  

“It sounded like you hated me when you told me to get out of Hawkins.” You start to unwrap the flowers. “I was never trying to replace you Steve. I just wanted to be part of the group. I hope you know that.”

“I still regret saying that to you. You looked so sad but instead of apologizing I just… I don’t know. I guess I thought it was better to be mean to you then accept the fact that the others liked you. I don’t know how much you know about me but I’m usually home alone and other than my friends, I don’t have anybody.” He says honestly, voice laced with sadness.

“You have me?” You offer. “Like moving forward? We could be friends. We can hang out without the mean comments and stealing my snacks.” 

“Even after everything I’ve done? You’d still want to be friends?” He looks down to his slippers. “I was a jerk.”

“Yeah you were. Especially by calling me a witch.” You laugh. He looks up at you and thinks it’s music to his ears. “I’m sorry for saying you have no heart and that you were a coward. Both of those aren’t true.”

“So I still have no brain?” He fakes being hurt. 

“I mean you can be pretty stupid.” You smile, “like that one time at the fair when you got the hot pickle and immediately spit it out because it was spicy.”

“I thought it was like, going to be hot in temperature.” He defends. 

“Who eats a warm pickle? Pickles are meant to be eaten cold.” You argue. 

“Yeah yeah, that was pretty stupid.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You know, I regret not taking up your offer to ride the ferris wheel that day.”

“I saw that you wanted to go but no one would go with you. You kept looking up at the wheel and the lights of the rides made your eyes look so pretty. I just had to ask you.” You scoot closer to him, your sides touching as you busied yourself with separating the flowers. “But then you rejected me!” You nudged him this time.

“I’m sorry!” He covers his face. “I’m really sorry. Not just about that but everything else.” He says more quietly. 

“I’ve already forgiven you, Steve.” You start rearranging the flowers into the vase. “We’re good now. Promise.”

“Good.” He smiles down at you. “You hungry?” 

“Starving.” You step back to look at your work. “They look so pretty.”

“Yeah, they do.” Steve agrees, though his eyes are on you not the flowers. You turn to look at him. 

“You’re pretty too, Steve.” You bite your lip and take a seat at the kitchen island to distract yourself from the butterflies erupting inside your stomach. What was happening? You thought. How’d you go from hating each other to flirting?

Steve knew once he told Robin about his night, he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it. Enemies to lovers? Maybe, he was a cliche. He really didn’t mind that idea.

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