Okay, Can Someone Just Write This, Please?! This Would Be So Awesome And Cute! Seriously, This Would

Que homem gostoso da peste!

I'm sorry, the english language don't have words to describe how handsome Harry is. I did need to tell it in my mother language

Grammy Awards 2021

I love a good Paul Lahote's fic 🤩😍

Safe - Paul Lahote

a/n: finished this in a couple hours last night :D

summary: during a winter storm, paul’s car breaks down on the side of the road, at a time in which rampant vampires are running wild

warnings: mentions of anxiety

word count: 1.3k (exactly omg)

It was a stupid idea to begin with. The roads were slowly becoming fully covered with snow, but you two wanted to stay at the lookout for just a little while longer, enjoying the peaceful view and getting away from civilization for a while.

However, it was now dark out, even though it was only six o’clock, and there was no indication of a road in front of you.

“Paul, why don’t we just pull over for now and wait till the morning,” you offer, your anxiety rising as he swerves due to some ice on the road.

“Babe, you really wanna stay in this truck for twelve fucking hours?” He snaps, though not too harsh, it was coming from a place of security and protectiveness.

“I’d rather that than attempt to drive and fall off the fucking road into a ditch,” you reply. Paul glances over at you and right away, he can sense your worry. He sighs softly and carefully maneuvers his beloved truck down the road.

“I’ll try to be as careful as I can, baby, but I want to get back home so you’re not freezing in here.”

“You do realize that you have a super high body temperature that could keep me warm all night?” You joke. Paul laughs along with you and shrugs his shoulders.

“I know, but I don’t-no, no, no no!” He groans as a clicking noise sounds from the truck, the engine giving out just as he pulls onto the side of the ‘road’, thankfully on the side with the wall of rock, so there was no way to skid off the edge and into the forest.

“Fucking shit,” Paul mutters to himself, trying to turn the car on. But it’s no use. The truck was completely broken down, and there was no way to jump start it.

There was most likely no one else out at the moment, so no passing cars could be of help. The pack was away for the night and wouldn’t return until the morning, deterring some new group of vampires that was terrorizing the town.

“Well, good thing we have some leftovers,” you murmur, trying to lighten the mood. Paul glances over at you and smiles, grabbing your hand.

“I’m sorry. We should’ve left earlier,” Paul says, shaking his head and looking down in his lap.

“I also wanted to stay, so it’s just as much my fault as it is yours,” you tell him, hoping it makes him feel better. “But I’m glad that you’re not gonna be driving anymore tonight because it’s really scaring me.”

Paul’s face falls and guilt settles in his chest. He should’ve listened to his instincts when he first felt your nerves arise.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s…” he tapers off, nervous about telling you his true feelings. However, he’s also cut off by you shivering, the cold temperature outside starting to seep inside.

His protectiveness kicks in and he hops into the backseat, motioning for you to join him. But you are unable to gracefully climb into the back, so you get ready to hop out and just get in through the backseat door, but Paul stops you.

“I don’t want you going out there, even if it’s for a split second,” he begs. You stare at him in disbelief.

“I’m not gonna get frostbitten in two seconds.” The look in Paul’s eyes tells you something else is up, so you sit back in your seat, looking at the space that you have to crawl over.

Finally, you manage to stumble back with Paul, falling into his arms, which wrap around you to make sure you didn’t fall off the seat and onto the floor. Your giggles fill the car and Paul grabs a blanket from the trunk while you get comfortable, picking up the picnic basket and finding something to snack on for now.

Paul throws the blanket around your shoulders for now, you curling into his side, finally relaxing into his body.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” you whisper when you finish your snack. Paul chuckles and kisses your forehead.

“For now. Just wait till it drops to ten degrees later in the night.”

“But at least this gives us more time to talk,” you point out.

“Or make out?” Paul offers. You gaze up at him, finding him smirking down at you. A similar smirk tugs at your lips and your hand trails up to his neck to pull him down to you.

Forty-five minutes go by, and you could already tell the temperature was beginning to drop. But with Paul beside you, it wasn’t a big issue. You end up throwing a second cover over his body, just to lock the heat in so that you could feel it more.

He even slipped his shirt off to allow you to feel his burning skin, which you very much enjoyed.

“Does…does you not wanting me to go out there have to do with that group of vampires?” You ask during a lull in the conversation.

You’ve been stuck for about four hours now, and it was coming to the point where you had no idea what to talk about anymore. So, you decide to bring this up.

“Who told you?” Paul mumbles, upset that the pack secret had gotten out. Sitting up from his chest, you grab his hand.

“Emily. It slipped out and I promised I wouldn’t say anything but-”

“Shh,” he coos, placing a finger on your lips to silence you, “it’s okay. I figured one of the other girls would tell you because the guys tell them everything.”

“Then how come you didn’t say anything to me?”

He pauses and carefully thinks over his words, his mouth falling open and closing as he does.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he finally says. “I know you had a close call with Victoria, and I didn’t want to frighten you with another set of vampires. I knew the pack would be able to drive them up north, so there wasn’t any real worry, but of course vampires are unexpected, so who knows what would’ve happened.”

“And you were scared that they could be around us and smell me when I stepped out of the car?” You could feel your anxiety rising once again, and this time, Paul senses it immediately.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, cradling your face in his hands. “Yeah, I was…but again, I didn’t want to scare you. You’re safe with me, like you always are. I promise.” You nod and curl back into his chest, sighing softly.

“Paul?” Your voice rings out in the still air, after a few minutes of nothing.

“Hm?”

“Hold me tighter?” You softly beg. Paul’s heart aches in his chest at the tone of your voice. But, he obeys your wish and tightens his grip, pulling you as close to his body as possible.

“Do you wanna switch positions? Do you want me to spoon you, or is this okay?” He asks. You hum happily, snuggling your face into his neck, a small grin displayed on your lips.

“No, this is perfect. Thank you.” He kisses your head softly and rests his cheek in the spot afterwards.

“Get some rest, alright, baby? I’ll call Emily in the morning for her and Sam to come help once he’s awake.” You nod against his shoulder and shut your eyes, focusing on the heat surrounding you and the feel of his body next to yours.

It always did the trick to get you to sleep, and within minutes, you were out like a light, but Paul stayed awake, keeping a lookout to make sure no one else was around and that you were safe.

Though you knew you were safe with Paul, no matter what.

—

paul lahote taglist: @volturiwolf

Ma'am, why just now I discovered this amazing story?? Everything about it makes me give a silly smile while reading! Hope to see more of your work! You're amazing!!

So I’ve decided to venture into the fanfic world after 20 years of not really writing anything.

Here’s my first attempt, a little Usnavi x Reader story. Hope everyone enjoys.

Ooh, so precious! 🥹😭 If you're planning on writing more parts and doing a tag list, can I be added to it? Thanks! Loved your fic 😍

Mrow

Bakugou x roomate!reader

Summary: you've gotten yourself into a quirk accident & were now..?? a cat??

A/n: if there's one thing i like about the mha universe is that the existence of quirks make up so many plot possibilities to play with. i had a lot of fun writing this & i hope you enjoy reading too!

🌟

You were a cat.

Your day most certainly could not get any weirder than this.

You were chasing after a petty thief down the alleyway when it happened. You almost felt bad for going after what could be the most skittish crime offender you've ever encountered.

Then she struck you with her quirk.

The force of it knocked you to the ground & your sight went blurry. You vaguely heard her apologized profusely, swearing it was an accident & stammering that you'll be able to figure out how to undo it on your own, leaving you to slowly black out.

When you came to, you found yourself absolutely drowning in a mass of clothes that you soon realized was your hero outfit. Horrified at the discovery, you looked down at your naked body only to find out you weren't exactly naked.

You were covered in fur.

Cursing out in confusion, you heard your own voice rang through the alleyway. But it didn't sound like your voice & what came out was most definitely not coherent words.

Panicked you scrambled to get out of the alley, almost plopping face first into what seemed to be a ridiculously huge puddle, barely catching yourself as you fell on your furry butt. Peering into the muddy water, you felt your heart sank at the sight of your own reflection.

You were a cat.

🌟

You've sat at your front door for approximately 15 minutes, glaring at the wood, willing it open with your mind.

You decided quickly that heading to your agency will do you no good, already concluding you aren't getting a productive two-way conversation with anyone while you were in this form. Trying to alert other pro heroes on your way did not work out, unless them cooing & making baby voices at you counted.

The familiar sound of heavy boots approaching your door made you perk up. Your roomate was home.

You padded aside to make way for your roomate to open the door, you little body slumping in relief. You didn't notice Bakugou skeptically raising an eyebrow at your presence but saying nothing otherwise.

The click of the door unlocking had you sighing inwardly. Ugh. Thank fuck. You thought as you padded in tiredly. Curling up in bed after the day you had the only thing on your mind.

You barely made it two steps in before your feet were no longer on the ground, making you squeal in surprise.

"Oi."

You heard your own angry mewls as Bakugou grabbed you by the scruff, holding you up to his face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are waltzing in like you own this place?"

You wanted to scream. You were too tired for this shit right now.

Oh my god. Bakugou! I do own this place. Its me! Y/n!

You tried explaining to no avail as you thrashed in his hold. Bakugou muttered something about you being 'a loud little fuck too' & started heading for the front door.

This made you bristle in irritation even more.

There was absolutely no way you were turned into a cat & getting kicked out of your own apartment on the same day. Not fucking happening.

The moment Bakugou dropped you off out the front door, you launched yourself onto his pant leg before he could close the door in your face, clinging on to dear life as the blonde yelped in surprise at feeling your little claws dig into the fabric of his sweatpants.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" He yelled, swinging he's leg around, jostling you with the movement, trying to get you off of him.

No! Thats my line, you bastard! Don't fucking kid with me!

You yelled profanities at him. All of which, to your dismay, came out as high pitched wails while Bakugou stumbled around as he tried to pry you off his leg while you held on with all your might. In his struggle, he bumped into the front door, cracking it open just a smidge. Seeing this opening you leaped off of him & made a mad dash inside, hearing your angry roomate shout after you. You dove for the living room sofa, barely wiggling your way through the narrow space underneath, only just escaping the angry blonde's grasp.

You heard Bakugou yelling at you to get out, to which you yelled right back at him- non-threatening little mewls be damned. You weren't standing for this bullshit.

Fuck.

There was no way of communicating with him like this. Where the fuck was a convinient scrabble board game when you needed one.

🌟

"Oi. Come out. You must be hungry. I got you food."

No! You'll try to throw me out again! Out of my own home may I add!

You heard Bakugou snicker at your yowls from under the sofa, making your tail puff up in annoyance.

"Calm down, brat. I won't throw you out. Promise. Just food."

You contemplated your options for a moment before relenting to his offer. Bakugou chuckled at the sight of you poking your head out of your hiding place, looking up at him with doubts written all over your furry face.

You watched him place two saucers by the table, one of steamed fish, the other filled with clean water before moving on to set his own meal & take a seat at the table. Trotting over nervously, you looked up at him one last time, just in case he was bluffing, only to have him roll his eyes at you. "Hurry up. My foods getting cold."

You tilt your head at that.

His food? Was he waiting for you to eat together?

You wanted to ask but your tummy growling & confirmation that you could hold Bakugou to his word had you making your way to your dishes. Plus your questions would only come out as mewls & squeals anyway so.

Sitting on your haunches you meowed out a 'thanks for the food' before digging in, making the blonde laugh.

"At least you have some manners for a feral little thing."

🌟

You didn't have time to worry about getting kicked out after dinner, having seemingly become the least of Bakugou's problems after a phonecall left him agitated & fidgety.

You watched Bakugou pace the living room back & forth, whilst holding his phone up to his ear, seemingly getting more & more frustrated by the minute as he grumbled under his breath ever time the call went to voicemail.

"Mrow?"

Bakugou barely acknowledged your presence with a glance before he's dialing the number again.

"She's not fucking answering."

Who?

"The other dumbass that lives here. She should've been home ages ago. Its getting dark."

Oh. Oh, he's worried about you.

Cursing under his breath at another voicemail, Bakugou muttered something about calling your agency again while you watched him barely contain his distress as he learns no one has seen you since your patrol.

"This fucking dumbass. Where the hell are you??" Bakugou growled while tugging on the boots of his hero outfit, the worry underlying his voice made your gut churn with guilt.

You scurried over to where he sat at the door, swiftly lacing up his boots. He paused when you meowed, peaking around his side.

Keeping your eyes on his, you tested the waters by perching up on his thigh, front paws on his tummy with those red eyes watching your every move. When Bakugou didn't push you off, you continued wiggling your way up his chest, his hand instinctively coming under your legs to support you.

Face to face with him, you see the distress on his face, the expression making your heart heavy. Pushing your little body on your hind legs, you bring a paw up to the wrinkles between his brows.

I'm right here, Bakugou. You mewled quietly.

The blonde huffed out a quiet laugh at that. "Whats with you? You're way too perceptive for a regular fluffball." You perk up at his words. Maybe he'd finally notice!

Thats 'cause I'm not a cat! Its me! Y/n!

To your dismay, he only chuckled at your frantic meows. "Alright, alright. I have to go now," he rumbled out with an amused grin overlaying his worry. He stood up slowly, picking you up in his large hands to set you on the ground. "M'bringing that idiot home so I can introduce ya. I'd bet she's gonna love ya."

You could only watch as Bakugou stepped out into the night to search for you, knowing he wouldn't find you out there tonight.

Omgggggggg I didn't think about it!!!!

I JUST realized that their new name is Sparrow Academy and That Harlan’s bird toy was a SPARROW

do not chastise the dove (10) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: operation rescue dove is underway.

word count: 2,218

warnings?: mention of death, mention of kidnapping, mention of psychological torture, not proofread. 

Continuar lendo

😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭🥰😭

Puppy Love

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Reader (she/her pronouns used)

Category: Friends to lovers, neighbours to lovers, fluff

Summary: Your neighbour Dieter's dog is the only comfort you need during stressful days. Well, maybe her and her owner.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicidal thoughts, a sick dog, hints of depression, it's mainly just fluff, idiots in love, flashback in italics

Word count: 6.3k (This was originally supposed to be a few hundred words of really basic pure fluff but it turned into a few thousand words with an actual storyline?? Who knew I was capable of that?)

A/N: This is soooo self indulgent because I was feeling down and looking at that photo of Pedro as Dieter with the baby goat. I didn’t think it was realistic for him to have a pet goat so I changed it to a dog. Called Frankie. (Named after Pedro’s character in Triple Frontier…) In hindsight, a cat would’ve made more sense but now it’s too late. He’s kind of out of character so imagine it’s him pre-fame. This isn’t my best work but decided to publish anyway since I put some effort into it.

You knocked on Dieter's door frantically. You'd just had the worst possible day imaginable. You'd slept through your alarm, broken a heel on the way to work, then your train was late and to top it all off your boss was in a terrible mood and took all of his frustrations out on you.

You'd trekked home in the rain which was just the icing on a shitty day, immediately walking past your apartment to go to Dieter's instead. It was sort of an unspoken arrangement the two of you had that neither of you could remember starting or even how it had started. All you knew is that it had been happening years, ever since you moved into the building really. If you'd had a bad day then you'd go over to his to have a cuddle with his dog, Frankie, whilst talking it over with Dieter. And if he'd had a bad day then he'd come over to yours and eat something you'd either baked or cooked, whichever was most recent.

Normally, you'd go to yours first in order to get changed and dump your work stuff but today was especially bad. Bad enough to force you out of that ritual and to go straight to his instead. You continued knocking, not stopping until you heard him on the other side of the door.

"Okay, okay! Calm down!" He swung open the door and his eyes landed on you, drenched from the rain and on the verge of crying. He didn't even need to greet you. "Need Frankie?"

You nodded, your bottom lip trembling. "Please."

"Come on in then." He opened the door wider and stepped to the side, quietly ushering you in and closing it behind you. "She's in her usual spot on the couch.”

"Thank you." You mumbled to him before speed walking into the next room to find Frankie curled up on the end of the sofa. You approached her carefully, not wanting to disturb her too much and took a tentative seat next to her, reaching out to stroke softly down her back as you dropped your bag to the floor. "Hey, sweetie."

Frankie sleepily blinked her eyes open, took one look at you and crawled over to sit in your lap, leaning her head on your chest before she went back to sleep. There was sort of a bond between you and Frankie, one that even Dieter envied. He supposed it was because Frankie just seemed to understand when you were feeling sad so became the ultimate cuddle machine, perfect for you to find comfort in.

Dieter watched the two of you from the doorway, smiling to himself at the sight. His two favourite girls cuddled up together on his sofa. "I'll make coffee." He said before walking through to the kitchen, not giving you a chance to reply.

You barely noticed what he had said, just humming blindly in agreement as you cradled the dog closer to your chest, burying your face in the soft fur of her head. Blinking back tears, you kick off your shoes and crossed your legs underneath yourself, careful not to disturb the sleeping canine in your arms.

Dieter returned after a couple of minutes, a cup of coffee in each hand that he put down on the table before sitting next to you on the couch. He watched you for a moment, clearly trying to hold back tears as you cuddled the life out of his dog. He'd never seen you this bad. And he'd been with you through your best and worst days.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked, clearing his throat and shifting towards you a little, placing his arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Not really." You sighed and leaned your head against his shoulder, a new development that surprised him. No matter how much you cuddled Frankie, you and him had never gone past a brief hug at the end of the night or a quick kiss on the cheek if you decided to venture out and go to a bar instead of staying in for the night.

He didn't protest to it though, instead wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him so you were practically invited to snuggle into his side. An eruption of butterflies fluttered through his stomach when you let out a content hum before completely relaxing against him. Dieter decided to fully commit to the extremely friendly situation and leant his own head on top of yours, subtly inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

"Did you just sniff me?" You croaked out, half laughing.

Okay, maybe not so subtle then.

He hesitated before answering. "...No..."

You giggled which was music to his ears after seeing you so down, quietly apologising when you disturbed Frankie from her slumber with your rumbling chest. "Sorry, sweetie, sorry. Just go back to sleep. That's it. Sshhh..."

"You're so good with her." Dieter blurted out, not being able to stop his brain before the words spilt out of his mouth.

"How could I not be? She's my best girl. And the reason I'm not diving off a cliff right now. Plus she's too sweet not to love. How could anyone not be good with her?" You said the last bit in a higher pitched tone since Frankie had begun to stir again already and looked up at you with big puppy-dog eyes that made you melt in the middle.

"You'd be surprised how many people aren't so kind to her." It made Dieter's heart ache to hear you mention the desire to jump off a cliff but he didn't know how serious you were about it. "Is it really that bad?"

"What?" You sat up slightly, briefly glancing at him before you turned back to bumping your nose against Frankie's and stroking her floppy ears.

"Do you really want to dive off a cliff?" He whispered the question, almost careful as to not upset you even more.

You seemed to ponder it for a moment before shaking your head. "No. Not anymore at least. I do remember a time when it was that bad but it hasn't been that way for a while now."

"Oh, that's good." He nodded at you, not noticing the smile you gave him as you looked back at the dog on your lap. "You would come to me though, wouldn't you? If it ever did get that bad again, right?"

"Of course, Dieter." You scoffed as if it were obvious. "You're my best friend. Well, besides Frankie of course."

You both grinned at that, the two of you turning your attention to the dog in question.

"You hear that, Frankie? She loves you more than she loves me! Can you believe that? And after I've let her into my home! The audacity!" He ruffled the top of her head and tugged on her ears gently.

"Well, how could I possibly ever love someone more than I love the bestest and most adorable dog in the world? Isn't that right, Frankie? Are you the best?" You got a sniffle back in reply which you could only assume meant agreement. "Exactly. It's only logical that I love you most. Although, Dieter is a very close second."

Dieter listened to you continue to whisper nonsense to his dog, his heart picking up pace in his chest at the sight of it. His body ached with how much he loved you, the pain of it only increasing as he watched you interact with the most important thing in his life. It was almost too perfect to be real. And that's exactly what it was because it suddenly dawned on him that he didn't actually have you. You were just his neighbour. Not his girlfriend, not his fiancée, not his wife. His neighbour. And that stung.

The night passed by in a flash and soon enough you were saying your goodbyes to Frankie, peppering kisses all over her face as you collected your stuff from the floor. Dieter watched you with a feeling of emptiness in his chest. He longed to ask you to stay the night. He longed to kiss you, to ask you out on a proper date. But he knew he shouldn't. Not only had you known each other for years that it would seem strange now, but you were also his neighbour and if it didn't work out then it would lead to a very awkward relationship of polite nods in the hallway and nothing else. He couldn't risk what you already had going. Spending evenings together as you cuddled his dog would have to suffice for now.

"Thanks as always, Dieter. I still appreciate this." You said as you walked towards his front door.

"No problem. I'm always here to help... Well, Frankie is actually but you get me." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly on the roots as he cursed himself for seeming so awkward suddenly.

Luckily, you just laughed him off. "Give my thanks to Frankie as well then, won't you?"

"Hmm? Oh, ahaha yes." He wanted to punch himself for being so out of it but he couldn't help it. A million thoughts were running through his mind. Every single one of them involving you. Majority of them involving you and him. "Hey, I've got an audition next week and I'm bound to fuck it up."

"I'll make sure to have something prepared, don't worry." You opened his front door and turned to look at him. "Any special requests?"

"Nah, I'm sure anything you make will be perfect." He winced at his poor attempt at flirting. When did it get so difficult?

"You flatter me, Bravo." You stood on the tip of your toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Dieter. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Goodnight." He said it in a breathy voice, almost lightheaded at the feeling of your lips against his skin.

You just smiled at him before leaving his apartment and walking down to your own, closing the door behind you on the way out. Dieter made his way back to the lounge, scooped Frankie up into his arms and walked into his bedroom. Not even bothering to brush his teeth or get changed, he collapsed on his bed, careful not to squish his dog, and switched off the lamp as he let out a loud groan.

"You get it. Don't you, Frankie? You understand why I love her so much, right?" He asked the canine but received a blank look in return making him bury his face in the pillows. "Of course you do. The two of you are practically best buds. So you understand why I feel this way about her."

Frankie didn't even make a sound in response, just crawled up the length of the bed and plopped down to cuddle into Dieter’s side before dropping off into yet another deep sleep. He looked at her with a smile before shortly following her example and falling asleep next to her.

It wasn't even a week later that you were rapidly banging on Dieter’s door again, this time with a box of cookies under one arm. You'd had another shit day at work, not as bad as the one a few days prior but still pretty awful. Since it was so soon since your last visit to Dieter's you decided to take something with you to compensate. Your most recent baking venture being an assortment of cookies you'd stress-made the night before.

You were about to start knocking again when the door opened and Dieter looked down at you with a sad expression.

"What's the matter?" You asked him before he could even invite you in.

"Frankie's not here." He whispered, clearly upset by it. "She got sick so I took her to the vet."

"Is she okay?" You were immediately worried. Frankie meant more to you than you could ever put into words and the prospect of her not being alright set you on edge.

"Yeah, she's fine. They just wanted to keep her in observation overnight just in case." He ran a hand down his face and sighed. "I assume that's why you're here. For Frankie cuddles."

He added a light tone to the end of his sentence but you could tell he wasn't as fine as he was letting on. And you couldn't blame him. His dog was sick.

"Dieter, are you okay?" You asked tentatively, tilting your head to the side in question. Despite mainly going to his place for his dog, you cared deeply for him. More than you'd ever let on. He really was your best friend and you only wanted him to be happy.

"Yeah, I'm... good." He hesitated before finishing the sentence, knowing he didn't sound the least bit convincing. "Sorry Frankie's not here to comfort you though."

"Don't worry about it. Her well-being is more important." You waved it off and suddenly remembered the box tucked under your arm. "Oh! I brought you these. Fresh from like... two this morning." You held it out to him with a warm smile, the kind that set his heart on fire.

"Thank you." He took the box from your grasp, seeming to think about something for a moment before he opened his door slightly wider. "I'm no Frankie but I'm sure I'm an okay cuddler. If you want."

He appeared shy about the offer, not surprising given he'd never suggested something like this before. It took the both of you aback about how he'd just come out and said it and not beat around the bush about it. A light blush spread across your cheeks, the skin getting hot at the idea but nonetheless you nodded your head in agreement anyway.

"I'm sure you're a great cuddler." You said before stepping past him and into his flat, thankful that you'd actually gone home first to change into some more comfortable clothes this time. As much as cuddling with Dieter sounded delightful, it would most definitely be ruined by your work attire.

Dieter followed behind you awkwardly, stunned that you'd actually agreed to come in and... cuddle with him? Was this really about to happen? If it was, he could fly over the moon with delight. He'd been dreaming about this for years. Something so simple and silly could be something so extremely significant for him, it was wonderful in his eyes.

"How'd you want to do this?" You asked, suddenly spinning around to face him. "Only I really need a hug and I'm not in the mood for discussing cuddle arrangements for ten minutes.

He was caught off guard by your abruptness, placing the box of cookies down on his coffee table. How were you supposed to do this? Dieter looked at his couch, it was too small for the two of you to properly be comfortable without practically lying on top of each other. He thought it over in his head for a moment, noticing your growing restlessness out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to keep you waiting so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Bedroom!"

"Excuse me?" You raised your eyebrows at him, confused by the outburst. Had he just suggested going to his bedroom?

Dieter cleared his throat and repeated himself. "I think my couch is too small for the two of us so, if you're okay with it, we could go to my bedroom and use my bed instead. I swear the sheets are clean. I changed them yesterday."

You wanted to laugh at him, he was all awkward and blushy and it was a beautiful sight. But you held off on the laugh and just nodded instead. "I'd love that. Thank you."

He nodded in return, once again surprised by your easy agreement. "Right. Let's... let's go then."

"Lead the way." You gestured your arm in the direction of the short hallway leading to his bedroom. You'd never been inside, the furthest you'd ventured in his home being the bathroom. So this was all new for you. New and exciting.

He walked ahead of you to his bedroom, opening the door and allowing you to go in first. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Which side of the bed is yours?" You asked as he shut his bedroom door, glancing around his room to take it in. A couple framed pictures on the walls and books scattered on the floor really summed him up well.

"Uh... neither really. I sort of sleep in the middle. Why?" He sat on the edge of the bed, opposite to the side you were standing on.

You shrugged. "Thought it'd be easier for me to be on whichever side you don't like. Now you've made it complicated by being a middle of the bed sleeper."

He laughed and shook his head at you, amazed by your consideration for his feelings in this moment. "How about I just lay down how I normally would and you get yourself comfortable around me from that? Sound good?"

"Sounds great." You agreed, watching him crawl up the length of the bed before he collapsed against the pillows.

Dieter adjusted himself for a moment before looking at you with an expectant smile.

"Comfortable?" You asked with a slightly mocking tone, struggling to keep your adoration for him hidden.

"Extremely." He wanted to add on that he'd be even more comfortable with you next to him but refrained from it. He didn't know how far was too far. "You ready for this?"

"Extremely." You repeated back to him before sliding onto the bed beside him. The two of you hesitated for a moment, just staring at each other, before he opened his arms and gestured for you to lean against him.

"I don't bite. I swear." He said softly, giving you his most reassuring smile.

You shook your head at him playfully, finding him ridiculous. "I'm not worried about that." You sighed and fell into his embrace, the two of you immediately locking together and sinking back against the mattress.

"What are you worried about then?" He asked, trying not to freak out about how the two of you just seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces, like you were destined for one another. "You can tell me anything."

"I know." You hummed, shutting your eyes out of instinct. "I trust you more than anyone. I'm not worried just... we haven't done this before. It's new."

"Is that a bad thing?" He croaked out, worry rising in his throat that maybe you weren't as into this as he was. But how could you not be? It just seemed so perfect.

"Not at all." You fought the urge to look up at him, deciding to keep your head buried against his chest so as to not ruin the moment. "You're a great cuddler."

Dieter felt his heart whoosh through his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Better than Frankie?" Better to play it off jokingly than assume anything from you or make it awkward.

"Nobody's better than Frankie." You tightened your grip around him, feeling your eyelids growing heavy. "But you're a good contender."

"Happy to be second place." He felt your breathing even out and knew that you were falling asleep. Without moving too much so as to not disturb you, he reached for the blanket at the end of his bed and tugged it over the two of you, careful not to cover your face.

Dieter listened to your soft snores for about half an hour, having you shift against him every so often but never moving too far away from him. Wondering how he got so lucky as to have you as his neighbour, he revelled in that small piece of happiness for a while before eventually falling into his own deep sleep.

The two of you were awoken the next morning by Dieter's phone ringing on the bedside table. You both groaned in annoyance at the early hour but both perked up when you saw it was the vet's calling.

"Hello?" He croaked into the phone, worry lacing his tone. You couldn't blame him. His dog was sick and the vet had called early. That didn't bode well.

Only able to hear one side of the conversation, you leant your head against Dieter's shoulder and kept a grip on his arm. Just to let him know you were there for him if he needed it.

Luckily, he didn't seem to need comforting since he let out a sigh of relief about thirty seconds into the phone call. "That's great news. Thanks. Yeah, I'll come pick her up now. Okay. Bye."

"All good?" You asked once he placed his phone back down.

"Yeah, she's fine." He smiled at you, obviously happy that Frankie was alright. "Sorry to cut this short and give you an early morning but I've got to go pick her up..."

You placed a hand on his to reassure him. "It's okay. I understand. Go bring your girl home. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to be back here."

He appeared to ponder something for a moment. "Could you come with me to pick her up?"

"Of course." You smiled at him before glancing down at your clothes. "Let me just go get changed first and then I'll be back. I'll be really quick. I promise."

"Alright." He nodded at you in return before deciding that he should probably do the same, both of you having wrinkled clothes from being in such close proximity all night.

So the two of you disappeared to your separate places to get ready before you met up again in the building's hallway, the both of you grinning like idiots at each other.

"Ready?"

"Extremely."

You drove to the vet's in silence, you could tell he was anxious about Frankie's condition so you didn't want to push him too far if he wasn't in the mood to talk. It didn't bother you too much but you were itching to talk about the night you just spent cuddling in his bed. It wasn't exactly a regular occurrence.

When you got to the surgery, you headed straight to the front desk and Dieter gave all of his information over, desperate to see his girl.

"Well, Mr Bravo, your girlfriend can go through and pick up Frankie whilst you fill out the paperwork." The receptionist offered you both a friendly smile, holding out a pen to Dieter.

"Oh, she's not my-" He started to protest but you cut him off, it was easier to just go along with it than explain your situation.

"That sounds great, thank you." You shot a look at him to tell him it was fine before turning back to the woman. "Which room is she in?"

"Just down the hall in room four."

"Thanks. I'll be back in a minute." You directed the last bit at Dieter before pushing your way through the double doors to collect Frankie.

The actor watched you go before sighing to himself and turning back to the paperwork in front of him. He groaned quietly, clicked the pen against his thigh and scribbled his signature along the bottom line.

The receptionist reached across the desk and tapped another line at the bottom. "We'll also need your girlfriend to sign the form."

He frowned and looked up at her. "Why?"

She shrugged. "It's policy. And you also put her down as an emergency contact. That is her, right?"

He nodded and read over where he'd hastily written your name the previous day as the person to contact if the vet was unable to get ahold of him. He hadn't even really thought about it, you were just the automatic choice.

Before he could think about it too much, you came back into the waiting area with a sleeping Frankie in your arms. Dieter practically melted at the sight.

"Apparently she didn't have a very good night so they gave her something to relax so she'll be very sleepy for the next few hours." You whispered to him, carefully handing her over. "Vet said she should be fine though and it was just a virus that's been going around recently. She probably caught it from another dog at the park."

"Oh, Frankster. What did those peasant dogs from the park do to you?" He hugged the dog tight to his chest and resisted the urge to cry, briefly gesturing at the reception desk. "They- uh... they need you to sign one of the forms."

"Sure." You turned back to the woman and had her point out where you needed to sign, giving a small smile to the sight of your name on the emergency contact list. Once you were done you thanked her and guided Dieter out of the surgery, letting him continue mumbling words of love to his dog. "Dieter, I'll drive, yeah? That way you can sit with Frankie on your lap."

You could tell he wasn't really listening to you but nodded anyway, too engrossed in his dog to care about anything else. It was understandable.

You managed to coax him into the car and stop holding Frankie for a second so he could put his seatbelt on.

"Dieter Bravo, put your seatbelt on right this instant or so help me god!"

"Don't Dieter Bravo me!"

After a quick minute of arguing you got him situated in his seat and went to the driver's side, speeding out of the car park as quickly as possible. The radio hummed lowly in the background as Dieter spoke to Frankie who was still asleep and unaware of what was happening around her.

"She's asleep. She can't hear you." You laughed at him, mainly because he was being so cute.

"You don't know that. You know that they say coma patients can hear you?" He didn't even glance your way, his hands travelling up and down the length of Frankie's back.

"She's not a coma patient." You continued to laugh, being careful to drive slowly so as to not get distracted. "She's a sleeping dog that's high on whatever drugs they gave her."

"Same difference." He grumbled, hiding his smile in Frankie's fur. "She's cooler than a coma patient."

"Can't argue with that one. She is the coolest dog around." You replied with a laugh. "Knew that since I first laid eyes on her."

Dieter's head snapped to look at you as he thought back to the first time you had met.

You were stumbling down the hall of your new building, desperately trying to weave in and out of the corridors and remember your way back to your apartment. You'd just had your first day at your new job and it hadn't gone as smoothly as you hoped it would. Nevertheless, you pushed through it and managed to get to the end of your shift without any serious mishaps. But now all you wanted to do was crawl into bed with a glass of wine and a book.

That would be a lot easier if you only could find your stupid apartment.

After way too long a time of searching, you finally found your new home and you let out a cheer in triumph, slapping a hand over your mouth when you realised how loud you were.

"Fuck!" You cursed to yourself when you dropped your keys, bending down with a groan to retrieve them.

"Are you okay?"

You spun around at the sound of a deep voice to see your new neighbour hanging out of his doorway with an amused smile on his face.

Embarrassed, you nodded your head and turned back to your door again. "Yep, all good."

"Really? Sounded like a lot of grunting and swearing out here. Thought you might be having sex in the hallway." He laughed to himself and then even harder when your face flushed red. "I'm Dieter by the way."

You introduced yourself and knocked on your door. "Your new neighbour."

"The one who plays loud music and has already set off the smoke alarm twice? That new neighbour?" He sent you a friendly smile that sent an eruption of butterflies rippling through your stomach.

"Yeah, sorry. Walls are thinner here than my last place. I'll be sure to turn it down and stop burning food." You wanted to curse yourself, less than a week in this place and you'd already disturbed your nice, handsome neighbour. Typical.

Dieter just shrugged at you though, obviously unfazed. "You've got good music taste so it's okay. And we've all burned food in our lives. It's understandable." He briefly turned away from you to mumble at something or someone in his flat.

You finally managed to unlock your door without Dieter's brown gaze piercing into your soul and pushed it open, throwing your bag down to the floor in annoyance. You didn't want to be rude to him but now was not the most convenient time to be making a first impression due to your sour mood.

"It was nice to meet you." You called to him before rushing into your apartment, even more embarrassed at your swift exit.

"Yeah, you too-" Dieter began to reply but your door had already slammed shut. He let out a sigh and looked down at the puppy whimpering at his feet. "What do you think, Frankster? She's cute. Awkward. But cute."

Frankie just sniffled at his ankle in response, her head suddenly snapping to look in the direction of your apartment.

He frowned at his dog. "What is it?"

That's when he heard an angry scream coming from next door.

"Fuck!"

The word was extended and loud. Loud enough that Dieter was almost positive the whole building had probably heard it. He wanted to laugh but a large part of him was concerned for your well-being. Especially when the next sounds to be heard from your place were sobs.

Uncontrollable sobs.

He debated on whether or not he should check on you, trying to decide if it was appropriate to be so worried about a neighbour he'd met once. But after about ten seconds of deliberating, he decided screw it and pushed Frankie into his flat with his foot and shut his door behind him. Dieter stood at the door of your apartment for a moment with his hand raised in a fist, once again considering if he should check on you. But his heart overtook his brain and he knocked.

When you opened the door it was clear you'd been crying. Your eyes were red and your cheeks stained with tears, yet you gave him the brightest smile you could muster. "Hey, neighbour. What's up?"

He wanted to laugh at you but held back, only letting the tiniest smile show. "Your loud exclamation of a certain word beginning with f is what's up. Are you okay?"

You opened your mouth to give him an easy lie of yeah, you were fine but moving to a new place was a little stressful. Yet the genuine look of worry in his eyes stopped you. You just shook your head at him, paired with a little shrug, not knowing what to say.

Dieter seemed to consider this for a moment. "Do you like dogs?"

"I love dogs." You let out a surprised chuckle, not knowing where that question had come from.

"Wait here." He held up a finger at you before disappearing down the hallway again. You heard his door open and close before he reappeared with the cutest puppy you'd ever seen in his arms. "This is Frankie."

"Oh." You took one look at her before bursting into tears again. This time they were happy. "Oh, she's just the sweetest. Can I hold her please?"

Dieter smiled at your politeness before handing Frankie over to you. "I find her comforting during my bad moments. Thought she could do the same for you."

You offered him a grateful smile before turning all your attention towards the puppy. "Well, aren't you the most adorable thing to ever exist. I know I only met him today but I might just have to steal you away from Dieter if I get the chance."

He watched the two of you with a smile and a pounding heart. He was already enamoured.

When you got back to your building, you opened all doors necessary for Dieter and Frankie, rushed around his apartment to collect some essential items for a sick dog and set up the most comfortable bed possible for her filled with millions of her blankets, cushions and favourite toys.

Dieter watched you walk around his place with ease, knowing where everything was and making yourself at home as you tried to set up what you thought was best for Frankie. It made him love you even more. And now with the added weight of reminiscing on your first meeting, he didn't think he could contain his feelings any longer. It was almost painful not to confess right there as he stood rooted in the middle of his lounge with you flitting around him.

Frankie was well and truly out of it, and probably wouldn't wake until the next morning, so Dieter set her down in the bed you had set up for her before he reached out an arm to stop you as you went to walk past him again.

"Calm down." He smiled at you, the same easy and kind smile that had gotten to you all those years ago. "Sit down for a second, yeah?"

"I'm trying to look after your dog, Dieter." You huffed and gestured at her sleeping form, your heart aching at the cuteness of it. "Someone's gotta be responsible around here since you couldn't stop making sad goo-goo eyes at her."

He grinned at you, thrilled by how your actions reflected how much you loved Frankie. It was one of the many things he loved about you. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face as he shook his head at you. "Wow, who thought the sad cuddler would be the responsible parent out of the two of us."

Your jaw dropped at his words whereas Dieter's just snapped shut, shocked that he'd just let that slip out.

"Parent?" You asked, mouth agape. "Frankie's parent?"

Dieter blushed and looked off to the side, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks. "Well, I guess I've almost always considered you to be Frankie's mom. You spend the most time with her aside from me. You love her a lot, possibly more than me now that I think about it." He laughed to himself and finally looked back down at you to find your eyes filling with tears. "Don't cry. Frankie's out of commission at the moment."

You shook your head at him before throwing your arms around his neck and practically jumping on him, knocking him back a few steps.

"I'm guessing that's a positive reaction then?"

"Yeah, you idiot." You mumbled into his shoulder before pulling away but leaving your arms in their place.

And just like that, tension filled the space between you. It was like the two of you were the only people in the world, just staring into each other's eyes and trying to determine whether the other was feeling the same atmosphere. After several seconds of just gazing at each other, you loosened your arms from around his neck and began to pull away, thinking he would've taken the opportunity to kiss you already if he wanted to.

Dieter's mind, on the other hand, was racing with thoughts. Should he kiss you? Was it too late already? You pulled away, did this mean you didn't want to kiss him? But you looked disappointed. Did that mean you did want to kiss him? He was so confused that he didn't know what to do, weighing up every option in his head.

"I'll-" You cleared your throat and pointed at his door. "I should go."

He didn't reply, all he knew was that he couldn't just let you leave. Not when he was so close to finally just telling you how he felt. So, instead, he placed a hand on your cheek and turned your head to face him, gave you one last look before he leaned in and kissed you, very softly. The kiss was gentle but you felt your knees almost buckle. After years of harbouring a crush on Dieter you were finally kissing him. And it was wonderful.

Once he pulled away, he looked down at you with an almost shy look, unsure of whether what he just did was okay. So he simply asked. "Is this okay?"

"I've been waiting years for you to do that." You confessed with a smile, suddenly lightheaded.

"I've been waiting years to do that." He replied with a laugh as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. "Wish I'd done it sooner now that you appear to like me back."

You shook your head at him, finding it funny how he couldn't realise that you'd always felt this way. "I'm just glad you've done it now."

"Me too." He pulled you in for another kiss, the two of you breaking away into a fit of giggles when Frankie started snoring in the corner of the room.

"FYI, I only like you for your dog. She's the only appeal you have." You teased him in a desperate attempt to contain your excitement.

"Well... naturally." Dieter shrugged at you before he kissed you once again.

And just like that, the three of you were a family. A sleepy dog, a sad cuddler and a smitten actor.

The cuuuutest thing!!

dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend since he was a scrawny pre-teen. turns out, his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

-

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lips so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

-

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

Day 3 of productivity

Today I watched some classes and did some paper of clinical psychology. And it took all the afternoon. After that I did read some fanfic and smau, because that is something that I do every day. Oh, and I did read a little of that book of the photo. And that's it.

sambucky will save them all