It is not enough to get into a comfy sleeping position- one must go through several and spin like a rotisserie chicken to arrive at the position you started with.
Summary: You see Steve Harrington as the conceited golden boy everyone knows him to be, but when you are forced to tutor him, you see a different side of him and start to soften towards him, so much so that you fall for him. But when he has a perfect girlfriend he loves, and friends that see you as a joke, you know that you don’t stand a chance.
Content: fluff, angst, slow burn, s1 Steve so he’s a bit of an asshole, mentions of shitty dads, a few uses of y/n, opposites attract, popular boy x nerdy tutor girl (I’m such a sucker for this trope I had to do it), the timeline for s1 in this fic is a bit inaccurate but let’s go along with it for the plot please. Lmk if I missed any! (Pictures are not intended to reflect the reader)
Word count: 14.4k words
From the moment one of your classmates had asked you to tutor them in your freshman year, you quickly learned that you loved tutoring people.
Perhaps it was because you had always been a helper, and it felt good knowing that people were comfortable enough to come up to you and ask for such help.
But what you really loved about it was the outcome.
When the person you helped came to you afterwards and excitedly told you how they had aced their test, or how they had gotten a good mark on their assignment, it filled you with a quiet sense of pride. Not exactly for yourself, but for them. For their success, for their improvement. And because you had done that, you had helped them get to that success.
So naturally, you signed up to become an official tutor at the Hawkins High School Tutoring Centre.
It became apart of your routine. Staying after school to tutor someone, or having to come to their house to do so. Either way, you never really minded. All that really mattered was that you helped them not to dread class so much anymore, to help them to not have to scratch their head while looking at the work because they just didn't get it.
So of course, now in your sophomore year, you didn't mind when the coordinator of the centre informed you that a new person had been added to your roster. However, you didn't know who this person was because the arrangement had been last minute since the person's original tutor had been unable to do so, so he wasn't officially on your schedule yet. All that you knew was that he was a guy in the year above who had apparently been holding off getting tutored for a long time. This made you assume this guy was going to be a bit hard to work with, but you were always able to manage.
It had been thirty minutes since school ended when you sat in the library, waiting for this person to show up with your stationery already set out on the table. This person was already late, and should have already been at the table with you fifteen minutes ago.
You were thinking about the meatloaf you were going to have for dinner tonight when the doors of the library swung open, abruptly cutting off your thoughts and startling you. You looked up as the librarian glared at the culprit at the door, pressing a pointy finger to her lips.
And the culprit was the last person you expected to walk into a library of all places.
Steve Harrington.
As in Steve "The Hair" Harrington, also known as King Steve.
The kind of person who threw a raging party every Saturday, the kind of person who misbehaved in class because they knew there would be no real consequences, and the kind of person who would only ever be at school after hours for basketball practice.
So why the hell was Steve Harrington in the library of Hawkins High after school hours?
And why was he looking straight at you?
He didn't look happy by any means. He was obviously annoyed by whatever was plaguing him, and you grew nervous as he approached you while still wearing his irritated expression.
He came to a stop in front of your table, and you swallowed anxiously under his intimidating stare, starting to fiddle with the ends of your sleeves as a nervous habit.
"Are you Y/N L/N?" He asked flatly.
You blinked. "Yes. Can I help you?"
"You're supposed to apparently, you're my... tutor," said Steve, his face scrunching up as if the word physically hurt him.
Somehow, you had known from the second he had walked in with that look on his face, yet your stomach still dropped with dread when he said it.
You were happy to tutor anyone, but anyone didn't include Steve Harrington. It was something you had never worried about, because how were you supposed to assume that one day you would have to tutor King Steve out of all people?
You schooled your expression to the best of your abilities, and you recollected yourself as you nodded. "I see. Well... sit down, and we can get started."
You tried to say it kindly, but you immediately regretted doing so when he mumbled something grumpily under his breath as he reluctantly sat on the same table on you, pointedly choosing the seat furthest from you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, and you had a feeling that was an urge you would need to resist often.
You cursed the coordinator of the centre for setting up this arrangement. Clearly, this person didn't know anything about how you and Steve couldn't be any more different, because you truly were polar opposites.
While he played beer pong at house parties, you were studying. While he goofed off in class, you paid attention and completed all of your work. While he was at basketball practice, you were tutoring. While he always had a rowdy table at lunch, you had a quiet and calm one.
There was a spectrum, and you both sat at the opposite ends of it.
You just hoped you could swiftly help Steve pass a test so that it would be over as soon as possible.
***
After just one week, you could tell you were going to be tortured with tutoring Steve Harrington for a while.
To put it nicely, he... lacked concentration, and perhaps lacked a lot more. You really didn't think he was stupid, he just couldn't focus on what he needed to.
Only after two sessions, you had noticed that while you talked, he simply didn't listen and clearly didn't even try to. He always had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was thinking about the party he was throwing that weekend, or what he was having for dinner. Sometimes he was clearly present in the moment, he just still chose not to take in a single word of yours. One time, he started to balance a pencil on his nose while you were explaining the math equation he needed to solve, and it had taken him ten minutes to realise you had stopped talking.
He was already by far the most difficult person you had tutored, and so far, you were lost on how to get through to him.
You didn't even know how or why he was in the tutoring program. He had made it clear since day one that he didn't want to be tutored by you, and he hadn't once shown an ounce of effort in any of your sessions. Maybe he had gotten pressured by his parents, that wasn't an uncommon reason behind kids coming to the tutoring centre. But then you had heard rumours that his parents was always out of town and that's why he was always able to throw parties, so if they were never there, why would they pressure him to do such things?
You didn't know, and you didn't really want to. You had no interest in Steve Harrington's life, no matter how handsome or charming he was. He wasn't all that interesting.
Nevertheless, you were still being forced into his life one way or another, so much so that you ended up with plans to go to his house on Sunday.
It had been during the usual tutoring session tucked away in the corner of the library, you overviewing your notes for your own work while he was supposed to be reading the textbook laid out in front of him. Of course, he was instead staring out of the window longingly, like he wished to be outdoors instead of stuck inside with you.
"Do we always have to do this in the library?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
You looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, is it necessary to be in the library for all of this stuff?" He rephrased.
"Well... yeah. A library is the best place to study and get work done," you said, confused on why this wasn't obvious to him.
"Yeah, but... someone could walk in," he said quietly.
Oh, so that's what it was about. He didn't want someone to walk in and see him actually studying, something that was considered weird and nerdy for people like him. Or more specifically, he didn't want to be seen with you.
You sighed, and propped your chin on the palm of your hand. "Then where do you suggest we go if not a library?"
"I don't know, just like... not at school," said Steve, avoiding your gaze.
"Well, you could come to my house or I could come to yours. I've done that with other people when they weren't able to study at school either," you said.
He blinked. "You want me to come to your house?"
"Yeah, so I can tutor you. If that doesn't work, then we can go the public library or-"
"No, just..." he trailed off, seeming to consider it before sighing, running a hand through his hair that you couldn't help but look at. "My parents are out of town this weekend. You can come over on Sunday if you really want."
You were secretly glad he suggested his house. You didn't want Steve coming over and judging your house that was very much not a mansion like his probably was.
"Sounds like a plan," you said dryly. "What time do you want me to come over?"
"I don't know like... two o'clock?" Said Steve.
"Works for me," you said unenthusiastically, and he seemed just as eager as you were as he ripped some paper from his notebook and wrote his address on it, giving it to you.
"Don't take this the wrong way but can you please not tell anyone about this?" Steve asked.
You didn't resist this time, and let yourself freely roll your eyes. "Don't worry, I don't want anyone knowing about this either Harrington."
His eyes flashed with surprise, and you tried not to feel too satisfied as you had clearly startled him with that.
The rest of the week passed quicker than you would've liked it to, and before you knew it, you were climbing onto your bicycle with your bag on your back and his address in your hand. It was a longer ride than you had anticipated, and you soon realised why your houses were so far away from each others as you entered his neighbourhood, which was lined with rich houses and fancy cars in driveways, a stark contrast to your neighbourhood that was filled with actual life instead of excessively big, soulless properties.
You finally pulled up to Steve's house, and suddenly the nerves inside you increased tenfold. You certainly didn't want to be alone with Steve Harrington in his house that was go-to place for high school parties you were never invited to. But you were a tutor, this was your job, so you had to pull through. You were determined to get Steve to at least pass one of his subjects.
You took a deep breath before you approached the house and knocked on the door. You stood there for a few minutes with no answer, so you knocked again, and only a minute after that, the door swung open.
Steve looked like he had just rolled out of bed with rumpled clothes and hair that was tousled, out of its usual polished state, a sight that felt a bit shocking to see as he was well known for his perfect hair.
He blinked as if he was surprised to see you, and then he said, "I forgot you were coming."
Despite your nerves, you were able to remain cool and unbothered on the outside as you shot him a deadpanned look, sarcastically replying, "flattering."
He sighed. "I didn't mean it like that, I just- sorry, I know you've come all this way, but I can't do the whole tutoring thing today. I've got a killer headache, so I'm in not in a good state to study."
You actually did believe that he had a headache, but you had a feeling he was leaving out some details.
"Are you hungover?"
A pause.
"No," Steve scoffed.
But his hesitation had already answered your question.
"Have you made a hangover smoothie?"
He frowned. "Hangover smoothie?"
"You don't do that sort of stuff? My sister always did when she was in high school," you said. "Do you have a blender?"
"I... don't think so?"
"God, for someone who always goes to parties, you don't seem well equipped for your hangovers," you said quietly, but he heard it all the same, and he looked at you incredulously.
"I can't study," Steve repeated firmly, probably a way of trying to get you to leave.
But you only tilted your head. "I think you can."
"What?"
"Just drink lots of water, and we can get started," you said with a sweet smile.
"This is ridiculous, you can't-"
"But I can, because I'm your tutor, and you can be as difficult as you want, but I'm not giving up on you. So, are you going to let me in, or should I tutor you at school this week?" You asked.
Steve stared at you in bewilderment, like he couldn't even fathom the fact that someone was saying no to him, that someone was going against what he wanted.
He seemed to realise that you weren't going away anytime soon, so he widened the door, and you smiled with satisfaction as you stepped into the threshold, shoulder brushing against his as you walked further into his house.
Your confidence diminished as you followed Steve into his fancy kitchen, awkwardly standing in silence while he had a water in a glass that had probably been expensive, like most items likely were in the house by how everything looked, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it all.
He then led upstairs to his bedroom, and you tried not to show your surprise at the size of it, at the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, the shiny basketball trophies that lined the shelves, and the ensuite connected to the room.
It reminded you of how much of a typical jock he was, and how you were supposed to tutor this certain jock.
"Get started with it then," said Steve unenthusiastically, flopping onto his bed. When he noticed you weren't moving, he said, "you can sit down, y'know."
You cleared your throat awkwardly before sitting on the edge of his bed that you noticed immediately was very soft. Still, you didn't let yourself get too comfortable as you shifted your bag to your lap, undoing the zip and starting to unload your stuff.
Soon enough, there were books and pens scattered on the bed, both of you sitting opposite each other. He at least had a notebook opened in front of him with pen in his hand, but that was where it ended, while you explained the key points of the Civil Rights Movement for his history class.
"Are you hungry?" He interrupted you to ask. "I am."
You gave him a confused look. "Um... I guess I could eat, why?"
"I'll go get a snack!" He said eagerly, jumping up from the bed, "do you like potato chips?"
"Yeah...?"
"Great, I'll be back," said Steve, bounding out of the room, leaving you confused by his sudden hospitality.
When he was gone for longer than necessary just to get chips, you realised he was just making an excuse to not do his work, and it made your irritation grow. You needed to come up with a new strategy to get the information for the work through his head.
He eventually came back with a bag of chips that he sat between you so that you could share, but he still ate most of them as you focused on trying to make him learn. It became even more annoying to do so when he kept crinkling the bag obnoxiously and chewing excessively, all while sat in a stupid position on his side while leaning on his elbow.
And then you got an idea.
Just as he reached out for more chips, you snatched the bag out of his reach and placed it next to you.
Steve looked at you, clearly affronted. "You didn't have to take the whole thing if you wanted some."
"I made some flash cards for you," you said, ignoring what he said.
"Oh, great," he said sarcastically.
You shot him a look as you reached into your bag to pull out the pile of flashcards stuck together with a paper clip.
"Here's how we'll do this. For every answer you get right, you get a chip," you told him. "If you get it wrong, well, you just won't get anything."
He narrowed his eyes. "That's just stupid. I could easily get those back."
"Okay, then go ahead."
He held your challenging gaze before moving abruptly to try and startle you, reaching for the bag. But you were faster, taking the bag before he could touch it and placing it on your other side.
His mouth parted. "That was good luck."
"Just answer the flash cards Harrington, and you can get as many as you want," you said. "Only if you get them right though."
Steve groaned, running his hands over his face before he said, "fine, then shoot."
You smiled, pleased, and read out the first flash card. "What does the atomic number of an atom tell you?"
Steve was silent for a moment. "Uh, say that again?"
You repeated it, then he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.
"I thought we were doing history," he said accusingly.
"We were, but now we're doing science. I guess I didn't think you'd realise since you don't listen to anything I say," you said coolly.
Steve raised his eyebrows, and got off his elbows, sitting up. "Alright, so we're not holding back today."
"Why would I? I'm serious about tutoring you, Steve," you said while looking into his eyes, saying his first name for the first time without realising it. A smirk then tugged at his lips, and he subtly grew more confident.
"Atomic number... um... it tells you how heavy the atom is, or something?" He guessed.
"Incorrect," you said flatly, "but at least you tried. The atomic number of an atom tells you how many protons there are in the nucleus."
Steve frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"The nucleus of an atom is the centre of the atom, and it consists of the protons and neutrons," you explained, and at his lost expression, you added, "I can draw you a diagram-"
"No, just... next question," said Steve with a slight grimace.
You obliged, and went to the next card. "How many electrons are found in the first, second and third shells of an atom?"
"Jesus Christ," Steve murmured, rubbing his temple.
Feeling a stab of sympathy for him, you said softly, "want a hint?"
"Obviously."
"There are two found in the first shell, and the second and third are the same," you told him. "Well, it depends on which rule you're using, but we'll just use one for this one."
"I don't know, okay?" Steve snapped, still rubbing his temple. "We both know I don't know shit."
You deflated at his outburst, and you bit your lip, reading over the flash cards.
"Let's try this one, it's easy," you said gently. "What is the central part of an atom?"
Steve shot you a glare. "I don't-"
"I just said it," you told him encouragingly, "when I was explaining the answer to the first question. Think back on what I said."
Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "I..."
"I offered to draw a diagram of it."
You waited patiently as Steve went into deep thought, and then he blurted out, "the nucleus!"
You grinned. "Yes! That's right?"
Steve's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really! Good job, Harrington, I knew you had it in you," you said happily.
"Thanks. Now, can I have my chips back?”
"Oh, right," you handed the packet back to Steve, and he took it back eagerly, digging into the bag enthusiastically. You snorted, and he sent you a sharp look with no real bite.
"You haven't had any yet, have some," Steve offered, holding it out.
"I'm fine, thank you," you said politely.
"You said you could eat, so eat," Steve insisted, and you let out a little laugh before giving in and taking one.
"You know, it's not that you don't know shit, it's that you don't pay attention," you said. "If you just simply did that, you would know much more."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me more about it later," said Steve, bored by school talk. "What's your favourite chip flavour?"
To your own surprise, you went along with the change of topic. "Salt and vinegar."
His face scrunched up in disgust. "Are you serious?"
"What's wrong with salt and vinegar?" You said defensively.
"Everything. It makes my tongue feel weird, and I hate the smell," said Steve. "It's disgusting."
"No it's not! What's your favourite then if you're such an expert?" You inquired.
"Chicken's good."
It was your turn to grimace. "Yeah, you're the last person who should be judging my favourite flavour."
Steve's jaw dropped. "You don't like chicken?"
"It's got a weird smell to it," you said.
"Salt and vinegar is the one with a weird smell!" Steve said furiously, and instead of snapping back at him, you couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Surprise flickered across his face at your laughter, before he was unable to stop himself from laughing with you. It felt so out of the ordinary to be genuinely laughing with Steve Harrington on a Sunday, a moment that you felt like you shouldn't have belonged in.
And when the ring of the telephone on his bedside table cut through the sound of your combined laughter, the moment vanished, and you no longer belonged.
"I'll get that," said Steve, sobering and jumping off the bed to reach the phone, taking it off the stand and holding it to his ear.
The awkwardness crept back into you as you sat in silence, trying to mind your own business as you looked down at the books set out in front of you. Still, you couldn't help but pay attention to Steve's conversation.
"Oh, hey Nance!" He said eagerly, and you blinked at the change in his voice. "Mhm... yeah, of course, I would love to. How could I ever say no?" He laughed then, and you could hear the muffled voice on the other end. "Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen minutes. See you then."
You were picking at the skin on your fingers by the time he put the phone back down on the stand, and you reluctantly looked up as he turned to you.
"Hey, so uh-"
"You have plans with your girlfriend?" You said it before he could, raising your eyebrows.
"Well... yeah," said Steve sheepishly. "So unfortunately, we're going to have to cut this short."
"I don't think you find that unfortunate," you said knowingly, getting off the bed and starting to gather your stuff.
"Yeah, I don't," he admitted shamelessly. "No one does homework on a Sunday anyway."
"People with good grades do," you said pointedly, and Steve's eyebrows furrowed at the jab. Yes, it was a little harsh, but you had realised by now that you needed to be harsh if you wanted to get your point across. You straightened up, looking him in the eyes. "Harrington, you can't cut a tutoring session short just because your girlfriend wants to hang out with you."
Annoyance spread across his face. "Why not?"
"Because that's not how it works," you said snappishly, getting irritated with his obliviousness. "We were finally getting somewhere, and then you just ditched it with no second thought. You signed up for this, so you need to pull your head out of your ass and go through with it."
Steve scowled. "For the record, I didn't sign up for this, my dad did, so you should know I'm not doing this willingly. Even if I was, I'm not going to ditch my girlfriend to be tutored by another girl in my own house."
"Doesn't she know you're getting tutored?"
"No, no one does!" He blurted out, and you blinked. "The whole thing's pointless. Seriously, you really don't need to do this. You know my girlfriend is really smart? She can just tutor me instead, and she's happy to do so."
"Maybe you should've told your dad that before he signed you up," you said coldly.
"You don't think I- you know what, it's none of your business. You should just give it up, because you should know by now that this isn't going anywhere," said Steve heatedly, and you clenched your fists, biting your tongue so that you wouldn't say something you'd regret.
You packed the rest of your stuff and zipped your bag with an angry sigh. You hoisted your bag onto your back and went for the door, desperate to get out of the house.
But then you paused by the door, gripping the doorframe tightly as you looked at Steve who was glaring at the ground.
"You don't understand that I'm not giving up, Harrington. This might be an arrangement neither of us like, but I'm going to help you no matter what, because that's what I do. You shouldn't doubt yourself so much," your voice became quieter the more you spoke, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
You turned before you could see him look at you, and you hastily left the house.
***
The next tutoring session in the library was awkward and mostly silent. You had tried to explain the work to him for the first fifteen minutes, but when you realised he was never going to listen, you stopped talking and looked at your notes instead. You gave him a textbook that you told him to read even as that was something the both of you knew he wasn't going to do. You spent the whole session trying to think of what to do about him, how you could get him to just listen to you.
It was at the end when he broke the silence.
"About the other day..." he started, and you looked at him too quickly, with too much hope. "I just... you know who my girlfriend is, right?"
Oh, so it was just about his girlfriend instead of an apology. You didn't know why you were expecting more.
But of course you knew his girlfriend. Nancy Wheeler, a pretty, smart girl who nearly beat your top grade in the class, and sometimes did when you lagged behind on work due to tutoring. She was quiet but kind, and never did a thing wrong it seemed. You weren't friends with her, but you liked her with the exception of the times she got a higher mark than you, and jealousy would flare up inside you without being able to help it.
You didn't know how someone like her was able to put up with Steve.
"Yeah. She's really nice," you replied.
Steve smiled, a soft look in his eyes you had never seen before. "Yeah, I know."
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
"I just want to ask you to not tell her about this... whole tutoring thing. Or anyone, for that matter. I don't want her to know because it's a bad look for me to be spending so much time with another girl," he explained.
"But I'm just tutoring you," you said with confusion.
"Yeah, but still," Steve shrugged.
You didn't hold back from rolling your eyes this time.
"And I don't want anyone knowing I'm getting tutored either. They might think I'm a nerd," said Steve, and then gave you an apologetic look. "No offence."
"None taken," you said sarcastically.
"Anyway, is that all okay?" He asked.
You sighed. "Yes, it is. I haven't told anyone anyway, and I don't plan to. My goal is just to get you to pass one test, and then you can be free."
"One test?" He repeated.
"Yes."
"It doesn't have to be an A or anything?"
"No, just a pass, even if barely," you said.
Steve nodded like he was accepting a challenge, leaning back in his seat. "Deal."
You hated how a small smile twitched at your lips. "Deal."
That next Sunday, Steve came over to your house instead. Leading up to it, you had been a nervous wreck.
People came over to your house all the time for tutoring, it had become normal for you, and you never minded it. But it was different with Steve, because he was different from all of the other people you had tutored. You had seen his big house, you knew he was rich just by looking into his driveway, so he was more likely to judge.
It wasn't that you were poor. You and your family were comfortable, but not rich, and you had a feeling Steve had only ever been around rich. You were the type of person who still only had a bike because you were saving up for a car, while he was the type to have his car bought for him.
You also just had wildly different interests, so yeah, you were pretty fucking scared.
You sat in your kitchen while your mum moved around you, biting your nails while you waited for Steve to come. You had deep cleaned your bedroom, and cleaned other parts of the house just to be safe.
You hated how much Steve Harrington was stressing you out.
"I think your new student is here," your mum said, looking through the window.
You jumped up at once, and joined her by the window, spotting Steve's burgundy BMW parked outside of your house.
Your mum raised her eyebrows. "He must be borrowing his dad's car.”
"No, that's his car," you said weakly.
She blinked. "Oh, wow. Okay."
You watched Steve get out of the car, subconsciously observing the navy jacket he was wearing over a polo shirt, along with his famous jeans that always fit him just right.
You blinked, startled by your own thoughts, and distracted yourself by heading for the door to greet Steve.
"Don't be weird!" You called out to your mum.
"I'm never weird!" She called back. That was a lie.
You opened the front door before Steve even reached it, and you internally winced at your eagerness.
He seemed to notice it by the slight raise of his eyebrows, but thankfully, he didn't say anything.
"Hey," he said casually as he approached you.
"Hi," you said blandly.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you were about to ask him what was funny until he spoke. "You know, you always speak in this tone."
You frowned. "Tone? What tone?"
"Like, this flat tone, and you're blunt too," he explained. At your skeptical look, he rushed to say, "not in a bad way, it doesn't have to be bad. Except for when you're like, insulting me."
"I don't insult you."
"You literally did this time last week."
"Just because someone's saying the truth, doesn't mean it's an insult Harrington," you said sweetly.
He clicked and pointed at you. "See? That's it, right there!"
"That wasn't an insult."
"No, but it was blunt."
You rolled your eyes, albeit a smile tugged at your lips against your will.
"Just come in, we've got work to do," you said, widening the door and stepping aside for him to come through.
"Yes ma'am," said Steve, stepping into the threshold, and you failed to keep your smile from widening.
Your smile dropped when you were reminded of your fears as you noticed him looking around your home, and you started to pick at your fingers.
"My bedroom's just upstairs," you said quietly, about to lead him to your room until your mum appeared with a wide smile.
"Hello! You must be Steve!" Your mum greeted brightly. She introduced herself by her first name, and you wanted to sink into a hole.
"Nice to meet you," said Steve politely, seeming taken aback from your mum's energy. But there was nothing judgemental on his face, just... surprise.
"I don't know how long you plan to stay over for, but no matter the time, if you want a drink or some food, feel free to come down and ask! Or just get some yourself, she can show you," your mum said kindly, referring to you. "If she lets you out of the room, that is..."
"Mum," you warned.
"I'm just playing around honey! She's just a strict tutor, she's determined," your mum told Steve.
"He knows, mum. I've been tutoring him for a few weeks," you said with annoyance. At least, you had been trying to. "We're going up to my room now."
"Okay. Good luck, Steve!" Your mum said playfully to Steve, and you groaned as you urged him along while he laughed, seeming heavily amused by your mum.
"I'm sorry," you said once you were out of earshot. "I told her not to be weird, and I guess she heard a completely different thing."
"She's not weird," Steve smiled. "She's... really nice."
He wore a strange expression when he said it, one you couldn't read, so you just looked away and dismissed it.
You swallowed nervously as you entered your room, Steve stepping in behind you, and you rushed over to set up the stationery on the floor, as if starting as soon as possible would give him less time to look at your room.
You called him down to sit, and your face felt hot as he sat down without saying anything, glancing at your posters with an unreadable expression.
Your focus was on English today where Steve had to write an essay. You didn't think it was particularly hard, but that was always different for Steve. So you went into it thinking that he would be ignorant to it as always, that he would just get distracted by something stupid again.
But he proved you wrong.
Because when you looked at him, his eyes were already on you, and they weren't glazed over with the other thoughts he usually had running through his mind. He seemed... focused, and it startled you. Especially so when he asked a question about the topic.
So you let him write the introduction of the essay himself, sitting in silence as he wrote. Both of you had your backs pressed up against your bed, the supplies laid out in front of you while you sat a respectful distance from each other.
You tried to mind your own business, but then you couldn't help but stare at him while he wrote something that you'd probably have to give some constructive criticism on. Either way, it felt oddly personal to see him like that. King Steve sitting in your bedroom, writing an essay after apparently listening to the tips and information you gave.
You noticed how his eyes slightly narrowed while he wrote, his tongue sticking out slightly while he concentrated. The small vulnerability was definitely strange to witness, but... nice to see.
You snapped out of your daze, and looked away from him.
You spent the next whole hour working on the essay. There were many scrunched up balls of papers by the end of the hour, all that had come from a frustrated Steve every time he made a mistake. You had to gently remind him that it wasn't his final copy, that these were only his drafts.
He ended up with an introduction he was somewhat satisfied with, and a written starting sentence for the next paragraph.
You never thought you'd say it, but you were actually proud of him. Proud of him for finally putting in the effort, for swallowing his pride and taking your advice.
Your mum came at the perfect time with a plate of chocolate chip cookies just as you had decided to give Steve a break. They were leftovers from the batch she had made only a few days ago, and while Steve had been politely thankful, you could see the delight in his eyes.
After your mum left, he took his first bite of the cookie, and stopped masking his joy.
"I love your mum," he said blissfully, throwing his head back as he savoured the cookie.
"Don't go throwing that sentence around please," you said with a small grimace.
"But I do! I swear, these are heavenly," he said solemnly, holding up the cookie like it was a trophy. "This is exactly what I needed after the worst hour of my life."
You snorted. "Uh oh, Steve Harrington's actually done schoolwork and now he's dying."
"I am," he said seriously, and you laughed, making him grin.
You fell into a relaxed silence as you grabbed a cookie for yourself, and it felt strange to feel so comfortable around Steve, to just eat cookies with him in silence like you were friends who did this all the time.
After a few minutes, Steve interrupted the silence as he nodded towards something on the wall, asking, "do you have siblings?"
You followed his gaze to the photos of you and your family hung up on your wall, one of which included a younger you surrounded by older kids that were in fact your siblings.
"Yeah, quite a few actually," you answered. "But they're all either moved out or at college right now, so I'm basically an only child at the moment."
"So... you're the youngest?" Steve inquired, and you weren't expecting the genuine curiosity in his voice.
"That I am," you said with a bashful smile.
Steve hummed as he stared thoughtfully at the picture of you and your siblings.
"I've always wondered what it would be like to have siblings," Steve said like it had been a thought in his head more than something he'd meant to say out loud, and that seemed to be the case by the way his face fell after he realised what he had said.
But you didn't pay any mind to it, continuing the conversation normally, "it's loud when the house is full. It can also be really annoying when I want some quiet privacy, because that always get disrupted. Well, I guess I get time to myself all the time now, but that's going to change when they come back for the holidays."
You hadn't meant to ramble, and heat rushed to your cheeks once you realised, but Steve
showed anything but judgement. If anything, he seemed invested in your words, a faraway look in his eyes like he was imagining the scene for himself.
"Sounds nice," he said so quietly you almost didn't catch it, and you decided not to let him know that you had heard it, because you somehow knew those words had only been for himself. He cleared his throat, seeming to recollect himself as his voice returned to its usual confident, slightly cocky state. "So, do you plan to go to college like them? Your siblings?"
"Yeah, I'm actually really excited to. It'll be nice to get out of Hawkins," you said with a smile, "what about you?"
Steve shrugged. "I guess. My dad wants me to. But anyway, I probably can't get in with the way I'm going," he gestured to his incomplete essay.
"How many times do I have to tell you that you really do have it in you, Harrington? And either way, it's up to you whether you want to go to college or not. Don't let your dad decide for you," you said lightly, popping a small piece of a cookie into your mouth.
Steve blinked, and something vulnerable flickered in his expression for a few seconds before it smoothed over, his walls coming back up.
He seemed to be in a rush to lighten the unspoken weight that now hung in the air, so in his haste, he grabbed another cookie and took a reckless bite of it, spilling crumbs onto your carpeted floor.
"Stop it, you're getting crumbs on my carpet!" You complained, grimacing as you picked the crumbs out of your carpet and sprinkled them back onto the plate.
When Steve let out a laugh, your expression soured and you decided to take a different approach, gathering more crumbs in between your fingers before throwing them at him.
He let out a sound of disbelief as he held his hand up to shield himself, and he narrowed his eyes at you before he picked some of the crumbs out himself and threw them at you.
"You jerk!" You laughed, swatting his arm before the two of you fought over the last few pieces of crumbs in the floor to toss at each other.
You both ended up in a fit of laughter that made your stomachs hurt from the sheer absurdity of it, and that was what you counted as the first successful tutoring session.
***
The tutoring sessions with Steve changed after that day. Instead of it being something in your schedule you dreaded, it became something you actually looked forward to, because the times with Steve became enjoyable.
You both came to an agreement of doing tutoring twice a week, since you had other people to tutor and he had basketball practice. Wednesdays at his house, Sundays at yours.
You grew to favour Wednesdays and Sundays.
What it was, was that he was finally listening to you, and he was finally getting schoolwork done. There were many things about the work from each subject that you always had to explain to him multiple times so that he would understand, but you never lost your patience. He seemed surprised by this every time, looking at you like he was waiting for you to get angry after sheepishly asking for another explanation.
But you never did. You never saw any reason to.
It was not only that he was finally getting assignments done, but there had also been a shift in the dynamic between you. At the beginning, it had all been awkward silences and irritated glares, until you started to talk instead of letting the silences settle, until you laughed instead of throwing annoyed words and looks at each other, and the glares became playful instead of real. It began to feel less like a chore, and more like a fun hangout.
You considered Steve Harrington as a friend now, which felt ridiculous while simultaneously feeling right, because why wouldn't he be your friend? Sure, he didn't acknowledge you at school, and sometimes he talked about his girlfriend too much when he should've been studying, but he was kind. He was extremely nice to your parents, he complimented your home in a way that you knew he meant it, and he was always offering you food and drinks whenever you went to his house, or bringing them over whenever he came to yours.
You had even grown to like him so much that you started making hangover smoothies for him every Sunday when he came to your house, because he was pretty much always hungover on Sundays. You told yourself that you did it because you wanted him feeling well enough to be tutored, but deep down, you knew it was more than that.
Sure, he had his flaws, but Steve wasn't nearly as bad as you had initially thought him to be. Because you had seen a different side of him, a softer and more vulnerable side he never showed in public, in front of his popular friends and the girls that fluttered their eyelashes at him despite knowing he was taken. You wondered if he even showed that side to Nancy Wheeler.
It had especially shone through on one Wednesday when he came to your house instead of his. He had called you immediately after school to beg you to not come to his house, to have him come to yours instead just for that week. He hadn't told you why, but you had said yes anyway, because all you needed to hear was the urgency in his voice to know that it was important.
You hadn't asked when he arrived, even when he looked down more than usual. You still didn't ask when he wasn't nearly as talkative as he usually was, almost silent the whole time as you talked him through the history paper he had to write.
You were forced to finally do something about it when you noticed him doing nothing after you left him to do it on his own, his eyes glued to the paper with a distant look in his eyes, mindlessly tapping his pencil on his knee. It was easy to see as you were working in your living room, sat at either ends of the couch. You didn't want to push him as he clearly wasn't in a good mood, but unfortunately, giving him a push was what you were there to do.
"Steve," you said softly, bringing him back to the moment and capturing his attention. "Are you struggling to start the next sentence?"
He blinked. "Huh?”
"On the paper," you said, nodding towards it.
"Oh," he said, looking at it like that was the first time he had noticed it there. "Um... no. Just thinking."
"You've been thinking for a long time," you pointed out gently, and you swallowed when he fixed his hard gaze on you. "I just- if you need me to go through it again, you know not to be afraid to ask me-"
"For god's sake, I already know I'm stupid so can you just leave it alone for a second?" Steve snapped, and you jerked back a little, taken by surprise. "I don't need you talking to me like I'm some slow kid."
"I wasn't-"
"You were. You always do!" Steve said out of frustration, running a hand through his hair.
You stared at him for a moment, processing his words before you leaned back into your spot on the couch, accepting defeat.
"Work at your own pace then, Steve," you said flatly, not bothering to hide your annoyance as you shifted your body away from him, focusing on your own notes.
You didn't look at him for a few minutes, but the tension in the air was palpable as you felt Steve's gaze burn holes into you. He said your name after at least ten minutes had passed, and you looked at him to find his guilty expression.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking at the ground. "You're not doing anything wrong, I'm just an asshole. I don't even know why I'm acting like one when I literally wanted to come here."
You frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The last place I wanted to be at was my house tonight, and for some reason, your place was the first thing that came to mind for an alternative," Steve admitted softly, and your heart skipped a beat. "I was so relieved when you said yes to me coming here instead."
The admission slammed into your chest, and it made your breath catch. Your house had been the first place he had thought of for an escape? Not Tommy Hagan's house? Not even Nancy Wheeler's?
Steve blinked as if snapping out of it, and frantically said, "sorry, that was a weird thing to say. I don't know why I- just forget that ever came out of my mouth."
"Don't be sorry. I think it's nice," you said softly, turning your body back to him as he looked at you curiously, "that you thought of my house as a better place to be. I didn't realise you liked it that much."
"How could I not? It's the place that holds the outcomes of your mum's glorious baking," Steve joked, and you laughed quietly, shaking your head at him. Steve smiled, but his face quickly sobered as he looked at you questioningly. "By the way, you haven't asked me anything."
"About what?"
"About what happened at my house, why I prefer to be here," said Steve bluntly.
You shrugged. "Not my business, is it? It's up to you if we talk about it."
Steve seemed taken aback by that, and you didn't know why he did. Was he used to people prying in his personal business that clearly upset him?
"But... don't you want to know?" Steve pushed.
"I guess I'm a bit curious, but I'm not going to force you to say anything," you said as if it were obvious.
Steve opened his mouth just to close it again, and narrowed his eyes. "You're weird."
You arched an eyebrow. "Or I'm just not nosy."
"Or that," Steve agreed in defeat, and you huffed out a laugh. You didn't expect anything more from him, but when he started talking again in a weaker tone, you listened. "My dad's just an asshole, and... is it really bad to say that I prefer my parents being away on a work trip to them being home?"
You didn't respond momentarily, staring ahead thoughtfully before you softly spoke. "I think you're allowed to feel however you want to, and you shouldn't be so quick to invalidate yourself."
You looked at Steve to find him staring at his lap with his eyebrows knitted together into a small frown, picking at his fingernails as he went into deep thought, probably taking in your words.
Neither of you mentioned it again after that. His asshole of a dad and his unstable home, that was. Every time his parents were home on a Wednesday, you always changed the plans around for him to come to your place instead. You never made a big deal out of it, never talked about the reason why, because you never felt it was necessary to make Steve explain himself more than he had to. It was something Steve appreciated more than you could realise.
It was a Friday night when your parents were in need of some last minute groceries. Your dad had been about to go get them himself before you had offered to get them instead. Your parents had both just come home from a whole day of working, and it had worn them down enough to the point you could see the exhaustion on their faces, so you had been generous enough to take a small weight off their shoulders. They had been hesitant to let you with the recent disappearance of a young boy named Will Byers, but they had been too tired to argue with you, so they let you go with minimal argument.
You weren't old enough to drive on your own yet, so you took your bicycle as you always did with a flashlight. The grocery store wasn't far away anyway.
You quickly popped in and out, getting what you needed with the cash your parents had given you. You took your bicycle out of park and struggled to juggle the full grocery bag in your hands while trying to get onto your bike safely, only having the fluorescent lights of the store behind you to help.
You heard a car pulling up to the curb in front of you, and didn't look up as you thought nothing of it, thinking it was just someone else coming to the grocery store until they suddenly honked. You jumped in surprise, almost dropping the bags as you looked up.
The headlights of the car blinded your vision for a moment, and you blinked rapidly as you squinted to see who was sitting in the drivers seat of the car. When you realised who it was, bewilderment washed over you.
The window rolled down, and Steve tilted his head to meet your gaze from the drivers seat. "What are you doing?"
You blinked, and shot him a look of disbelief. "What am I doing? What are you doing, honking at me like some idiot?"
"That's not very nice."
"Am I usually nice, Harrington?"
Steve snorted. "No. But seriously, what are you doing?”
"What does it look like? You do know what groceries are, right?" You asked sassily.
"I know that! But why are you... you're trying to get onto that bike while you're holding a bag that looks very full."
"Yes?" You said, confused on why he was pointing out the obvious.
Steve returned your confused look. "Didn't you bring your car?"
You gave him a deadpanned expression. "I don't have a car."
Steve didn't react for a moment as he comprehended what you had just said, and then his eyes widened. "You- you don't have a car?"
You looked at him with irritation. Of course a rich boy like him couldn't believe such a thing. "No, because not all of us are rich like you, Harrington."
Steve blinked, eyes flitting from you to your bicycle as he slowly seemed to understand. "Right... but you couldn't even bring your parents' car?"
"I can't drive yet. I'm a year younger than you, remember?"
"Then why-"
"Can you stop interrogating me and just get to the point of why you're here right now? Or have you just come to make fun of me for not having fancy transportation like you?" You snapped more harshly than you meant it, and a tense silence followed your outburst, making embarrassment flood through you.
"I didn't come to make fun of you," said Steve quietly. "I was going to ask if you wanted a ride back home."
Your face changed, not expecting that. "Oh."
"Yeah, um... well, do you? Want that ride?" Steve asked.
"Is it still up for grabs after I just bit your head off?" You said sheepishly.
Steve let out a laugh, and answered your question wordlessly as he got out his side of the car and walked around the BMW to approach you. He stopped in front of you, looking into your eyes for a second before he took your bike out of your hands.
"You're not about to throw my precious bike to the side of the road, right?" You asked, half joking.
He snorted. "No, I'm putting it in the trunk. You can get in the passenger seat, I’ll be there in a second, I just gotta put the seats down first."
You were about to speak up to say that he didn't have to go through so much trouble and that you could really just pedal your way home, but he was too swift in his movements as he opened the car door, leaning in to adjust the backseats of his car.
You tentatively got into the passenger seat, balancing the grocery bag in your lap. You glanced at Steve through the rearview mirror, and felt a weird fluttery sensation in your chest.
You stared ahead with a warm face as you listened to Steve’s movement before you could hear the sounds of him handling your bike. You looked over your shoulder this time, and watched the way he put in extra effort to make sure your bike was in a safe position before he closed the trunk. You turned back to the front, the fluttering in your chest intensifying as your cheeks started to burn. God, why were your cheeks burning?
You didn't move as Steve got back into the car and started up the engine again. After a moment of silence, he said, "you can put your seatbelt on, y'know."
"Right! Sorry," you said, your cheeks burning even hotter as you scrambled to put your seatbelt on.
Steve pulled out of park after putting his own seatbelt on, and you deliberately kept your gaze on the window while keeping a tight grip on the bag in your lap.
"You also don't have to keep that bag on your lap. You can put it on the ground," Steve added.
You might as well have been on fire at that point. You carefully placed the bag on the ground, avoiding his gaze. "Sorry, it's just... a nice car. Don't want to ruin it."
"Groceries won't ruin the car," Steve chuckled, and you smiled sheepishly. In your defence, it was a really nice car. "So, why were you on your own? Getting groceries, I know, but your parents didn't want to come?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.
"They were going to get groceries, but I decided to do it to let them rest. They're tired from working all week, so I just wanted to give them a little break," you explained bashfully.
Steve hummed. "That's really nice of you."
"Unheard of, right?" You joked.
"Not really," said Steve so quietly you were sure you imagined it, glancing at him to find that infuriatingly unreadable expression on his face again. "Still dangerous to be going out by yourself at night, though. Especially since that kid's just gone missing."
You did a double take, unsure if you had heard him right the first time. His tone was casual as he said it, but his jaw was tight. He surely didn't care, did he?
"Well, that kid was eleven, and I'm sixteen. I'm capable," you replied.
"Sixteen's not that much older."
"Oh come on, don't act all high and mighty just because you're a year older."
"I'm not. I'm just saying you need to be more careful because I- you don't want something bad to happen you," his voice grew quieter with each word, barely inaudible at the end of his sentence, but you were still able to catch what he said.
You shot him a confused look. He was acting weird tonight, you thought. There was that softer side of him showing that he never displayed in public, but it wasn't that. There was something about his energy that lacked its usual spirit, something dejected. Had it been his parents again, you wondered? You certainly weren't going to ask, though.
The rest of the drive to your home was silent and quick. The grocery store was only a short way from your house anyway.
When you arrived, Steve got out of the car with you to take your bike out of the trunk, being kind enough to park your bike where you directed him as you held the grocery bag.
"Thank you, Steve. For the ride and doing... all of this. You really didn't have to," you said sincerely as he leaned on his car.
Steve smiled weakly. "No worries. Couldn't have just left you there, could I?"
"You could've," you said calmly.
"I'm not that bad, L/N," said Steve teasingly, and you chuckled.
"Goodnight, Steve," you said softly, sending him a small smile.
He mirrored your smile, saying goodnight to you back with your name. You turned on your heel, starting the walk to your house as your heart raced in your warm chest.
When Steve called out your name, you turned around too quickly, making it seem as though you had been waiting for him to call you back. Perhaps you had been.
Steve scratched his neck, seeming nervous as he hesitated. "Um, sorry to be a bother but can I just ask for some advice?"
"Yeah, of course," you said, walking back over to him.
"Since you're a girl and all," said Steve quickly. "It's about Nancy."
You froze.
Oh. You forgot about Nancy.
Your chest twisted suddenly, nearly winding you and making you stumble, but you kept your composure and faced him with your chin up.
"Yeah, what's up?" You said airily.
"She's not happy with me right now. I invited her and her friend over to a party at my house, and she stayed over without her friend and now she hasn't seen her since, and she's really worried," Steve explained. "And I guess I was just more concerned about getting in trouble than her friend, and she got pissed off at me for it and... I don't know, I just don't know how to make it up to her."
You frowned. "Wait, her friend? Like, Barb?"
"Yeah, her. You haven't seen her around, have you?"
"No, not since Tuesday," you said.
"Well shit, that's the night she went missing..." said Steve, and your eyebrows drew together with concern. Just like Nancy, you weren't friends with Barb, but you had always thought she was nice. "Anyway, Nance isn't talking to me so I thought that you, a girl, would know how to fix it."
"Right," you said uncomfortably. "Why don't you ask your friend Carol? She's a girl."
"Yeah, but she's too... I just think you're someone who gives better advice," said Steve honestly.
You didn't know how to take that, and you hated how a smile twitched against your lips.
"Well, it seems simple. You just go up to her, apologise, and help her look for Barb. Or just be there for her. She's obviously distraught if her best friend is nowhere to be seen," you told him.
Steve nodded along, listening intently. "Yeah, okay... thanks."
You smiled weakly, "no problem."
Steve sighed. "I just... I really like her, and I don't want to mess it up, y'know?"
Your chest twisted even further, and you bit your lip, looking away from him.
"Yeah, that's understandable. Well, I hope it works out between you, but I have to go to bed now. My parents will get worried," you said briskly, already starting to talk away.
"Yeah, okay. Goodnight," he said.
"Goodnight," you said quietly over your shoulder, and basically sped to your house, not looking behind you as you went back inside the safety of your home where he couldn't reach you.
That was the night you realised you had developed feelings for Steve Harrington.
But it didn't matter, because his heart only belonged to Nancy Wheeler, and you didn't stand a chance.
***
You were zoned out as you absentmindedly stored some of your books into your locker, your mind in a different place to your physical body.
Annoyingly enough, all it ever seemed your mind could stay on these days was the thought of Steve.
You knew it had been a bad idea to tutor him from the very start for many reasons, and now your worst fear had actually happened. Just like every other girl at Hawkins High, you had developed a schoolgirl crush on Steve Harrington, and he plagued your mind completely without permission.
It had been two weeks since you came to your realisation, and every tutoring session with Steve since then had been torture. It didn't help when he was his usual sweet self, bringing your favourite snacks when he came to your house, telling you how one of the posters in your bedroom looked cool, getting along with your parents, and listening to you with that concentrated look he had that was frustratingly handsome.
And it certainly wasn't helping that he now insisted on giving you a ride home every time you went to his house. He had asked you about your method of transportation to his house since he found out you weren't able to drive, and he seemed to take it personally when you told you just took your bike every time. Sometimes, you even got into small arguments about it, because you didn't like making him go through the effort of putting your bicycle into his car every time, but it made you learn that Steve didn't take no for an answer when to came to those sort of things.
Every ride home made your heart beat a little faster for him, and your feelings grew stronger with each time you both talked nonstop for the whole ride. It wasn't fair that he was able to make you feel such a way.
You used to judge those kind of girls before, the ones who batted their lashes at him in an attempt to get his attention, the ones who stared longingly at him in the hallways. Now you were one of them, and you felt so pathetic. You wanted to defend yourself by acknowledging that you had actually spent quality time with him and had gotten to know him as more than just a popular jock, that you had seen what was under the mask he always hid behind at school.
But did it even matter when he had never once remotely showed interest in you? When you technically weren't even friends, just acquaintances? You were his tutor for goodness' sake, of course you weren't supposed to feel this way. You had never even come close to feeling the same about anyone else you had tutored.
Of course Steve had been the one to capture your heart out of all of it. Him and his stupid soft smile that almost seemed reserved for you, him and his stupid jokes that made you genuinely laugh, and him and his stupid kindness in giving you a ride back to your house that night, putting your bike in his car without you having to ask him to do so, the implications of him caring about you when he expressed a concern for your safety.
All before he had asked you for advice on how to make it up to his girlfriend.
Even if you could've, you wouldn't. You certainly weren't the type to barge into a relationship, a very happy one at that.
You were snapped out of your daze when you heard someone call your name, and you perked up, looking into the direction of the voice.
A boy named Tyler came up to you, a student in your year that you tutored for maths and history. He had an excited expression on his face as he approached you with a piece of paper in his hand.
"Hi, Tyler," you greeted with a warm smile. "What's up?"
He grinned at you. "I have news. Good news."
"What is it?"
He held the piece of paper up to your face, showing you the contents. All you had to do was look at the B circled on it to know what it was.
"I got a B on my maths test!" He told you happily.
"That's amazing!" You said with a wide smile, pride blooming in your chest upon seeing the joy in his eyes. "I told you you had it!"
"I couldn't have done it without you," he said. "Seriously, thank you so much. You saved me."
You laughed sheepishly. "I'm just glad it worked out for you."
"I mean it, you're the best! I hope you're getting good credit for all of this tutoring you do," said Tyler earnestly. "You deserve it."
You smiled. "Thanks."
"I'll see you around. Hopefully I'll ace my history test next!" He said hopefully as he walked off, and you gave him a thumbs up before he fully turned away.
You turned back to your locker with a smile, your chest filled with warmth. That was why all those hours of tutoring was always worth it at the end of the day. The extra credit was a bonus, but it was helping others that really mattered for you.
You jumped at the sudden bang on the locker next to yours, followed by a familiar voice saying, "who was that?"
You turned your head in surprise, and your face morphed into an expression of disbelief as you saw him.
Because here Steve was, his body completely facing you while it leaned against the locker next to yours, his arms crossed and his eyes focused on you while everyone moved around you, all easily able to see the interaction between you two. The interaction between the most popular guy in school and some quiet girl who tutored people.
It was the first time Steve had ever even looked at you in the school hallways, let alone talked to you, so it took you a moment to respond to his question as you processed your current situation.
And god, you hated how your chest started feeling warm in a different way when you looked at him.
"Um- uh- just a guy I tutor," you said bashfully.
"What were you talking about? He seemed very happy about something," Steve asked, and you quietly grew confused at his curiosity.
"He got a good grade on his test. He came to me because I helped him study, and he really thought he wasn't going to do a good job, but I told him he would, and I was right," you said with a proud smile.
Steve narrowed his eyes at you, his expression unreadable. "Hm, interesting. You seem to like him."
You blinked. "Um... yeah, he's a nice guy."
"So, do you have a thing for him?" Steve said suddenly with a smirk.
Your face dropped. "What?"
"What? It's just a question. You can tell me, I promise it'll stay between us. If it helps, it seems like he might like you too," Steve lowered his voice and leaned in a little, causing heat to rush to your cheeks.
You tried to hide your flustered state by rolling your eyes and slamming your locker shut. "No, Steve. I don't have a thing for him."
"But wouldn't he be your type? Like, smart guys?"
You looked at him incredulously. "No offence to him, but he's not exactly a smart guy if he needs tutoring. God, Steve, just because I get along with him, doesn't mean I like him. I'm his tutor, and that's it."
His infuriating smirk didn't falter, his eyes shining with amusement as he said, "if you say so."
You sighed while rolling your eyes again. "You're so annoying."
"Your eyeballs will get stuck in the back of your head if you keep rolling them."
"Then stop doing things that make me roll my eyes, idiot."
Steve opened his mouth to continue the banter both of you would never admit you thoroughly enjoyed, but the next words never got to leave his mouth as you were suddenly approached by two certain people, one of which threw an arm around Steve.
"Couldn't find you for a second there Harrington, you disappeared on us," said Tommy Hagan, while Carol Perkins stood beside him, chewing gum obnoxiously while assessing you with her eyes.
Then, a smirk spread on her lips, her voice laced with amusement as she asked, "who's your friend, Steve?"
Tommy looked at you like he hadn't noticed you were there, and immediately started sniggering even though you hadn't done anything.
Steve's face fell, something more guarded taking over his expression at the presence of Tommy and Carol while panic flickered faintly in his eyes, and you noticed it. Meanwhile, your stomach churned uncomfortably as Tommy and Carol stared at you like you were some form of entertainment.
When Steve didn't answer Carol, you took it into your own hands and hesitantly said your name. She snorted, arching an eyebrow at you.
"I wasn't asking you," she said.
"Well you were looking at me when you said it, so maybe you should've been clearer about who you were talking to," you shot back coldly, and Steve's eyes widened while Tommy whistled.
Carol's face hardened, chewing her gum more aggressively.
"Sassy, aren't you? Honestly Steve, since when did we start stooping so low for new friends? We shouldn't be welcoming this kind of crowd," she said, looking at Steve with a scoff.
"We're not," said Steve quickly, and you frowned. "She's not my friend. She's just..."
He trailed off, catching your sharp gaze. He held it for a few moments before looking away, looking at his actual friends, "she’s a stranger to me."
Your heart dropped.
A stranger.
Not a friend, not even an acquaintance, just a stranger. That's all you were.
“Then why are you even talking to her?” Carol snorted.
“Because, um… she dropped something and I was just giving it back to her was all,” said Steve hastily, talking about you like you weren’t even there.
Carol raised her eyebrows, unconvinced, and god, you wanted nothing more than to just shove her face into the locker like she deserved.
"As fun as this is, I'm hungry man, let's go eat!" Said Tommy, slapping Steve's back before letting go of him. He briefly glanced at you, his voice mocking as he said, "see you later... uh, whatever your name is."
Carol giggled, "yeah, see you sweetheart."
Tommy burst into another fit of sniggers, and your eyes caught it immediately as Steve let out a laugh, albeit it sounded a little more uncertain than the others.
But you were probably just imagining that just to make yourself feel better, because when the three of them walked away, Steve didn't look back at you once.
Your cheeks burned as he left you standing there, feeling like an idiot who had just been picked apart by a group of people who deemed themselves superior to you just because you weren't popular.
As if that hadn't already ruined your day, as if Steve hadn't already made your heart hurt enough, something happened at the end of your science class.
The class was pleasantly rowdy as everyone either did their written science work or talked with their friends about their plans for the weekend. You were one of the people doing their work, and was the first to walk up to the teacher to hand in your completed work.
"Well done, Y/N. I look forward to grading this, you never fail to impress me," your science teacher said, and you smiled sheepishly, thanking her quietly. "So, how's that tutoring of yours going?"
"Really good," you said, hating how Steve crossed your mind.
"I'm sure it is, I've even seen the evidence of it. You know, I never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington would be able to understand anything in my class, but proving by his recent results on his last test, it seems as though I have made it to that day," she told you with a smile.
You stilled. "What do you mean?"
She tilted her head at you. "Hasn't he told you? He passed his science test the other day. I even almost gave him a B."
You narrowed your eyes, "the other day? I- did you give him these results?"
"Yes. I know he tried to hide it, but I could see how happy he was."
Your blood started to pump in your ears, the realisation slowly dawning on you as you comprehended what she was saying.
"I even heard he got a good grade on his English assignment too. I don't know how you've done it, but you've worked wonders on him," she said. "Good job."
You didn't say anything for a moment before collecting yourself enough to say quietly, "yeah, that's good."
You went back to your seat after that, the noise around you fading to the background as the gears turned in your head.
He had been passing tests and getting good grades on assignments, and hadn't told you? He had been keeping it from you?
Your jaw tightened, and you clenched your fists, something hot stirring in your stomach.
You were going to kill him.
***
You thought it had been apart of your dream at first, then you thought it was just some animals playing around outside. But when the persistent tapping kept on going every time you thought it would stop, you finally woke up, and investigated.
When you saw nothing was happening to your window, you went over to it anyway, looking outside to see the source of the noise.
It was much worse than an animal. It was Steve throwing rocks at your parents' window, the morning sun shining down on him and highlighting the small cuts on his face along with the purple bruise on his left cheek.
You gasped softly upon seeing his beat-up face, concern flooding you against your will as you worried about who did something like that to him. You stared at him in disbelief before rushing to put your dressing gown and slippers on, tidying your hair as best as you could before hastily making your way out of the house, not even bothering to be quiet since Steve was being noisy enough anyway.
You walked around your house to meet Steve now crouched, gathering more rocks to throw. You stood there for a moment, gazing at him with folded arms while he didn't notice you, lost in his own world. You reminded yourself that you needed to be hostile, that he still hadn't given you an apology for what he did a few days ago.
When he rose to his feet, you finally spoke up.
"Trying to wake my parents up?" You asked, and he jumped, whirling around to you with wide eyes. He blinked at your words, looking back to your parents' window as you clarified, "that's their room, genius. I know you like my mum's food, but you surely can't be that desperate."
Embarrassment flickered across his face at your words, and he looked back to you with shame. "Shit. Sorry."
You shrugged. "That'll depend on how grumpy they are this morning."
A short silence followed your words, and Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, and you watched him closely, eyes lingering on his bruises. The injuries looked fresh, and it made you wonder why he was here instead of resting at home.
"Are you okay?" You asked gently before you could stop yourself.
Steve looked at you in surprise. "Huh?"
"Your... face," you said, gesturing to your own. "Seems like you're hurt. Are you alright?"
"Oh, I'm fine, but that doesn't matter," he said quickly, seeming ashamed of whatever it was. "What matters is what I came here to do, which is to say sorry for the other day."
You raised your eyebrows. "What did you do the other day?"
"You know, when we were talking and Tommy and Carol came over," said Steve, confused on why you were asking about the obvious until he realised you weren't playing dumb, you just wanted him to admit what he did wrong. "And then they were being assholes and I didn't do anything about it."
"Is that it?"
Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he seemed to search his mind for anything else. "I think so?"
You hummed quietly, keeping your face blank as you looked him over. You quickly noticed how something about him was off — not just the bruises and cuts on his face, but the way he held himself, the defeated look in his eyes that wasn't there before. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something in the air around Steve had shifted, and it made your curiosity grow stronger about whatever the hell had happened in the past few days that caused that and the bruises.
Steve sighed, his head hanging low as he said, "look, I know I messed up. I know that wasn't right of me and it wasn't fair to you, and you had to defend yourself which you shouldn't have had to because I shouldn't have let them treat you like that in the first place. If it's any help, it didn't feel good during that moment."
You scoffed. "It didn't feel good for me either."
The guilt in Steve's eyes strengthened, and he looked at you sorrowfully. "I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve that, after everything you've done for me-"
"Actually, it's okay Steve. We're not friends anyway, you don't owe me anything," you snapped.
Steve's face fell slightly like you had struck him. "That was stupid of me to say. I was trying to get them to back off of you, you know? They wouldn't have taken it well if I said yes, they would've been even worse."
"That's such a lame excuse. They were going to make fun of me no matter what you said, so you're just telling yourself that to feel better," you said sourly. "You're just like... I don't know, ashamed of me or something?"
Steve shook his head. "I'm not-"
"Then what do you call it? You're only nice to me when we're alone, and you're embarrassed to be seen with me in public. That's why you didn't want me to tutor you in the library. You literally said it yourself, you didn't want anyone to walk in and see," you poured out what had been pent up inside you through this whole ordeal. "You never acknowledged me in public until that moment for some reason, and even then, you said I was just a stranger."
"I know, I know, it was shitty of me. I shouldn't have- I'm really sorry," said Steve, and the worst part about it was how sincere he sounded, how real the apology seemed to be.
But you knew it would go back to normal after this, and with the last few days having given you room to think about it, you knew you couldn't go for any longer. Not with your feelings for him growing stronger everyday.
"I don't think this arrangement is necessary anymore," you said with a tight throat, avoiding his gaze as you said it. But even in your peripheral vision, you could see how his face dropped.
"What? But I still need to be tutored! I- I still need your help," said Steve frantically.
"There are other tutors at school, you can just go to them if you really need help," you said. "Also, didn't you say you could get your girlfriend to tutor you? She'll be happy to help."
Steve's expression shifted into something more hurt as he looked at his feet. "I'm not sure that's so true anymore. I'm not her favourite person right now."
Your chest tightened, and you finally looked at him, reading his crestfallen expression. Was that the reason why he looked like that? Because him and Nancy were arguing? You had a nagging feeling that there was much more to it, but you weren't going to push. You were too mad at him to do so anyway.
"Even then, I'm not the only tutor in the world. Besides, from what I've heard, you'll be just fine without tutoring anyway," you said bitterly.
Confused spread across Steve's features. "From what you've heard?"
"Yes. I'm not sure why I had to hear it from someone else that you had literally passed your science test, and got a good grade on your English assignment."
Steve's eyes widened slightly. "You- who told you that?"
"The science teacher."
"Why would she even tell you that? Oh my god..." Steve murmured, pressing his hands to his face.
"That doesn't matter, Steve. What matters is that for some reason you decided to hide the fact that you were improving," you scolded. "You neglected to tell your literal tutor that you had passed in two subjects!"
"I... forgot," said Steve unconvincingly.
You snorted humourlessly. "I don't think you did, and I don't even want to ask why you didn't tell me because you'll probably just give me another stupid excuse."
You were mainly pissed off at Steve for the way he had treated you in front of Tommy and Carol the other day, that was what drove the wedge between you two in the first place, but him not telling you about his good results had been the final straw. Because those had been moments he was meant to share with you, because you had been the one to help him. He was supposed to approach with you excitement like Tyler had done, and he was supposed to brag about his results to you with a wide smile while you were silently proud of him.
You had been eager for that moment between you and Steve, but because of some reason that was unknown to you, he hadn't told you, and had robbed you of that moment.
So yeah, you were very pissed.
"So you're ditching me because I didn't tell you about two decent grades I got?" Said Steve, and you couldn't help but notice the hurt that seeped through his voice. You hated how it sparked guilt in you.
Yet, you stood your ground. "I told you that all you needed to do was pass one test, and you could be free of me. Did you just forget that?"
Steve's Adam's apple bobbed, his jaw tight. "No."
"Then why didn't you just tell me? I know you hate being tutored, so why did you drag it out?" You asked heatedly, your pent up frustration spilling out. You stared at him expectantly, impatiently waiting for his answer.
But he only stared back at you, his mouth opening uselessly with nothing coming out, his eyes holding a desperate look that tugged at your chest, that almost made you give in. But you fought back against it, and scoffed at his silence.
"There's no reason to keep doing this, Steve," you said, your voice weaker.
"But I still need help with my other subjects," said Steve quietly.
"You know how to study now, and you can help yourself. I've given you a little push, so now you can be independent," you reasoned. "And look at the bright side, you'll have free time on Wednesdays and Sundays now."
"But I..." he trailed off, and your heart skipped a beat as you thought he was finally about to speak, finally about to admit something.
But he chose not to say it, and continued with his silence.
You gazed at his face, taking in each detail of his features, memorising it for when you would think about him at night, when you wouldn't see him anymore. The softness of his dark hazel eyes, the moles scattered on his face, and his stupid perfect hair that you longed to feel with your own fingers.
"It really was nice tutoring you Steve, but I've done my job now," you said softly, sending him your first smile of the day, and your last for a while.
He looked at you with sadness, something close to devastation, but not quite there. Because maybe Steve Harrington was fond of you in the way he was fond of your mother's cookies, but he nowhere near cared about you in the way he cared about Nancy Wheeler.
And that's why you turned your back to him, walking inside your house without looking back at him, even when you heard the small, desperate "please," leave his lips.
Damian: yeah i like to take videos of animals i see in the wild. i don't see as much in Gotham as i did back in the league, but there's some cool squirrels around sometimes.
Tim: oh you have videos of squirrels? show me, i like squirrels.
Dick: yeah let us see!
Damian: *gets out phone, brings up video*
Tim and Dick: *watching over Damian's shoulder*
*distant screams of pain in the back of the video*
Tim:
Tim: dude where the fuck was this?
Damian, absently: this one? i think this was outside Titan's Tower.
Tim:
Dick:
*more screams, crashes and bangs*
Dick, casually: hey those screams kinda sound like Tim.
Tim:
Tim: iS THIS FROM WHEN JASON TRIED TO KILL ME?!?
Damian: hm? oh, yeah, probably.
Tim: YOU WERE THERE???
Damian: not IN the tower; Jason cracked the window of his car and left me to wait outside with a Kindle.
Tim:
Dick:
Damian: i was reading 'Crime and Punishment'.
Tim: WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU THERE?!
Damian: i dunno, he just told me he had to run a few errands before he could drop me off at my father's. i didn't know one of the errands was beating up you.
Dick: and you heard the screams and just didn't check or worry?
Damian: did you see how fat that squirrel was? i was distracted.
Tim: oh my god-
I love your work and saw that your request for baldur's gate 3 was open and was wondering if you can do Astarion x abused? Reader
Basically the reader's father was a narcissist and they or she whichever you prefer. Even though they ran away years ago old habits die hard. They feel the need to take care of everyone else cause that's how they survived for so long and put on a front of being the strong leader they "need". Then maybe they have some sort of nightmare either being dragged back or something feeling the trapped feeling they felt for so long. Maybe Astarion hears them whimpering or something after a hunt and curiosity gets the best of him and ends up comforting them.
notes: didnt want to get too into what abuse the reader had suffered, so I kept it reasonably vague. hurt/comfort
rating: M (due to themes)
pairing: astarion x reader
Astarion hears the sobbing from the moment he steps foot into camp.
He has exceptional hearing anyway and having just fed his senses are sharpened to a knife-point - he zeroes in on the sound with bat-like perception. Ears twitching as he goes, he tip-toe follows the noise to…
…your tent.
That is a surprise. He’s not sure that he’s ever been present to you being anything other than… well, joyful. Constantly smiling. Constantly caring. Constantly laughing and reaching out a hand in friendship, the very epitome of what a good leader ought to be. Even in battle you don’t let awful odds get to you, always crying out reassurance from behind your shield as you fend off bloodied spears and vicious claws.
Maybe it is ego that makes Astarion go to your little refuge. He wants to see you shatter, just a bit. Just so he can reassure himself that you aren’t as infallible as you seem; that you are kith like the rest of them, able to err and break.
Or maybe it’s not because of any of that. It is because, despite it all, he has genuinely come to care for you.
Either way when he pulls open the fabric door his heart twinges uncomfortably in his chest.
You sit up in your bedroll, face buried in your hands, ugly tears boiling out from under your palms and soaking the sleeves of your sleep clothes. Your whole body heaves from both the raw emotion and the effort of trying to keep it under control. He’s never seen you so open.
You look up when you hear the rustle of his arrival. He freezes as the two of you lock eyes.
“Shit,” is all he can muster, and is it relief he feels when despite everything, you laugh?
“Sorry, did I wake you?” you ask, grabbing a handful of blanket and roughly drying your face with it. An attempt to hide the shame of crumbling.
“No, I was still up - out hunting,” he says, and you nod in acceptance. The two of you remain there for a moment, staring. Astarion is stuck on a threshold, both literally between outside and in, but also one of the soul. He wants to reach out. He wants to withdraw. He doesn’t know what he wants.
Eventually, your soft eyes win him over. He walks in and lets the tent fall closed, sitting down across from you on your bedroll. He feels your feet wiggle aside to make space for him and is struck by the intimacy of what he is doing.
This is unlike him. Stupid, stupid. Don’t reveal too much, don’t leave yourself open to vulnerability. He tries to affect a posture of ease, leaning back on his hands.
“Nightmare?” he asks. You nod again, sighing.
“Sorry, I must look dreadfully silly. I was just thinking about… someone I used to know.”
Astarion winces. Yes. He’s been there, hasn’t he - devoured by the panic of your past catching up with you.
“You don’t look silly at all. A bit blotchy, perhaps, but not all of us can look beautiful when we cry.”
He flips his hair and that makes you laugh again. The atmosphere in the tent gets a little lighter. He watches the way your hands desperately look for something to occupy them, how they start picking at the loose stitches in any fabric you can find.
“This man. He used to, erm… hurt me. Quite badly, actually.” He hates the way your usually vibrant eyes have dulled. “And I managed to get away - ran away, really - but sometimes… you know. Something reminds me of him and I get dragged down again.”
Damn it all, Astarion finds himself reaching out and covering your hands with one of his. You stop your slow dismantling of your blanket thread-by-thread.
“I understand,” is what he’s able to force out of his suddenly tight throat. He’s mentioned Cazador before, trying to make a joke out of it, pretending it doesn’t bother him now that it’s all in the past - but it does bother him. Scares the life out of him, really, or this facsimile of a life he’s been able to build for himself now he’s free.
Your fingers slide between his and hold him very tightly.
The two of you sit in silence.
And then he decides to move properly, shuffling ungraciously so that he can be by your side rather than across from you, his arms wrapping around your body and bringing you close.
Your shoulders hitch a little. Fresh tears warm his shirt, patched dozens of times over because of a man who wouldn’t let him buy anything nice and new.
“I’m fucking tired of being strong. It feels like it’s too much sometimes,” you confess, voice barely louder than a whisper. He tucks his head over yours, your scalp beneath his chin, as if he can shield you from the world like this.
“Then don’t be strong. If it feels better, be weak, my dear. I’m the only one here and I promise you that won’t mind.”
You know that, for once, he won’t. Astarion ‘my favourite activity is to judge everyone I meet’ Ancunín is happy to let you lay your soul bare in front of him. So you do, you let yourself force every emotion you’ve ever bottled up leak out of you, in drips at first and then in a full tsunami. You cry so hard that you lose the ability to make sound for a while, silently choking on tears long since overdue.
He holds you all through it. He is not a strong man but his grip is tight, keeping you grounded, and he knows it helps because eventually you go from crying to sobbing to neutral to asleep. You breath evens out into something more controlled and when he moves to look at your face he is relieved your eyes have shut and that you can finally find a little peace. Gods know you deserve it.
You’re the strongest one of them all. He decides that perhaps he wouldn’t mind being there to help you shoulder things, if you need.
He lays down with you, limbs tangled, and drifts off.
Summary: Gojo Satoru is the most arrogant, big-headed person you know. He also happens to be your biggest fattest crush ever. You can't handle it anymore and because of that…you plan to confess in pursuit of a rejection. All in order to motivate you to get rid of these pesky feelings you harbor for the man.
wc: 5.9k
Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, shy!gojo, love confession, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, pre hidden inventory arc, highschool gojo, gojo is bad at feelings
a/n: hello! first fanfic ever posted. I really tried to make this as light-hearted as I possibly can! enjoy! feel free to leave a comment if you like ^^ also! shoko is written to be the closest to reader, hence the first name usage ^^ and if you've seen this before, it is a repost from my previous account!
read on ao3!
Gojo Satoru is the most annoying, arrogant, big headed man you've ever met. One interaction with him could potentially make you lose brain cells with the way he presents himself to others. No regards to seniors at all, acting like he's the greatest of all time. Which is true, you hate to admit.
He also happens to be your biggest fattest crush ever.
You didn't understand it at first. You think it might be because of the fact he helps you study, or maybe it's the way he shares his food with you when he would normally gobble everything up in one go if he could.
You probably think you're special because of that, huh? You almost came to that conclusion. Until you saw him help his best friend with his own studies too. The food he'd give you? It's only because Geto told him to give it. Though, for some odd reason you ended up with a crush! A big crush that doesn't have any proper explanation whatsoever! It's stupid and you know it!
He's so out of your league and you doubt he even looks at you that way. He displays a tinge of indifference towards you whenever you're around him while the others are present. He goes quiet when it's just the two of you too, as if he's bored when a moment forces you both to be in a spot together. Yet, here you are having overwhelming feelings for him that keeps you awake at night.
Your heart is aching right now. You'd assume the answer is heart failure if the real reason for it wasn't located at a distance from where you sit on the field. Drinking a juice box with the second best flavor (in your opinion) from the vending machine. Your elbows stay propped up on your lap, supporting your head while your gaze lingers to the white haired man who happens to be training with his best buddy. You can see them arguing from a distance, although you can barely make out what they're saying.
He's sweating. His hair sticking to his forehead, the sunlight reflecting on his cheeks. Normally no one would notice from where you sit. But you're weirdly fixated on his features to the point you almost notice every detail of him.
That's creepy.
Then again, who wouldn't be fixated? His features are godsend. Unique eyes that replicate the sky, dashing white hair that rivals the snow, and on top of all that a handsome face. You doubt anyone can compete with him in terms of looks. If he wasn't a sorcerer, he should try modeling. He'd make it big.
His looks aren't the reason you fell though, that's what makes it frustrating. There's something about him, you just can't pinpoint what. Yes, he's good looking, but you're not that shallow to the point where you'd have a deep crush over someone's appearance.
You sigh, pushing the thoughts away. Standing up from your spot, legs feeling a bit heavy now that weight is present. Your juice is empty again, you need another one.
You made your way to the vending machine, footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. You prepare your coins in your hand while the other stays empty.
Just when you arrive at the rectangular metal box, your mind flashes images of him.
Get away, damn it!
You try to avert your attention, an attempt to stray away from any thoughts of him. Seriously, your heart can't stop beating from all these imaginary scenarios!
Like, how he'd hold your hand while you two go shopping together, even have a date at a cafe while you both are at it. Buying you your favorites on the menu no matter the price. He's probably the type to give gifts! Something he knows you'll definitely like.
Yeah, those thoughts are eating at you. Not because you dread them, but because you want that to happen. So bad, actually.
You hear the sound of footsteps approaching you, breaking you from your inner mind for a moment. You look up to see who the culprit is, and what a pleasant surprise it's Shoko. You consider her to be your closest in this batch, despite her not being the social or expressive type.
“You've been standing there for a while now.” Her hand points to your hand. The subject is unmoving, positioned to put coins in the slot, but it stays hanging between your fingers instead.
“Ah.” You let out. Finally pushing the coin inside the machine. Your digits pressing on the buttons for your ideal drink.
You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush off your awkward stance. “Sorry, I was deep in thought.”
“Of what?” She tilts her head, arms crossing. For once in your time together she shows genuine curiosity for you.
You stay silent, contemplating whether to tell her or not. You move to the side, letting her take the next turn of getting a drink.
“Um…”
“Uh-huh?”
You think you should say it, you can trust her, after all. She won't snitch and plus, what's the worst thing she can do? Laugh at you? That's so immature!
“I was thinking about Gojo.” You blurt out in the midst of her entering her drink number. Her eyes widen just so slightly, though noticeable to your keen eyes. “In a ‘he did something wrong’ way, or a different way?”
“A crush way.”
“Ew,” her face contorts as she cringes, “Seriously?”
The sound of a metal can dropping announces itself, along with a look of disgust. She takes her drink from the machine, opening it as soon as she gets the fizzy substance. “I had my suspicions, but the confirmation of it makes me want to puke. Blegh.” Her eyes roll, not taking this seriously.
This reaction is worse than you thought. Now you feel ashamed for even having these feelings over a man like him.
“Sorry?” Your face scrunches, your brows furrowed. “I can't control what I feel?”
“You should learn how to. Starting from now. Get over him, there are better people out there.”
You scoff, but nevertheless she's right. There's a huge problem though; you can't do it.
Falling out of love is harder than falling in love. At first you thought it was a simple infatuation, but turns out to be bigger than that. Gojo hasn't done anything to make you feel outright hatred for him. No matter what you do it can't simply go away like wiping a smudged window in your bedroom. Having a damp cloth polish the transparent display can't be something comparable and easy as love.
“I've tried, but…” Your lips purse for a split second, as if that would help you explain. “...I don't know how to. It keeps coming back no matter what.”
Your revelation receives a puzzled look from the girl in front of you. You can tell that she finds it unbelievable, the concept of it being completely foreign to her.
“Okay?” She just stares at you, making you almost believe you said something ridiculous. Then she continues as if her words were the most obvious things ever. “Then just keep trying till it happens.”
You would let out a loud groan, but you aren't rude, “Have you ever had a crush before?”
“No.”
“Makes sense.”
You wonder if there were really higher beings who controlled your every move. If so, then you'd beg them to reset your entirety in order to not harbor anything for one of the strongest men alive. Erase the existence of it, so you can go on with your life without anything bothering you.
Those beings probably don't exist, but if they do then they just don't care and are simply using your misery as the source of their entertainment. Watching and laughing while you chug on the juice box you took out from the machine a while ago. Letting the flavor distract you even if it is momentarily.
Shoko takes a sip of her drink, the liquid staining her lips, prompting her to lick it up. An imaginary lightbulb suddenly comes up from her head, making her give you a not so reliable smirk.
“I have an idea. Why don't you confess and get rejected?”
You almost spit out what's in your mouth. “Are you crazy?!”
“What? I read that it works somewhere.” She shrugs at the thought, convincing herself that it's a good one.
This is the most humiliating idea you have ever heard. A bad one—no, nefarious even! Who on earth does that?! A crazy person, I tell you! No one in their right minds would confess just to get rejected, everyone does that to get accepted! At least, the expectation of it.
“I'm not doing it. If I were to, then consider me dead!” You stand firm with your declaration, the whole thing beyond what you consider reasonable.
Shoko raises a brow, finger tapping on the can she's holding. “Listen, think about it. If you get rejected then wouldn't that be a motivation for you to fall out of love? That should make your predicament easier.”
“I…” You're at a loss for words. That is reasonable. The idea is almost genius! Excellent even! Nevermind, your senses are coming back, realizing a drawback to this. “Wait, wouldn't it be awkward between us after that?”
“Only if you make it awkward.”
“Good point.”
—
Wow, you're really considering it now that it's night. Brainstorming ways to get the perfect moment between the two of you. A good weather and calming atmosphere would be nice, perhaps somewhere beneath the cherry blossoms? Something straight out of a cheesy highschool romcom would make it comical.
All this planning is keeping you awake. Your eyes won't stay shut and your body is strangely energetic. You don't recall having any naps in the afternoon nor drinking any caffeine.
You decided to go for a walk on campus. You stand up, finding your slippers under the bed. The night happens to be a freezing one, which made you decide to take a jacket out from your wardrobes. Picking the most comfortable one amongst the handful of options hanging.
It's a quiet night. The moon is full and bright with barely any clouds covering it. Radiating a serene ambience from the illumination. You continue your walk, the only sound available is the small shuffling from your feet.
You pause when you notice someone in the field. There's no mistake in knowing who it is, the bright white hair says it all. Despite the darkness he still has his round glasses on, you know it's for his technique, but you want to know what it's like being him with how he puts it on almost 24/7.
There it is again. Your heart is beating fast from just the scene of him under the moonlight. You touch your chest, taking deep breaths to calm you down. It's a slow process, still it's a working one.
Now that you think about it, a setting like this would be a perfect time to confess to someone. Especially since the moon is out and no one is awake to witness and tease you about it later.
Which is why you walk up to him at this very moment, with newly fledged confidence.
“Hey.” You greet, a bit too stiff to your liking. It's not often you two get alone time together, which is why it gets you clumsy. Almost slurring your words from just being near him. “Can’t sleep?”
“What does it look like?” Impolite as ever. He doesn't even look at you, eyes glued to the moon. You can't complain, it is beautiful.
You sit down next to him, keeping a safe distance so your mind doesn't go haywire on you. You're surprised you can even keep this up and not stutter at all.
“I was just asking, jeez.” You bite the inner corners of your mouth. The silence that comes after starts to become deafening with the way he doesn't answer. It's like you're not even there, just some dirt on the ground that lays around.
“Should I leave?” You ask, your voice higher than you wanted it to be. You're nervous, it really is apparent that he doesn't like you.
“You can stay.” He lowers his head, eyes flickering towards yours before looking away.
You're stunned. It's the first time he's ever said something like that. It doesn't help from the fact his voice was sultry, soothing, or whatever it is. It has an effect on you, for sure!
“O…okay then.”
Now the beating isn't stopping anytime soon. You're an idiot for subjecting yourself through this torture. You can't exactly leave, it wouldn't leave a good impression on you. You have an image to maintain as a kind and respectable classmate that anyone should admire and ought to be.
The quiet music of the night continues. You're just sitting there beside him, nothing on your mind. No words come out of you, it's almost like you forget how to speak. Small talk would be nice and appropriate. The silence was too much to bear.
“Are the glasses even necessary when it's dark or are your eyes that sensitive?”
“Doesn’t matter if it's dark or light. Someone like you couldn't even see with these glasses on if you were to wear it anyway.” His reply was quick, methodological with witty remarks. Waiting for you to take the first step in this conversation.
Your brows quirk up. His inability to not insult someone is an astounding one, you must say that. “How so?”
With one swift motion he takes his glasses off and hands it over to you. Hesitating, you take it from his hand, fingers brushing. Causing the tips to receive an electrical spark that was only exclusive to you from what you can see. You twitch, looking down at the sunglasses you're holding right now.
“Go on, wear it.”
You don't move, eyes just looking down at the shape of it. You're a bit shy to do so.
“Oh, come on.” He grabs it and does it himself. Slotting it on your face, the circular lenses taking over your view.
It's dark. In fact, you can't see at all. The whole sight of it is black and the only light you see wearing it is from your peripheral vision. Nothing, just nothing, but pure darkness. This really emphasizes the difference between the two of you, power and skills being miles apart. Something you find…extremely awesome.
“Woah…”
And with that, he takes the glasses off of you. His gaze averted from yours till he put it back on himself. It was easy to miss the slight color of his cheeks due to the dim light surrounding you both.
“See? Told ya.”
He lets out a yawn, stretching his long limbs. A blank unreadable expression comes back to his face once again. His usual demeanor makes its way to present itself, the one that gives the mix of indifference and disinterest.
You should leave. You really should, you have nothing to say and he isn't initiating anything. He doesn't bother to, actually. What's the point in letting you be seated next to him if he's just gonna stare at the sky and not utter a single syllable?
“Are you sure you don't want me to leave?”
“Like I said, you can stay.”
You try to remain unperturbed. Is this special treatment? No, you're overthinking it. Maybe? No, no, seriously you are. He acts this way to others too, especially his best friend, Geto, for example. They're close and you two aren't. The distinction between how he treats you and him though is that he's loud and obnoxious with the man, while with you…he's quiet and somewhat reserved. You're torn whether or not a proper relationship you have with him is existent outside the whole tutor sessions you have going on.
You want to understand him more. What goes into his mind and what makes him tick. Anything for him to look more human in your eyes instead of an exceptional superhuman who could kill you with one single touch. A death like that would be pathetic, but predictable.
You let out a puff of air, watching the crescent moon in the sky glow its nightly rays. A question pops up in your head, a very peculiar one at that, you almost considered to not utter it at all.
“Do you have any opinions about me?”
That caught the bespectacled man off guard. Making him turn his head back at you in a haste. “Should I?” He wonders if that should even matter. People can live and avoid having specific outlookings on others since it isn't relevant to their everyday activities. That's what you assume from him, at least.
You click your tongue, biting the urge to punch yourself for such a stupid question. “You don't have to answer that—”
“I think you're nice.”
This time, you're the one who's caught off guard. Took you at least five seconds to comprehend what he said before you covered your cheeks. “R-really now?” You curse internally, the stuttering finally makes its way to your throat. The possibility of it being a dead giveaway to your flustered state is high.
Who knew a simple compliment can cause a surge of emotions. You're absolutely smitten for a man who you only ever talk to for school work and whatnot. It's strange, no? Any normal person would be enamoured with their love if they've known each other on a deeper level. That's what you lack, the inner knowledge of each other's whole self.
Which is why your feelings don't have any proper explanation for how it suddenly blossomed in your life.
“Thank you.” Your voice involuntarily cracks, causing you to bite your tongue. Hard enough to feel the soft pain as punishment for such a minor mistake.
“What about you?”
“Hm?”
He straightens his back, blue eyes boring at you, peeking out of the sunglasses he wears, “What's your opinion about me?” He looks so calm and endearing. If you could, a pinch of his cheeks would satisfy your greed.
The first thing that pops up in your mind is this; should you confess?, would this be a good time to? A simple ‘I like you’ should be enough.
Easier said than done.
You open your mouth and it stays agape, nothing coming out from it. You look like an idiot who's trying to articulate their words to the best of their abilities. Numerous phrases and sentences jumble within your mind, knowing that all of it is true and reveals a part of yourself. But only one can taste the victory of escaping your tongue.
A debate is being conducted inside of your mind, all happening within just a few seconds. The tiny yous in your head arguing over whether you should beat around the bush or outright display the undeniable affection you carry.
Then, a winner was decided.
“I like y…your company.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid! So close, yet so far from the goal at hand!
That receives a hum from the young man. Turning away from you now, attention directed to the field in front of him. “What else?”
“You only said one thing about me. Why should I say more?”
“Because there's a lot to say about the greatest and most handsome man on the planet.” He says, in the most matter-of-fact way ever.
You almost scoff at the statement. Instead, you shake your head, laughing at his arrogance. This is what you fell in love with? A man so confident in his abilities that he doubts that no one can compete with him. That is considered an unattractive trait, yet you're drawn to that. The silliness of it, carried with the way he presents himself makes it all the more charming in your perspective.
“I won't say anything unless you say something about me again.” You playfully said. Shoulders relaxed, breathing finally steady again.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Easy, you have a nice personality.”
“That's basically the same thing as earlier!”
“What? No it isn't.”
You can hardly contain it, the sound of laughter escapes you once again. You're awfully flighty tonight. The sound of it gave Gojo a slight fright. The man was confused with the sudden burst of elation. “What's so funny?”
“Nothing, it's just…” You stare at his eyes, the radiant ones you will always admire, “For someone so smart you act stupid sometimes.”
Gojo acts offended, a hand plastered on his chest the moment he heard ‘stupid’. “Excuse me? Fine!” He's warming up and it's conspicuous because his personality is mostly reserved when around you. It's completely welcomed, you get to see the side of him that's usually displayed around others. Now he acts comfortable enough to do it with you, when alone at least.
“Your face,” He points with his index finger, “It's a nice one.”
“Is “nice” all you can say?”
Defeated, he sighs, “Beautiful then.”
With cheekiness you replied with a simple gratitude. The shyness and timidity are all gone just for this.
Until you actually process what he said.
That heat rushes up and you cover your face in a hurry. This is getting repetitive. You're lucky it's dim, if not he could see the shift of hues on your skin.
Ouch, does it tug on your heart strings. Over some basic compliment he probably said to others before. You already hammered into your mind that finding someone pretty doesn't equal attraction. You think Shoko and Geto are attractive, but in no shape or form are they the victim of your unwanted affection.
“Great.” You stand up, wiping any excess dirt from your behind. “I'll be off then.”
“Where are you going—”
You start to make a run for it. Wacky and weird, but you need to get away from him or else you'll actually explode.
You can hear his yells from a distance, distraught in his tone for your sudden attempt at fleeing away, “It’s supposed to be your turn!”
“Tomorrow!”
“Jerk!”
—
Now you've done it.
Leaving like that is the most childish and crude thing you've ever done. What are you, 12?! You're beating yourself over what happened last night, he called you a jerk. Oh, to the beings above, may someone tell you that he didn't mean it like that. You're endlessly overthinking about how disrespectful and pointless the whole night was with the lack of reasonability there is to your escape.
What's the price to pay for doing all that you might ask? Avoidance! Mostly you, not him, he doesn't look like he cares at all, but you? Having to be in the same room as the man gets your limbs uncoordinated and crooked, as if you were some robot in disguise.
If there's one thing to describe you is that you're pathetic when the time comes. Here you are, begging Shoko to sit next to him instead of your normal sitting arrangement where he's located to your right.
Hands clasped together, knees buckled against each other instead of the typical kneeling on the ground to salvage what remains of your dignity. “Oh, please, please, please, just do me this one favor! I'll buy you cigarettes and not complain over the smell for a week!”
She gives you a jaded look, one hand on her hips while she looks down on you like she's someone above status.
“I would if you got on your knees.”
“I'm not doing that.”
“Deal’s off.”
In one swift motion you get on your knees as told, bowing down to her as you continuously beg over and over for something so insignificant. Tears almost shed from your eyes by how dedicated you are to this role of a good for nothing bum.
Shoko lets out a laugh of contentment. Offering a hand to lift you up to your feet. “That's enough! What a splendid performance.” She raises her palms together to clap, regarding you for the show of desperation.
From your agreement, you get to sit one seat away from the almighty Gojo Satoru. Though, even he isn't oblivious to your unmistakable attempt at dodging his presence. For now, he just listens to the teacher, making quick remarks here and there as any student would in the middle of a lesson.
You just have to do this for a few more days until you're ready.
—
You're so dead.
You think he's forgotten about the whole ditching thing four nights ago. Oh, no, no, no! He didn't! In fact, he has you cornered on a wall, not letting you escape his tall and lean structure with his hand right besides your face, not allowing any sort of escape at all.
What a life, you think. Getting pinned against the wall by the most annoyingly handsome man you've ever met was a dream written on your non-existent bucket list.
In your thoughts it would be a sensual scenario where he'd lean over and capture your lips with his thumb. Swiping left and right to feel the texture with his calloused pads. Admiring the color with his bright blue eyes before he leans in and partakes in his desires—
That's enough. You're getting a bit too ahead of yourself.
“We didn't finish that conversation we had.” He pouts, how cute. Like a puppy begging its owner for a treat. “You just left me hanging, how dare you?”
Why is he like this? Someone help you! Save you from this evil offender who continues to unknowingly attack you with his indisputable charm beams!
“I…don't know…what you're talking about.” Arms crossed and steady, you turn your head to the side. Acting defiant to his claims. In actuality, you can't give him a single look or else all hell will break loose on your face. “Why are you so hung up on it?”
“I find it distasteful when something is left unfinished.” He pulls away for a second, adjusting his glasses, before going back to you. Closer than before. His voice goes lower than what you expected. “And you're avoiding me. I don't like that.”
You're confused, finally giving him another piece of attention. “We barely talk as it is, why does it matter now?”
He lets out a groan, frustration seeping in. “You didn't ask for any help as usual. It's bugging me the heck out.”
You're speechless. Is that really his perspective? Who knew the big and almighty Gojo Satoru would ponder over you dodging his presence. A sensitive side to him, a reminder of his human qualities and proof he isn't some all-knowing super monster.
“I understood the lesson better than usual.”
“Are you sure? I saw you complaining about it to Shoko.”
“You were looking at me?”
“I always look at you—”
He clicks his tongue, retracting his full body from you. Face red, evident in his pale, poreless skin. With a grimace on his face he grumbles to himself. Saying something incoherent, but you can make out the words ‘dammit’ and ‘fuck me’ from his mouth. What an odd guy.
He then proceeds to put on a show of immaturity and childishness. To your surprise, he inches closer to the wall next to him, back facing towards you.
Then… he slams his head onto the concrete.
For about…one…two…three…five times? More than that.
“What are you doing?!” You walk up to him, hand on his shoulders to stop the man from any further damage. There's a dent from where he keeps butting at—you're more concerned to the wall itself than the bruise that's forming on top of his forehead. You might get in trouble for that even if you have no play in this. You're just a witness!
Is your life a comedy? If not then, who on earth is stupid enough to do this till they bleed?! You don't know RCT and have nothing on you to give basic medical care to the smartest, yet most stupid man besides you.
“What’s up with you?! Are you crazy?!” You take out a handkerchief from your pocket, stopping the minor bleeding that's seeping out of his head. There it is again, that unreadable expression.
“I hate you…”
You pause, stumped. “What?”
He pushes you away, hands going up to cover his face. He lets out a loud groan as if he was exasperated.
“You…you witch.”
“W-what?” Your voice shakes. Nervous by his demeaning tone. It's the first you've heard of it from him. One that's directed at you too. You wanted to hear him out first, reasoning behind the sudden name and attitude that you're getting yourself into.
Until…
“I hate you so fucking much.”
Your heart drops. All colors in your face slips out. In just milliseconds you become a lifeless ghost. In no way in this goddamn world did you think he’d just blurt it out so casually. The underlying hatred he has for you, true feelings shown in just six little words that have so much impact.
All those times he shared food with you really was just forced obligation. The appropriate kindness you ought to show to your classmate was really all he was doing.
You clutch up your chest, biting the insides of your mouth. Hoping to let out a response that doesn't result in lashing someone out.
“Okay…” Is all you can muster up. Weak and simple.
Just when you were about to make your leave, he finally speaks. A whine coming out from his lips, the most pitiful one ever.
“You make me insane…” Voice hoarse as he turns around, sliding onto the floor. Resting on his behind while he slouches on the ground. Hands on top of his head, sheltering himself from the unknown. He doesn't look up, too shy and embarrassed to even do so.
“You make my heart beat so fast, it's driving me nuts. Just say you hate me and so I can get rid of these feelings.”
Then, a sigh, as if it takes every ounce of his strength to admit everything.
“Reject me, please.”
…
………
…………..????????????????????
“What?”
The third time you have said that. A rollercoaster of emotions surges through you. A mixture of delight and confusion plastered in your mind. At first he hates you and now he's declaring that he has feelings for you and now he wants a rejection?! That's your plan, not his! This is…utterly ridiculous! You're in disbelief of it all because this scene is…seriously, what even is this?
All this time you've been hiding your feelings, planning the time you get the courage to ask him out in hopes he declines your motives. The tables have turned, what a sweet moment!
“You're not joking?” You had to ask, you need multiple affirmations before you get to move on from this.
He sinks deeper into his arms, begrudgingly replying, “No. I'm not. Why would I lie about this?”
You shrug, “I don't know, you're Gojo Satoru.”
He lifts himself up, dusting away any dirt that catches his clothes. “The Gojo Satoru doesn't lie!”
The corners of your lips turn up right, a sound of bliss escapes you. A loud one at that. Hands on your stomach as you process every single thing that has happened within these few minutes together.
Old couples would laugh and comment about how this is the peak of youth. The essence of time and love with how idiotic teenagers can be when faced with the person they admire the most. The days where fumbling your words and tripping over them is a common route.
You hear a groan from the man, a frustrated one at that, “Stop laughing!”
How could you not? This situation is just hilarious, plus, you don't know how you should respond to his unforeseen confession. Now you know what it's like having to make a big decision in your life. Reject him and nothing comes out of it or…try it. See where this goes. It turns out to be mutual, after all.
“I…feel the same, y'know. I just didn't think you liked me too.” You lift your hand up to the back of your head. Scratching it due to your indecisiveness. “I never thought you out of all people would like me.”
“What's there not to like?” Gojo steps closer to you, swiping some dust from your hair. As if preserving an ancient artifact that's meant to show its beauty to the world. “You're everything.”
He lets out a deep breath, the tips of his fingers twitching. Controlling himself for what he was about to do. He looks rigid, complimented with a look of sincerity on his face.
“One last question. Are you accepting me or do you want to stay as friends?”
You can't help, but tease. The sudden confidence in you just by knowing the truth is egging you to do so, “We were friends?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I thought you wanted a rejection?”
He scoffs, not wanting to play this little game any longer, “Not anymore now that I know you feel the same.”
You give him a smile, ready to say with the most eagerness you ever had in your life. The words dancing around your tongue and playing who knows what before you finally give him a proper answer, “I accept.”
“Great.”
Your eyes widen from the sudden action. In a quick haste, he catches you by surprise. The soft feel of fresh sweet lips crashing against your own. You gasp in shock, fingers grasping his sleeves as he deepens the kiss. You let out a moan, breathless by how passionate he is to swoon you from your feet.
This was your fantasy, one of them at least. You had a lot, but actually experiencing it is like lighting up fireworks for the first time. The thrill and excitement to do something that lasts merely seconds in your life. But with this, you can relive it as many times as you want for free if you just ask.
Then something tries to protrude in your mouth, wet and a bit slimy. You pull away, panting. Hot breath coming out of you from how warm your upper body has turned.
“Don't…don't do that.” You smack his face, trying to cool down the blush on your cheeks with the attack. “Ask next time. Was that your tongue?”
He nods, unashamed, “I thought it'd be more romantic.”
You shake your head, rolling your eyes because of such a daring approach. “I'm so not ready for that…”
Still, his display of affection gives you a smile on your face and a fluttering stomach. What a sweet gesture in order for you to not have any doubts in what he wants the most from you. You have a feeling this will happen often with him.
“Are we official now?” He bites his lips, anticipating your approval.
“Sure.” You giggled, “Whatever you want.”
—
Treating his small injury by Shoko was supposed to be a quick one…but this bastard can't shut his trap for one second with how giddy he is.
“One more thing about true love and I'm not giving you any ounce of healing.” Shoko says, irked out of her mind.
“You don't understand! I'm ecstatic!” He chases her around the classroom, trying to convince her to heal him.
Watching as the scene plays out, you stay in a corner with Geto. With him revealing all the little secrets Gojo had kept from you in these months of being classmates.
“Y'know, he had a hard time making the first move.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, I had to push him through it all or else that coward would never say anything.”
“I see.” You nod at the revelation, pleased to know you aren't the only one who's the scaredy cat here. “Were you the one who told him to get rejected by me?”
me when other people tag me in things: this person??? thought about me???? i'm so flattered??????? 🥺💕🥺💕🥺💕🥺💕
me when i consider tagging someone in a post: i am annoying!!!! i am overstepping every single boundary!!!! i am making an absolute fool out of myself!!!!!!
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