eden-4

i am cringe but i am free | anti AI

[nedetron]

Too Much (s.w. x reader)

sam winchester x afab!reader

CONTENT: PWP, smut, grinding on abs, embarassment kink if you squint your eyes with the lights off lol

WORD COUNT: 370

A/N: a really really short smut blurb that flew into my mind.. just wanted to get it out for fun :p happy birthday 2 me!

SMUT UNDER THE LINE - 18+

ミ★

"I-I can't-" your voice came out in short little breaths, your lungs barely keeping up with your rapid heartbeat.

"Yes, you can. Keep going, you're doing good." Sam's voice was hushed, husky, as he reassured you, his hands resting on your hips.

You swallowed before willing your hips to move again, your cunt dragging back and forth across his abs with the short snap of your hips. It was almost embarrassing how desperately you were chasing your climax on friction and pressure alone, even more so with how exhausted just moving your hips had made you.

Sam almost wanted to help you finish in a quicker way, like with his tongue, or his fingers, or, God, his dick, but he was enjoying this too much. The way his abs were completely slick with you, the way you breathed and whimpered so shakily in his ear, your head bent into his neck because it was too much effort to sit upright.

You pressed your heat firmer on his torso, his hands responding to the pressure by kneading deeper into your hips.

"Sam.. please..." you breathed into his neck, your hips slowing down again. You had to stop every now and again to catch your breath, which made it very hard to build up your climax.

"Please what?" His thumbs moved in small circles over your hips.

"I can't.. not- not on my own.." Your chest pressed against his, rising and falling dramatically, and your hips made a last pathetic roll before giving up. Sam chuckled.

"If I'm going to help you, you'll have to let me see your pretty face while I do."

You lifted your head and he lifted his just so your lips would meet, kissing you deeply as he started to move your hips for you. His palms rested on your hip bone and his fingers dug into the top of your ass as he dragged you across him, breaking the kiss just so he could see how your eyebrows drew together and how your mouth hung open, all your sweet noises pouring out.

Knowing that he was doing this to you now was better than seeing you do it yourself.

Oh, he definitely enjoyed this too much.

[nedetron]

Massive Loser (s.h. x reader)

steve harrington x fem!reader

SUMMARY: your friends think you're a loser because you don't have a boyfriend. good thing Steve is such a great friend, because now you're going to the fair together as a couple.

CONTENT: fake dating trope, some cussing (i know, horrible), toxic friend, like jealous kind of toxic, no fake-dating-kissing BUT kissing at the end, mutual long-term crush, yearning, reader has a fear of heights, reader gets into a fight (it's a slap and then one punch), reader sneaks out and steals her dad's car

WORD COUNT: 5K

A/N: fake dating trope my favorite in the world.. <3 Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed! :(

ミ★

Steve had a bad feeling about this.

A weird, tiny mite in his stomach, eating away at him as he knocked on your door.

And he felt the mite bite at his insides when you opened it, a nervous smile greeting him. When you asked him to come over, your grainy voice over the phone held a similar nervousness, which was obviously never good.

You pulled him inside, then down the hall to your room.

"Hi, Steve, how have you been?" The way you asked was rushed, like you were saying "let's get the pleasantries out of the way, I have much more important things to talk about."

"Uh, fine-" Steve barely had a chance to answer before you decided it was time to get to the point.

"Okay, listen- and I feel horrible asking this, but uh," you ran a hand through your hair, resting it on the back of your neck, "I kind of really need you to pretend to be my boyfriend tonight." Steve raised his eyebrows in shock, then pinched them together in confusion. You continued before he could ask anything.

"Because I'm going out with my friends tonight because they were talking about a double date with their boyfriends and I felt left out so I for some reason said that I had a boyfriend and that probably came from the fact that I feel like a loser for not having a boyfriend but that's not important- the point is they're expecting me in two hours and you're my only guy-friend so please pretend to be my boyfriend just for tonight. Please."

Steve stared at you, eyes narrowed and lips parted, trying to make sense of your ramble. God, could you talk fast.

"A loser?" he repeated, squinting at you. The sigh that left you was more than exasperated, it was more like a groan.

"That's not the point!" You threw your hands up. "But yes, my friends think I'm a loser because I haven't had a boyfriend in years, and if they find out I lied about it then I'll be a huge, massive, major loser, Steve!"

Steve sighed, running a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath.

"Okay, fine. You owe me majorly."

You broke out in a relieved smile, your shoulders dropping their tension.

"Thank you." You gave him a quick hug, throwing your arms around his neck, and then pushed him aside to start digging through your closet.

---

You only realized what an utterly horrible idea this was once you saw your friends in the parking lot.

Asking Steve to do this seemed fine in the moment. You could keep your crush at bay for a few hours, you had done it countless times before.

But seeing your friends with their boyfriends, small kisses and arms linked, put things into perspective. You imagined acting like that with Steve. Your cheeks flushed. You realized there is no way that you'll be able think of anything other than your crush. And there is no way you're going to survive tonight.

You should've just cancelled and accepted that you're a boyfriendless loser.

Steve put the car in park, looking over to you.

"Ready?" he asked, in his stupidly sweet voice. He looked stupidly good, with his stupid hair and his stupidly tight polo shirt. You sighed.

"No."

You opened the door anyway, walking around to the front of the car. Steve took your hand. You felt warmth climb up your arm, settling on your cheeks. Maybe you would be able to disappear later in the crowd of the fair. Hopefully you could stay lost forever.

You walked up to your friends. One, Nicole, waved, a sweet smile on her face, but the other, Sarah, was too busy gawking at Steve. You shifted your feet nervously, then thought to introduce him.

"Uh, this is Nicole," you gestured to the shorter girl with glasses and blonde hair, "and Sarah." You moved your hand towards her, now noticing the almost-smirk on her face. You moved your hand to rest on Steve's shoulder. "And this is-"

"Steve Harrington," Sarah finished for you. You let out a nervous laugh, subconsciously squeezing his hand.

Steve nodded. "Nice to meet you guys." He squeezed back.

Nicole's boyfriend, Josh, introduced himself first, then Sarah's, who was new to you as well. His name was Chris, and he looked like he was already in his third year of college.

The six of you made your way into the fair, chatting about what to do first.

---

"Do you guys want to go on any rides tonight?" Nicole asked, already pulling her boyfriend to get a ride wristband.

"We can go on the ferris wheel, but I am not going on that spinning death trap." Sarah followed, her boyfriend next to her with his hand in her back pocket.

You and Steve were behind the group, still holding hands. You had gotten sort of used to it, and your heart started to slow and your face cooled down. But then you thought about how it felt too normal, and how you wished that this was normal, and that you could do it every day. And you were sent right back to square one.

You glanced up at Steve. He seemed perfectly fine. Of course he did.

But, you noticed, his eyes were flicking around. Like he couldn't decide on what to look at, or he felt uncomfortable looking at one thing for too long. You figured he was just nervous about meeting your friends, especially because Sarah knew him immediately. And knowing him meant knowing his reputation from high school. Which was never good.

You squeezed his hand again. He blinked and his eyes darted to you. He was definitely nervous. You offered him a soft smile. He smiled back, softer, before he seemed to snap out of something and his eyes darted back away. Weird.

The two of you walked up to the wristband vendor. You started to pull some cash out of your handbag, but before you could count it, Steve had already paid for two. He stepped to the side to let the people behind you pay for theirs, you followed to the side of the booth and held out the cash to him. He glanced up at you while he was trying to peel the paper off of the sticky part of the wristband, then shook his head and glanced back down.

"Put that back in your purse."

"Steve, it was like fifteen dollars."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you pay for your own stuff?" He said it so casually, your stomach did a flip. You cleared your throat.

"My friends aren't looking."

He scoffed, reaching for your wrist that was still extended towards him. He slipped the wristband around you, securing it. Then, he took the money out of your hand, and you were relieved for a second, only a second, before he grabbed the handbag hanging off your shoulder and stuffed the money back inside it.

"Not the point." He gave you a smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you back to your friends before you could protest any more.

---

"Ohmygoshhh Chriiiissss!!!!" Sarah squealed, dragging her boyfriend to the ring-toss game. She excitedly pointed up to a huge Woody the Woodpecker plush hanging limp from the very top of the booth. "You have to win this for me!" Chris chuckled, sauntering up to the carny and handing him a dollar. He looked back to Sarah cockily before he was handed his rings, and then proceeded to miss every toss. He grumbled about the game being rigged and stomped back to Sarah, who also pouted.

"I'll just buy you one from Toys 'R' Us," you heard Chris mumble. Sarah sighed, very audibly, before locking her eyes onto you and Steve.

She watched the two of you while Nicole's boyfriend had a go, successfully winning her a small cat plush with button eyes. Nicole rewarded him with a big kiss on the cheek, and you would've thought it was cute if you could focus on anything other than Sarah staring at you.

"Well! I think Steve should try now!" Sarah suddenly spoke up, sharp enough to make everyone jump.

You and Steve glanced at each other, that was weird, and he stepped up to the carny to give him a dollar.

"I was going to..." he muttered under his breath, pulling a smile and a soft chuckle from you. You were too focused on Steve now to notice Sarah's eye twitch.

Steve was a little clumsy at first, but he managed to land the very last ring, and the carny presented you with a small sock monkey.

It was simple, something cheap that the carnival could buy and make a huge profit off of. But it was your favorite color, with white accents where the heel and toes of the sock would've been, with one button eye and one stitched, the same white yarn used to stitch its wide smile that almost matched yours. You moved your free hand to hold Steve's again, looking up at him with a fondness that couldn't be fake, and you could swear that you could see it in his eyes, too.

You didn't get too much time to ponder it before Sarah was dragging everyone to the next activity, though.

---

The rest of the night was full of stupid moments that were full of you wishing you and Steve were actually dating.

Everyone got photo booth strips, and you could only think of how Nicole and Sarah were probably able to be all cute and cheesy with their boyfriends, and how cute it would've been to be able to get one of you and Steve kissing each other's cheeks. How nice it would've been if you and Steve were actually dating.

But you weren't.

Your photo strip consisted of unserious faces, seated what felt like a foot away from each other. Because you were just friends, and this was fake.

The ferris wheel was similar, for the most part. When it started off, you imagined being able to get into a gondola with Steve alone, no triple-date, just the two of you. On a single, real date. But that's not what this was, nor would it ever be, because the six of you all crammed onto one gondola and you and Steve weren't dating.

Luckily, you couldn't think about it for as long as you did in the photo booth, because the moment you were raised more than twenty feet off the ground all your thoughts were replaced by-

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod we're so high off the ground-"

-and you could only focus on staring at the floor of the gondola like a hypnotized chicken while you gripped the edge of the bench.

Steve's hand sliding over yours momentarily brought you out of your trance, and your eyes shot up to his. He gave you a sympathetic look, subtly lacing his fingers in between yours and scooting a little closer to you.

He had known about your fear of heights since the night the two of you were hanging out on the roof of his house. You both had crawled through the window onto the slanted roof, and his suspicion of your fear had started with how hesitant you had been to climb any higher. It had grown with how hesitant you had been to stand up fully or let go of the edge of the window. When you finally reached the top of the roof, you just sat with your knees pulled to your chest, rigid. Once you started scolding him for being "reckless," ("Steve, get away from the edge!" even though he was about five feet away from the edge, or "Jesus, Steve, sit down or you'll slip!" because he got up to grab another drink from the six-pack he brought up, which you were also very concerned about because he wouldn't have both hands free to catch himself) his suspicions were confirmed, and he learned to keep you away from heights.

He knew the ferris wheel would be a bad idea for you, but he couldn't think of an excuse for the two of you to slip away from it without possibly embarrassing you. So he opted for comforting you as best as he could while you were on it.

You moved your hand so you could properly hold Steve's, lacing your fingers more securely between his and squeezing it while you concentrated back on the floor.

The ferris wheel stopped spinning again, and you knew you were at the top from your friends gasps of amazement. You squeezed Steve's hand tighter. You expected him to squeeze back, but instead he gently removed his hand from your grip, bringing it to rest hesitantly on your waist, scooting a little closer to whisper to you.

"You should look at the view, just for a second." His voice was too sweet, too caring and too considerate, there was no way you wouldn't do whatever he told you to. You looked at him once for reassurance. He nodded. You took a deep breath, looking over the side of the gondola.

It was breathtaking, partly because of how high up you were, instilling brief panic straight to your heart, but partly because of just how beautiful it was. There seemed to be a million lights, all different colors and all jumping in different patterns. Looking down at the crowds of people, some alone, some with a large group of friends, some with just one special someone, you could hear thousands of voices, each on a different subject, each experiencing their own version of tonight.

Steve returned his hand to yours, and you gave it a squeeze once more, looking back to him as soon as the height got to be too much. He was already looking at you, the lights reflected in his eyes, you reflected in his eyes, with that same look from the ring-toss booth. Your breath hitched, and it felt like exactly what you wished for when you got on the ferris wheel. It felt like just the two of you, no Nicole, or Sarah, or their boyfriends, no life-threatening drop outside the rickety cart, and no fake-boyfriend scheme. If only.

The ferris wheel motor kicked back on, jolting you out of your dream and back into reality, a hundred feet in the air and hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Your eyes darted back to the floor.

---

Chatter filled the local diner, not loud, just filling, and your table was no exception. Nicole led most of the conversation, bringing everybody into it. She was good at making people feel included.

Yet, it seemed that her amazing friendship powers could not pull Sarah out of her shitty mood.

She had been especially condescending after the ferris wheel, and her weird funk had not let up at all since then. She had always been a little mean, ever since you met her, but tonight felt different. Something must be seriously bothering her, but you didn't want to put her on the spot in front of everyone, and you couldn't talk to her alone. You didn't want to leave Steve alone, even if he had been getting along fine with mostly everyone so far. They were still strangers, and you roped him into this, giving him barely two hours to prepare. You decided you could put up with Sarah's attitude for the rest of the night, and you would ask over the phone tomorrow, or something.

The conversation had died down a little, and Nicole's boyfriend was about to start another story before Sarah suddenly spoke up.

"So, Steve," she began, and already you were anxious. "How did you and Y/N meet?" Her voice was thick with some type of venom, too thick to cover up with the innocent tone she tried to slap over it.

"Uh, school, I guess, but-" Steve started, but was promptly cut off.

"Wow, so you've known each other for a while? How come you started dating?" You stomach turned. Sarah must've picked up on something. You could've sworn you and Steve were convincing enough. Maybe it was the lack of kissing?

"I mean, it's hard to just pinpoint one reason. It would be hard not to fall in love, she's amazing." Steve looked at you with a smile, and was about to continue before Sarah took the opportunity once again.

"Really? I mean, I don't want to be rude, I just feel like she's, I don't know, out of your league." You swallowed, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip. Her sickening, condescending smile was still stuck to her pinched face, and her very obviously fake innocent tone was still stuck to her snide comments.

You couldn't bear to look at Steve as an uncomfortable silence stretched across the table.

"...Sorry?" He sounded genuinely confused, almost baffled.

"I just mean that you're King Steve, and she's... well, she's not 'Queen Y/N,' you know?" Her voice was really starting to annoy you, it was stupidly high and just so annoying.

Steve was quiet for another few seconds.

"Well, Sarah, if anything, I'm out of her league. My reputation wasn't... great... in school, but Y/N helped me. Even still, I'm only a quarter the saint she is." For the first time, Sarah didn't cut Steve off. She took a minute to process his words and think of the absolute most snarkiest thing she could say back.

She snorted. "Well, I wouldn't say Y/N's a saint. A massive loser, maybe." Her shrill giggles snapped something in you, and your head came back up to look her dead in the eye.

"How long have you and Chris been dating again?" Your tone was firm enough to cut off her annoying laugh, and she looked at you almost offended, as if saying you wouldn't dare.

"Two weeks. How come?" She tilted her head, innocently, annoyingly, again trying to intimidate you in the pathetic way she intimidated everybody else.

"Wondering how long it'll be before you break up with him. A week? Oh, but, you took him to the fair, so maybe by Wednesday." You started out feigning the same innocence as her before dropping into sarcasm, frowning as you held eye contact.

You could see her act immediately drop. Her eye twitched and she clenched her jaw. She didn't say anything for a while, nobody did, and you took the chance to get her back again. It seemed that Steve gave you the confidence, just by being there.

"Sorry, did I ruin the surprise?" You pretended to pout.

At that, Sarah stood up, pushing back her chair with a screech that sounded all to much like her voice.

"What is wrong with you?!" she screamed, her hands balled into fists. Half of the other customers in the diner went silent.

You couldn't push back your anger anymore, and you stood up too, still looking her in the eyes.

"What's wrong with you?!"

She rounded the table in short, furious steps, and stopped just short of you, slapping you clean across the face. You heard the other chairs scraping across the floor, and could see Steve stumbling forward towards you, but you paid no attention. Your mind blurred and before you could think about it you landed a swift right hook straight into her cheekbone. You weren't strong by any means, but neither was she, and she stumbled back, catching herself on the table. Before she could get back up, Steve was pushing you away and an employee was already at the table, kicking everybody out.

---

The car ride back to your house was dead quiet, other than the hum of the engine, which somehow made the silence even worse. You couldn't tell what Steve was thinking. You had been watching him out of the corner of your eye for most of the drive so far, but he was stone-faced, and he hadn't said a word since "get in the car."

You looked back to the dark road in front of you. Your cheek still stung a little, but not as bad as the ache in your knuckles. There was a soft purple blooming through your middle knuckle already, and you were sure that in the morning it would be worse. Some adrenaline was still swimming through your veins, kept alive by the anxiety the silence was causing. You ran your hand over the forming bruise, pressing on it gently, and pain sprouted back up. You sucked in a breath through your teeth.

Steve eased to a stop in front of your house. You thought that was good. If he was mad, he probably would've slammed on the breaks.

You went to open the door when Steve stopped you, grabbing your shoulder. Your stomach sank. He cleared his throat.

"Can we talk?" His voice was low and careful, and you couldn't tell what it meant. You thought you would be good at reading him by now, but evidently, you were not.

You sank back into the passenger seat, letting out a slow exhale to hopefully prepare yourself for whatever he would say.

"Tonight was really fun. I'm sorry that Sarah is a... well, for lack of a better word, a bitch. Whatever she said tonight, or apparently before tonight, she said because she's jealous of you. Even I was able to pick up on that, it was so obvious. So just, um, don't listen to her, she's wrong."

You looked at him with an unreadable expression, blank and slightly wide-eyed. He swallowed and took his hand off your shoulder.

"..What?"

"You- you're not gonna mention the... fight..?"

He looked at you for a second, then shook his head.

"No, no, she deserved that. I just wanted you to know that I think you're great."

"Oh." Your heart started to finally slow. Thank God. Why was he so quiet the whole drive? Just over him wanting to reassure you?

"And, I meant everything I said at the diner," he continued, looking at you intently.

You stared back, trying to figure out if there was something you were missing. Why did he seem so nervous about this? You tilted your head slightly. You just couldn't make sense of it.

"Okay," you nodded slowly. "Thanks, Steve. You're great, too. Especially great, for pretending to be my boyfriend, and standing up for me, and everything. Paying for my tickets. You know. Thank you," you awkwardly spewed out, Steve's evident nervousness rubbing off on you.

You both stared at each other for a while, until Steve finally looked away, down to his lap.

"Yeah," he seemed a little disappointed, which he realized and fixed his tone as he looked back to you. "Yeah, no problem." He fixed a smile to his face.

You took this as the end of the conversation, awkwardly opening the door and getting out of the car.

"Okay. Thanks again, I owe you big time. Goodnight, Steve," you said, walking backwards to your front door.

Steve nodded. "Night."

He made sure you made it inside before pulling away.

---

You couldn't sleep.

You tried, so hard, but you had thought about how weird Steve was acting while you were getting ready for bed, and still couldn't place your finger on it. And now, you were laying on your back, staring up at your dark ceiling like the answer would be spelled out in the shallow dips of the plaster. It felt like it should be obvious, but it just wouldn't come to you.

Frustrated, you rolled over, looking at the sock monkey he won you. You pulled it off of your nightstand, holding it between your arms.

You started the night over again in your head. Maybe you could remember something he said or did that stuck out. Or maybe you should be looking for something that didn't stick out.

You sighed, hugging the sock monkey tighter.

The diner must be important. That was really where everything happened. You went over every line of conversation you could remember, which wasn't a lot. Then you got to Sarah making backhanded comments about you. What had Steve said? We met in school. That was normal, nothing interesting about that. Then Sarah asked why the two of you were dating. He had said something like It was hard not to, she's so amazing. Then he had gone on about how you had made him a better person, something about saints-

It would be hard not to fall in love, she's amazing.

You shot up, the sock monkey falling to the side of you.

That's what he was talking about. How he meant everything he had said. You knew you weren't remembering incorrectly, because you remember exactly how your stomach turned as you wished it was real. But it was real. He did mean it. And he told you he meant it and you sat there staring at him like an idiot!

You pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes, swearing a string of curses at yourself, before realizing you had to do something about this, and you flung your bedsheets off of you, speed-walking down the hall to the phone.

You squeezed the handle as you pressed the receiver to your ear, your eyes squeezed shut as you prayed to whatever higher-power out there that Steve would pick up.

The phone finally stopped ringing, but instead of Steve's voice greeting you, the dial tone mocked you with it's flat laugh. You hung the phone back up, threading your fingers into your hair and pulling at it. You couldn't wait to call him back in the morning. Calling him was a bad idea anyway, your parents would definitely wake up and hear you.

Your eyes flicked to the keys hanging by the front door. Immediately, you reached for them, before you took a second to consider.

You had your license, you could drive, legally. But, you hadn't driven much, because your dad wouldn't let you drive his car without him. But you couldn't just wait until tomorrow.

You looked back to your parents bedroom. What would they do if they found out you took your dads car in the middle of the night? Ground you, definitely. Maybe for up to a month. But...

You cringed as the engine sputtered on. There was no way that didn't wake your parents up, so you had to be quick in getting out of there. You reversed onto the street, almost hitting the trash cans on the curb, then sped off.

---

You pounded on the door of the Harrington's house. Luckily, Steve's parents didn't decide this would be the one night they would be home. You knocked and knocked until you heard Steve shout out "Jesus, I'm coming!"

A second later the door swung open, Steve standing behind it in his pajamas, sleepy and annoyed.

"Y/N?" His annoyance shifted to confusion. "How did you..." he looked around until he found your dad's car, parked crooked against the curb, and his eyebrows raised.

"Steve," his eyes fell back on you, ready for an explanation. It was then you realized you didn't once think of what you were going to say when you got to his house and woke him up at one in the morning. "Uh..."

"Are you okay?" His eyes flicked over you.

"Yes, yes I'm fine, I just- um, when you said, earlier in the car, when you dropped me off, and you said that you meant what you said in the diner."

His eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open to explain himself, but you continued before he could, before you could lose your nerve.

"And, at first, I didn't get what you meant- well, I understood on a basic level but I didn't get what you were really, specifically talking about until, like, thirty minutes ago, which is why- no, nevermind, the point is, I realized that you were talking about that one thing you said to Sarah."

You stopped for just a second, Steve's mouth had closed during your ramble, but it didn't open again. Which you took as you misinterpreting the entire thing, which meant that you just stole your dad's car at one in the morning to drive all the way to Steve's house to wake him up and look crazy for no reason. So your mouth opened again instead and you kept rambling.

"Unless you really didn't mean anything by it and I'm really just overthinking the whole thing because I punched somebody and I'm going crazy-"

"Y/N," Steve cut you off, and you held your breath. "You're not crazy."

"Oh." You pressed your lips together. "Good. So you..."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. Nodded once.

"Yeah."

There was silence for a second.

"Can you just say it? So I know we're really on the same page?"

Steve sighed.

"I... am in love with you."

You stayed silent, processing it, pinching yourself to make sure you weren't dreaming. You weren't.

Steve took your silence as rejection, and started trying to explain himself.

"I tried to stop it, I couldn't. I've got it bad. I'm sorry."

You shook your head frantically.

"No, don't apologize! Steve, I stole my dad's car just to hear you say that." You gestured to the poorly parked car behind you.

Everything very visibly clicked in Steve's mind at once, his mouth hanging open with a slow inhale. His eyes drifted across your face, trying to pick up on any hint of insincerity, but he couldn't find it. Then, he was very obviously staring at your lips, and his mouth closed so he could swallow.

"I love you too."

The sentence was barely out of your mouth when he kissed you, your lips meeting before he even remembered to move his hands, one sliding onto your jaw and the other settling for your hip. He didn't need to pull you closer, you did that yourself, pressing your hands onto his shoulders.

He pulled away for just a second, "Sorry- I couldn't-" planted another, messy kiss to your lips, "I've waited for too long." He didn't give you a chance to respond before he returned his desperate contact, not that you minded. There had been too much talking tonight, too much pretending, and you had also waited way too long for this.

When your legs started to get weak, and when the two of you had to breathe, you finally pulled away. The two of you stared at each other for a little, flushed and breathless.

"Do you want to spend the night?" Steve breathed, excited like this was the first love he'd ever experienced.

You laughed. "I can't. I have to take my dad's car back."

He glanced over to said car again, still holding you, before slowly shaking his head.

"...Yeah, I'm not letting you drive back by yourself."

[nedetron]

Stood Up (s.h. x reader)

steve harrington x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you get stood up and Steve is the only one that can pick you up, which sucks because you were trying to get over him.

CONTENT: getting stood up (duh), reader wears dress + heels, insecurity (of self worth), me trying to be clever with hidden metaphors, crying, unexplained coincidence -> one bed trope, sudden confession, kissing, maaybbe slightly ooc Steve? idk

WORD COUNT: 4k

A/N: yes i wrote this while i was procrastinating writing an essay for school. yes this is much more important than my education. i had a lot of fun writing this lol :p

ミ★

It was cold. Everything was cold. The night was cold and the wind made it colder so you were cold and the way that Matthew Brown just stood you up was the coldest thing of all.

You exhaled harshly again, your breath coming out foggy, as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Your feet stung because the shoes you wore were too tight and God, it was cold.

Matthew Brown was not coming. You realized that when he was an hour late. That was thirty minutes ago. And there was a phone booth across the street, so you could call someone to come pick you up, but you were still standing on the wrong side, against the wall of Enzo's.

You sighed again. Your breath felt warm against your face.

You pretended like you were deciding who you could call to pick you up. That's why you were still standing there. Your mom was an obvious no. It was 10 by now, so she was definitely asleep, and either way, you said you were going to a friend's house. If she found out you lied to go on a date, she'd be furious.

You couldn't call any your friends that could drive. They had dropped you off, because they were so excited that you finally got a date that they demanded to help you get ready and take you there. You would rather die than tell them it was all for nothing because you got stood up.

God, why didn't you just drive yourself?

And why would you plan the date across town from your house?

You tapped your uncomfortable shoe on the sidewalk. There was one other person you could think of. Someone who had a chance of coming, because you were close enough, and who wouldn't be as embarrassing to admit you got stood up to.

You let out one more foggy huff, then walked across the empty street to the phone booth. The dim light glared down on you as you dialed, the soft ringing of the phone disturbing the dead quiet around you. You shifted you weight from one foot to the other, either because you were trying to relieve your aching feet just a little, or because you were anxious.

It took eight rings for him to pick up, right when you were about to give up and hang up the phone before it did it for you.

"Steve...?"

"...Hello?" His voice was groggy and annoyed.

You were silent for a second, regretting calling. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Sorry," was all you could manage to say. You leaned your forehead against the glass wall of the phone booth.

You could hear him sigh softly.

"Who..?" He trailed off, like he had an idea of who it was, but needed to confirm.

"Y/N."

"Is everything okay?" The shift in his voice was astonishing, concern immediately replacing his annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah," you rushed to reassure him, starting to feel guilty. "I, um..." you sighed for the umpteenth time that night, "I need- no, um, can you come pick me up?"

"Why? Is everything okay?" he asked again. Clearly he was tired.

"Yes, I'm fine." You didn't explain. You couldn't, not over the phone.

"Where are you?"

"...Outside Enzo's." You cringed. Hopefully he was still too tired to piece your situation together. From the brief silence, you were sure he had anyway.

"I'll be there in fifteen." The phone clicked off. You sighed and hung it back up, still leaning against the cold glass, stinging your forehead.

-

You stayed inside the phone booth until he arrived, because it was at least slightly warm. Warmer than outside. When you heard tires grumble across the asphalt, the glass had fogged from your breath and you had to wipe it away to see Steve's wonderful maroon beamer slowing to a stop.

You hurried out of the phone booth and into his car, the sudden cold biting your face just briefly before you were enveloped by the heater. Steve was in a light gray t-shirt and long pajama pants with ducks on them. You smiled.

"Those are cute," you teased, looking back to the windshield.

He huffed. His hair was messy.

It was silent for a minute, and your embarrassment started to be forgotten. He wasn't going to ask about anything, thank God.

"So... who was supposed to take you to Enzo's?"

Nevermind, then.

You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you turned to look out the passenger window. You cleared your throat. He was picking you up at 10 at night, so you at least owed it to him to tell him what happened.

"Uhm, Matthew," you muttered.

"Brown?" He seemed shocked, and it just made you all the more embarrassed. You felt the need to defend yourself, but you weren't exactly sure what you were supposed to be defensive about, so you stayed quiet.

"Sorry, I just- why would you accept a date from that guy?"

You looked back to him. He glanced at you with his brows knit and his mouth slightly open.

"I-" You stopped. You couldn't tell him that you were so desperate for any guy to ask you out that you jumped at any opportunity you could get, regardless if it was Matthew Brown. "I don't know."

He glanced to you again, obviously not satisfied with that answer. You looked back out the window.

"Just, haven't you heard all those stories? He's a known douchebag, and you're way out of his league in general-"

"Okay! I messed up, I'm stupid, I get it. I've sat with that for about an hour now." You didn't mean to snap, but wow, Steve knew how to rub it in your face.

Suddenly, he pulled over onto the shoulder, the wheels rumbling under the dirt. You looked over to him again, confused, a little concerned.

"An hour?" he said the second he put his car in park. "You were out there for an hour?"

You took a deep breath. No point in lying now, just put all your embarrassment out there so he can't keep digging it out.

"Two hours. By the time you got there." He was about to respond, probably just with another "two hours?!" but you continued before he could.

"My friends dropped me off, because they were so excited I finally got a date, so I was too embarrassed to call them to pick me up, and my mom thinks I'm staying at one of those friend's houses, and so I had to call you, but if I knew you were going to rub my pathetic-ness in my face, I would've just walked home in these stupid, uncomfortable, ugly heels-" You stopped to rip off your shoes, struggling with the buckle of the strap. Steve was silent, watching you in your frustration.

Once you finally got the shoes off, you slumped back into your seat.

"Sorry."

You looked to him with a huff.

"It's fine."

All of your deserved anger at being stood up was coming to you all at once, and you leaned forward again, throwing your face into your hands. Then, you felt your nose tingle and you bit your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. Finally talking about it really made you realize just how stupid you were.

"...Do you want me to take you home?" Now he was all hesitant and sensitive.

And now you realized you never even had a plan for after the date in the first place. You were never going to go home, because you were "staying at a friend's house," but you had never discussed staying at anyone's house afterwards either. God, you were such an idiot, never thinking things through in any aspect.

You didn't think about what a bad idea it would be to go on a date with Matthew Brown. You didn't think about how those shoes were uncomfortable and how you regretted wearing them every single time. You didn't think about how your date was scheduled at 8:30, and it was September, so of course it would be cold, and so you wore the thinnest sweater you owned. You didn't think about where the hell you would go after the date. You didn't think of anything, and now you were crying in Steve's stupid beamer, because you didn't think about how you were most definitely going to cry at some point, and how the last person you would want to cry in front of would be Steve.

At the sound of your sob, his voice became panicky.

"Woah, hey, I don't have to take you home I was just asking-"

"I'm not crying-" you hiccuped, "because of that, Steve!" Your voice was choked and stuffy, and you brought your head up to wipe your face.

"I'm crying because I just got stood up and I'm an idiot!" you sobbed again, giving up on wiping away your tears because they wouldn't stop, and you put your head back into your already wet hands.

"You- Y/N, you're not an idiot-"

"I am. I didn't think tonight through at all just because I'm so stupidly desperate for a guy to like me," you groaned into your hands, aware too late of what you admitted to Steve, but you couldn't be bothered to try and take it back.

He was silent for a while. Enough time for you to stop crying and use your thin sweater to finally dry your face, and you sniffled, looking out of the passenger window once again, wishing he would just start the car and drive away and maybe leave you on the side of the road.

You heard Steve inhale, deep and quick, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

"I-" He was staring straight out of the windshield into the dark stretch of road and trees. He seemed stiff, sitting straight, eyes focused on nothing in particular. He sighed and slouched down again.

"I... can take you to my house."

You turned to him, concerned.

"I have a huge guest room," he clarified, although he didn't have to clarify at all.

You stared at him for a second longer, feeling like there was something else. But he didn't say anything else, so you just nodded slightly and turned back to face forward.

"Okay," you sniffled.

You leaned your head on the window. The glass was cold against the side of your head, a welcome contrast to the itchy warmth still on your face.

Steve put the car into drive, pulling back onto the road.

-

Steve sucked a breath in through his teeth.

The guest room was huge. The lack of furniture in it made it seem even bigger.

"My parents must've..." he began, but hesitated. "I don't know, actually." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Alright, then I'll take the couch downstairs. Do you need to borrow clothes?"

"What? No," you said, almost offended. Steve seemed taken aback.

"Uh, sorry? Are you sleeping in that dress..?"

"No- not that, I mean you're not sleeping on the couch," you shook your head, your shoes still dangling from your fingers.

He looked at you a second, before sighing and turning to go into his room across the hall. You followed him.

You noticed his bed was big. At least a queen, which you briefly felt like scoffing over, but you ignored the "I hate rich people" feeling and focused your attention back onto Steve. He tossed a t-shirt and pajama pants to you. Were those the only kind of sleep clothes he owned?

He promptly left the room, closing the door behind him. You opened it right back up, following after him as he started down the stairs.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?" He didn't even turn around, reaching the bottom of the stairs and pulling a spare blanket out of the closet at the landing.

"Stop, you're not sleeping on the couch." You reached him, staring up at him, firm.

He turned to you, blanket in hand.

"You just got stood up, I'm not making you sleep on the couch," he stated, also firm, and turned back to the couch. He draped the blanket over it as you stood there, trying to think of a rebuttal.

"Okay. Your bed is probably big enough." Your voice was meek, not even convincing yourself as you shrugged. He straightened up and turned to you again. He glanced away a couple times, you noticed, and when he finally responded he still couldn't look directly at you.

"...For what?"

You tilted your head, frowning, and crossed your arms.

"You know what, Steve."

"Ah.." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it was already.

"It doesn't have to be a thing. Your bed is huge. You picked me up at 10 at night, you shouldn't have to sleep on the couch.." you started trying to explain, to convince him, but trailed off. This was stupid. You stood there, chewing on the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to say something.

"Okay," he finally said, with a sigh. "Go change." He gestured up toward the staircase.

You gave him a half-smile before turning and going back upstairs, to the bathroom.

-

Once you actually laid down, you realized that having Steve sleep on the couch would've been so much easier than this. Even though you were on opposite sides of the bed, pretty much hanging off the edge, you just couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was there. And all it took was scooting over and removing the precautionary pillow you snuck between you two before you were cuddling. And the image of you cuddling...

Your eyes shot open again. The clock on his nightstand read 11:52 pm. You sighed and rolled onto your back, staring at the dark ceiling, your frown deepening.

You wondered if Steve was asleep already.

You rolled onto your side, facing him. You couldn't see much over the pillow, but you heard his soft breathing over the fan motor.

Why were you still thinking of him like that? Shame washed over you. Accepting the date from Matthew was partly because of your desperation for affection and validation, you hadn't lied about that, but the other part was because you liked Steve. And you had been trying to deny it for a while, but you had to start declining almost every invitation to something Steve would be at. And his frequent pool parties were completely off the table. You were sure that everyone had picked up on it, especially Robin, who would give you this look every time you said no to plans.

So, what do you do when you have a crush that can't resolve itself?

Obviously, you get with someone else.

But that didn't work. It only led to you being forced into Steve's house for the night, sleeping in his clothes, in his bed, next to him. Which, looking back on it, was completely avoidable. It felt almost like your crush was subconsciously steering you closer to him, betraying you.

You rolled onto your back again, pushing your hands over your face.

Something must be seriously wrong with you, you thought.

The bedsheets shuffled under Steve and you went rigid. You could hear him turn over, breathe, move the pillow away. You couldn't pull your hands away from your face.

"Y/N?" His voice was hushed, hesitant.

You took a second to respond. "...Yeah?"

He took longer. "You okay..?"

You nodded, brought your hands down. "Yeah."

Silence stretched longer and longer, until Steve whispered back again, keeping his voice low even though no one else was asleep. Hushed voices were just a principle of the dark.

"What's keeping you up?"

"Thinking about the date," you lied.

Steve hummed. Silence, again.

"Don't get too hung up on it. It's his loss."

He was looking at your profile intently, you could see it from the corner of your eye. You didn't dare look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling.

You couldn't help but push, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he hesitated, not thinking of what to say, but thinking if he wanted to say it. "You're great. Just, anyone would be lucky to go on a date with you, so it's really his loss for bailing. Especially since he never got to see you in that dress."

You swallowed, ignored the dress comment. You couldn't focus on it without your mind swimming.

"It doesn't feel like that," you whispered, quieter than the fan.

"What doesn't?"

"People being lucky to have me." You closed your eyes, wanting to take back whatever you had said tonight, whatever you were going to say, to take back calling him in the first place. You couldn't. Vulnerability was also a principle of the dark, hand in hand with hushed voices.

Steve didn't say anything. You could tell he was squinting, how he did whenever he was trying to figure something out. When he was trying to figure you out.

You felt obliged to continue, he was waiting for you to do so, "Just... no one's really liked me since middle school. So if I'm such a catch... I don't know. I just don't feel like I'm really that great." With your eyes closed and your voice so low, it felt like you were back at home for a second, talking with your cat. You thought about your cat. You really missed her now.

"That's not- Y/N, people have liked you since middle school, trust me," Steve mumbled. He seemed a little upset now, almost offended, if you really analyzed his tone.

"How would you know?" You opened your eyes again, almost pouting.

"Because I-" he sighed. "I just do."

You heard the sheets under him shuffle again. He was laying on his back now, mirroring you.

You stared at the ceiling a second longer, everything he had said tonight running back through your head, though you weren't sure if you remembered anything correctly. You started to backtrack through time, past tonight, back to when you started to force yourself to avoid him, to when you still went to his house to hang out, all the way back to when Robin introduced you to him at Scoops. And things just started to fall, dominoes connected number-to-number, then stood up and pushed over. And maybe you were crazy, maybe you had set up the dominoes yourself and pushed them over, and the falling meant nothing other than pleasing yourself. But you turned your head anyway, and Steve's face looked pained.

"Are you okay?" you asked, voice a little louder, but still not loud enough to break the dark.

He exhaled, blinked slowly.

"Yeah." His voice sounded more confident now, more assured. He turned his head too, and you could both see something else in the other's eyes, even through the dark.

"Steve," you whispered. You needed to tell him something, although you weren't sure what exactly it was, just that it was there and it needed to be said.

He looked at you, eyebrows raising just slightly, asking you to continue.

It was caught in your throat. It was so close, you just had to force it out. You had said so much tonight. When did it become too much?

"I like you."

Too much.

Steve's expression didn't change. Not that you could see. He just looked at you, and looked and looked, and your heart had to have stopped beating, you wished it would, because you had said to much. Three words, and you had pushed over the line. You couldn't move either, and you just looked at Steve, looked and looked, like an idiot.

The fan droned on and on, and you wished you could move so that you could get up and throw it out of the window, and then follow it down yourself.

Eventually, after minutes and minutes of just looking at each other, you looked down, to where the blanket rested on your chest, under your hands, like you were ashamed, being scolded without anything being said.

He suddenly sat up, not fully, just propping himself up on his elbow.

"Say that again." His voice wasn't hushed anymore.

You looked back up, a little surprised.

"I- I like you?" your voice raised slightly to try and match his, but was kept down with uncertainty.

He laughed once, sort of exasperated, and then flopped back down onto his back. His hands came up to cover his face, dragging down before running back up into his hair, where he held them until you spoke up again, now sitting.

"Steve, I- I'm confused..?"

He looked up at you, his mouth hanging open. Then he sprung up to meet you, suddenly close and full of energy.

"Y/N, you are the most amazing- I- I meant every word I've said, and just all night I've been wishing that I was taking you to Enzo's, because I would've driven you myself-" he was rambling, not making any sense, not helping you to understand.

"What?" you cut him off, you voice now at the same volume as his. He stopped, looking you straight in the eye, getting his thoughts together before speaking.

"I like you, too."

Then everything stopped, slowed, then sped up, and it all suddenly felt juvenile, confessing at a sleepover that neither of your parents knew about. And you laughed, once, then fell into a small fit of giggles as it all felt so ridiculous. It felt ridiculous that you felt so bad about getting stood up a few hours ago, when you didn't know it would all be fine because Steve did like you back, and he would say so, and he would watch as you fell back onto the bed, giggling from pure joy and maybe a little embarrassment, and he would start to laugh too, relieved, and lay next to you, no pillow between you.

And you would talk for another thirty minutes, him starting with "I thought Robin was crazy," and you sitting up again, continuing with "Wait, what did she tell you?" and him detailing how she sounded like a conspiracy theorist trying to convince him of your crush, and you getting embarrassed all over again.

And another twenty minutes would pass as the two of you talked about when your crushes formed, yours when he insisted he pay for your meal at the diner with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan just because you had forgotten your wallet at home, and refused any form of repayment you offered, and his when you sauntered into Family Video one random Thursday and leaned against the counter while talking to Robin while he was putting returned tapes back onto the shelves, and you just looked at him and smiled and he was gone, as Robin put it later when she saw how he looked at you as you left.

And both of you were sitting up, tired but not wanting the night to ever end, the night where you were alone together in Steve's room, nobody in the world knowing you were there except for Steve himself. And your conversation slowed to a stop, just so you two could bask in this night, until Steve breathed and leaned in just barely, looking at your lips rather obviously.

"Can I kiss you?" His eyes flicked back up to your eyes to ask, and lingered there as he waited for your response, which came as you tilting your head and leaning in. Your lips met, finally, after years, and it wasn't long before you both started to move, one of your hands to Steve's shoulder, and one of Steve's hands to your face, then your legs sliding closer to overlap his, and his other hand to your waist. You only parted when you absolutely had to, because you lost your breath much quicker than Steve, which was evident in the way he chased you as you pulled back. You had to push him back gently with a hand on his chest, and even then he just peppered more kisses across you face, making you giggle again.

"Is it weird that I'm kinda glad I got stood up tonight?"

"Oh thank God, I thought I was the only one."

[nedetron]

Bandaid (s.w. x reader)

sam winchester x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you cut your hand and Sam helps you.

CONTENT: (cringey) fluff, small cut/ mention of blood, Sam being caring, Dean teasing him for being caring, Sam kisses your hand

WORD COUNT: 526

A/N: i was craving a "you-get-hurt-and-he-cares-for-you" fic but without the angst.. so here we are... my first ever post I'm so nervous

ミ★

"Ah-" You hissed out a gasp as you felt a sharp sting run over your palm. You almost dropped the metal basket you were carrying, but managed to set it on a nearby table. You looked down at your palm. A thin red line of blood was starting to prick up in dots, and you sighed. There must've been a wire poking through the bottom.

"You okay?" You looked over to where Sam was organizing some of the many, many lore books on the shelf.

"Oh, yeah. Just a wire sticking out, or something." Sam furrowed his brows. He walked over, looking over your shoulder at your hand.

"Stay here." He gave you a quick pat on the shoulder, and you looked back at him leaving, but did as he said.

-

He came back a minute later with a bandaid, a wipe, and a small tube of ointment. You chuckled.

"Seriously?" Your palm was still upward. You had wiped some blood away with your finger, but it sprouted back up, so you were trying to keep it away from anything.

"Yes, seriously, you should take care of any cut. Especially if you were cut by metal." You shook your head with another soft laugh and held your uninjured hand out to Sam, waiting for the medical supplies.

Instead, he took the cut one, and started to gently wipe the blood off.

"I could put a bandaid on myself, you know." Despite your words, you didn't take your hand back. You liked looking at the soft, focused look on his face.

"Yeah." He didn't pull back either, only started to unwrap the bandaid.

As the paper crinkled, another pair of footsteps entered the library.

"Y/N, where's that box?"

You had completely forgotten that you were supposed to bring that metal basket to Dean.

"Oh, sorry. I was bringing it to you, but it... uh, cut me.." You noticed mid-sentence the questioning look Dean was giving you and Sam, and you suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

Dean walked over to assess it himself. He looked at the small cut on your palm, then at Sam struggling to separate the two tabs of paper over the bandaid. He rolled his eyes, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"What do you think, Sammy? Are they gonna make it?" he asked, teasing. He brought his hand up to his chest in mock-concern. Sam scoffed, but kept his focus on the bandaid.

"Shut up, Dean." He shrugged his brother's hand off of his shoulder, finally getting the bandaid open.

Dean turned to you. "I'll keep you in my prayers." You scoffed as he walked past, picking up the metal basket you were supposed to bring him, and chuckled to himself as he walked out of the library again.

Sam smoothed the bandaid over your palm.

"There." He straightened, but still didn't back up.

"Thanks. You wanna kiss it better, too?" You smiled at your own teasing.

He smiled back, taking your hand again and pressing his lips over the bandaid. The angle was a little awkward, but you didn't mind. The butterflies in your stomach sure didn't.

"Better?"

You nodded. "Yeah."