#A Strange Slice of the Big Apple

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eight

Steve slices the apple into four parts, and then retrieves the clock from the hallway; this one will be best, there’s no glass or anything, so he can just force the hands around with his fingers. Eddie sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching Steve and waiting patiently.

“Okay buddy, what time does it say?”

“Four,” Eddie says confidently. Nice and easy that one, because Steve has the little hand on the four and Eddie has grasped to look at the little hand first pretty fast.

“Okay so,” Steve puts down the clock, and holds the pieces of apple together to make it whole. “This is a full apple, yeah? One. It’s whole.”

“Whole apple.”

“Right, so now, how many?”

Steve pulls the pieces apart so he has two slices held together in each hand, “two.”

“That’s right, but It’s also half.”

“Half.”

“Yeah, whole apple. One apple. Two slices. Half an apple.”

“Half an apple.”

“Right, so,” Steve puts the apple slices down, letting them split, and moves the big hand down to six, “half four.”

Eddie moves the apple pieces around, frowning, “half four. Two,” he points.

“Yeah, with counting. On the clock. Time. This is half past four.”

Eddie frowns at the clock again. He shakes his head.

“Okay, so,” Steve spreads out the apple slices, “four. Four quarters,” then he moves the big hand around the clock face again, “quarter past four, half past four, quarter to five.”

Eddie frowns again, face scrunching a little bit, and Steve can sense the distress from Eddie, upset that he doesn’t understand.

“Half, two,” he volunteers.

Steve sighs, “yeah buddy, but-”

“No! Half two!” And then Eddie picks up two apple quarters and shoves them in his mouth, presumably to make the problem go away, crumbs of apple and juice dripping messily onto his chin as Eddie chews manically with his pointy teeth.

The kitchen dims a little, thick clouds scudding over the sun. Steve looks out of the window, it’s suddenly dark.

Red lightning flashes.

Eddie moves, leaning over the counter to slide a knife from the block, “half. Two.” He says, pressing the tip of the knife to his tail; black, thick blood wells up and starts to drip, and Steve stands frozen.

Eddie's eyes catch the light strangely, flashing silver, then they glow red as lightning crashes, “it’s for the best, Steve-”

Steve wakes with his heart pounding and a scream trapped in his throat; he feels like he can’t breathe, all of his body shaking and not obeying him, the sheets and blankets tangled around his legs. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he pants to himself, finally getting out of bed.

The light in the bathroom makes him feel better and he splashes his face and then drinks a little water right from the faucet. He sighs deep, just a dream.

Just a dream.

It takes ten minutes before Steve feels better but...even though it doesn’t make any sense at all, he needs to check. He just has to see Eddie, just for a second, to make sure he’s okay. Then he’ll come back to bed and everything will be fine.

Even though it’s completely fucking irrational, and Steve knows it is, he checks the knife block first; everything is set in it’s little slot, nothings missing...which, of course it isn’t. Of course it’s fine. He’s just being ridiculous.

The kitchen looks completely normal, even if it does feel a little sinister in the dark. Steve tells himself again that it’s just a dream.

The lounge is only illuminated by the moonlight from outside, but it’s enough to make out the curled up lump that is Eddie, sleeping on the couch.

Steve breathes a sigh of relief, even as he tells himself he’s being ridiculous.

“Stee?” It must have been enough to wake him, and Steve watches as Eddie’s head, somehow, pops out from amongst the tangled ball of tail and today's blue sweater. Steve’s let him have four and washes them on rotation. They don’t come completely clean – the grass stains are impossible, and the bottom edges are already ruinously frayed, but it’s fine, they’re only sweaters.

“Sorry, Buddy I...I had a nightmare.”

“Night...mare..?”

“Yeah a uhm,” Eddie shifts, and Steve sits next to him on the couch, “a bad dream, you know when you’re asleep?”

Eddie nods, “sleep, dark,” he points to the outside.

“Yeah, right so...do you ever see things, when you're asleep?” Eddie cocks his head, “like, uhm, TV. Like watching TV,” and Steve taps the side of his head.

Eddie takes Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand away, nodding furiously, “dark TV,” he uses Steve’s hand to tap the side of his own head, “many. Many all.”

“You dream? Every night?” Eddie nods. “What do you...what do you dream about?”

Eddie frowns, so Steve gets up, retrieving colored pencils and a larger notebook, he flicks on a lamp. Steve sits back next to Eddie, and using his woefully inadequate drawing skills, he makes out a couple of withered, spiky trees, shades the sky dark, draws swirls of black on the floor and a crackle of red lightning across the sky, “do you dream of this?”

Eddie’s mouth pops open, eyes wide with terror, he taps the paper urgently, “Stee? Stee in?? Many??”

“Yeah… Stee in, but not many.”

“Stee no! Stee not safe!” Eddie taps the paper, “Stee no! Bad bad!” Eddie's clearly horrified by the thought of Steve in The Upside Down.

“I won’t buddy okay, no more,” Steve taps the page, “finished.”

That seems to placate Eddie, he sits back, staring still at what Steve’s drawn, “dark TV,” he says quietly.

Steve gets his pencil and draws a stick figure with curly hair and a long pointed tail, he draws a little arrow and writes, ‘Eddie’, next to it, “Eddidie?”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him, “we call this place The Upside Down. That’s where you come from, The Upside Down.”

“The upside Down. Stee come from?”

“Hawkins Indiana.”

“Hawkins Indiana.”

“Yeah Buddy, that's where we are now. That’s what this place is called. Listen,” Steve draws another stick figure with a tail near to Eddie on the paper, “are there more like you there?” Steve taps his little drawing. Then he draws another stick figure mermaid, just for good measure.

“Yes.”

“Many?”

“Many many.”

“Do you...miss them?”

Eddie tilts his head.

“Okay Buddy, you and me, we’re friends,” Eddie nods, “and the kids. Birdie. Jon, Nancy. They’re our friends.” Steve taps the page again, “friend?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no,” he purses his lips, looks around, thinking, “Stee...pear, celery, grape?”

“Yeah, I know, food. That’s food.”

“Food...no many food in Upside Down.” Eddie taps the page, then hisses, clawing and biting the air a little.

“Fight. You had to fight them for food?”

“Fight. Yes,” Eddie takes the pencil and aggressively scribbles out the other two stick figure mermaids, Steve can’t help but chuckle.

“Well, you don’t have to fight anyone here buddy. No fight. All the pears are Eddie’s.”

Steve wakes up to something tickling his nose and something else digging viciously into his ribs. He feels a little attacked considering it’s first thing in the morning. He blinks awake, shifting, and his back screams at him.

Well fuck. The couch might look fancy, and it might be alright for sitting on, but it’s shit for sleeping on.

Especially when you’ve got a bony as fuck fish guy sleeping on you, “hi Eddie.”

“Hi Stee,” Eddie replies into the front of Steve’s shirt.

“Any more bad dreams?”

“No. No bad dreams. Stee good,” and Eddie pats Steve’s chest, “Stee dream?”

“No buddy, I’m all good too. But...if you do have bad dreams, you should come find me, okay? If you want to.”

“Stee find Eddidie?”

Which, yeah, Steve guesses, that is what happened last night, “yeah Buddy, like that.”

Eddie shifts again, and Steve realizes that it’s Eddie’s bony fucking elbows that might be trying to stab him in the guts, “we should get up,” and Eddie does, sitting up with no regard for the fact that means he’s sitting right on Steve’s lap – and his morning wood.

Eddie wriggles.

“Right, nope,” Steve sits, spreading his legs so that Eddie falls through and gets dumped onto the couch cushion, letting Steve slide away and stand up, “I’m going to go shower.”

“And Eddidie?”

“Yup, but you can go after me,” Steve is telling him, as Eddie follows him up the stairs.

That night, Steve isn’t even really asleep yet when he hears the quiet noise of Eddie making his way up the stairs. The soft susurration of Eddie moving across the carpet, and then the door being pushed the rest of the way open.

Steve lifts the covers, inviting Eddie in, “but take that off, it’s got dirty today,” Eddie does, pulling off the jersey and climbing in, lying face to face with Steve.

“Hi Stee,” Eddie whispers.

Steve smiles, “hi buddy,” he whisper back, “bad dream?”

Eddie nods.

“What about? Tell me?”

“Tell...dream?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie thinks, biting his lip a little, probably trying to work out how to explain it. Eventually he volunteers, “in Upside Down.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, because he figured as much.

Slowly, Eddie brings both hands up. He puts his palms on his cheeks, then covers his face with interlocked fingers. Steve has a mounting sense of horror; already certain he knows where this is going.

Slowly, Eddie lifts them, unlacing his fingers, like the spread of petals on his face.

“Demogorgon,” Steve whispers.

“Eddidie is food.”

Steve can’t really express the sheer amount of horror the thought fills him with, so he just pulls Eddie into a hug instead, “you’re safe now buddy. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Steve actually manages to fall asleep alright with Eddie’s tail wrapped around his legs, and if he dreams, he doesn’t remember it, coming awake to the now familiar sound of a chair being dragged across the kitchen floor.

Steve heads downstairs to see what Eddie’s up to; he’s at the bottom step when the smell of coffee hits him, and he vaguely wonders if Robin or someone is here.

No. Just Eddie. He’s seen Steve work the coffee machine enough times to work it out for himself, obviously, and there’s a full cup waiting ready on the counter. On the table there’s a plate with a piece of dry toast on it, but there’s a jar of jelly from the fridge. A half full bowl of cereal (no milk) and a single pear.

“Eddie...did you make me breakfast?”

Eddie grins at him, and Steve just about rescues the mug of coffee from him before Eddie tries to make it across the kitchen one handed.

“Buddy this is...so good. Thank you so much.”

Part Ten

[bluesidez]

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! 😁❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

[tenjikyu]

𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ bonten!executives x manjiro’s son!reader , male!reader , izana lives bc fuck it we ball & he adds character to the fic , bonten all lives together in a massive penthouse just like my rockstar!reader fic bc that’s such a fun idea , reader is a very “ ion gaf ” character , reader is not biologically related to manjiro , reader has suffered through childhood abuse , more fluff then angst , going to make a part 2 .

❤︎ the day manjiro sano found you, helpless and starved, he practically convinced himself to ignore you.

❤︎ alas, his big brother didn’t share the same sentiment, quickly walking over to you and overwhelming you with questions.

❤︎ izana talked your ear off, and all the executives present could see that you were pissed by his presence.

❤︎ deciding it would be better to just leave you be to die of starvation, he takes izana’s hand in his own before dragging him away.

❤︎ you barley crossed his mind after that.

❤︎ until he found you in an alleyway, drenched in blood that was certainly not your own.

❤︎ you were wielding a simple thin kitchen knife, and you were clearly distressed.

❤︎ looking over your shoulder, you notice the man’s presence behind you, and get in an offensive position, ready to attack need be.

“what happened?” the boy with frosted skin asked you, staring lifelessly at the rather large man that had a slice to his throat.

“he followed me back to the alleyway after i borrowed some apples from the store next to his. when i told him to leave, he didn’t.” you explain, glaring at the corpse next to you.

“and so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

you seemed almost indifferent to the stench of blood, your eyes spoke a million words to manjiro. it was as though this was an all to familiar scenario for you.

“come boy, i’ll get you a change of clothes.” the man before you almost orders you. scoffing, you race to him and grip the knife to his throat.

“like hell i’m going anywhere with you.” you spit at the man, completely oblivious to just how dangerous he was, not that you would’ve cared regardless.

it’s a kill or be killed world, and you weren’t going to become apart of the former. not again.

manjiro only sighed, waving your hand away from him.

“come, or do you want the cops to find you? you aren’t getting anywhere dressed like that. if you’re with me, the police force won’t be able touch you.”

at the end of the day, you had just killed a man once more, and you knew deep down that the strange man in front of you was right.

there was no way you’re getting out of this alone.

❤︎ and so, you allowed the lean man to hold your even thinner wrist as he walks through the streets. it was about 10:00pm by now, and manjiro knew that his brother is probably blowing up his phone as you two walk.

❤︎ regardless, he takes you into a shady thrift shop and gets you dressed. nothing fancy, just a black hoodie with some worn jeans and a pair of 2nd hand converse shoes. not the best, but much better then the rags you were wearing beforehand anyways.

❤︎ as he made his way back to the penthouse, which could easily home more then 15 people, he finally answers his silenced phone.

❤︎ izana is giving him the usual earful about how he “shouldn’t leave without his big brother” and how “anyone could be tracking his movements.”

❤︎ manjiro only holds your little hand tighter as he steps into the place.

❤︎ immediately, 8 sets of eyes land on the two of you.

❤︎ the man with the curly white hair blankly stares into what feels like your soul. he slowly approaches you, before leaning down to his level.

❤︎ “you like taiyaki?”. his eyes crazed and still glaring into you.

❤︎ and thus, you were oddly enough, quickly welcomed into bonten.

❤︎ you were promptly fed and bathed, much to your discomfort, before being placed into one of the many spare bedrooms within their absolutely massive penthouse, right next to manjiro’s bedroom for simplicity’s sake.

❤︎ everything was a first for you, from the endless amount of food stocked in the home, to having adults around you that aren’t about to beat you senseless.

❤︎ after waking up from your first ever comfortable night asleep, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t speak a word to any of these people.

❤︎ having your trust in the ones supposed to protect you abused and shattered doesn’t get fixed overnight, but that didn’t seem to bother any of the men around you.

❤︎ it has been 2 days since your arrival, and apart from manjiro showing you around, they seemed to mostly ignore your presence.

❤︎ you did whatever you wanted. watched TV, ate anybody’s food without a care in the world, interrupted all of the men from getting their work done and stolen an excessive amount of personal items that belonged to the executives, much to their confusion.

❤︎ some of them used the spare bedrooms as 2nd offices (apart from the one at HQ), and you used that as a way to learn more about the guys who had ripped you from the streets.

❤︎ and from that, you learned then that you were currently residing in the most dangerous home in japan, with the deadliest men in the country’s stolen goods scattered in your bedroom.

❤︎ your heart sunk when you heard someone enter the office you were in, only to find the head on bonten staring at you as you scrolled through his laptop.

❤︎ you only blinked, before slowly backing away from him, attempting to make a run for it.

❤︎ “let’s chat, (Y/N).” he takes ahold of your little wrist once more.

❤︎ fuck.

❤︎ you spent a good 2 and 1/2 hours talking to manjiro. you told him about your home life. how your mother slept around with the door wide open, and how your fathers empty bottles typically collided with your forehead if you took a breath too loud. you told him about how you had finally had enough, and murdered them both with the same knife you held to his throat only a few days ago.

❤︎ you told him about how school was a drag, and the kids there would often laugh at the marks left by your father. ‘the boy with unfortunate parents’ was your title, and you found yourself breaking the noses of the children teasing you. and so, you just stopped going.

❤︎ you told him more about yourself. how you (from what you could remember), were nine and turning ten next year, and what your interests were, heavily limited due to lack of exposure.

❤︎ not once did manjiro interrupt you as you spoke. he sat there, legs crossed and staring at you with an indifferent look.

❤︎ after you were done, he gently pulled you by the waist into his lap and ruffled your messy hair.

❤︎ “from now on, you only listen to what i say. you don’t need to listen to anyone else in the house, okay? just do as i say, and you’re free to do as you wish.”

❤︎ that’s all he says as he strokes your hair, attempting to have you drift off in his protective hold.

❤︎ and it works.

A/N : part 2 is gonna have the reader interacting with the executives, as well as the father/son relationship form between him and manjiro.

uncle izana is gonna go so hard.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Roger pirates x Eri!reader

Also, can Eri!reader also meet past Whitebeardcrew when they have their big celebration?

Thanks

-Tiny footsteps filled the air as you exited the cabin you shared with Rayleigh, as he was given the title as your guardian, after Roger tried to give you beer when they first met you, after you, literally, dropped out of the sky from a sparkly portal.

-You peeked around the corner into the galley, still being cautious, as you didn’t want Overhaul to find you, as you liked where you are now. The men were all nice on the ship and treated you so nicely, giving you tasty food, pretty clothes, and not hurting you!

-You saw most of the crew eating, having breakfast, as you looked around for those you felt the safest with at the moment, Rayleigh, Roger, Shanks, and Buggy/

-A hand came flying over, something you realized was Buggy’s, taking one of your own and you smiled as he led you over to the table where everyone was- as the rest of the crew smiled, greeting you warmly, making you feel so safe and welcome.

-Roger beamed brightly, looking so elated as he pulled you into his arms, “And how’s my favorite Y/N this morning?” you blinked up, slightly confused, “You know more than one Y/N?” he instantly had a hand over his mouth as tears welled in his eyes, overwhelmed on how adorable you were, not getting his joke.

-Shanks beamed brightly, handing you an apple slice from his own plate, “Here Y/N!” your eyes turned into stars, seeing the apple as you stuffed it into your cheeks, a bright smile on your lips, “Yummy!”

-Rayleigh was quick to grab you from Roger as he fell back, clutching at his chest, overwhelmed by your cuteness, landing on your ground as you looked down at him in slight worry, but Rayleigh spoke as he smiled down, “He’s fine Y/N.”

-You nodded softly as he set you next to Buggy and you smiled shyly up at him, “Thank you Buggy.” His cheeks were a bit red but tried to play it off as his hand reattached.

-You knew of Buggy’s ability, after you had found out in a bad way, where his body was in a bunch of different pieces, when you burst into tears, rushing to him, telling him not to die.

-That’s the day that the crew found out about your ability, when your horn flared to life, trying to heal him. Once Rayleigh and Roger managed to get you calmed down, you explained what that power was, your quirk.

-You had to explain about the world you came from, that most everyone had quirks, strange abilities, but unlike this world where it came from eating a Devil Fruit, it was natural.

-Roger had been a little scary, as he had been furious when you told him about Overhaul, after they asked about your scars- about what he had been doing to you- you were just a young child.

-Now you were safe as they had adopted you into the crew- as some had discussed taking you to an island and leaving you with people, but they didn’t want to take a chance with your ability.

-Once Roger joined the world of the living again, he grinned over, “Are you excited for today Y/N?” you were eating another apple slice, your cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk, tilting your head in confusion, which had him KO-ed again.

-Rayleigh rolled his eyes as he turned to you, being a bit more immune to your dangerous abilities, “We’re meeting with some… ‘friends’ for a party.” You lit up a bit, “A party?”

-Shanks beamed, ruffling your hair lightly, “Yup- it’s another pirate crew, the Whitebeard Pirates- we’re going to an island! There’s gonna be lots of food and we’re going to have fun!”

-You felt a bit excited, but also a bit nervous, as you were only just starting to get used to your crew, who all doted on you, you felt a little scared meeting new people.

-Once at the island, your crew arrived first and Shanks took you to splash in the water, making you squeal with delight as you ran from and chased the waves, turning it into a game.

-When another ship arrived your eyes were like stars, rushing to Roger who kneeled, picking you up, “It’s a whale!” he boomed with laughter, finding your awe amusing.

-As the other crew got off, you started feeling a bit shy, wiggling and Roger put you down and you quickly stepped behind him, hiding under his jacket, peeking out.

-Roger nearly keeled over from the cuteness as you held his pant leg as you peeked out.

-Whitebeard noticed you first, seeing the little hand and he grinned broadly, “And who is this?” you peeked out a bit more, seeing the massive man grinning down at you and Roger beamed, putting a hand on your head as the other members of Whitebeard’s crew saw you, “This is our new friend, Y/N!”

-You gave a tiny wave and Whitebeard kneeled, smiling gently down at you, he knew a hurt child when he saw one, “It’s nice to meet you Y/N- my name is Edward Newgate, but everyone calls me Whitebeard, but you can call me grandpa!”

-His crew and Roger’s eyes all went wide as he said this as you stepped out, your eyes a bit wide, full of sparkles, “Really? I’ve never had a grandpa before!”

-You were quickly in Rayleigh’s arms, crying loudly as both Whitebeard and Roger collapsed, clutching at their chests as everyone else was laughing loudly, thinking it was amusing that you were so ‘deadly’.

-You enjoyed the party, watching people dance, laugh, and you got to try different types of yummy food! Whitebeard couldn’t help but grin while you were on his knee, holding a meat stick that was way too big for you, but you were trying your best in eating it.

-You now had two crews that were going to protect you, even if they didn’t always see eye-to-eye, for you- they would set he world ablaze, just to keep you safe.

[tokkiwrites]

in which you finally come home from college. it's been almost 4 years, and you're shocked to see how hot your dad's best friend has gotten ㅡ but he can say the same for you.

tags: dbf!joel miller (yeppeee), dom!joel, sub!reader, afab reader, age gap (reader is 23 n joel is in his mid 40s), rough sex, unprotected p in v (wrap that up yall), pet names (lots of em), no use of y/n (ik shocking), spit, choking, trying to have sex in secret (idk what you call that), oh yeah readers dads name is William but every1 calls him Will ok?? pls let me know if i missed anything!!!

You step off the bus, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation as you gaze at the familiar sights of your small hometown. It's been four years since you last set foot in this place, and the memories flood back. You know you'll find your dad, Joel and Sarah waiting for you, but there's also that fluttering in your stomachㅡㅡ that secret crush on him that you've never quite been able to shake. As you walk down the street, you can't help but wonder how much things have changed.

Hopefully, not much.

As you approach your childhood home, you can't help but notice how the old oak tree in the front yard has grown taller, casting a welcoming shade on the well-worn swing that still hangs from its sturdy branches. Your heart flutters as you step onto the front porch, taking in the familiar scent of your dad's famous apple pie wafting through the screen door.

You open the door to find your dad, in the cozy kitchen, wearing his favorite flannel shirt as he carefully pulls a bubbling pie from the oven. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he rushes over to engulf you in a warm, tight hug. "You're finally home, sweetheart," he says, his voice filled with genuine joy.

Joel's daughter, Sarah, stands a few feet away, her eyes lighting up with a bright smile as she watches the reunion. "Welcome back!" she exclaims, stepping forward to give you a warm hug too.

And there he is, tall and way too massive. when did he get so big? ㅡㅡ you're not complaining, though. His hair has started to gray, and his beard is gruff... your eyes sparkle as you stare up at Joel, waiting for him to say something.

"welcome home, darlin'" he breaks the silence, your heart racing as Joel's deep, rich voice washes over you. he steps forward, embracing you warmly. his arms are strong, and you can't help but take a deep breath in as you inhale his musky scent that's almost intoxicating.

As he pulls back from the hug, you meet his warm, hazel eyes, the world almost stopping. You've always been drawn to him, all though you thought it was just a stupid kid crush but now, with the years of separation and growth behind you, that attraction only seemed to intensify as you get to look at him again.

you're brought out of your trance as your dad's voice echoes through the room "c'mon, kiddo. made your favorite: cinnamon apple pie!" You can't help but giggle as you see the sheer excitement in your dad.

"dad, you didn't need to."

"course i had to, you've been away for years, and i aint lettin you off that easy, girl."

You can't help but chuckle at your dad's enthusiasm, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "Well, in that case, I'm not going to argue with your logic," you reply with a playful wink. The scent of the freshly baked cinnamon apple pie fills the air, and it's a comforting reminder of the home you've missed so much during your time away.

"good thing you're home." Joel speaks up "now he can cook for you and not stuff me full of all his kitchen...experiments." his chuckle is low, making your heart thump. you nod, slicing up the pie and placing a piece each on four different plates, adorning every slice with some fresh cream.

"Oh, I think I've missed those kitchen experiments more than anything," you quip with a sly grin, sharing a secret look with your dad.

Sarah chimes in, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "We've been Will's taste testers for years, but now you're back to rescue us, right?"

You all sit around the kitchen table, enjoying the warm pie and the laughter that fills the room. It's moments like these that make you grateful for being back home, surrounded by the people you love, even if it does come with a side of unspoken desire for the one man who has always had a special place in your heart.

does that make it sound better than saying you want your dad's best friend to fuck you? maybe.

"god, can you believe it's been four years? feels like only yesterday i was givin' you piggyback rides." Joel smiles, eyes crinkled at the corners as he takes a sip of some bear. "hey, Sarah is still little, you can give her all the piggyback rides you wanna." you laugh.

"don't give him any ideas, girl." the teen furrows her brows as she takes a large bite from her pie. "actually, me 'n joel thought it would be a good idea if we had a movie night tomorrow, for old times sake. do you remember those? god, they were fun, huh?"

"dad! you're saying it as if I'm ancient... I ain't 40." Joel turns to you, raising his brows "careful, missy. don't discriminate against 40 year olds." your cheeks light up as your eyes meet his, unable to say anything. you just swallow what you've been chewing and nod away.

Joel's laughter fills the room, and he playfully nudges your shoulder. "Alright, enough teasin'. Let's focus on planning that movie night. Remember how we used to pick out our favorite films and stack up the snacks like a mountain?"

Sarah chimes in, excitement in her eyes. "Can we make cheesy popcorn with chocolate chips?" you scrunch up your nose,"gross, sarah! you still like those? thought it was just weird kid cravings, you know?"

"you didn't even try them, stop bein' a hater!" she groans, slumped in her seat. You chuckle at Sarah's determination. "Alright, alright, I'll give your cheesy popcorn with chocolate chips a shot. After all, it's all about making this movie night special."

Joel grins and pats your back. "That's the spirit, kiddo. We're up for some culinary adventures, ain't we?" your heart jumps, and you feel like a teenager againㅡㅡ god, some things never change.

As the night falls, Sarah heads to sleep in your room, and your dad leaves you and Joel to clean up what's left in the kitchen. It didn't take long, 10 minutes at most, so you decide to sit for a bit.

The living room is bathed in a gentle, dim glow from the soft, ambient lighting. You and Joel settle onto the couch, the familiar cushions cradling you both. As you chat and reminisce, the comfortable silence that has always defined your connection fills the room.

Joel reaches for the old photo album your dad always kept on the coffee table, and you watch as he flips through its pages. The photographs tell the story of both your family's journey together – from vacations at the beach to the holidays you celebrated. Memories cascade from each page, and Joel's gaze lingers on a particularly cherished photo.

He turns to you, a wistful smile on his face. "Remember this trip, that cabin by the lake? Sarah was so little then, and she caught her first fish. You were so little..."

"yeah, I remember..."

"you're all grown up now. I honestly thought you'd forget about your dad and I." Joel chuckles, wrapping his bicep around you, pulling you in closer. "Don't be ridiculous. never in a million years." you reply.

then there's silence. your gaze locks on his, and you can hear your heartbeat in your headㅡㅡ his eyes never leave yours. Joel's calloused palm reaches your face, tracing small circles onto your burning cheek.

"think your dad's gonna come out soon?" he asks, licking his bottom lip as he waits for your response. while he looks at you, words get stuck in your throat, and you can't get them outㅡㅡ so you just shake your head 'no'.

"thought you'd grow out of this shyness, darlin'. i guess it's that effect I've on ya, huh?" smirking, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, causing you to shiver lightly.

Joel's presence, so close, and his touch have you captivated. The room feels charged with tangible tension. His teasing remark makes you smile, though you're still struggling to find words, the unspoken feelings hanging in the air.

"c'mon, sweetheart, answer me."

"j-joelㅡ" what does he want you to say? is he testing you? does he feel it, too? better yet, does he hear how fast your heart is beating whenever he leans closer to you.

"ya still hear the water runnin?" you nod. "good." he licks his lips before grabbing the back of your head, pulling you inches away from his lips. "can I?"

you muster the fastest 'yes', and when realization hits, your face grows red as an apple, causing joel to laugh. "eager girl." and with that, he leans in, placing his lips atop yours. the kiss is deep, a bit sloppy, but it feels like it's been heavy waiting to happen for so long. his beard scratches at your skin, drawing soft hums from you as it does so.

a few moments pass, and joel pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips, one that he breaks when his rough thumb drags itself across your bottom lip. "pretty, pretty girl." you moan, you feel so pathetic. he's barely touched you, yet you feel the pool growing inside your panties by the second.

"p-please, joel.."

"please, what, darlin? gotta tell me exactly what ya want." he smiles, prepping soft pecks onto your face. "t-touch me..please." you gather the courage to speak up, watching his eyes grow darker as he hears your request.

"fuck, baby...what would your dad say if he heard you just then, huh?" chuckling low, his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, making you whimper. "don't c-care.."

"that so?" he tilts his head to the side, his thumb urging your mouth to open. "c'mon, girl, open." and you do as you're told, opening you mouth wide, tongue lolled out. he then gathers some spit in his mouth before letting the glistening droplet fall from his lips onto your tongue.

"swallow." he commands, and you obliged. "atta girl."

its so overwhelming, so dirty, and he didn't even do anything. at this moment, it feels as if only a slight nip at your skin could send you over the edge.

suddenly, you both hear steps upstairs, followed by a door closing. it's your dad. "you guys alright? think ive had too much to eatㅡ nothin' new there. imma head to bed, you guys cand manage yourselves, yeah?" and with that he closes the door to his room, leaving you and Joel staring at each other.

"tell me, you really wanna do this, darlin' ?"

"please, joel...need thisㅡㅡ need you."

Guilt clawed at your heart. Yet, you couldn't stop what you felt. it was wrong, but in this moment, it felt so right. "fuck, okay angel."

his large hands start to pull at your clothes, undressing you in an instant, leaving your naked body shivering. "i got you, babygirl." joel leans in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your hip all the way to your mid thigh. your body jolts as you try to remain quiet.

"gonna let me ruin you, sweet girl?" and it feels like your heart could run a marathon. you nod away, eagerly. you feel so pathetic, all sprawled out naked under him, whilst he's still dressed. "words, baby."

"fuckㅡ please, joel, please..." you almost cry.

he laughs, fingers reaching your folds and swirling around them "fuck, darlin', you're so wet. all this for me, hm?" he teases "yes, f-for you...please."

"shh.." hushing you, he finally pushes inside one of his fingers, making you bite back a moan. you cover your mouth with your hands, a warm sensation flooding your bodyㅡ it feels like you could come just now.

"so tight, baby. can't wait to feel you 'round my cock." you choke back a pathetic whine. "you like it? like it when i fuck you with my fingers and talk to you like this?" you nod, pushing yourself further onto his digits. "filthy girl, s'it turn you on knowing your dad could walk in in us, huh? want him to see ya full of my cock? c'mon, answer, girl."

"yesㅡ shit, yes, please, joel, please..."

"s'okay, baby, don't worry. 'll fuck you so good you'll forget your own name. make you take this cock until you can't walk no more."

your vision was hazy from all the tears in your eyes, and your heart felt stuck in your throat. you watch the man discard himself of his clothesㅡㅡ holy. fucking. shit. all of your fantasies of Joel couldn't prepare you for what was going to happen. he stood there, tall, gruff as he stroked himself. his length was girthy, almost too thick, veiny, with a red, angry tip. he knew he was huge, that's what made it so exciting to him watching you gawk at his cock.

"c'mon, doll. it won't bite...open wide now. widee ㅡ there you go..." he preaises, sliding his length between your lips. it was hard to adjust, and honestly, your jaw was hurting from the first minutes you had him in your mouth. but the way his lips dripped with quiet moans, 'goodgirls' and 'thats rights', it made you push back the pain. it was bearableㅡ you just wanted to make him proud.

"jesus christ, girl, you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock." the man laughs, pushing his length further down your warm throat that was constricting as you gagged around him. "shitㅡ gonna make me come, sweet girl." hissing, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.

"joel, need you inside...please.."

"you're so gorgeous like this, baby. my gorgeous girl, begging for cock." he sighs, caressing you cheek before his hand slides down to wrap around your neck, squeezing it and making you light-headed. "gonna let me fuck you stupid, darlin'? c'mon, answer."

"y-yes, Joel, want you t'fuck me s-stupid, please..."

joel scoffs, placing a little kiss on your forehead. with his other hand, he grabs his shaft and drags the tip along your folds, collecting all the juices that dripped from you. "fuckin' soaked for me, baby."

"jus' for you.."

"i know, baby. i know.."

without stalling, he pushes in just the tip making you yelp as the sting spread through your pussy. you stare him deep in the eyes as he pushes in further, hushing you along the way. it was so bigㅡ too big. but you loved it, you loved that it was all you dreamed about and more.

"s' everything good, darlin'? want me to stop?"

"please don't...move, please, i need youㅡ please.."

"gonna give me a stroke if you keep on beggin' like that, baby..." with that, he pushes in all the way, ripping through you, his precum mixing with your juices that were flowing over his cock. he thrusts in you cunningly, gripping your hips tightly and licking long strips down your neck. all you could do is sit there and take it. take it and make him proud.

"so pretty, baby. so, so pretty and tight, shitㅡ " joel moans, indulging further into you. your hips crash with his, and you try your best to say quiet as you feel his cock hit so deep, you're sure it reached your stomach. the room spun with you, you could only mutter little 'joels' as he pounded into you.

after a few more pumps that familiar feeling was pooling at your core, causing you to tighten around Joel's length, which made him grunt and pull your hips flush to his "that's it, girl. come around my cock, let me feel ya."

you let go. bliss and pleasure take over you as your body contorts under joel, your walls fluttering around his shaft perfectly. it doesn't take him long reach his high, pumping a few more times into you before he take his cock out and paint your stomach with white, silky strands.

you both sit there in silence for a bit before you finally decide to speak up. "movie night tomorrow will be...something."

"now you're talkin' , darlin'? c'mon, let's get ya cleaned up and pray no one heard us."

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎  토끼's NOTE : yall are eating good today. here with another fic this time our fave insane dilf JOEL !!! this has 2.78k words and probably lots of grammatical errors ITS NOT PROOFREAD OK?!?!?! hope you like it guys <3 tysm and ily!!!

[greetingfromthedead]

15. The Next Page

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 4k

Author's Note: Once again we have reached the end of another batch of chapters and it is time to take a break. I will keep repeating myself by saying just how grateful I am for the continued support on the series! Every comment and message really brightens my day and inspires me to keep writing about the dumb plant man. Apple Blossoms will return, but with my schedule being turned on its head and some writer's block haunting me, I cannot begin to guess when I will be ready to publish the next part. I still hope to see you then!

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Knives looks from the balcony as your figure disappears into the maze of streets below. He doesn't need to wonder where you are headed. Everything he knows about you points towards the little house with the sick girl. You said you would go back in the morning, but of course you wouldn't even be able to sleep if you didn't go there in the late evening too. Undoubtedly you took some more medicine with you, offering everything you can for the sake of those in need. He wonders why you didn't take him with you, but it is just a fleeting thought.

This is nobody's fault.

Your words still haunt him. Everything about your statement is untrue. No matter how Knives slices and dices it, he can point a finger. And mostly that finger points to himself. Everything miserable that has happened on this planet is because of him. Perhaps the awful things would have happened on another world; it would, after all, be in human nature to live in misery, but this here started with him. This is his doing, from scattering humanity on this planet to causing the death of the father of those children. What happened in October and everywhere else is a direct result of him reaching for his goals. And where did it get him? Weak and broken in the mercy of a human who causes him a constant headache.

Knives has tasted the bitterness of regret, but it does not burden him now. Despite everything, he does not curse his defeat or his choices. It is a strange calm to live without both regrets and ambitions. It is not peace, not even acceptance, just the lack of wind after a stormy day. But there is something. A restlessness deep within him. Perhaps a flutter of a butterfly's wing that could breathe life into the embers that have nearly gone out? Does it have something to do with you?

He looks down at the book in his hand, thinking for a moment before sitting down in one of the chairs on the balcony. His fingers trace over the spine of the book, feeling the rough texture of the cloth cover. He examines the fraying edges and bent corners. As he opens the book he observes how some of the glue has come undone with time, but considering everything this binding has seen, it is still in good shape. He marvels at the resilience of this well-loved book.

The quiet rustle of paper disappears into the noise of the late evening. Knives flips through the pages. One by one, he reads the poems stretching over the papers. Some are familiar, some are not. Every single one is a different poem from a distant time and place. Some speak of war and pain, others of love and hope. The different authors write in different voices; their choice of words and rhymes is unique to themselves. Knives consumes the ink on the yellowed paper with his gaze, line after line, page after page. But it is just that—ink on paper. Words written by people who are long dead, people who could never imagine the life he knows. It is a book filled with stories, lies. Describing mythical feelings too big for any one person to experience. Lavish descriptions scrawled across paper to evoke emotion. They are empty; they can't be true in his reality.

Hours pass as Knives continues to pore over the poems. What does anyone see in this? How come it has been appreciated by so many? What made you keep it for so long? Why did you give this to him? The words still feel hollow to him. Why would anyone bother building such a scaffolding of phrases when there is no point to it? There is no flame inside to shine a light on the intricacies. If it had been any other book, he would have set it aside a while ago. But you gave it to him. He can't be outdone by you again. You can't make a fool out of him.

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing." Your voice cuts in half the line Knives reads on the paper. He didn't hear you return, but that's not what makes his eyes go wide. He freezes, paralyzed by the words you spoke. How could you say that? You call him a sinner? You judge him for what he had to do? But it's not hatred that boils within him; it is something completely different, similar to the feeling when he hurt you with his words. A million thoughts race through Knives's head, a whirlwind of nasty feelings that bring the taste of bile into his throat. A physical reaction that raises the hairs on his body.

"Am I wrong?" you ask as he remains in silence. Your tone doesn't fit the words, "I could have sworn that's the one on the page."

Knives doesn't understand, still frozen in the chair even as you sit on the seat next to him.

"No, I was right!" You sound cheerful, your hand reaching over to touch the upper margin of the book. There is something scribbled in pencil on the edge of the page, barely visible. "Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing. Fyodor Dostoevsky. I remember because of the little doodle on the other page."

Knives watches your fingers trace the words as you read them aloud and the way you point at the little drawing on the other side. His heart remains racing in his chest. You didn't say those words to him, not about him either. You just echoed the words of someone else without thinking.

"Did I startle you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," you smile and lean forward to be able to peek at his face. "I thought you heard me approaching. I should have made more noise."

He slowly turns his head to look back, still unable to completely shake off the feeling that appeared in his gut so suddenly. No matter how hard he tries to school his features to be as uninterested as always, his eyes remain wide, his eyebrows twitching into a frown.

"My! You look like you've seen a ghost!" You chuckle lightly, your eyes shining in the dim light.

When was the last time anyone looked at him like this? When was the last time anyone laughed at him? He can't remember. It's been so long. Maybe the last time was on the ship? Before everything unfolded. Was it Vash who made fun of him? He can't remember. Any human he has had by his side has been afraid of him; even if it shows as respect or obedience, it has always been fear. Nobody would ever dare to look at him like this, to chuckle at his expression, or tease him. Even Vash's gaze had looked at him in anger and disgust, sometimes even pity, which Knives loathed the most. But what is this look in your eyes? You haven't showed fear towards him, not once. He has seen you angry with him. He has seen your sorrow. But you haven't looked at him with this inviting gentleness.

His frown softens, unraveling the tension in his expression. He looks at you, studying the lines of your face. He feels like he is drowning in your eyes, and the smile on your lips that grows more worrisome with every second that Knives doesn't reply. You tilt your head, trying to decipher the strange expression on his face.

"Smile for me, please," you say, still lighthearted despite the puzzled expression on your face.

Knives is taken aback by that request.

"Smile for you?" he speaks softly.

"Good, no slurring of speech. Would you try touching your nose with either pointer finger?" You continue, only confusing Knives more.

He keeps staring at you, not saying anything and not following any instructions either.

"I'm just trying to rule out a stroke," you explain, partially joking, partially not.

"I'm fine," Knives finally responds, ripping his eyes from you and looking to the side.

The book hangs from his hand, his fingers spreading the pages where he left off. He looks away, not only hiding his eyes but his whole face. You lean towards him, giving a strong nudge with your shoulder, enough to shake his whole body.

"Don't pout!" your cheerful voice rings out. "I'm just joking! Mostly."

"How come?" Knives asks but still looks away.

"I'm in a good mood! I went to see the little girl." Your voice comes down a little, the sound more tender than excited. "She woke up. She will be alright."

Knives doesn't respond, just continues staring at the dark desert. You look off too, glancing over the town's lights that don't shine as abundantly as the night before. Wind ruffles through your hair, tousling it gently. Everything feels vivid and exciting. You don't let Knives's pouting get you down.

"They were so grateful that they had flowing water again. It made a massive difference." You don't look at him while you speak, still gazing off into the distance. "You helped them. And you made it look so easy."

"I didn't do it for them."

"Well, whatever the reason, you did good, and they are still grateful for that." You speak as you look over to him again, still feeling giddy in your heart.

"Ow!" Knives exclaims and turns towards you to look down only to see you release the pinch on his arm. His reaction was so quick and genuine that you are sure he had no intention to display it to you.

He pulls his arm away, looking at you with a strange expression. His skin looks darker than usual, but it is hard to tell in the dimness that conceals his features. He looks so different in that moment, as if you had stepped through the layers and layers of veils to see the real person underneath. How strange. How different. How enticing.

What a headache you are. Knives can't even form a straight thought. His head spins from everything you say and everything you do. And those eyes that nail him to the spot. What is this? His chest feels heavy, his skin tender where you touched him. Perhaps you were right. Maybe this is a stroke. He is still sick; that has to be it. There is no other explanation. But would the world revolve around his head just as quickly if you looked at him with fear?

I like the way you look at me. The thought crosses Knives's mind, and he does his best to stuff it away into a far corner. What does it matter that your gaze is filled with bravery when you look at him? Why would he care for the mischief and mystery that lurk behind your eyes in this moment? You should be afraid of him. Keep looking at me with those brave eyes.

"What's wrong?" You wonder aloud as he stares at you again. He looks like he is in a haze, but you are still too drunk on relief and happiness, speaking more brazenly than you perhaps usually would. "Has the cat got your tongue?" you tease jokingly.

He still looks so awkward. Wide-eyed and silent. He acts more strangely than usual, making you wonder if it is your overflowing joy that is making him uncomfortable. That does put a bit of a damper on your mood. You glance over him, your eyes trailing down until you see the familiar book in his hand again.

"So, what do you think about it?" you ask, trying to get him to speak again.

Knives is glad for this change. He no longer drowns in your expression; he doesn't get lost in the lines of your face. And it is a question he can answer. He understands its purpose and doesn't have to wonder what you could possibly mean with your outrageous suggestions, like telling you what's wrong.

"It is filled with Earth poems," Knives answers simply. For him it says it all, but to you it should sound like a neutral declaration, vague enough to not sound rude.

"Well, I know that." You smile to yourself. "But isn't it interesting that despite the hundreds of years separating us from them, we still find ourselves drawn to the same words and emotions? Like nothing has changed. Yet the only thing that we seem to have in common with those poets is humanity itself. We don't even live on the same planet as them."

"You think so?" His voice is nearly as uninterested as always, distant and level, but there is a hint of surprise as his tone goes up by the end.

"Don't you think so?" you reply to his question with your own. To be fair, you aren't completely sure what he even asks about. The poems or the poets? Whatever the case, Knives doesn't answer. Instead, he closes the book and straightens up in his chair beside you. He looks ahead with a thoughtful expression, as if contemplating how to respond.

"I think I will go to bed," he finally states without looking over to you. He stands up from his chair as he speaks.

"Oh no, you don't!" you exclaim, a bit exasperated, and grab his hand. "You won't hide that wound from me! I'll come and check. Then you can go to bed!"

As you took his hand into yours, electricity sparked from his fingers up his arm, fading away into his spine, only leaving a tingle behind. His head turns towards you in a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with surprise. You don't usually grab him like this. How can he refuse you if you look at him with such determination? It takes every ounce of strength he has to snatch his hand from yours, but not because of your tight grip, but because of the fortitude it takes for him to snap out of this haze that suddenly numbs his body.

"Very well then," he says, his tone turning icy.

Knives leads the way, entering his room from the balcony door with you close behind. This feels different. He is agitated. A restlessness tightens his stomach and chest. He leaves the book on the edge of the bed as he passes it to turn on the overhead lights. The room is illuminated, and so are you. No longer does the dimness hide your face or your body. It only makes the unease grow within him. He feels a knot form in his stomach and chest. Why is this? What is this feeling? Fear? Why would he be afraid of you? Is it irrational paranoia? He doesn't appreciate being under the care of a human. That doesn't mean he should feel fear. Whatever this is, it is foolish and unnecessary. He will grit his teeth and bear it, never allowing you to see this temporary weakness. He will always maintain his composure, even if you are the one causing his distress.

You position the small table in his room that was used for yesterday's dinner to fashion yourself a little workstation. It is now beside the bed, and you bend the reading lamp on top of it. This should work. You don't expect to have to do anything too precise. You pull out a tube you bought from a trader today and leave it beside the light before heading to the bathroom to wash your hands.

The room feels too quiet for Knives. Despite the whisper of water, his ears ring. Not only that, his arm that you grabbed still feels tingly, and the tightness in his stomach and chest threatens to leave him breathless. Is this what you called a stroke? Or maybe it is a heart attack? Could something like that kill him? Doubtful. He just has to endure this. It will pass. He will heal.

While waiting for your return, Knives pulls the cotton shirt over his head and starts to unwind the bandages around his body that he had wrapped there himself yesterday. He couldn't bear coming to you with this. Couldn't bear the thought of asking for help. As a result, the bandages are loose around him, sliding about a lot more than usual. He had never paid much attention to how you did it, so he didn't know how to properly secure them.

You return from the bathroom with even more supplies that you must have brought from your own room. There's fresh bandages and a bottle of clear liquid. Knives watches you sit down on the edge of his bed and beckoning him closer with a smile. Without even thinking, his body complies, stepping right in front of you. He stands there rigid as a statue, his body leaning back a bit as if trying to maintain distance. Knives feels your hands like burning embers as they touch him to move him to the side just enough for the light to cast upon his wound. You have that familiar look on your face again, the focused and determined one Knives has observed on you before. This is the doctor in you, caring for your patient. It is so different from the teasing expression you had before, but it remains just as kind. He looks down, keeping careful watch over every shift of your expression.

"Good news is that it hasn't gotten much worse. But it is still badly bruised and not completely healed," you speak without looking up at him; nevertheless, your voice sounds worried. "That said, you have to stop touching it. It isn't healing like it is supposed to. You need to let it rest and give it time to recover properly."

Knives barely hears the words you speak. Almost everything he has goes into not grabbing your hand that touches his body. It feels so strangely warm against his skin. You keep speaking, but he can't focus on your words. He must remain still. He mustn't let on that your touch bothers him so much. He welcomes the rush of pain as you clean his wound with the clear liquid from the bottle. The familiar scent of Marvin's strong liquor stings his nose, but that too is an appreciated distraction. Your fingers keep roaming his side as you take care of him. Lines of fire are left behind where you lightly pull on his skin. Even the familiar pain can't drown that out. His fingers twitch, but Knives manages to remain in control before they would have reached out to capture your hand.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I just needed to make sure there's no infection." You sound apologetic, and you pull away from him. Yet the ghostly touch of your skin on his remains. It only gives him a moment to gather himself before you take the tube and smear his wound in a yellowish salve. He winces at it; however, it's not from pain but from your touch. Your mumbled apology falls on deaf ears as Knives tries his best to figure out what is wrong with him.

The worst comes when you adhere a blaster over his wound and secure it with bandages. Your fingers press the sticky side against him, and your arms reach around his body to take the roll from one hand to the other. It is possible you had told him to spin around, but he did not hear those words. All he can see is you leaning closer to him, almost like giving him an embrace. His arms hover uselessly at his sides, unsure of what to do. Part of him wants to reach out again, but what would be the point?

He looks so strange. Even stranger than before. You wonder what has gotten into him. Is he being so silent and weird because you scolded him? You only did it because you are worried for him. All his other wounds are healed, yet the one he keeps reaching out for stays the same. If only he would tell you what bothers him. Perhaps you would know what medicine to look for. But since all your questions have been met with silence, you are left feeling helpless.

You quickly clean up after yourself, all while being watched by his icy glare. What could he possibly be thinking about? He truly acts like a child sometimes. Guess you shouldn't be surprised that this is his reaction to being lectured by you. You wish him a good night before leaving with no answer through the conjoined bathroom.

Knives sits down on the edge of the bed, almost folding over as his arm reaches across his body to cup the wound. He can still feel the impression of your touch. He can place his fingertips where yours were, spaced out exactly the same. He traces his hand over his bandages and skin where yours had been. The way you cleaned and checked his wound, pulling on the skin and smearing the ointment all over it. Your touch haunts him more severely than it has ever before. Even the slightest graze of your hands against his skin has left tingling marks that refuse to be erased. It fills him with anger. How can a single human be such a pain to him?

The bed creaks as he gets up again to turn off the lights, but as he shifts, the book falls to the floor with a thud. Knives reaches down to pick it up, his eyes finding the pencil marks on the edge of the paper where the book had opened itself to.

"I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do. F. Scott Fitzgerald."

The scribble doesn't mean anything to Knives. It doesn't speak to him. He doesn't believe in that fairy tale love described in literature. It is nonsense. Yet it turns the anger into rage. His chest finally breaks free of the binds that suffocated him while you were around. Everything burns within him, an inferno he hasn't felt since fighting for his paradise. It feels familiar, destructive. His fingers turn into claws, hooked and bloodhungry. He carelessly throws the book to the side while walking over to the light switches. His hand smears blood over the metal plates before plunging his room into darkness. The fury and pain burn away the feeling of your touch from his skin. If only it would erase you from his mind. If only he could forget those eyes of yours. If only he could forget the sound of your voice. If only you would fear him.

As he turns back, it seems like he sees your reflection in the glass window. The same brave eyes. The same kind smile. The same caring expression he seems unable to escape. He walks across the room and the illusion disappears. And so does his anger. He is all alone. Even the raging fire within him is nothing more than a flickering flame of a candle. His guiding light has always been an inferno, shining bright enough to drown out anything else, but now that it is gone, Knives sees sources of light he has never noticed before. Tiny flickers like stars in the night sky. How pathetic he feels. With the blaze gone, so is his strength. Slowly he leans against the glass, and even slower he slides down along it until he sits on the floor with his bare back against the window.

The curtains still smell of the incense that was burned yesterday. Knives suddenly feels so tired and weak, like everything he has ever been was burned to ash in his anger. He can't close his eyes. He cannot fall asleep. Not here. Not now. Not with the incense blurring his senses and you filling his mind. His fingers press deeper into the reopened wound that soaks his bandages with blood. He needs to stay awake. Why is this happening to him?

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Do you Trust me?"

Rollo voice) no

I feel like Rollo’s going to become a puddle of angry goo (think like a freshly salted slug) by the end of this series of headcanons…

A Big Scarabia Welcome to Rollo!

Savanaclaw’s weather was already bad enough, but Scarabia is 100 times worse. When Rollo hikes his way to the entrance of the grand dormitory (just a short stroll from the mirror), he looks like he’s about to give way to heat stroke if he doesn’t drown in his own sweat first.

He’s graciously received and personally welcomed by Kalim’s open arms (Jamil at his side) and just about the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Rollo doesn’t sense any immediate ill will behind it (unlike the majority of the despicable mages that infest NRC), but he’s unsettled all the same by Kalim’s intense friendliness. When the Scarabian dorm leader goes in for a hug, Rollo politely steps back and declines (citing his excessive dampness as an excuse).

“Oh, you’re right! You’re not used to this kind of weather back home, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you!! Come on in! You’re today’s guest of honor!” Kalim beams, cheerfully ushering Rollo inside. Jamil follows quietly, but is staring intently at Rollo all the while—this man still remembers everything Rollo did, and he’s harboring a deep-seated grudge.

Kalim starts off the visit with a big tour of Scarabia! He forgets a lot of the finer details, so Jamil has to fill him in on the architecture and history of the dorm as he supplies them with water. (Kalim pauses to call out to and greet mob students as they pass.)

At first, Rollo’s impressed by the spread of knowledge provided—but the more he sees of Scarabia, the more disgusted he grows of its gross opulence. All the gold and jewels in the storage room could feed the entire City of Flowers for a lifetime and then some!!

The flippant way Kalim talks about his lifestyle also grates on Rollo. Who in the world places orders 100 coconuts for themselves, then buys diamonds for his entire dorm as souveinirs? Why does Scarabia have such frequent banquets and parties? How can one man live in such excess and not feel once ounce of remorse for it?! It boggles the mind.

“Hey, you must be hungry from your trip! Let’s put some food in you!!” Kalim summons a feast with the wave of his hand (Jamil had been up all night and all that morning preparing it). “Thank you, but just a nibble is enough for…” Rollo is interrupted by Kalim shoving some grapes into his mouth. “Ooh, you have to try this! Oh, and this too! And this cheese…!”

At one point, Kalim offers an apple slice with an ant on it, which causes Jamil to lock up. He screeches in disgust when Rollo casually kills the ant by squishing it under his thumb, then proceeds to take out a few others lying in wait. (“You touched bugs with your bare hands!!” Jamil cries, looking like he’s going to be sick any moment now. To this, Rollo retorts, “I should like to see you come up with a better solution!”)

After (force) feeding Rollo, Kalim tells him he has “a surprise” in store, which makes Rollo’s stomach sink. The dorm leader runs off, telling Rollo not to move from the spot. Left alone with Jamil, he warily eyes the man (who has been strangely standoffish the whole time). Jamil meets his gaze coolly. “… I didn’t tell him,” he says simply.

“To shield his poor little heart from breaking?” (Jamil shakes his head. “No, this isn’t about his feelings. I could care less about them. Kalim would only be sobbing and pestering me about my safety. I already have enough to deal with on my plate, I don’t need the extra stress. He’s kept ignorant out of convenience.”)

As expected, a self-serving reason. Rollo’s disgust does not abate. Still, a part of him wonders if Kalim would still be kind if he knew the truth of what happened in the City of Flowers, if some darker side of him would emerge as a result. No mage, no matter how upbeat, is entirely free of sin.

Kalim's taking longer than expected to get back, so Jamil and Rollo end up awkwardly playing some board games while they wait. Though Rollo tries his best, he's no match for Jamil, who takes delight in letting loose (he usually can't when he plays against Kalim) and smoking him in every match.

The ground shakes, rattling the stones in their mancala board. With each passing moment, the vibrations grow in increasing intensity—and suddenly, the doors kick open, revealing a parade of animals!! A tiger, 75 camels, 53 purple peacocks, 95 white monkeys, llamas, bears, lions, and even a flurry of birds!? Kalim arrives riding on an elephant and laughing to the slack-jawed Rollo. (Jamil groans. “You’d better get used to this, or you won’t make it through the day,” he warns flatly.)

The animals swarm Rollo, all of them kicking up a cacophony and demanding attention from him. He’s backed into a corner, trying to keep them at bag by poking them with his staff. Alas, to no avail!! The animals smother him in a pile of fur and feathers, and Rollo lets out strangled cry from between them.

“I think they’re getting along!!” Kalim notes from atop his elephant steed. (“Yes, I’m so happy for him.” Off to the side, Jamil snickers with some kind of sick, twisted joy.Finally, it’s someone else suffering for once instead of him.)

One thorough cuddling session later, Kalim flies to Rollo upon his magic carpet (it had been stashed away with him on the elephant) and offers a hand. He yanks his guest up with a grin and plops Rollo down beside him. “Next up: a magic carpet ride!” (“W-Wait, I don’t think my constitution can handle this much excitement…!!)

“Come now, where is your sense of adventure?” Jamil says as he kneels beside them on the carpet. His words are kept in an even enough of a tone, but there’s no mistaking the smirk on his mouth. (Rollo quietly fumes about it.)

Off they go into the Scarabian desert! Rollo wishes he could call it a peaceful ride, but it isn’t. Kalim keeps telling the magic carpet to show Rollo the tricks it knows, which means they’re not only soaring, but also tumbling and freewheeling through the sky. Below, the sands shine and shimmer splendidly.

Rollo’s eyes are clenched shut as he bends over the side of the carpet, trying hard to keep the contents of his lunch down. “Don’t you dare close your eyes,” Jamil whispers. “And hold your breath, it gets better.” (By ‘better’, he means ‘worse’, Rollo suspects.)

They speed up, bursting through the clouds, before dropping back down with collective shrieks. Rollo has to clutch onto his hat to keep it from flying off, forcing a scream back down as he hangs on for dear life, praying to be anywhere else. His eyes are wide with alarm, the fear inside of him clawing to escape.

The wild ride comes to a stop at a single spot of green and blue in the expanse of sand: an oasis encircled by broad-leafed trees. Rollo can’t scramble off that infernal carpet fast enough. (“Wow, he must have been really looking forward to this!!” Kalim chirps.)

With such crystalline waters available to them, Kalim thinks its only natural to take a dip! (Jamil has his sunscreen, towel, and swimming trunks on standby.) Rollo hurriedly backs away, trying to opt out—but he loses his foot in the shifting sands, and…

SPLOOSH!!! He’s drenched, the water weighing down his big hat and robes. Rollo looks less human and more like an angry wet cat (so much so that neutral-faced Jamil has to stop a smirk from overtaking him). Kalim, for his part, is super apologetic and offers Rollo his towel.

And so, Rollo sits in the shade of a tree while swathed in Kalim's towel, glaring at the Scarabia duo as they paddle around in the oasis. He hates that he can't just walk out on them, for he'd surely perish in the desert.

Rollo feels something at his feet--and when he looks down, he finds the magic carpet curled up there, emitting a sound akin to a dog panting. It seems... oddly excited to spend some time with him? Rollo frowns and makes a shooing motion, trying to banish the accursed thing--but, much to his dismay, it refuses to leave him alone and instead lingers at his side until the evening sets in ("Hmph, intrepid creature, aren't you?").

Thankfully, the trip back is uneventful (the magic carpet seems to have expended most of its energy on the showboating trip to the oasis). Rollo never thought he'd be so glad to see the garish interior of Scarabia again, but here he is. Jamil suggests that he prepare for bed (an idea which sounds surprisingly... normal, and thus earns a suspicious look from Rollo). "Oh? Do you doubt me? I would never try to deceive a beloved guest of Kalim's."

"Don't worry! Jamil's super trustworthy!!" Kalim adds. "Plus, we have to go get ready for the... Mmmmpfgh!" (Jamil quickly covers his mouth and gives a curt smile. "... As I was saying, you should wash up before bed.")

In spite of his doubts, Rollo relents with the suggestion to unwind for the night (he's had much too adrenaline for his liking today). He's escorted to a larger-than-life bathhouse and supplied with expensive-looking shampoos, conditioners, soaps, loofahs, a fluffy towel. and silk pajamas. "A bit much, don't you think?" he asks of Jamil. ("We don't do anything half-heartedly here," Jamil replies mysteriously.)

Being alone has never felt so good. Rollo has always preferred to be by himself, but after a day as hectic as this one he feels so relieved to not have Kalim and Jamil (or pesky pets!) with him as he sinks into pleasantly sweet-smelling waters.

He slips into the silk pajamas and steps out of the bathing area in slippers. Jamil bows to him and waves a hand. (Rollo's suspicions heighten.) "Right this way to your room for the night."

The inside of Scarabia is so big that it takes Rollo a while to realize that Jamil is actually leading him away from where the student rooms are—and how odd for such a noisy dorm to suddenly be dead quiet!! Just as Rollo begins to voice his apprehension, Jamil leads him right into Scarabia’s open-air lounge.

POP, POP, POP!! Party crackers go off, showering confetti onto Rollo’s freshly washed hair. He blinks several times to confirm that he is not, in fact, dreaming. No, it feels like more of a nightmare than a dream.

The lounge is infested with mob students, the air filled with loud music and the delicious smells of a sumptuous feast. Kalim emerges from the crowd and spreads his arms. “SURPRISE!! We’re throwing a banquet in your name! To our new friend!!”

Rollo feels so faint, his legs give out and Jamil had to catch him. “M-My handkerchief,” he sputters out weakly—alas, his coping mechanism won’t be able to help him now (he had foolishly tucked it away with his NBC uniform to dry overnight). “You have a party to tend to,” Jamil tells him.

The subtly evil sparkle in his dark eyes implies that Jamil knew this was coming all along… and had let it happen. He had been the one to lead Rollo here, the one to silence Kalim when he started to over speak. Anger rises in Rollo, and he struggles to contain it. “You scheming little weasel…!”

He’s not allowed to finish his statement, as Kalim has hooked one arm in his. Jamil waves good-bye to Rollo as Kalim yanks him around the room, introducing mob student after mob student to their honored guest. None of the names or faces stick in Rollo’s head, but the nausea from the earlier magic carpet ride is returning.

Speaking of the magic carpet, it trails after him and Kalim for most of the night! It weaves itself between Rollo’s legs and seems to stare at him eagerly, as if wanting head pats or compliments. (Rollo makes a face, but that doesn’t deter it.)

For the most part, Rollo keeps his mouth shut to avoid instigation (the last thing he wants is to lose it in such a public space) and downs as much grape juice as he can to quell his annoyance.

When all are full on food and drink, they’ve got to shake off all that energy!! Many take to the floor to dance, Kalim and Jamil included! They’re like birds in motion, free and flowing. Kalim just does what feels best to him, wheres Jamil mixes street dancing with his own expressive style. Rollo stands firmly at the sidelines, arms folded disapprovingly.

“Look at that disgusting display,” he grouses. The mob students around him cheer and hoot for their dorm leader and vice, their support rising about his disdain.

Now Kalim’s spinning wildly, his laugh reverberating like a bell’s echo. His arms extend as he twirls, reaching out to grasp Rollo by the arms. “Come on, dance with us!!” Kalim invites with sparkling eyes.

“No, I couldn’t…” Rollo protests, looking down stubbornly. Kalim misinterprets the motion as genuine bashfulness. (“It’s okay to be shy! That’s charming too.”)

There’s another tug—this time, Jamil. (“That’s right.” A smirk. “What’s so wrong with being a little bad once in a while?”

Rollo is dragged onto the dance floor against his will, set into the same twisted rhythm as the music. Those around him must get a sick thrill from the beats, each and every one of them a thrall to their own hedonistic desires. He wonders how they can live like this, free of care and worry—but as he dances among them, he, just for those moments, is left as feathery and as lightheaded.

How long do they dance for? He loses track of the time. There’s no clock to chime midnight to banish the magical spell placed upon him, only the burning in his feet as he dances the night away, intent on outdoing Kalim and Jamil.

Rollo basically blacks out in his bed that evening 💀 Man’s so tired and so done with this, he just wants OUT already!

… His body’s aching in the morning. (Nobody make an “he’s an old man!” joke, Rollo will smite you right where you stand.) He literally groans out loud as he hauls himself out of bed and prepares for the day. At the very least, his uniform has completely dried off from the unceremonious dunk in the oasis!

Kalim tries offload some extravagant parting gifts onto Rollo before his departure (from piles of gold and jewels to exotic new pets) to which Rollo stubbornly refuses. This leads into a back-and-forth about what would be a suitable souvenir to bring back with him from Scarabia. (Rollo won’t have any of it!!)

Jamil mediates, eventually convincing Kalim that his “invaluable friendship” and “the fun memories they made together” is treasure enough for Rollo. (Both he and Rollo gag internally at the idea, but Kalim seems super satisfied with it.)

"Yes, this won't be an experience I forget anytime soon," Rollo says dubiously. Kalim doesn't catch the malice in his flat tone, but Jamil definitely does.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 25 - Part-Time Lover

IN THIS CHAPTER: New routines, chilling at Lover's Lake, and Eddie and Dottie take a Big Step [17.4k]

WARNINGS: self-esteem issues (body shapes and stretch marks, both positive and negative), eddie being a simp for his girl (also maybe the author aka me being a lil gay over women's bodies), suggestive themes, jokes about male masturbation, discussions about past not so great sexual experiences (not explicit, focused on feelings and consent), allusions to sex (fluffy and poetic), NO EXPLICIT SMUT

A/N: dottie's experiences with her ex boyfriend in this chapter are heavily based on my own, please be kind. i'm not trying to infantilise her, i'm just being honest about what being unexperienced was like for some of us when we were teenagers. hope you enjoy it even if you can't relate (and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We are undercover passion on the run Chasing love up against the sun

Friday, June 20th - 1986

“There! I see them, park here!”

“I have eyes, man, stop hitting me while I’m driving!”

The week following their graduation, the Hellfire Class of ‘86 had been presented with a daunting task: syncing their schedules to make time for each other while officially entering the workforce. After leaving high school, each of them knew that new routines had to be established, and so they quickly discovered that familiarity was key in navigating the strange grown-up world they had been thrown into so nonchalantly. When Eddie’s van parked outside of Giulia’s that first Monday and Jeff and Gareth spilled out from the inside with snacks and vending machine sandwiches like they were spoils of war, Dottie and Donny immediately clocked out and wordlessly agreed to this new tradition that was, in fact, a continuation of everything they held dear while in school - love and companionship in the form of sharing a meal.

A plan guided by convenience had been quickly laid out: Eddie finished his apprenticeship shift at 1 pm, and upon leaving he’d pick Jeff up at the last house in his route as a very in-demand dog walker over in the upper-middle class side of Hawkins. Together, they’d head to Big Buy where they’d wait in the parking lot for Gareth to clock out at 2, and finally, they’d meet up with Donny and Dottie at a small park nearby Giulia’s, always sitting under the very same tree Gareth had frantically been pointing at through the van’s dashboard.

“Alright, nerds, what’s on the menu?” Donny said on that particularly hot Friday as he saw their friends climb out of the van, ready to get out of the heat trapped inside its metallic body.

“We snagged two pizzas today! Donny’s been learning to throw the dough and we got to keep the ones that didn’t fall to the floor,” Dottie said, proudly presenting the boxes resting on their picnic blanket to the boys.

“I’ve got Mountain Dew, Dr. Pepper, and a huge bag of chips,” said Gareth, letting the plastic bag fall from his hand onto the middle of their circle.

“What kind?” asked Jeff, gathering the plastic cups and napkins he’d shoved in his backpack that morning before leaving home.

“Sour cream and onion.”

“Nice.”

“I’ve got grapes, pretzels, and two egg sandwiches from the vending machine,” said Eddie, opening his lunchbox and throwing the bag of green grapes towards Dottie who cooed happily.

“I’ve got apple slices, M&Ms, two PB&Js, and Mrs. Kendall gave me a bunch of jerky as a snack, not really sure why,” Jeff finished the roll call, getting a handful of gas station jerky out of his backpack’s front pocket.

“Do you think I’ll die if I put jerky on top of my pizza?” asked Gareth at large.

“Dunno, but go for it,” Donny encouraged him, filling cups with soda and distributing them around.

Dottie loved having lunch with her friends at the park. On Tuesday, it had rained all morning so they’d instead sought out refuge at one of the booths within Giulia’s, Donny’s family more than happy to play host to the teens while they prepped for the dinner shift. They’d had a pleasant lunch that day, but there was nothing that could compare to the sense of freedom she felt while sitting on their blanket, pooling all their lunches and snacks together and complaining about their new jobs.

After only a few days, it became clear to everyone that Donny was the privileged one within their friend group - his post was inside the kitchen learning all about his Dad’s craft, and he was taking to it with gusto and innate skills he had never known he’d had but seemed to have begun developing in his Home Ec classes. Gareth, on the other end of the scale, was seriously considering asking to be switched to the graveyard shift if he had to play nice to yet another presumptuous customer demanding to see a manager because he wasn’t allowed to accept their expired coupons.

Eddie felt like he was somewhere between the two. He loved getting his hands greasy and figuring out what was wrong with a car, the satisfaction of fixing something and seeing Thatcher’s proud smile was easily the best part of the job. However, he did not enjoy the fact that all the rich idiots in town came in with their expensive cars asking for repairs to be done quicker than it was humanly possible.

Carson Humphrey, Andy Humphrey’s father, had come into the shop on Wednesday for a simple oil change. Thatcher was more than happy to let Eddie take over, confident in his apprentice’s budding skills, but it soon became clear that wasn’t happening - Carson loudly proclaimed he didn’t want “that good for nothing Munson boy” touching his car and breaking something that would certainly cost more than Eddie’s salary to replace. Thatcher had sent a red faced Eddie to the break room, told him to get himself a soda from the vending machine, and did the oil change as fast as he could to get Humphrey Sr. out of his shop and onto his merry way.

“Don’t let that asshole get to you,” Thatcher had said when he found Eddie smoking behind the shop after Carson left. “Thinks he’s all high and mighty ‘cause he has money, well… that ain’t stopping his wife from askin’ for Dougie’s number when she was here last month.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie scoffed, cigarette in his mouth while leaning over to see Doug’s shiny bald head through the window.

“You ain’t heard it from me, boy,” the older man laughed. “But women love a man willing to get his hands dirty. Ask that girl of yours, she’ll tell you.”

Eddie had simply nodded and kept his hair down to hide his ears that were surely becoming more red by the second, quickly dismissing any salacious thoughts as his wristwatch beeped loudly to announce the end of his shift. He distracted himself with yet another smoke and loud headbanging music as he drove down the street - he did not need to hear shit from either Jeff or Gareth as he picked them up, his jeans feeling uncomfortably tight under the Indiana sun.

“You guys will never guess who I saw today,” Gareth said back in the present, a slice of pizza in one hand and a handful of chips in the other.

“Wheeler?” Eddie ventured a guess.

“...You’re an asshole, you knew that?”

“I never said which Wheeler! It could have been Nancy,” he defended himself.

“Why would anyone care if I saw Nancy Wheeler?”

“Can’t believe we’ve got more updates on Henderson than we do on Mike,” Jeff commented, ignoring their bickering.

“I know, right? Did you talk to him?” Dottie asked, splitting an egg sandwich in two and giving the other half to her waiting boyfriend.

“Well, not exactly…,” Gareth grimaced.

The day after graduation, the Hellfire Club got together at the Henderson house to send Dustin on his merry way to Camp Know Where, even if it was at the expense of putting their D&D sessions on hold until he made his triumphant return a couple of weeks later. Still, his friends took it upon themselves to help him pack with no complaints, all while excitedly chattering about the kinds of activities he’d be participating in once he arrived at camp. They also, of course, teased him endlessly about the fact that he was about to be reunited with his “hotter-than-Phoebe-Cates-but-still-a-genius” girlfriend, pestering him to bring back pictures as proof of her existence.

In the midst of good-natured ribbing, the older boys helped him shove his heavy bags into Claudia Henderson’s trunk; the kind woman watched them with a gentle smile on her face, grateful for the little community his son had found himself a part of upon entering high school. While they were hugging Dustin goodbye and wishing him a fun time at camp, Dottie couldn’t help but notice that after interacting with both Mike and Erica, the previously relaxed boy grew strangely serious before pressing slips of paper into their hands.

“Radio in if you need me, okay?” he said, looking at Mike with intense eyes. “I’ll check in at this frequency every morning.”

“Dustin-” Mike began to protest, but he was cut short before he could say more.

“I’m serious,” Dustin turned to Erica. “You can use Cerebro, my Mom will let you in. I can be back in a day tops.”

“You worry too much,” Erica dismissed him, but there was something in her expression that said she was taking his words to heart. “Go to your nerd camp with your nerd girlfriend and we’ll see you in a few weeks. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay, okay, just… y’know.”

“I know. We’ll keep you updated, dumbass.”

“Thanks,” he smiled at her genuinely before moving on like nothing had happened.

If the rest of the boys noticed the weird exchange, no one said anything, and thus Dustin left Hawkins in high spirits, grinning at the sight of his friends waving at him from his front lawn as his Mom’s car got smaller and smaller as it headed down the road.

It was a shame, however, that with Dustin away for a few weeks, Mike chose to essentially become a recluse in his own home instead of hanging out with everyone else. Unlike Erica who was spending all her free time roaming around town with her gang of middle school girl friends trailing behind her, the middle Wheeler sibling hadn’t poked his head out of his basement all week after seeing Dustin off. If, in fact, what Gareth was saying was true, this was the first Mike sighting they’d had since Saturday, and they knew from Dustin’s midweek phone call to Eddie that he hadn’t heard from him either.

Gareth had been counting the coins in his register for the third time that morning when he saw Karen Wheeler, baby Holly, and Mike approach, cart full of groceries. He’d exchanged pleasantries with his friend’s mother as he scanned their items but the younger boy seemed overall uninterested in joining the conversation, quickly pushing the cart (along with his baby sister) away towards their car while leaving behind his mom to pay.

Seeing the older boy weirded out by her son’s behavior, Karen took it upon herself to apologize on his behalf. Apparently Mike had been in a foul mood all week because his friends in California couldn’t make the big trip to Indiana like they had anticipated, and that meant that he wouldn’t see his best friend Will or his girlfriend Jane until further notice. It’s okay, I understand, Gareth had said in a dramatic tone. Young love will do that to you, and Karen had laughed earnestly before bidding him goodbye and following her son to the parking lot.

“You can’t be serious,” Donny deadpanned when Gareth finished retelling the encounter to his friends.

“100% true. He’s pissy because his girlfriend isn’t coming over anymore.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jeff laughed. “He saw her in March, he can’t be that whipped.”

“Right? That’s what I said!”

“I dunno, guys,” Eddie said, pensive. “I’d be pretty upset if I couldn’t see my girl for months.”

“Well, Ed, lucky for you no one is planning to cut your right hand off,” Gareth said sarcastically, and Eddie pushed him over with his foot.

“I’m being serious, jackass. Can’t a guy be a romantic and travel to see his girlfriend often?”

“Any guy? Yes, sure. You, King of the Cynics? Give us a break,” Jeff scoffed.

“You’d really go all the way to Cali every few months just for a girl?” Dottie asked, eyes stuck to her sandwich. Will you actually come visit me in Michigan when I’m gone like you said you would? was what she really wanted to ask. Will you still love me even if we don’t see each other every day? Will I still be your girl when I live in a different state than you?

“Darling, I’d travel to another dimension for my girl,” he replied, voice a little bit too earnest for the casual conversation they were having.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking corny,” Gareth threw his head back as he laid dramatically on the blanket. “You used to be cool, man, what happened to you?”

“I turned 20. Careful, it’ll happen to you too if you don’t watch out.”

The conversation quickly switched to different topics, like new music someone had recently discovered, a cool video game coming out soon, and most importantly, making plans for the upcoming weekend. Jeff was trying to convince everyone to go see a movie on Saturday, cleverly mentioning the air conditioning as a big selling point while they packed up the remnants of their lunch and headed to Eddie’s van.

“Is there even anything good playing right now?” Gareth asked, wishing the inflatable pool gathering dust in his garage didn’t have a hole in it.

“Don’t think so, Aliens isn’t coming out until next month,” Donny said. “Dot wanted to watch Labyrinth but that was next week, I think.”

“Hey, Dot!” Gareth yelled at her; she had stayed behind to fold their huge picnic blanket with Eddie. “When’s Labyrinth coming out?”

“Next Friday! Why?” she yelled back.

“Jeff wants to go to the movies tomorrow!”

“Unless it’s horror, I’m in. They have air conditioning!”

“See? What did I tell you?” Jeff said to Gareth and Donny, grinning. “We should go see Never Too Young to Die.”

“No! Nope, no, nuh-uh, I’m not watching any John Stamos willingly, my Nonna’s obsession with him is enough for me,” Donny groaned.

“She a General Hospital fan?” Gareth snickered.

“Yeah but they sent his character to jail a few years ago so he left the show and she followed him to his new sitcom. It’s shit, don’t watch it.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Jeff affirmed. “But. Gene Simmons is in the movie so I think we should go watch it anyway.”

“Okay, now hold up-”

As soon as the boys disappeared behind the van, Eddie deliberately slowed down his actions so he could steal away a few seconds to talk to Dottie in private without their friends eavesdropping. While pretending like he was still trying to fit the blanket into her backpack, he looked up at Dottie with one eye closed to keep the sun from blinding him, his dimples on display as he beamed at her. She smiled, savoring their first moment alone of the day.

“So I was thinking,” he began, as he casually threw her bag over his shoulder and began slowly walking towards his van.

“Go on.”

“D’you wanna do something different today?”

“Different like what?”

“We could go to the lake,” he said, like he hadn’t been planning on inviting her all day. “We have a blanket already, and it’s a nice day, we could swim a little. Dunno, it’s too hot to be inside. And I think your Dad might be getting suspicious that I’m always around when he comes home.”

“Oh,” Dottie exclaimed, turning shy. “I- I’d love that but I’m not… I didn’t bring my swimsuit so-”

“Whatchu need a swimsuit for?”

Three sets of eyes were staring at them from the rear of the van, having been hidden from their sight in search of a bit of shadow to stand in while they waited for their friends. Jeff looked curious but innocent enough; it was Gareth and Donny that Eddie was suddenly afraid of. They were both looking at them with equally intrigued expressions, but where Donny was encouraging, Gareth was dangerously mischievous.

“Are you guys going to the pool without us?” the curly haired boy asked, staring pointedly at his best friends; Dottie looked like they’d been caught with their hands inside the proverbial cookie jar.

“No, no, definitely not,” Eddie stuttered. “I mean, who wants to go to the pool, right? It’s full of fuckin’ toddlers and their mommies, that’s so lame-”

“We were just talking about going to the lake but we don’t have swimsuits on us so we can’t go,” Dottie said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

“We can go anyways and swim in our undies,” Donny proposed, raising his eyebrows in Eddie’s direction. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Uh, guys, I don’t think Dot’s comfortable with that,” Jeff looked at his friends.

“Yeah, yeah, totally, that’s why we said we weren’t going,” Eddie added, pushing everyone towards the van doors. “Why were you out here?”

“You didn’t give us your keys,” Gareth said, grinning at him.

“We can go.”

“Huh?” Eddie turned around to look at Dottie who was staring at the gravel.

“I, uh… It’s really hot today and we should- I mean, we don’t have to get in but we can- if you guys want to, we could still go. To the lake.”

“Yeah? You wanna go?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yeah, sure,” she smiled at him, cheeks red from the sun. “Why not?”

“Okay. Okay!” he said. “Everyone get in the van, we’re going to the lake!”

“Oooh, can we stop to buy beer on the way?”

“And more chips!”

Dottie and Eddie looked at each other sheepishly and shrugged before following their friends. Time alone for the lovebirds would have to wait until later, but who could say no to a new adventure presented in such an impromptu but lovely way? Summer had only just begun after all, and no one could see the storm brewing on the horizon yet. Might as well make the most out of their day if the sun was still shining, right?

Eddie had had it all planned out. As he tossed and turned in his bed the previous night, he decided that on Friday he was going to take his girlfriend to their spot at the lake, lay down on their blanket under the trees and kick their shoes off for a while. He had made sure his acoustic guitar was tuned to perfection, and had shoved it into the back of his van to serenade her until the sun went down, the Snoopy thermos bottle Wayne had gotten him for his birthday hidden away in his backpack and full of apple flavored Kool-Aid - her favorite. He was going to romance the shit out of his girl and kiss her until he felt they’d had enough without having to worry for a single second about her Dad coming home from work early and catching them sprawled out on the couch. Or her bed. Or worse, the kitchen counter.

The Hellfire Class of ‘86 was touchy, there was no denying it. None of them really knew what personal space meant, everyone was always on top of each other, and they’d shared enough meals together to still be disgusted about the notion of having to drink from the same cup. Eddie and Dottie were actually not the worst offenders of the group, at least not in public, but by the sheer nature of their secret relationship, the pair were on their toes about just how much physical familiarity they displayed in front of others. This was exactly the reason why during the past week, they’d reserved their soft touches and gentle caresses to when they were tucked away inside Dottie’s home, shielded from any straying eyes and the relentless gossip mill that haunted Hawkins at every step.

On Thursday, however, things had taken a turn. Maybe it had been the climbing heat of the summer, or the natural excitement that having a shared secret filled them with. Maybe it had been the fact that the cute domesticity they had enjoyed while they were still in high school had intensified by virtue of now having the house alone for entire afternoons while James was still at work. Maybe it was Eddie’s work coveralls like Thatcher had implied, lightly stained with grease and tied at his waist, or maybe it was Dottie’s flowy red sundress, his favorite color. The truth was that the waters between them had reached a boiling point, and Eddie had finally snapped and crowded his girlfriend against the counter while she was putting together a snack tray for them to enjoy, uncaring to the clock that ticked on above the kitchen door.

In an uncharacteristic move, Dottie had let herself take what she needed from her boyfriend, and in turn, he had let her explore this new side of their relationship in earnest. He’d helped her climb onto the counter where she sat prettily, lips attached to lips and hands roaming with the eagerness of an explorer. She’d kissed him before, but never like this. Never with this much urgency, like she couldn’t bear the thought of not kissing him. Mouths roamed to necks, fronts pressed against fronts, and Eddie ventured a burning hand under her skirt, tracing up, up, up on the outside of her left thigh when the sound of a car door being closed with force made them jump apart.

They’d looked at the entrance door with apprehension for a few seconds before they heard the neighbor’s dog barking loudly, clearly welcoming his owner who was unlatching his noisy sidegate and trying to control his furry friend before anyone in the neighborhood complained. Eddie and Dottie stared at each other for a few seconds, hearts racing and breathing ragged before he broke into a fit of nervous giggles. She’d tucked her head down and smiled shyly, getting off the counter and going back to the task she’d been working on before she’d let her innermost thoughts guide her actions.

Eddie had fooled around with people before, but this, he felt, was different. This wasn’t a one-and-done deal, some fun in the back of his van that he could feel good about while ignoring the fact that no one had really asked him for his name or his number before he saw them leave. No, this was different because Dottie was different. She was his girlfriend, not a random stranger at The Hideout, and yet Eddie couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the way she pretended nothing had happened for the rest of the day. There was no more flirty banter, no cheeky hands on knees, no sneaky kisses after her Dad walked into the house 15 minutes later. Eddie didn’t claim to be an expert in relationships, but he figured then he had to follow her lead.

If Dottie wanted to wait, he’d wait for as long as she wanted, and so he was going to take her to the lake and sing for her until his throat hurt. Nothing more, nothing less. For her, Eddie Munson could and would be the perfect boyfriend. That is, if their friends could stop getting in his way.

“Sweet, the dock is still here!” Gareth exclaimed, looking out of the window.

“Park over there, man,” Donny instructed from the co-pilot seat. “Sun’s gonna move soon, we’ll get more shadow under that tree.”

Quickly, all five teens jumped off the van before it came to a halt, desperate to feel the breeze on their skin. The afternoon heat had given way to an oppressive humidity that could be felt under every piece of clothing they were wearing, and no one wanted to sit on Eddie’s itchy fabric and leather seats for any longer than they absolutely had to. They spread their blanket near the van, sneakers piled up on every corner so the wind couldn’t steal it away while they were cooling off in the lake, a plastic milk crate in the middle serving as an impromptu table.

“Who the fuck bought Bud Light?” Jeff asked, hauling the cold case of beer cans out of the back of the van.

“It was the cheapest one they had,” Eddie said.

“No way PBR isn’t cheaper,” Gareth said.

“Yeah, but PBR tastes like corn,” Donny laughed, dropping two new bags of chips onto the blanket.

“Ed, what’s in here?” Dottie’s soft voice rang through the clearing.

She was holding his backpack on one hand, the heavy Snoopy thermos on the other. Eddie opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he hoisted his guitar higher on his shoulder, desperately trying to act nonchalant so the rest of the boys wouldn’t pick up on his now ruined plan.

“That’d be apple Kool-Aid,” he admitted, a shy smile gracing his face. “Forgot to tell you I had some earlier, sorry.”

“Ew,” Gareth scrunched his face. “That’s, like, the worst kind of Kool-Aid.”

“Hey, watch it,” Eddie said, pushing him off balance lightly. “That’s her favorite.”

“Your favorite Kool-Aid flavor is apple?” the younger boy turned to her. “That’s so gross, it tastes like piss.”

“Damn, G, whose piss have you been drinking to know that?” she retorted, making their friends snort.

“Okay, enough chit-chat! I’m overheating here, let’s get in the water,” Donny said, bending down to take his socks off.

“Last in buys the popcorn tomorrow!” Gareth yelled, pulling his shirt off and letting his shorts fall to the ground before running towards the wooden dock in his briefs.

Donny and Eddie looked at each other, shrugged once, and hurried to get their clothes off as well, both of them immediately cannonballing into the cold water. Dottie watched them shove each other under the surface, loud screaming and laughter echoing within the confines of their little hidden place in the woods. She hadn’t missed the meaning of the bottle in her hand - Eddie had thought of her that morning before he left for work. He’d packed it for her, along with the guitar resting on the checkered fabric on the grass. Her eyes searched for her boyfriend, his wild hair flattened with the weight of the droplets clinging to his curls. To her side, blue and white fabric rustled, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Are you getting in?” Jeff asked when she turned to look at him.

“Uh, I- I’m not sure,” Dottie admitted. “You?”

“Y-yeah. Same.”

She examined him with gentle eyes, noticing the beads of sweat gathering at his hairline. It was clear he was feeling hot, his thick jeans sticking to the skin of his legs, the fabric around his collar getting darker with perspiration. She felt the heat too, but she had had the foresight of wearing shorts and a cotton tank top that day; his three-quarter sleeved Black Sabbath shirt didn’t look like it allowed much air to reach his feverish skin under it.

Donny and Gareth have older sisters, she realized all of a sudden as Jeff looked forlornly at their friends. It was probably normal for siblings to see each other in various states of undress as they grew up, especially if they shared bedrooms or bathrooms. Donny had been Vittoria and Isabella’s baby doll before little Giulietta had been born, and while the age difference between Gareth and Gretchen was smaller than Donny’s and his older sisters’, the fact that their bedrooms were connected through a Jack-and-Jill meant that they’d seen each other in their underwear more often than either of them could count by the time they’d both entered elementary school.

Jeff only had an older brother, and he probably felt a bit shy taking his clothes in front of Dottie. If she was being honest with herself, had she not been worried about being semi-naked in front of Eddie for the first time ever, she would most likely have had the same concerns as him.

“You can go in with them if you want to,” she said, motioning towards the lake with her head and trying to be encouraging. “I don’t mind you guys being in your undies around me if that’s what’s stopping you.”

“No, it’s- it’s fine, I’m not hot,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Jeff, you’re sweating buckets. I can turn around until you’re in the water if that makes you feel better.”

“No, it’s- it’s not you,” he sighed, apprehension on his face. “It’s everyone, I guess? I- I’m not used to, like, showing my legs to people. It makes me feel weird.”

“Oh,” Dottie said, not really understanding the issue but still aiming to be supportive. “Are you like super hairy or something? Because Donny could knit a blanket with his leg hair and no one cares, I promise no one’s gonna make fun of you.”

“No, no, I’m not hairy,” he snorted. “I mean I have some hair, I’m a guy, but no, he’s definitely the hairiest out of all of us.”

“Dunno, man, you haven’t seen me in winter when I don’t shave,” she joked, and he smiled at her gratefully for making their conversation feel lighter.

“It’s not hair I’m worried about,” Jeff said, turning towards her and lowering his voice. “Swear you won’t laugh?”

“It’s just me, Jeff,” she put her hands in her back pockets and shrugged. “When have I ever laughed at you about anything?”

Jeff hadn’t known what to expect when Dottie first joined Hellfire. They’d had a couple of female members in the club as the years had gone by, but none of them were quite like her and he didn’t know what to make of it at that time. Dottie, for starters, did not look like she was into heavy metal or nerdy stuff, dressing like any other girl he could have seen on the street, complete with trendy pastels and dainty florals. She had, however, been incredibly kind and not judgemental, eager to learn how to play D&D and taking it way more seriously than he’d thought she would on their first session, and that - along with the snacks she’d brought with her that day - had helped make him less wary of her intentions.

It certainly surprised him when all three of his best friends immediately struck a friendship with her, particularly Gareth who had a reputation of not knowing how to talk to girls in the first place. Still, in just a few short weeks, Dottie’d become a permanent fixture within their friend group and Jeff had no reasons to contradict them when the girl who sat next to him during World History lessons often smiled at him like a timid puppy asking for her new owner to play with her. If she was willing to put in the work to call him a friend, he would oblige and do the same, and that was exactly what he had done all those months ago.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, nodding a couple of times while he gathered courage. “It’s just- I, uh, I have a lot of marks on my legs. And I don’t like when people stare at them. It feels like they’re judging me.”

“Marks like scars or…?”

“Like stretch marks. I have them on the backs of my knees and on my hips. They’re… they’re kinda a lot. My Mom used to rub this oil on me to make them smaller but I don’t think it did anything to be honest.”

“I get it,” Dottie smiled. “I have them too, y’know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” she said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I have them on my butt and my hips. Here, look-” she moved her leg to the side and pulled the cuff of her jean shorts higher, letting him see the web of silvery scars climbing on the side of her leg.

“Wow.”

“I used to hate undressing in the locker room because none of my friends had them and I thought they were ugly, and then my Auntie Rachel said I should think of them like a badge of honor. Like you survived puberty and now you have all these battle scars to show for it, right?” she said, and Jeff snorted. “I know. It sounds so stupid, but it did make me feel better about them so… Dunno. It hurt like hell to get them so maybe she’s got a point.”

“God, yes. Some nights it felt like someone was trying to shatter my fucking kneecaps from the inside,” he laughed, happy to commiserate with a friend.

“Dude, I was terrified! No one told me growth spurts felt like being tied to those goddamn medieval beds that stretch your limbs until they snap, I thought I was dying,” she said. “It was the worst, honestly. I’m happy I stayed kinda short because that shit was painful.”

“Do all of yours look white?” Jeff asked, curious.

“Now they do but they used to look pink and a bit swollen, like when a cat scratches you on the leg, y’know? But they turned white after a while, so I guess that means they’ve healed. Yours don’t look like that?”

“Not really, no. I could show you if you want.”

Dottie was aware that Jeff was trusting her with something very important with his offering. Not wanting to spook him off while he was being so vulnerable with her, she nodded eagerly and waited for him to push his jeans down until they touched the soft grass under his feet. He bent down to grab them and fold them carefully while she looked at his legs with an interested expression, but not a malicious one.

“I actually didn’t know stretch marks could look like that,” she said, embarrassed.

“I didn’t know either until I got them,” he said, hands twitching nervously at his sides. “It’s probably because my skin is darker than yours.”

Jeff stood in that clearing in the blue checkered boxers his Mom had bought for him, and felt the breeze calm his heated skin. The backs of his knees were damp with sweat, and Dottie could see them painted with both cream and very dark brown scars at the point where his calf joined the back of his thigh. The intricate webbing stopped after a few inches, and then resumed at his hips, hidden by the breathable fabric, but traces of it could be seen near the elastic at the top. Jeff’s lower body had stretched and stretched, making him as tall as his brother and as slender as his mother, and the signs were displayed for the world to see for what was probably the first time since he’d gotten them.

Wordlessly, Dottie’s hands went to the top of her shorts and undid her belt, zipper falling open afterwards as her legs kicked the jean fabric aside. Jeff’s eyes roamed the patches of skin she’d mentioned before, observing silvery threads in similar patterns to his own as they climbed the sides of her upper thighs, her high-cut cotton panties not helping to conceal them unlike his choice of underwear. They smiled at each other and it was suddenly very clear to both of them that there was nothing to fear here; there was not an ounce of shame or embarrassment to behold in that clearing.

“So… do you wanna get in now?” Jeff asked, pulling bravery out of thin air.

“I… Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do it if you do it,” she grinned at him, conspiratorially.

“Okay, let’s- let’s just go for it!”

With the sort of giddiness that comes from overcoming a personal hurdle, the two teens finished undressing and walked side by side to the little dock where they sat down until they both felt comfortable enough in their own skin to jump into the water together. Jeff hadn’t known what to expect when he’d first met Dottie, but he was infinitely glad he took the chance to get to know her, thankful that his friends had had much better foresight about her than he did upon their first encounter.

Eddie wanted to drown himself. Was that a dramatic reaction to the situation at hand? Most likely, yes, but he’d never been known to be a level-headed guy in the first place so he couldn’t really be blamed for it. Not only had his plans to share a romantic afternoon with his girl been thwarted by their friends poking their noses where they didn’t belong, but also the first time Eddie was seeing Dottie in her underwear was at the same time everyone was seeing her in her underwear, and quite frankly, he didn’t care for it one bit.

It wasn’t that Eddie was jealous - that ship had sailed a long time ago and sunk to the bottom of the ocean more and more every time she told him she loved him - but he did feel like he had been cheated out of a very important First in their relationship. He’d imagined the moment very differently, and he was very much upset that he could only allow himself glimpses of her so as not to seem like a creep while she sat on the dock with Jeff, their calves shoved into the water as they chatted amicably. Still, while his friends were distracted, he felt like he could allow himself a few moments to take in the little things that he could observe about her and catalog them in his own brain under the Think About Later, Preferably While I’m Alone And In The Shower label.

If the magazines hidden underneath his bed were supposed to capture the hottest people on Earth, then Dottie was, in his eyes, a goddess living amongst common folk. Upon seeing her lounging by the water, he was reminded of that one time in Art class when their teacher had given them a presentation about statues in Ancient Greece - something about why so many of them didn’t have arms, and how beauty standards had changed throughout the years. Eddie hadn’t really cared for it at the time, but staring at the soft pudge protruding from her stomach and the thick thighs that molded themselves to the wood under them, he felt like if he were to carve Aphrodite herself in stone, she would have looked like one Dorothy Burke.

Every single detail about her was overwhelming to him. The myriad of moles that littered her body, the way the hairs on her arms stood to attention when she pulled her legs out of the cold water and the breeze hit them just right, the liquid silver that marred the skin on her hips. Her toes painted bright pink, her cute chuckles at whatever Jeff was saying, her hair moving in the wind as she stood at the dock gathering courage to jump in, the unassuming set of matching bra and panties she’d chosen to wear that day: cotton, little soft pink flowers dotting the fabric and two tiny non-functional baby pink bows, one sewn between her breasts and one underneath her belly button. He felt like a pervert ogling her and a worshiper at her altar at the same time, and he had to stop looking at her and chill the fuck out before anyone noticed that he would have gone to war, written poetry, and gladly died for her if she asked him to do so right that second.

“Eddie!” Gareth called, startling him out of his thoughts. Jeff and Dottie had already jumped into the lake and joined the fun. “You in for chicken? Dot’s gonna be the referee.”

“Hell yeah, man! Same teams as usual?” Eddie replied, doing what he did best when caught daydreaming: pretend he hadn’t been daydreaming.

“You’re going down, bitch!” Donny yelled before lowering himself underwater so Gareth could climb on his shoulders.

“Hey Ed, do you mind if I go on top this time?” Jeff asked, surprising Eddie.

A long time ago, the eldest Vitale sister, Isabella, had heard the boys gossip about Jeff and didn’t like what she’d eavesdropped on one bit. They’d been sitting in the living room at Donny’s house, putting away the pieces of the board game they had been playing on a rainy afternoon when the topic of Jeff and his pants had come up. The boy hadn’t been present for the conversation; his Mom had picked him up a few minutes earlier, and so his friends had felt like it was safe to speculate on why he was so hellbent on not wearing the mandatory shorts everyone else wore during gym class. Isabella heard them mention his newly acquired stretch marks and dismiss it as the issue at hand rather quickly, moving on to juicier theories like secret tattoos or acne in weird places. She’d shut them down in an instant.

From that day on and thanks to a long stream of yelling coming from Isabella, the boys understood that Jeff was sensitive about showing his bare legs to the world, and that if they really considered him a friend, they’d stop making a note of it every time he chose joggers over shorts and covered himself with a big towel after getting out of the pool. So in that moment, while Jeff seemed to not care that his scars were on display for everyone to scrutinize, Eddie resolved to immediately shove his head underwater and help him onto his shoulders, happy to prove to him that he’d been wrong all along when hiding himself around their friend group.

The little corner of Lover’s Lake that the Hellfire teens had chosen as their spot for the afternoon had never seen a battle the likes of The Great Chicken Fight of ‘86. Both teams fought fiercely, sometimes winning, sometimes choking on a bit of lake water, but after several rounds Donny and Eddie asked for a break to let their shoulders rest, and Team Donny and Gareth was officially crowned as the champion for the day.

At around five, every cloud in the sky was officially gone and the temperature had started to drop so everyone agreed it was time to get out of the lake and enjoy the sun before it went down behind the trees. Eddie offered Donny and Gareth to share a joint as their prize, and they gladly accepted it, all three of them grabbing a couple of beers each and sitting on the dock to smoke and get pleasantly buzzed. Not interested in partaking, Jeff and Dottie chose to go back to the blanket near the van where they sat down and drank their beers while he plucked some tunes out of his friend’s acoustic guitar.

“That sounds gorgeous,” Dottie told him sincerely, lying on her front on the blanket, head resting on her crossed arms and legs swinging behind her.

“My Mom loves this song,” Jeff said, playing the intro of Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers once more.

“I’ve never heard of it before,” she admitted. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he smiled, always happy to spread his love of music around.

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone, Jeff crooned, his tone raspier than usual and carrying over to where the guys were sitting at the dock. It’s not warm when she’s away, ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone, and she’s always gone too long, anytime she goes away. Dottie stared at her friend in awe of his raw gift. All the Corroded Coffin members were talented, she knew that very well, but Jeff had always been the most shy in demonstrating it outside of Gareth’s garage and the relative anonymity of The Hideout, perhaps due to his father’s silent disapproval of his son’s artistic inclination.

And I know, I know, I know, I know… After observing countless practices and a couple of their weekly gigs, Dottie was fairly confident that while Eddie was the most talented guitar player out of the two, Jeff had the best voice in the band by far. As he sang about longing for someone who leaves often, she couldn’t help but think of themselves, about how summer was ticking by fast and one day, they’d all have to say goodbye to each other for a while like they had done with Dustin the previous weekend. And this house just ain’t no home, anytime she goes away.

“That was… wow,” she shook her head in disbelief once he had finished his rendition. “Bill Withers you said?”

“Mhm. He’s from West Virginia, you know? My Granddad is always talking about him,” Jeff said, going back to playing basic chord progressions while he explained.

“Maybe you’ll get to meet him while you’re there.”

“I doubt it, he’s probably like a gazillionaire by now. He totally lives in LA.”

“Never too late to ask for a transfer,” she joked, and he scoffed like he was offended at the suggestion.

“This sucks, man,” he sighed, putting the guitar aside and dropping onto the blanket next to her, elbows bumping. “All this time I’ve been looking for any excuses to leave this shithole and now that I have them, I don’t wanna go.”

“It’s just four years. We’ll blink and be back here before we know it. And there’s the holidays too, we have to come see family and stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess. Unless we get real jobs and then we won’t be able to come back.”

“Yeah, maybe. Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

“Of course.”

“I’m super scared that when we leave you guys will forget about me,” she said, turning around to lay on her back. “Like I’m gonna come back to Hawkins for Christmas break and it’ll be like I never existed.”

“You’re insane,” Jeff shook his head. “There’s no way we’d forget about you. Especially Eddie.”

“W-what do you mean?” Dottie said, hand draped over her eyes to hide her expression.

“Okay, so I know I’m not like an expert on this,” he began. “-but I think Eddie really likes you. As in, more than friends.”

“Oh,” she replied, trying very hard not to laugh. “That’s… I don’t know what to say. You really think so?”

“I’ve never seen him act like this before. It’s like someone brainwashed him, but in a good way? Dunno. He seems happier when you’re around. I think we all are, actually.”

“Aw, Jeffie,” she cooed, sitting up and pulling him into a one-armed hug, ignoring the fact that none of them had bothered to put their clothes back on after getting out of the water. “I’m really happy with you guys too, senior year would have completely sucked if I hadn’t met you. I think that’s what scares me the most, because I told you about my friends in New York and how they used to forget about me during summer and I just- I don’t want things to change, y’know? I’m happy like this!”

“Nothing’s going to change, Dot,” he said, sitting up too. “Well, I mean, everything is going to change when we go off to college, but that doesn’t mean we have to change. We’ll all still be friends… and maybe you and Eddie can be more than friends,” she shoved him and he laughed. “But we’ll keep in touch. We’ll send postcards, and letters, and we can call each other, you’ll see.”

“Promise me,” Dottie said, lifting her pinky finger. “Promise me we’ll still be best friends even when I’m in Michigan and you’re in West Virginia.”

“The better Virginia,” he said dramatically, linking his pinky with hers.

“The best Virginia, but only when you’re in it.”

“Why are you buttering me up so much? What terrible song do you want me to play next?” he narrowed his eyes, but they both knew he would always gladly play anything his friends asked for.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Jeff picked up the guitar again before she could finish her sentence and launched into a sped up version of Back in the U.S.S.R by The Beatles, making Dottie dissolve into giggles as he faked a terrible British accent. Eddie watched from the dock, his bare back resting on old wood while Gareth and Donny talked next to him. He couldn’t even be mad at the fact that Jeff was fulfilling his fantasy; he was enjoying the tunes too and the view of his girlfriend lounging on the grass in her undies was enough to keep him content for the moment.

“Might wanna be less obvious with the staring, bud,” Donny said, bringing him back to the present instead of fixating on how she pushed her bra strap back onto her shoulder when it moved out of place.

“Fuck off,” Eddie scoffed. “I wasn’t staring. I was zoning out.”

“Sure you were,” Gareth said, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Donny. “That why you planned this cute little date? So you could zone out?”

“Cute little date? You mean the chill hangout you were both invited to?” Eddie said.

“You brought the dragon slayer guitar, man. This was not a casual hangout and you know it.”

“It was already in my van, I didn’t do shit.”

“Yeah, right. What about the Kool-Aid then? Her favorite flavor? Come on, Ed, we know you’re into her,” Donny said plainly. “Why are you so scared of asking her out?”

“I’m not!”

“Then why haven’t you already?!”

“I have!” he said, exasperation making him slip up.

“You have?!” Both Gareth and Donny stared at him, confused.

“I- I mean… No, I- I was gonna ask her today. And then you assholes ruined it,” Eddie deflected, making them feel bad about it to cover up his mistake. “I love you both, but you’re nosy as hell. I’m not telling you shit about anything anymore.”

“Okay, that’s so fuckin’ rude,” Gareth said, exaggerating being upset for drama. “We’re rooting for you two, jackass, you don’t gotta treat us like the enemy. We can help you if you want!”

“Nope, I don’t need any help, thank you. I’m doing pretty okay without you.”

“Really? Because from where we’re sitting, Jeff is the one having the date you planned with your girl. You might wanna hurry up and make your move before he swoops in.”

“First, don’t use Jeff of all people to try and make me jealous. That’s lame and you know that, we’re all friends here,” Eddie scolded Gareth, making him raise his hands to concede. “Second, I have nothing to worry about.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

Eddie was about to answer when a damp haired Dottie approached them, Eddie’s black sleeveless shirt that he had cut himself hanging from her fingers. She stopped right in front of them, beaming down at her boyfriend with cheeks tainted red from the sun.

“What’s up, princess?” he smirked, knowing that his friends were watching the interaction curiously.

“Can I pretty-please borrow your shirt for a bit? I’m cold but I don’t wanna put my shorts on, I don’t wanna get them wet,” she pouted at him, as if she thought he’d ever say no to her.

“Yeah, of course. There’s a flannel somewhere in the back of the van if you want that one.”

“No, this one’s okay!” Dottie said, lifting the shirt and putting her head through it. “Thank you!”

She hopped away and back towards Jeff while she pulled her arms through the big holes at the sides, the black fabric falling down her back until it covered the delicate flower pattern on her panties. Eddie took a sip of his beer can and turned to look at the boys; Donny was holding in a chuckle and Gareth was staring at him in disbelief.

“You were asking?” Eddie said, smug.

“I… Shut the fuck up,” Gareth shook his head.

“You two are gonna be so gross when you actually start dating,” Donny said, thoroughly entertained.

“Maybe. Or maybe we’re already dating and we just haven’t told you,” Eddie said, mysteriously.

“Yeah, right. You’re like the most transparent person on Earth, Ed,” Gareth said.

“And she’s the worst liar ever,” Donny added, making Eddie snort.

What they don’t know can’t hurt them, Eddie thought as they switched topics and he took another glance at his girlfriend in the distance. She was looking right back at him with a smitten smile on her face, so he winked at her once, watching how she turned bashful and looked away from him. He wasn’t trying to be mean to their friends but when he had said sneaking around could be fun, he didn’t know how absolutely right he would be, and Eddie was determined to make the most of it before they had to come clean when summer drew to a close.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Are you asking me out? Should I be worried about the guys tagging along again?”

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny. Answer the question.”

Eddie and Dottie were waiting for a red light to change back to green on the way to her home after having dropped everyone else off. When the sun started to disappear behind the treeline, the Hellfire Class of ‘86 very reluctantly decided it was time to return to society where wearing clothes was expected of them. Eddie had mourned in silence the fact that Dottie wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore, but considering it had been warm when she gave it back to him, he felt like a small mercy had been afforded to him in his time of suffering. The temperature was falling fast as the daylight said goodbye to Hawkins for the night, making Dottie burrow further into the co-pilot seat as she turned to the side to look at the metalhead.

“Well, I was thinking I really need a shower before I do anything else because I am covered in lake water and I feel sticky and gross. And- I don’t know, maybe watch a movie before bed? You? Got any plans?”

“Not yet,” Eddie said, changing gears before he let his hand find hers, interlacing their fingers. “Was kinda hoping you could help me out with that.”

“Oh, so you are asking me out,” Dottie smiled.

“Well, since our super romantic date turned into you having to see all our hairy asses, I thought it’d be nice to make it up to you,” he shot her a quick smile before turning his eyes back onto the road. “Wanna pick up a pizza and have dinner with me and Wayne? We can get a movie too, and you can stay over if you want. He won’t mind.”

“I don’t know, Ed,” she sighed, her thumb drawing patterns on the back of his hand. “I want to, I really do, but staying the night is… Don’t know if I can get away with that.”

“Don’t wanna keep lying to your Dad, huh?”

“No, well… I don’t actually mind the lying. He’d kinda freak out if he knew, I think. And he’d sit me down to have the most awkward talk in the world and like, I’m sorry, I know he’d mean well but he’s late on that by like four years. Mrs. Maybelle beat him to it and she did a damn good job.”

“Health teacher?”

“Mhm. She was so cool. I think she single-handedly lowered the teen pregnancy statistics in my school.”

“Wow. Go Mrs. Maybelle,” he chuckled. “It’s okay though, we’ll see each other tomorrow. Or you can still come over only for dinner, I know Wayne misses you.”

“He does?” she bit her lip as she smiled, warmth spreading inside her chest.

“Pfft, are you kidding? He likes you more than he likes me. Asks me about you all the time,” Eddie said, a tinge of pride in his voice, like he loved the fact that his Uncle and his girlfriend got along so well.

Dottie stared at their intertwined hands as she mulled over his words, only snapping out of it when he moved to switch gears again without letting her fingers go. The van slowly came to a stop on her driveway, the soft murmur of the engine filling the quiet of the summer night. He turned to look at her with curiosity when she made no moves to get out; she was burning a hole on her front door with nervous eyes, thumb on her free hand lodged between her lips as she bit down on her nail gently.

“I’m gonna take a shower first,” she muttered. “Then we can go. And we have to tell my Dad everyone is staying over at yours too.”

“Okay,” he said, the side of his mouth coming up in an amused smile. “Anything else?”

“For dinner, can we get something that isn’t pizza? I’ve been having Italian all week, Donny’s family keeps feeding me everything on the menu so I can recommend it to the customers. I think I’ll die if I eat any more dough this week.”

“Of course,” he chuckled at her dramatics. “KFC okay? Wayne loves a drumstick.”

“KFC sounds great actually.”

Finally turning off the van and heading inside, the pair put some distance between them to seem casual in front of James, who sat on the couch half asleep with a crossword puzzle in his hand and the TV tuned in to some random game show he wasn’t really watching. He took his glasses off and brushed a hand over his face tiredly, opening his arms so Dottie could beeline in his direction and give him a big hug.

“Hey honey, where have you been?” James said, voice gruff after a very long week.

“We went to the lake,” she said, perching on the armrest next to him, Eddie taking a seat in the armchair near them. “It was too hot to do anything else today. How was work?”

“Tiring. S’that why you smell like a swamp? Because you got in the lake?”

“Dad! You’re so mean, I do not smell like a swamp.”

“You kinda do,” Eddie said, giving her a toothy smile.

“You’re not supposed to gang up on me, you got into the lake too,” she stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed in response. “If it’s so bad I’m gonna go take a shower and you two can finally be free from my ogre smell.”

“Are you two hanging out here tonight?” James asked, hand holding onto his daughter’s wrist for a second before she could leave. “What do you want for dinner?”

“We’re going back to Eddie’s for movie night. Everyone went home to shower first,” Dottie lied.

“Oh, okay. You’re staying over or you need me to pick you up later?”

“I think we’re staying but if not, Donny can drive me back, don’t worry about it. We’re supposed to go to the theater tomorrow anyway, Jeff was saying something about Gene Simmons being in a movie? Dunno. I’m pretty excited about the aircon though.”

“Of course you are,” her Dad laughed, finally letting her arm go. “Go back to the Black Lagoon now, shoo.”

“Dad, stop it!”

Dottie had long ago stopped worrying about the kinds of conversation her Dad and Eddie got up to while she wasn’t around as they often revolved around three distinct subjects: nerd stuff, cars, and whatever interesting thing had happened recently. That day’s talk seemed to be about a high end car that had come into Thatcher’s shop in the morning, and as both men marveled at its engineering like they were kids at Christmas, Dottie headed upstairs to the bathroom to rid herself of her dirty clothes and the sticky lake residue on her skin.

The water coming out of the showerhead pinged off the tiles softly, the echoey nature of the room lulling her into a sense of peace and comfort as she slowly undressed and stepped into the empty tub. Dottie took her time relaxing after a long week of intense training at her new job, gentle fingertips working her ginger and mint scented shampoo on her scalp. Her sun-kissed skin felt like it was sizzling under the warm water, more cold than hot to ease the tightness under the red patches. She turned off the water after rinsing all the soap off, wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and padded her way to her bedroom to finish getting ready for the night.

While she dried herself and applied moisturizer to her shoulders, cheeks and bridge of her nose to avoid her skin peeling off, Dottie stared at her wardrobe with a million questions on her tongue. It was easy enough to put together an outfit for the casual date night - any t-shirt and pair of shorts would suffice for dinner with Eddie and Wayne. It was, however, the rest of her clothes that worried her, from which set of pjs would be appropriate for the eldest Munson to see her in when they inevitably shared breakfast together the following morning yet still cute enough to wear while cuddling up under a blanket with Eddie while they watched a movie, down to, most importantly, her undergarments.

Dottie, while having very limited experience, was no stranger to what sort of things couples would get up to when they had an empty house to themselves. Standing next to her dresser with her underwear drawer open, she weighed all options in her mind. Would Eddie mind that she didn’t own anything like she’d seen on the girls in the magazines under his bed? Would he care about what she wore at all? Was he even interested in taking the next big step with her? It had certainly seemed so on Thursday, but he had backed off completely afterwards leaving Dottie to overthink their interactions until she had finally fallen asleep.

Truth be told, if she really had to consider it, was she ready? She felt comfortable with him, yes, she definitely felt safe, but did that mean anything had to happen that specific night? Eddie had seen her in a completely normal set of underwear all day and hadn’t said a thing. He hadn’t even kissed her. He’d held her hand in the van after everyone left, and he’d been as affectionate and friendly as ever, but aside from that… was he put off now that he knew what she looked like under her clothes?

No. Stop it, Dottie told herself before she could go down a dangerous spiral. He didn’t say anything good but also he didn’t say anything bad. He was probably just embarrassed to say something with everyone around, that’s all. He’ll totally mention it tonight, that’s why he wants you to come over. With a confidence that was more performative than real, she chose a simple white cotton set that felt cute but was also comfortable enough to sleep in, grabbed her favorite pajamas and quickly put an overnight bag together before climbing down the stairs before she could regret her choices. In the living room, Eddie and James were still talking about the fancy car.

“You ready?” Eddie got up when she approached them. “I’ll drop you off at Family Video while I pick up the chicken.”

“Okay. Any suggestions?”

“You pick,” he smiled at her. “But get the two movie deal with the popcorn, I’ll get you gummy bears at the station.”

“Got it,” Dottie turned to her Dad. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, is that okay?”

“Go have fun,” James enveloped her in a hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he kissed her forehead and let her go to shake Eddie’s hand goodbye. “You two be safe, alright? Say hi to Wayne from me.”

“Will do, sir. Have a good night,” Eddie said, wondering not for the first time if James knew more than he let on.

Dottie walked into Family Video with a simple mission: she had to find two movies that both her and Eddie could enjoy together. They both liked fantasy and sci-fi, but a lore-heavy or emotionally compelling movie didn’t feel like the right choice for a night where everything was meant to change between them, and certainly horror was out of the picture if she wanted to get a wink of sleep for the following week. Something lighthearted and fun like Ghostbusters or Beverly Hills Cop seemed like the perfect choice in her mind, and she knew just the person to ask for help in her quest.

The smell of plastic and air freshener filled the air as she surveyed the store for that familiar head of hair she’d come to be really fond of, but when she finally found it, her plans were immediately thrown off the table. Robin Buckley stood in the children’s movie aisle looking very overwhelmed while being surrounded by three little kids and their sweet grandma, who was trying to pick a movie for them. The kids kept showing different tapes to her, and the old lady insisted Robin explain the gist of each of them so she could decide which one was more appropriate for her grandchildren to watch. By the looks of it, this had been going on for several minutes before Dottie’s arrival judging by how disheveled Robin’s vest was getting as the kids tugged on it trying to catch her attention and offer yet another tape as a new contender.

“Hi, welcome to Family Video! How can I help you?” a man’s voice beckoned Dottie further into the store, only to find herself face to face with one Steve Harrington.

“Oh hey, nice to see you again!” she said honestly, watching how the friendly looking boy lit up at her acknowledgement of him.

“Yeah, nice to see you too! Congrats on graduation, by the way,” Steve said, leaning onto the counter.

“Thank you!”

“So, what can I help you with? Unless you’re here for Robin.”

“Oh, no, it’s- well, actually I did want her help but I guess if you two are friends that means you must have good taste too, right?”

“That was kinda a backhanded compliment but I’ll take it anyway,” Steve joked. “What were you looking for? I’m not an expert like Rob, but I’ve seen some cool stuff since I got this job.”

“I was looking for something light? Like… I don’t know, something like Back to the Future maybe?” Dottie mused, following him to one of the aisles at the front of the store.

“You’re in luck because I did see that one. Instant classic. I don’t get why Alex P. Keaton was trying to bang his Mom though, what was up with that?” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, making her chuckle.

“He wasn’t, she was trying to bang him,” she said, and Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “She didn’t know he was her son. Are you sure you’ve seen it?”

“Of course I did,” he scoffed. “I saw it with Robin - hey, Rob!”

“Steve, I’m a little busy here,” Robin raised her voice from her side of the store, throwing daggers at him with her eyes.

“Just answer this for me please: did I see Back to the Future with you or not?”

“Yeah, why-”

“Thank you!” Steve triumphantly turned back to Dottie who was watching the entire interaction with an amused expression on her face. “What did I tell you? I saw it!”

“Okay, I believe you,” she laughed. “Can you help me find something similar to that since you’re Michael J. Fox’s biggest fan?”

“Who’s that?” he asked, back turned as he browsed the shelves in search of a VHS he knew he had stocked earlier in the week. “Aha! Here it is, Teen Wolf. I saw it on a date like a month ago, I think you’d like it.”

“Yeah? How did that date turn out for you?”

“Really bad, but the movie was great,” he tapped on the plastic cover. “Big recommend.”

“You’ve convinced me, I’ll take it. Oh, and this one too, please,” Dottie said, walking to the next aisle and picking up another VHS she’d had her eyes on for a while.

“Clue? Like the board game?”

“Exactly! I haven��t seen it yet, but Tim Curry is in it so it must be good.”

“Who’s Tim Curry again?”

“Did you ever end up seeing Rocky Horror?” he nodded so she continued. “He plays Dr. Frank-N-Furter, you know, the guy in the corset?”

“Ah, yes! Yeah, I remember him. It was, uhm, it was a really interesting movie! The music was very catchy,” Steve said, walking over to the counter to ring her up while he scratched his neck nervously. “You know, I’ve been talking with Robin about going to see some shows in Indy, she knows some cool spots and- and they might be showing stuff like Rocky Horror too! I mean, they seem like the kinda places that would show movies like that. You could come with us if you’d like, I know Rob would love that.”

Steve Harrington’s new self-appointed life purpose after striking out on so many dates for the past year, was to be Robin Buckley’s wingman. He was no longer interested in pursuing flings that always led to him on his own couch with his head on Robin’s lap and her hands on his hair while they watched some weird avant-garde movie she’d picked for the day. He was, quite frankly, tired of trying so hard for nothing, and he’d told her as much when he took her out for dinner on her graduation day.

In a so-sad-it’s-almost-comical turn of events, Steve’s big declaration had been forgotten rather quickly when Robin turned her head to call the waitress over and spotted Vickie, fellow band geek and current crush, making out with her college boyfriend, both of them tucked into one of the booths at the back of the restaurant. Steve tried to pick up the pieces of his best friend’s broken heart that night, her head on his lap on the floor of his bathroom for a change, but he simply hadn’t known how to make everything better at the time.

And so, it was during the next morning as he watched Robin snoozing in what was quickly becoming her side on his bed, her reddish-brown hair spilling over his fluffiest pillow, that he decided the only solution was to find Robin a new object of desire, one that would be emotionally available to reciprocate her feelings without fear of becoming the town pariah. In that scenario, who could be better than the short curly haired girl that already looked to be fond of his best friend, was seemingly unafraid of judgment since she already was friends with the freaks, and was about to move to a bigger city where small town sensibilities couldn’t reach either of them?

It was a flawless plan if you asked him. There was only one little problem in it, but Steve couldn’t be blamed for that - he didn’t have all relevant information yet.

“I’d love to go with you guys too!” Dottie said, excited at the prospect of new friends and fun adventures. “I’ve only been to Indy once so I don’t really know any cool places there or anything.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Steve laughed. “Rob’s been a few times with the school’s band though. They get around, did you know that?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she chuckled, grabbing a few bills from her front pocket. “I have two questions. One, can I get the two movies and popcorn deal? And two, would it be okay if I invited a friend to join us on our big city adventures?”

“One, sweet or salty? Two, that depends,” he said mysteriously, moving over to the snacks display next to the cash register.

“Sweet, please,” she instructed. “Depends on what?”

“I don’t know, is your friend cute?”

“I think so, but I don’t really know your type,” Dottie said, glancing to the side as the front door opened and Eddie walked in, a big grin on his face. “Speak of the devil.”

“Harrington,” Eddie said, sliding next to her and bumping her shoulder like he wasn’t dying to throw an arm around his girlfriend.

“Munson,” Steve greeted him. “Wait, did you- is he the friend you were talking about?”

“You were talking about me with King Steve, princess?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Steve was inviting me to join some cool plans he has with Robin and I thought you might want to come too,” Dottie explained. “I think Dustin would be really happy if you two hung out. He looks up to you both so much.”

“He, uh… Henderson talks about me?” Steve said, surprised.

“Yeah, man, kid worships you,” Eddie scoffed.

“I asked him about you when I saw you at our graduation,” Dottie said, making both boys turn towards her. “He said you were his babysitter, but he thought of you as his older brother.”

“He did? That little shit,” Steve muttered, biting back a self-satisfied smile.

“Gotta talk Claudia into giving him a sibling, that kid’s lonely as hell,” Eddie joked, but his girlfriend didn’t seem to like it very much.

“You’re an only child, if anyone understands what that’s like, it should be you.”

“You’re an only child too,” he noted.

“We should make a club,” Steve said, bringing Dottie’s attention back to him while he put the bag of microwave popcorn and the movies she’d picked in a bag. “I’m also an only child.”

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t say hi earlier!” Robin interrupted their talk, dumping a bunch of VHS cases onto the counter. “Ring all of these up before she changes her mind,” she whispered to Steve, making all three teens snort.

“No worries, you looked pretty busy,” Dottie said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so nice to see you, we’re kinda neighbors now!”

“Yeah- wait, what?”

“I got a summer job over at Giulia’s! Wanted to come say hi earlier in the week but they keep me on a leash while I’m getting trained.”

“No way!” Robin smiled. “Steve and I love their meatball sandwich!”

“No, you love their meatball sandwich.”

“You always eat the other half, why don’t you get something else if you don’t like it?”

“Because you hate the mortadella sandwich I like so I always let you get the one you want,” he deadpanned, while he finished scanning the stack of movies in front of him.

“Isn’t mortadella horse meat?” Eddie asked.

“No, it’s pork,” Dottie replied, well acquainted with the sandwich menu by then.

“Whatever it is, it’s disgusting,” Robin said, grabbing the bag Steve was offering to her and heading to where the older lady waited while she read the back cover for Cocoon. “Duty calls, have a good night you two.”

“Thanks, Buckley!” Eddie called, but she had already slipped her customer service smile back on to answer more of the old grandma’s questions.

“Well, you guys are done,” Steve said, bracing himself on the counter. “Unless you need anything else?”

“Nope, we’re good, Harrington, thanks,” the metalhead said, arm finally curling around his girlfriend’s waist and pulling her towards the front doors.

“Bye, Steve, see you around!” she said, waving at him over her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I’ll drop by next week so we can make plans!” he replied, not letting her forget about his invite.

“Please do! Bye, Robin!” was the last thing Dottie could say before the door closed behind her.

Steve rested his head on his hand as he watched Robin wrap up with the older lady and her rambunctious grandchildren, herding all of them towards the exit lest they asked any more questions or shoved a new tape into her hands. As soon as they were gone, she walked back where he was standing and dropped her entire body weight onto the counter; Steve patted her hair as if to say “there, there”.

“So…,” he began.

“So?” Robin replied, voice muffled by her own arms.

“Am I a great wingman or what?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I asked Dorothy to come with us to Indianapolis. Thought she’d be into it. She said yes, by the way, you’re welcome.”

“You did what?! Steve, I’m not- if people knew-,” she began panicking.

No one in Hawkins could know about her best kept secret, which was exactly why Steve had offered to go with her to queer friendly spots in the big city of Indianapolis and act as her alibi should anyone ask. If anyone knew, if anyone found out, if Dottie wasn’t as cool with things like Robin was 99.9% sure she was… Well, it was safe to assume that Robin would be grabbing the bag hidden at the bottom of Steve’s closet and disappearing into the night, probably taking said boy with her.

“You said she was, y’know, like you! She likes Rocky Horror as much as you do, that has to mean something! And this is a perfect chance for you to get over stupid Vickie and her ugly boyfriend, come on, Rob.”

“You can’t just- ugh! You’re such a dingus!” Robin covered her face with her ringed fingers.

“What, what did I do? She seemed really excited about it when I asked!” Steve defended himself, hands on his hips. “She wanted to know if Munson could come too but he’s a freak, he’s probably into it anyway. I’ll distract him, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh my god, you’re just- she’s dating Munson, you idiot!” she said, exasperated.

“What? No, no way! She totally likes girls, you said so yourself.”

“People can like two things at the same time, Steve,” Robin explained in a deadpan tone.

“...They can?” Steve frowned, looking extremely confused as his friend loudly groaned and let her head drop back onto the counter, bracing herself for a long end of shift at Family Video.

Summer nights at the Munson trailer had never really been Eddie’s favorite (mainly due to the lack of air conditioning), but chilling on the couch after dinner with his pedestal fan turned on to its max speed, a funny movie playing on the TV, and his girlfriend tucked into his side, he had to admit he had reached a level of relaxation he didn’t entirely know was possible before that moment.

Wayne was sitting at the kitchen table while he laced his boots - the last step in his routine to get ready for work - and Eddie thought that the only thing that could make the night better was for his Uncle to not have to leave at all. Reluctantly, he contented himself with the knowledge that Wayne had decided to not attend his usual Friday-before-work union meeting to have dinner with them, the KFC bucket they’d all shared now crushed at the bottom of their trash can. The dishes were washed, Eddie had already showered, and Dottie had changed into her pajamas by the time Wayne finally said goodbye to the teens, warning them to behave and not piss off any neighbors with loud music like his nephew was known to do, especially on weekend nights.

Everything felt peaceful, perfectly cozy and comforting after a long week filled with new jobs and snappy customers. The sounds of Teen Wolf filled the air, the constant whirring of the fan and the cool breeze on his skin were lulling him into a dreamlike state. As the movie progressed and Dottie sank more and more into the couch cushions, his heavy arm draped around her shoulders, Eddie pulled her legs onto his lap where he drew patterns on her skin with his fingertips, brain completely turned off as he watched Michael J. Fox prance around a basketball court with fake fur all over his body. Had he been less comatose from the amount of fried chicken and mashed potatoes he’d consumed at dinnertime, maybe he’d have noticed sooner that his girlfriend was not enjoying the quiet moment as much as he was.

Dottie simply could not focus on the movie playing in front of them, head busy nervously anticipating the moment when Eddie would finally make a move on her. And yet, as the minutes ticked on and he looked exponentially engrossed in the story unfolding on his TV, it was looking very unlikely that he would try to do anything about the fact that they were going to be completely alone for the next ten hours. What’s happening? Did I scare him off? She felt like prey waiting for her predator to pounce, except he didn’t seem too concerned in chasing her in the first place. Eddie’s perfectly innocent behavior set all her alarms off - there was danger in the unknown, and Dottie didn’t like not knowing what to expect.

“You want another one?” Eddie’s voice startled her.

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna get another Coke, you want one too?” he shook the empty can in his hand to illustrate his point.

“Oh, no, thank you. Mine’s still pretty full,” she replied, pointing to her barely touched can on his coffee table next to her yet unopened bag of gummy bears.

“Be right back,” he muttered, pressing a noisy kiss to her hairline as he moved her legs from his lap back onto the couch and jogged towards his fridge.

They were more than half an hour into the movie and Dottie painfully realized that by this time, Tyler would have already had her topless on his bed. Back then, there had been many times where she had wanted to continue watching their chosen film instead of doing, well, that, but she had never mentioned it to him for fear of pissing him off. That’s what girlfriends and boyfriends did when they were alone after all, wasn’t it? Jeannie and Tracey had said it was normal when she asked them about it after the first time it had happened. Would Nancy agree with them? Would Chrissy, or Robin?

Eddie padded his way back to the couch, finally noticing that something was off. Dottie wasn’t watching the TV like he thought she had been all along - no, her head was turned towards the screen’s general area but her eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular, right hand restlessly playing with her Mom’s ring on her left middle finger. She jumped when he grabbed her ankle, sitting back down next to her and pulling her legs back onto his lap.

“Hey,” he whispered, lowering his head to look into her eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” she whispered back, settling against his side like she hadn’t recoiled when he’d touched her.

“You sure? I can see your brain working overtime.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just… thinking about next week, don’t worry about it. You’re missing the movie,” she lied quickly, hoping to throw his attention off her and back onto the screen.

“Fuck the movie. What’s next week?”

“Uh, your gig?” she chuckled. “We’re going to Indy on Friday, remember? You’re supposed to be driving us there.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Yeah, no, of course I remember that but you… I mean, you looked like you wanted to throw up for a sec there. What’s wrong? You don’t wanna come?”

“What?! I got you that gig, of course I wanna go!” Dottie said, like he was insane for even suggesting she didn’t wanna be there.

“I’m just asking, darling, that’s all,” he squeezed her close. “You’re like, super tense right now, what’s going on?”

“I… I have nothing to wear,” she rolled her eyes, doubling down on her lie. “It’s silly, you don’t wanna hear about it.”

“Nope, no, none of that,” he shook his head. “If I’m asking, it’s because I wanna know. Hey, why don’t you ask Nancy to go shopping with you, huh?”

“I was kinda hoping I could borrow something from you, actually.”

“Yeah? You wanna raid my closet?” he smiled, smitten.

“Can I?”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Eddie said, nosing her hair. “You know I love it when you wear my clothes. How about I bring some stuff over for you on Friday when I pick you up and you can do my makeup like we talked about? Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Ed,” she smiled back, burrowing into his chest and pressing a kiss to the soft cotton. “Thank you.”

Even after she settled back next to him like nothing was wrong, Eddie knew that she had been lying. He could tell instantly, not only because he prided himself in knowing her like the back of his hand, but because he’d always found Dorothy Burke pretty easy to read. With her sitting so close next to him, he could pick up on all the little things he knew by now were signs of nervousness: the racing heart, the shallow breaths, the twitching fingers. Enough was enough, and Eddie decided that he’d confront her and get it over with, or else he’d never forgive himself for pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

“Okay, Dot, come on, this-,” he sat up, pulling her up with him. “I can feel your fucking heartbeat. I know something’s up. Just tell me what it is so we can fix it, mhm?”

Dottie had never been one to ever shy away from Eddie’s affections; if anything, she had always given as good as she got. Hugs always lasted a little bit longer than they should, kisses were pressed to places that weren’t the apples of their cheeks, and wandering hands had never been stopped before, even before they’d begun dating. It was for that same reason that her reaction to him simply asking if anything was wrong scared him half to death, because he wasn’t used to her pulling away whenever he initiated physical contact. Eddie hadn’t even finished settling into his new sitting position when she moved further away from him, knees up in front of her like she was trying to put up a wall between them.

Eddie looked at her, really, truly looked at her for the first time all evening and immediately didn’t like what he saw. Her eyes were shifty and shiny, the lips he adored so much were turned into a sad looking pout, and her arms were wrapped around her legs like she was shielding herself from him. Had he read this entire situation wrong? She’d agreed to stay the night with him, even lied to her Dad about it. Had he come across as too eager? Too needy? Had he scared her off somehow?

“Baby, what- what happened? Did I do something wrong?” Eddie asked, searching her eyes with his as she moved her head down to avoid having to look at him. “D’you wanna go home? I- I can take you, you don’t have to stay-”

“Aren’t you gonna make a move on me?” she asked, voice timid but dejected.

“Huh?”

He swore she was fucking with him. She had to be. There was just no other way, because out of any combination of words that could have come out of her mouth at that moment, that exact sentence had never once crossed his mind. Dottie finally lifted her eyes to look at him upon hearing his confused reaction; he had never seen her so nervous and unsure of anything since the day met her. Suddenly, he was reminded of that shy girl that had padded her way into the props room all those months ago, terrified and vulnerable, yet brave in ways he hadn’t considered she could be at the time. Desperate for human connection, for someone to look at her and say hey, welcome, take a seat and don’t you dare leave. He had been trying so hard to go at her pace, to not rush her or make her feel pressured. Where had he failed?

“I’m sorry, could you- shit, say that again for me, please,” he said, dumbfounded.

“Are you going to make a move on me or not, Ed? It’s a simple question,” Dottie repeated, visibly upset.

“I- I wasn’t- Did you want me to or…?”

“No! I mean, yes, I- I don’t know,” she said, hunching over her knees, shoulders coming up in self-defense. “Isn’t that why I’m here? Because you wanna have sex?”

“Fuck, I’m-”, Eddie scrunched his face and moved closer, hands finding hers and tangling their fingers together. The tightness in his chest eased when she didn’t pull them back. “Baby, no. I invited you over because I wanted to spend time with you. Do you really think I would only ask you to come over so I can get laid?”

“Well, isn’t that what couples are supposed to do when they’re alone? Have sex?”

“When they want to, yeah, of course,” he moved his hand to her chin and lifted her face gently. “But that’s not why I asked you to spend the night, babe. Look, I know I’m selfish, okay? We had fun today with the guys, but I just wanted you all to myself for a while. Wanted to watch a movie and hold you like this, that’s all. No sex involved, I swear.”

“Oh,” she said with furrowed brows, and fell quiet for a moment. The movie kept playing in the background as she spoke up again. “I’ve never really done that before.”

“You’ve never watched a movie with your boyfriend before?” he pushed a curl behind her ear.

“No, I- I’ve done that, kinda. I’ve just never been to my boyfriend’s house when he’s alone and not had sex.”

“Oh,” it was Eddie’s turn to be surprised.

“It’s just that Tyler and I - we never hung out like that after we started dating. We always went out with other friends, and if I went to his house we’d, y’know, do it. I thought you wanted us to do that too.”

“Okay, wait, hold on,” he shook his head as if that could help him clear his mind. “You only went to his house to have sex? You never, like, chilled out with him? Watched a movie, played a board game, I don’t know, anything that wasn’t sex?”

“Jeannie said that’s, like, the only reason why guys invite you over-”

“Fuck Jeannie, she’s an idiot,” he argued. “Answer my question, darling. Did you ever go to his house and not have sex?”

“I… I don’t think so? It wasn’t a big deal, we just… he said we should take advantage of the empty house since we didn’t get to spend a lot of time alone.”

“Did you even want to take advantage of the empty house?”

“I dunno. Sometimes.”

“Dot.”

“It’s not like that!” she crossed her arms and looked away, feeling judged and embarrassed. “I didn’t enjoy it very much, okay? It was just a thing we did sometimes. He wasn’t, like, forcing me! I could always leave or not go if I didn’t want to.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie said in disbelief.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Dottie declared, getting up from the couch and collecting their discarded snacks from the coffee table.

“No, I really think we should,” he followed her into the kitchen.

“Why? So you can keep mocking me because I thought you wanted to have sex with me? It’s fine, Eddie, I made a mistake, I get it.”

“I’m not mocking you! I’m just trying to understand- can you please- fuckin’ hell, Dot, stop fucking cleaning my kitchen!”

Teen Wolf was still playing in the background as they stared at each other, knowing full well neither of them was going to back down. The wet rag on Dottie’s hand dripped water onto the linoleum, silence stretching between them. Eddie waited, and waited, his expression worried and desperate at the same time. Her lower lip quivered the more she looked into his earnest eyes. She felt so dumb and small. All day she’d been stressing herself out at the possibility of Eddie wanting to take their relationship to the next level and he hadn’t even thought about it. Wanted to watch a movie and hold you, he’d said.

Dottie had never really known what it was to desire intimacy until Eddie had waltzed right into her life, and the more she pondered on it, the more ashamed she felt. Wasn’t he supposed to want it more than she did? He was the man after all, that’s what guys did, right? What did it mean then, if she was ready for more and he wasn’t? Did he not want her at all? Wasn’t he as attracted to her as she was to him?

“Can we please forget I said anything?” she mumbled, more droplets of water hitting the floor as she unconsciously squeezed the rag in her fist.

“No, baby, we can’t,” he said softly, reaching to remove the wet cloth from her hands and guiding her towards the couch again one step at a time. “We really have to talk about this.”

“It’s so humiliating, Eddie, please,” Dottie pleaded. “You don’t want to do it, I get it. It’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Darling Dottie, baby, my love,” he put his hands on her shoulders dramatically. “You don’t want to know how much I actually want to have sex with you because I promise you it’s a lot, but we need to talk about this because I can’t have you thinking that the only reason I want to spend time with you is because there might be fucking involved.”

“I know that’s not the only thing, but-,” she began with burning cheeks, but he stopped her by pushing her onto the cushions again.

“No, no, no. No buts. We can finish the movie and go to sleep on opposite sides of the bed and I wouldn’t give a shit. Am I gonna jerk off in the bathroom when you’re out of here? Fuck yeah, you’re hot as shit, babe,” he said, pleased that even though she groaned and covered her face with her hands, she giggled at his crass words. “But I need you to understand that we don’t have to do anything we don’t feel like doing. Ever. I’m happy with this. I’m happy with you.”

“You really mean that?”

“Do you even know how much it means to me that you want to sleep in my bed with me?” Eddie said, his voice sounding constricted. “That no matter what happens, if we have sex or not, that you’re still gonna be there when I wake up?”

“Why wouldn’t I be there?” Dottie looked confused.

“Darling, come on,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve never been dating material. No one has ever been interested in doing that shit with me, at least not until you showed up. Look, if you want to do it, I’m all for it. I promise you, seeing you today at the lake in those cute little panties had me almost drowning myself. I’d be happy to do literally anything with you, but if you think we have to do it because I want it, then get that idea out of your head, okay? This is… this is new to me. No one has ever wanted me just for me and you say you do, so I’m going slow with you because I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and I don’t want to fuck this up,” he pulled her hands away from where they were tucked against her chest and kneaded her skin with his thumbs. “You mean too much to me to rush into things because I’m thinking with the wrong head.”

“Eddie,” she groaned, letting her head fall forward until it hit his collarbone.

“What?” he chuckled.

Dottie felt like shit. She couldn’t even pretend not to feel like shit, because that’s truly how she felt. Here was Eddie, sweet, loving, perfect Eddie battling his own demons and still putting her first, and all she could think about was how she’d basically cornered him and accused him of not making a move on her because he didn’t like her enough to have sex with her. He did like her, more than enough if he was to believed, and he yet he was still willing to wait because he didn’t want to fuck anything up.

Her heart broke for him as they sat on the couch, his head coming to rest on top of hers and his nails lightly scratching her back on top of her pjs. She put her arms around his waist and held him, horribly cognizant of how much love was stored in him, and how little he’d received from others throughout his entire life. The idea that anyone had taken Eddie to bed (or, most accurately, to the back of his van) and had made him feel disposable and unwanted was almost unthinkable to her. How could anyone leave him after seeing him at his most vulnerable? No, that was simply unacceptable, and Dottie knew she couldn’t let that notion fester in his brain anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she said, nuzzling his jaw. “I don’t really have a lot of experience on this and I thought you were just waiting until we were alone, and then when you didn’t even kiss me, I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“Wait, I haven’t kissed you since Wayne left?”

“You gave me a kiss on the cheek at lunch.”

“I haven’t kissed you all day?!” Eddie was appalled.

“It’s okay, we haven’t really been alone-”

“It’s not okay, we need to fix this,” he said, squishing her cheeks and planting a peck on her lips. “Can’t fucking believe-” he smooched her again. “-I haven’t-” Smooch. “-kissed this pretty face-”

“Eddie, stop!” she laughed, mirth in her face and in her voice.

“Prettiest- fucking- girl-,” he kept pressing wet kisses to every part of her face he could reach while she giggled and tried to squirm out of his reach. “Why are you running away from me, huh? Let me love you, come on!”

Time stopped when Dottie’s back hit the cushion she’d been sitting on, Eddie falling on top of her and barely managing to hold himself up in time so he wouldn’t hit her face with his big head. He let out a silly laugh, grateful for his quick reflexes or else they’d be dealing with a bloody nose, but he cut it short when he felt Dottie’s hand come up to push his unruly hair behind his ear. She was smiling, yes, but she was looking up at him with the kind of loving eyes he’d only ever seen in movies before he’d met her. Eyes he never thought one day could be looking at him.

The tension in the air was thick as she made herself comfortable between his arms, legs opening so he could hover over her like he’d done a few times by now whenever they kissed on her bed. Eddie was about to lean in to do just that when she moved her hand from his hair and brought it to the buttons at the front of her pajama set. As if transfixed, he saw her undo the first button, and then the second one, the dainty blue floral pattern giving way to skin covered by a pure white cotton bra with a thin lace trim. Her fingers were onto the third button when Eddie’s right hand covered hers, stopping her movements at once.

“W-what are you doing?” he said, searching her face for any signs of discomfort or unease. He found none.

“Can you help me take this off?” she said, with that characteristic tender determination he loved so much.

“We don’t have to. That’s not what I meant-”

“Just love me, Eddie. Please.”

“Darling, I-,” he was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified, his big doe eyes shining as he tried to find the words for what he was feeling.

“I’m gonna be here when you fall asleep, and I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise,” she whispered, knees rising until they bracketed his hips, her hands moving to cup his face again.

“I love you,” Eddie said, letting his weight pull him down and into her embrace as he burrowed his head into her neck. “Fuck, I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you too, Ed.”

“Yeah? You do?”

“Mhm. So so much.”

“Okay,” he mumbled wetly.

He gave himself a few seconds to breathe in the moment and she let him, understanding that as much as this meant to her, it meant a whole lot to him too. After mentally patting himself on the back a couple of times, he rose back again onto his forearms and nodded once, like he was convincing himself that he wouldn’t ruin anything by charging forward. After all, it looked like she had been waiting for him at the next pit stop once more.

“Okay, we’re gonna do this, yeah? You ready?” he asked, mouth pulling into half a smile.

“Yeah. You might have to, like, have some patience with me. Because I want this, I swear I do, but I’m really nervous.”

“I’m nervous too,” he said, filled with easy excitement. “Let’s, uh, let’s get ready for bed first, okay? And we can see where it goes from there?”

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed.

There was palpable electricity around them as they collected themselves for the night. While Dottie was in the bathroom, Eddie took his time straightening the living room for when Wayne came home, not wanting a repeat from the awkward talk they’d had with him a few weeks back. He didn’t want to disappoint his old man; he really had taught him better than that. When she was done and it was his turn to brush his teeth, she waited for him right next to the light switch, and once he returned to her, they moved together hand in hand from the darkened area to his cozy bedroom, self-contained mess on every corner welcoming them further in.

“Do, uh,” Eddie said as he clicked his door closed. “Do you want the lights on or off?”

“Off, I think,” Dottie replied, chewing anxiously on her nail again. “But maybe we could open the curtain a little bit? I think that’d be good.”

Once the room was sufficiently shrouded in darkness and their eyes had adjusted to the pouring moonlight, Eddie suddenly remembered something of vital importance he had tucked away in one of his drawers. Dottie watched him from where she was sitting on the corner of his bed; he moved around old shirts and socks until he found what he had been looking for. Sheepishly, he turned to her and held a little blue box, almost identical to the one they’d thrown out when they’d cleaned his room all those months earlier.

“Figured this would come in handy one day,” he scratched his neck with a sorry grin on his face. “I promise I checked the expiry date on these before I got them.”

“Yeah, that’s, that’s kinda very important,” she laughed at how ridiculously bashful they were being. “Y-you wanna get in now?”

“Sure!”

Eddie threw the newly purchased box of condoms onto his bedside table to find later if he happened to need them and got under the covers, lifting them up for her to get in as well. They lay there for a few seconds, turned onto their sides so they could see each other but neither moved. Feeling very goofy because of how much they were tiptoeing around the whole thing, he reached out across the bed until his fingertips found her arm, gently pulling her closer.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispered, tucking her into his side like he’d done so many times before and was sure he’d do many more times in the future.

“I love you,” she said, between soft kisses.

“I love you,” he replied.

Summer nights at the Munson trailer had never been Eddie’s favorite, at least not until now. He didn’t care anymore about the climbing temperatures and the fact that they didn’t have a functioning aircon, he couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits about the way the neighbor’s dog barked all fucking night, and how the cicadas never stopped singing their song until the sun was out in the sky again. How could he, when there was a literal miracle happening right inside his own bedroom?

As the two lost teens found themselves in each other, a dream grew underneath their shared bed: flowers fed with love blossomed in the humble garden of an imaginary fixer-upper in a quiet, yet pleasantly quirky neighborhood. There was a dog basking in the sun in the backyard, and a swing in the front porch with hand-sewn cushions on it. And in the imaginary foyer of the imaginary house, on the imaginary entrance table right below the imaginary frames that held pictures of moments that hadn’t happened yet, sat a shared bowl of rusty keys from long forgotten padlocks that neither owner knew where they were anymore, the keys not belonging to one or other, but to both of them at the same time.

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3 @oneforthemunny

@munsons-queen

[lightyakami]

hi I'm not sure if you're still working on it or not. But I've seen you had moonriver fic, where . Near keeps Light, I'm really curious about it. is it going to be a full fic or is it a short story

hi thank you for asking!! i'm not actively working on it at the moment, but i do genuinely want to finish it someday. it would be a longish slowburn -- i'd envisioned it sitting around the 60k mark.

i don't think i'll be doing any significant work on it soon, so i can post what i do have at the moment.

So in the end he lets Aizawa get close to bandage his wrists. He doesn’t want to be dead and he is crying in big gulps, gone far past hysteria. It hurts so bad and he wants his dad to come hold him but his dad isn’t here. No one is listening to him and it isn’t fair. He did everything just exactly right but it went wrong anyway and he wants to try again and he wants Near to die and Aizawa to die and Mogi to die and all those officers of Near’s whose names he never learned to die and he wants Matsuda to be nice to him again, the way he used to be. 

Aizawa is saying, in a soft quiet voice, Light, just stop this. You’re better than this. 

He screams something incoherent into the air. 

And he is better than this. That’s the thing. That’s why he should get another chance. To kill everyone and then to go back home and eat sliced apples with Sayu and his mom while they wait for Dad to come home. He’s really smart and really brave and so he should get one more try.

When he was a child they always wrote on his report cards that he was exceptional and he was going to do great things, and he will, if they’ll let him, if they’ll just die. 

---

They don’t take him to a hospital. They put him in one of Near’s officer’s cars with a blanket under him like he’s a sick dog and then they carry him into a squat little building with dirty floors and another strange child he can recognize by demeanour as someone from L’s freak show stitches him up with only an aspirin for a painkiller and it hurts so so much. She’s touching him and he hates being touched, it makes his skin crawl worse than the bullet wounds and he tells her to stop but she doesn’t. She’s tiny, with white-blonde hair in braids and big round eyes. She looks about twelve years old but she probably isn’t. 

As working the needle through Light’s skin she looks up at Near and says, you know I did this for Mello, too. Just a few weeks ago. 

Yes, says Near. I know. 

Is he still …

No, says Near, then jerks his head towards Light. He’s sitting on the filthy floor but his clothes are still stark white. It was his fault, he says. This piece of shit didn’t kill him but he created the inevitable circumstances. 

Hm, says the girl. 

She has his skin under her hands; she has his blood on her skin. She’s looking right at the inside of him. He looks, too, and he can see white bone glistening through all that red and pink and a quiver of liquid fear runs through him so he shuts his eyes and doesn’t look again. All of this is so scary.

He’s sure she’s going to hurt him but she doesn’t. She just keeps stitching and stitching and he can’t move or speak or do anything but lie there, humiliated and desperate to live. 

Maybe he could still do it. They stripped him and looked to be sure there was none of the Death Note on him there could still be a way. He asks why they won’t give him anything stronger than aspirin and his voice sounds choked with spit and mucus and she gives him a little white pill but it tastes bitter on his tongue so he thinks maybe it’s poison so he spits it out. 

I think he’s wet himself, says the girl. 

Good, Near tells her. 

---

Ryuk laughs, low, as they bundle him back into the car. Even in his terror Light knows not to ask for Ryuk to save him; he knows that would be his death knell.

He doesn’t want to be dead. He doesn’t. He’s so scared. 

---

The car ride goes on for a long time. He lies curled up on the blanket they gave him, twisting his fists around the fabric. Each time the car jostles against the road, the wounds in his body hurt. It hurts less now that the girl has hidden his insides form the air, but not much less. 

Matsuda tried to sit with him. He heard them arguing about it outside. Matsuda had said, he’s hurt and he needs someone to watch to make sure nothing happens to him, and Aizawa had snapped that he’d shot Light and Light would kill him if he got the chance. 

He’s not sure what happened to Mikami. Probably they took him away somewhere, too. He hadn’t been looking. Mikami hadn’t been shot; he’d been cuffed and then he’d failed Light in everything he promised. Mikami’s not worth thinking about.

[the-fluff-piece]

Night shift 🌙

Coffeeshop AU - getting a visit from Detective Smoker

This is day 4 of tropetember

Also check out my stories and headcanon masterlists

You're just a student with a job in a diner. You work the night shift because you like the calm of the night hours - and so does Smoker, a weary cop stopping by for a coffee and your company every so often.

Note: Mr 2's alias Bon Kurei was translated to"Bon Curry" in my country, so that's how I'm using it here.

Detective Smoker was a night-owl, and a regular at Bon Curry's diner. He usually stomped in around midnight, sat down at his usual spot and waited for Bon-Chan to bring him the usual - a strong coffee and a slice of the Diner's signature apple pie (contrary to the name, there was no curry on the menu).

His burly stature and grumpy demeanor were intimidating, so most waiters avoided him, except for your boss, whom everyone just called Bon-Chan. He was a lively and excentric person and the only one who was consequently delighted to serve the detective.

So when the door opened, ringing the bell and the big man with the dark coat entered the room, you waited for Bon-Chan to bring him the usual.

Smoker sat down with a groan and enjoyed his cigar. And waited. You continued to clean the counter. That old scary grump was not your responsibility, you told yourself.

Ten minutes passed. Smoker began to drum the table impatiently. Where's Bon-chan?

You looked around, he must be in the kitchen. You went looking - and smelled smoke - and there he was, fanning a burning something on the counter with this apron.

"I have a little bit of a situation here, darling" he said, waving you away.

"Uhm, the detective is here..." You told your boss, hoping he would take the hint.

"So? I'm busy here, you bring him the usual" he desperately continued to fan smoke out of the back window.

"He doesn't bite. He's actually a good guy. Just make a bit of smalltalk, he's a regular. You got this!" He gave you a thumbs up before taking care or the accident again. Bon-Chan was so cheery and positive, you couldn't refuse.

So you dutifully returned to the dining area, loaded a slice of pie and a coffee on a tablet and brought it to the detective's table.

"The usual" you said, a bit shaking, as you set the order down in front of him, already afraid what he might say. He was even more scary up close, but also strangely handsome. From afar, he looked much older - now you realised he must be in his mid thirties.

His angular face could only be described as masculine and stern. A nasty looking scar was above his eye. His nose looked crooked, like it had been broken more than once and never settled right. His stature was undeniably muscular and broad. Overall, not the qualities you liked on customers at all. He looked like the kind to make problems.

"Where's Bon-Chan" it felt more like an order than a question. He looked up at you through the tobacco smoke and you noticed his warm brown eyes, a stark contrast to his white hair and light skin.

"He is occupied, in the kitchen" you swallowed. His eyes may have been like warm chocolate, but you didn't doubt his stare could break any street thug's will.

"Hmph" He grunted as he sipped the hot coffee.

Just make some smalltalk, Bon-Chan's request echoed in your head. He prided himself to run the most welcoming diner in town, with an open ear and a Chat for everyone. You thought about how he often sat with customers, listening to their problems, easing their cares. It was a warmth you wanted to provide, too.

This man looked so weary, you had your work cut out for you. So you took all your courage and stammered out the usual question:

"So, had a long day?" You asked, hoping for the best. This man couldn't be further from your usual crowd.

"Long week." He rubbed the hunched bridge of his nose, looking unnerved.

"Must be tough out there" you said.

"You have no idea, miss" He squinted at you. "Can't you get Bon-Chan?" He asked, twisting his neck to scan the diner.

"He is fighting some burnt pie in the kitchen" you said, unprepared for the deep, guttural laugh that followed.

"Still clumsy I see, he doesn't change" Smoker laughed and his expression relaxed a little.

"Have you known each other for a long time?" You asked, now curious.

"Yes. We met through my work" He seemed engaged now. In a talking mood.

"He doesn't look like much, hell, before I met him I would probably not have taken him serious. But just let it be said that your boss saved my ass. Got a mean kick" He chuckled at your surprised face.

Your boss, that scrawny, skinny man with heavy make up, saving that hunk?

Smoker took a deep draught of his cigar and veiled himself in smoke.

"Now you have to tell me more!" You were intrigued, you didn't know much about Bon-Chan's past and he never told.

"Maybe another time, miss" Smoker raised his brow and leaned back in his chair, stretching.

His chest was so massive, it put quite the strain on the fabric of his shirt. You figured that he already wore the biggest size he could find. The stretched material revealed bulging pecs, the clearly defined muscles moving as he breathed in and out.

"Something wrong, miss?" He asked.

"No, not at all" you were ripped from the hypnotic moment, realising how athletic he was build. Rolled up sleeves revealed strong arms with thick veins stretching over his lower arms and big hands.

He leaned on the table again, robbing you of the sight of his chest - and instead treating you to a warm glance from his chestnut eyes.

"Why don't you tell me your story? You haven't been around long, miss" He dug into his pie and listened to you.

You told him why you came town and how you came to work at the diner, while he ate the slice of pie. He asked clarifying questions from time to time, remembering smallest details you mentioned. His eyes glinted with interest as he came to cunning conclusions about you.

You decided it was your time to ask and get him talking.

He told you how he grew up here, in a very bad part of town, actually not far from your flat. It was cheap living space, but not exactly the place with the best reputation. He seemed a bit concerned for your safety, but held back with overbearing advice.

"I bet you have your hands full, being in the police force around here" you said.

He nodded.

"There's a lot of great people here that deserve a safe town. I'm trying to do my part." He said it with such a finality that you didn't have a doubt about his conviction.

"Are you sure I shouldn't accompany you home?" He seriously looked at you.

"No, I've made it home for the past months, it will be OK." You told him.

He nodded.

"But if you ever feel unsafe, don't hesitate to ask" He said.

"Well, I'm off again" He said as he finished the last of his midnight meal.

"I hope to see you again, soon. Take care out there at night" He said in a warm voice.

As he put on his coat and got ready to leave, his demeanor hardened again, like he had to put on armor against the harsh world outside. He nodded towards the counter and left, vanishing into the foggy night again.

You looked over - Bon-Chan was leaning next to the coffee maker with a broad grin.

"Aw darling, he likes you!" His voice reminded you of your mom's, when she asked about the boys at school.

"I just chatted, like you asked!" You said, trying to play cool.

"He doesn't just like anyone. And he rarely smiles. You're on Smoker-duty from now on." He turned around to avoid further discussion.

When you cleared the table, you found a more than generous tip. Smoker-duty might prove exciting and profitable at the same time.

-----

Smoker

Over the years, he has become a little rough-edged, he knew that. The streets were tough and he saw a lot of horrible things every day. He couldn't save everyone and he often asked himself if he made any difference at all anymore.

He feared that he was getting like the old guys on the force - hopeless, bitter, disillusioned.

He returned to Bon Curry's diner as often as he did because it was a warm place, and there was always someone to keep him company. It reminded him of the good places of this town.

The waitress he talked to today was a welcome addition. He thought about her as he opened the door to his dark apartment.

He had noticed her before, standing silently behind the counter. He'd always found her to be pretty. And tonight he discovered that she was a good listener and a kind soul as well.

He hoped that she would be safe and would see her again. He looked forward to his next night shift.

--

Yes, I put Mr 2 in there because I love the thought of them running a small shop and providing shelter for lost souls. And yes, I would love them to be unexpected friends with smoker.

I like smoker in this setting, maybe there will be more parts.

And yes, he's a big, sexy daddy and y/n is a small, cute student.

Taglist @yeeeeezly @waitingmydemons @stariski @livwritesfics @violetmatcha

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 24. Bar

Featuring: @driftward Zoissette Vauban & Nyx Blackmoon @erickgage 's Ryssthota Sundstyrwyn, @autumnslance 's C'oretta Khell and Aeryn Striker, @eorziapple 's Apple Silverberg Characters: Mother Miounne, Jannie Eyradoux Fortemps, Haurchefant Fortemps, Lamberteint, F'lhaminn Qesh, U'rahn Nuhn, Violet Fisher, Natsu Obinata, Drowning Thunder, Y'shtola Rhul, Thancred Waters, Chef Moogle, Apple Silverberg Expansion: Heavenward(Context) Dawntrail(Timeframe) Rating: T Summary: The Warriors of Light and their respective haunts. Notes: Thanks to my FC friends for letting me borrow them!

-Carline Canopy - Gridania-

“Let me see him!”

Miounne held out her arms for little Haurchefant as Jannie handed him over. She smiled as she drew him in, letting the boy coo and kick in her arms as she wiggled her finger toward his nose and gave it the smallest of pokes. “He’s so handsome and already a little kicker. An aspiring Dragoon no doubt. Lancer at the very least I’m sure.”

“Rather unlikely if his grandfather has anything to say about it. The manor is baby-proofed so much that I doubt the boy would not see so much as a butter knife until he was adventuring age if I did not take him out,” Jannie sighed, sliding over a loaf of walnut bread and slicing for the two of them.

“That will come before you know it and you’ll be wishing Lord Edmont had his way,” Miounne laughed, making the boy laugh too as he reached out for her. “I do hope when that day comes you’ll send him to me to start his journey.”

“How are you so certain that he will not find himself among the Temple Knights? He would be a legacy after all?” Jannie asked, a small smile on her face as she spread honey butter along the bread.

“Well, he’s your son,” Minounne said, giving Haurchefant little bounces in her arms. 

Jannie blinked, scraping the knife along the toast. “I think that would resign him to seeking a much quieter life than he’s been born into. The Fury knows how long it took me to get settled down…somewhat.”

“Settled down? As soon as you’re given a task you’re wholly dedicated to it. I sent you to help out a few people around the city and the next thing I know you’re crashing a castrum and taking down The Blackwolf. As much as you protest, you cannot resist the call to help. I can’t imagine anyone you raise growing up without a heart just as big as you. Especially given his namesake,” Miounne mused, stroking her hand through Haurchefant’s budding hair.

“Oh dear, I suppose you do have a point. Still, who knows what the future will hold for him. Only the Fury knows,” Jannie mused, breaking off a little piece of bread for Haurchefant to hold and chew at with his budding teeth. Delighted, the boy gave hero’s smile at his mother and her friend and cooed about.

-The Rising Stones - Mor Dona- 

Lamberteint thought it strange, though he’d never been brave enough to ask why he did it. Every year U’rahn Nuhn would come in, order two drinks, a hard cider and peach and lavender cocktail with whipped cream on top. And then he’d sit at a table with his drinks, pushing the cocktail to the opposite side and talk to the empty seat.

His ears would perk up as get hot and excited. His tail lowered when his voice got soft and sad. Lamberteint occasionally caught bits of the one sided conversation, U’rahn recounting his latest adventure to it or bragging about something his daughter had gotten up to. It was a one man show confined to a table, with no audience except those who cared to eavesdrop like himself. Not even the strange person who he’d seen often accompany or shadow him on many of his other visits seemed to come around for the strange show.

Lamberteint tilted his head, watching U’rahn rub his face with a napkin, clearing it of what he assumed was tears from overwhelming himself before he reached out and downed his missing companion’s drink and made his leave. Curiosity getting the better of him, he wandered over to F'lhaminn’s counter and leaned over it, watching U’rahn exit downstairs. “What is that all about?”

F'lhaminn looked up and gave Lamberteint a small smile. “It would have been the Antecedent’s name day today. That’s just his way of celebrating it with her.”

“The Antecedent…” Lamberteint trailied. “But she passed on.”

“There’s no one way to process one’s grief. Minfilia was likened to a big sister to him, or so he says. He comes and orders the drink he’d had me help him craft for her name day and tells her what’s happening with his life, and the people she cared about. It’s just a means to heal the heart and make him feel connected to her,” F'lhaminn explained before lowering her head. “It is a shame. We spent all that time fashioning the drink for her and I do not believe she had a chance to try it.”

“I see,”  Lambereint said, frowning a little. “Does that not bother you?”

“Not at all. I love that she lives in his heart. It keeps just a little bit of her for us,” she hummed, starting to mix a drink together. After a moment, she slid the pink and violet drink over to Lamerteint. “Here. Try it. I think it would have suited her tastes quite well.”

– The Final Pillar - Gage Acquisitions Headquarters - Lavender Beds 6-6 -

Violet tossed her hair, tying it back into a neat ribbon before starting on polishing the marble counters then moving on toward the spigots, humming a little shanty to herself as she busied herself with opening the bar. A bell rang and she poked her head up, Natsu wandering in with Drowning Thunder close behind. She turned and pulled down her best vodka and filled two chilled martini glasses halfway before adding in apple juice to both. After adding a Doman apple wedge to each rim, offered them to the couple in time for Zoissette and Y'shtola to enter. 

Putting a kettle on was easy to remember; however, not trusting herself she slid a small navy hook out from under the register, touching the golden L.O. etched into the cover before flipping it to tab V.

Z.V. will drink tea on hand; however, if accompanied by Ys.R.: chamomile and lavender. If Zel has made any meat pies, serve a slice with an additional glass of water. 

Violet dropped to a squat, reading through the fine labels of tea tins before finding the correct blend. Throwing it into a diffuser, she careful plucked it into the whimpering kettle then checked the back, greetted by a moogle in a chef hat. “Ishgardian Meat pie,” she ordered, getting a panicked kupo in response.

Returning to the front, she brought Zoissette and Y'shtola the warm kettle and two faucets with cups before looking up as Ryssthota entered and headed to the bar. As she rounded back around she consulted the little blue book under R.S.

R.S. enjoys a whiskey sour. If Co.K is present, leave cherries on the side. If there has been a recent incident in the lab, make it a double.

Violet shuddered then pulled out a bottle of bourbon and lemon juice adding it to her shaker before cracking an egg into her hand, whining audibly as the slimy yolk shifted in her palm as the white drooled through her fingers before dropping the yolk into a ramekin. She immediately washed her hands free of the yolk then went to shaking before pouring the drink into a glass along with bitters. As she finished, C’oretta popped up on a stool beside her beaming at her before starting a conversation with Rysthota. As instructed, she laid out the bowl of cherries in front of C’oretta before making her a quick rum bucket filled with fresh fruits and juices remembering L.O.’s Enjoys a variety of fruity drinks. Rum buckets with juices available for unique experience every time. Leave fruit available for snacks.

Turning around, she found Nyx behind her, staring intently at her before Rahn came stumbling into the bar. Sighing, she filled a glass of cider ale for Rahn then looked around and handed the yolk ramekin to Nyx for them to drink knowing well most anything would be ingested by them. N.B. will drink anything. Literally anything. A good way to avoid waste. Will ask if they want something else.

Spotting Aeryn and Thancred entering, she returned to the back end finding her little chef finishing up the meat pie. She cut out three slices and plated them before grabbing one of the finer bottles of spiced wine. Wandering out, she picked up two wine glasses then delivered Zoissette her slice of pie before serving the other two to Thancred and Aeryn along with the bottle. T.W. Likes to show off. Bring him something that looks expensive. A.S. Will mostly enjoy whatever is being served that day. The room full, Violet sighed then returned behind the counter to pour herself a tall stout, downing it before looking up as Apple wandered in. She waved her over then pulled out another glass then wetted the rim, dipping it into a box of brown sugar. She excitedly told her about Riol’s latest mishap while mixing the rum, orange liquor, lemon juice, simple syrup, and chickpea water together before sliding the drink over on a napkin. A.S. Bestie. Cable Car, sweet rimmed sugar. Orange liquor and Limsan rum. Egg white. Chickpea water.

[bijouxcarys]

Cherry Lips (Robert Plant x fem!OC)

Masterlist

Summary: Our unnamed fem!OC pokes the lion and faces the consequences. 1998 Robert.

Note: This started off as a "short fic," but has turned out a hefty 3.4k words yikes.

Tags: @callmethehunter @m-faithfull @whothefuckisanja @celestial-dragoness @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @angrychicksposts @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @chromations

She knew she’d fucked up. God, she knew it. But in her defence, Robert was being a dick.

She was right there, following him around like a lost puppy—for him, to support him, but no… the Golden God he’d firmly insisted was locked away in a glass box was still there. 18 years. 18 years of trying to get as far away from that strange young lad who wore jeans too tight and too low, and wailed whatever nonsense overtook him in the moment. Yet, there he was. Bright as day. In the heart of Italy. Playing the same old game. 

Girls still flocked. How could they not? He was gorgeous, despite his rapidly approaching 50th birthday. And it didn’t matter to her that she was 25 years his junior. Because she saw him for everything he was; not what he used to be.

The only problem? His weakness. The feminine energy that ran potent everywhere he went. The soul of a woman, if you may…

It was almost as if he’d forgotten that she was there as other girls of her age, give or take a few years, stood small and flustered in the presence of the once untouchable Robert Plant. Like Adam at the mercy of a cobra, he shamelessly chomped away at the apple dangling before his eyes, bypassing the security of his Eve.

It didn’t matter how often she’d hear the endearing pet names of “honey,” “darlin’,” “baby,” or “love”; they’d become mere lyrics to a song now. He sang them to thousands, night after night—wailed them through the ridges of a record in the homes of millions around the world.

They meant nothing.

Romanticisation. Just like the country they’d inhabited for the past 15 hours, the career of a rockstar was marred by an idealistic fantasy. They don’t tell you about the inferiority, the frugality. The way other girls would stare you down, head to toe, silently creating their own version of your story. The mind games that meticulously waltzed in ricochets between both parties. It was inescapable. Inevitable. Impossible to avoid.

But whilst Robert graciously played the part, sending his signature smirk in the direction of every pretty young thing that came his way, he only saw her. She was the only one, and had been for almost a year. He’d hoped that she knew that by now. Alas, he wasn’t an idiot. It didn’t take an expert to notice the way she’d become increasingly restless when playing her own role of Observing Woman. And there had been many to do so over the years. 

Robert expected this attitude from her. He knew it made her feel useless. But he’d explained to her time and time again that it was part of the gig. His job. The way he kept up appearances. Without struggle, she understood that, entirely. 

Unfortunately, Robert made the mistake of assuming her understanding meant she liked it.

Typically, she’d be able to get through a press event with him, or any other encounter they’d have with a flock or two of excited girls, with minimal irritation. But tonight, it was a little too much. Too great to completely ignore. 

Robert was particularly enjoying the attention that day as he and Jimmy went through their regularly scheduled interviews that they would have much preferred to pass up on. Unlike every other time, where he’d send her playful winks and reassuring smiles, he hadn’t looked at her once. Hell, even Jimmy had acknowledged her presence more than Robert had done. 

This time, it was a cute little redhead with big green eyes and a freckled complexion that had become the centre of his immersion. The total opposite of what she was. Redhead was withdrawn, timid, soft spoken, whilst she stood above the average female height, with a gaze that could slice a ruby in half. It was what attracted Robert to her in the first place. A straight-talking, relentlessly loyal, dark-featured Femme Fatale that he loved to overpower in the bedroom and steal the power she possessed otherwise.

The pair’s dynamic was a tantalising switch from what Robert was used to from his female companions. Between the sheets, it was a struggle for dominance, but a struggle they wouldn’t trade for anything. Either way, it always ended up with her legs over his shoulders, hips pummelling away at her like he’d never get to again. And more often than not, she’d wear his hand as her own personalised necklace, encouraging him to squeeze around the expanse of her throat with each thrust of his cock.

And that was how she liked it, and how Robert knew she kept him in a very special place in her heart.

Nobody could overpower her, unless that somebody was him.

Which was why, as he finally cast a glance in the direction of his beloved, he felt every vein in his body pulsate with emotions akin to jealousy. There she was. Tall in her platform stilettos and delicate fingers pushing a stray curl of dark hair from Jimmy’s forehead as she spoke so casually with him. 

He could see it in the way she smiled at Jimmy. The proximity that bordered on too close. The way the guitarist fell so receptive to her silky tone, eyes unashamedly taking in every movement and curve of her cherry-stained lips as she talked.

This was no accident, though. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sideways look she gave Robert was a dead giveaway, and she was stunned to see he was actually looking back. Got him.

With a restrained smirk, she flipped her hair behind her shoulder and continued her conversation with Jimmy, inching closer to him with brave intention. 

That was all it took for Robert to cut the interviews short, call a car, and drag his lover back to the hotel they were staying at. She remained steel-gazed the whole time, refusing to give him the satisfaction of breaking her that easily. In fact, as soon as the door shut behind them, she made a beeline for the bathroom, Robert following irritatingly close.

“Can’t even go to the bathroom without you lurking,” she passively hummed, leaning over the counter to double check her makeup was still intact. 

“What the fuck was that?” Robert snapped. 

She looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, the familiar clenching in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Robert’s perfectly ageing features lit up by the small room’s restrictive lighting. Like Michael the Fallen Angel: pure until pushed. Adam had become the cobra, the apple devoured and rotten in the grounds of his gallant love. And he had his sights set on his Eve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Robert,” she sighed.

“God, you can be so insufferable.”

“Coming from everyone’s favourite Golden God,” she breathed, exaggerating the candour of thousands of girls.

“Excuse me?” Robert’s brows narrowed, casting an intimidating shadow over his eyes.

“Come off it, Robert…” She rolled her eyes, turning to leave the bathroom, but was instantly stilled by a large, strong hand wrapping around her arm. She successfully repressed the smile that wanted to plaster her face, and simply lifted her gaze to meet his. Their faces were dangerously close, and the distant buzz of the bathroom’s ventilation system became the soundtrack to an intense stand-off between two wild beasts on the precipice of destruction.

Taking a deep breath, she continued to look up at him, refusing to speak first. Though she wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up. The close proximity and the enclosed surroundings made it difficult to keep from squeezing her thighs together. She cursed Robert mentally as he closed the bathroom door behind him, all whilst maintaining ardent eye contact.

“I think the door’s supposed to go the other way if you wish to leave, my love,” she provoked, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

Eyes, usually a beautiful pool of blue, darkened—with lust, frustration, carnal desire. He knew she was pushing him. He’d just have to navigate the pull in response. He came closer to her, breath mixing with hers as he made out he was going to kiss her, only to stop mere centimetres from her lips to hum lowly.

“You’ve got a right mouth on you today.” He almost spoke through his teeth, jaw clenched.

She pursed her cherry lips, challenging her older lover. “Do I?” she asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow. The grip on her arm tightened, and led her to stand directly in front of him. Her eyes remained fixed on his. “Are you just gonna stare at me?”

Within a blink of an eye, both of Robert’s hands had a hold of each side of her head, thumbs resting on her cheeks and fingers threading into her hair. He held her close to him, forcing her to tilt her head further up. She was breaking him. Bit by bit. The sudden move of dominance succeeded in weakening her resolve by an iota, and her eyes began their impulsive hooding.

Robert’s eyes darted around her entire face, taking in every curve, dip, and feature. She was otherworldly to him. An audacious succubus sent to test him in every aspect of his life. And she was all his. To do with whatever he pleased. No matter how much of a fight she put up, he’d win. Or rather, she allowed him to win.

“I really love that colour on you,” he murmured, admiring her characteristic choice of lipstick.

A satisfied smirk found its way onto her lips, enjoying the compliment, despite the current situation. She was human, after all. That, and it reminded her that he wasn’t truly angry at her, and that this was all part of the larger game their relationship had become.

“Do you?” she whispered, taking on a more timid cadence.

“Mhm.” He nodded, running a thumb delicately over her lower lip. He tugged at it, watching as its plumpness bounced back against her teeth. “But, you know…” he sighed. “As much as I love it on your lips, I think I’d rather see it around my cock, don’t you?”

There it was. The break. The moment she’d been craving. As a hand lowered to possessively wrap around her neck, she swallowed under its mighty grip, and found herself falling deeper under the control Robert enforced.

But not entirely. Not yet. Just a little extra push…

“Really?” She tilted her head to the side as much as she could in his grasp. “Because judging by your distractions, I half-expected to be leaving it on Jimm–” She gasped under her breath as she was shoved down onto her knees.

“No more about Jimmy fucking Page,” he spat, letting go of her throat and moving his hands to the belt on his leather-effect trousers. “You want to be a little slut and blow every rockstar you come across, be my guest…” He let the words hang in the air as he swiftly pulled his belt from the loops around his hips. “But whilst you’re with me,” he threw the belt to the side, the metal buckle clanging against the porcelain of the bathtub beside them, “it’s only me.” He gripped her face with one hand, making her look up at him instead of where the belt had landed. “Understood?”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not the one that needs reminding of loyalty, Mr. Plant.”

Done with her backchat, he roughly shoved her face back. She caught herself on her hands behind her, her core fluttering with anticipation.

“Enough with the talking,” he firmly demanded, “You want to use your fucking mouth so much? Is that what it is?” She parted her lips to answer, but he cut her off. “I said enough with the talking,” he growled. She sighed, clenching her jaw. She hadn’t even noticed through the back and forth, that Robert had shimmied his trousers and underwear down enough to relieve his hardened cock from its confines.

Gaze meeting it, any trace of disobedience withered down to a shrub. Her breath was shaky, her mouth on the verge of watering, and her eyes glimmered with want as she looked back up at Robert.

“I don’t know what you’re gawking at, little girl, it isn’t gunna suck itself, is it?” He glared at her, before grabbing a fistful of her hair, and dragging her closer until it was impossible to avoid taking him into her mouth. Not that she didn’t want to—she was ravenous for it.

Robert made it a chore for her to efficiently take him, with how close he had her held against him. She had to move at an awkward angle to even access the red hot tip, but she achieved it with much humiliation at her struggle. He let out a heavy breath, head resting back against the door as his little succubus got to work, mouth scorching and tight, just like her cunt. As badly as he wanted to throw her onto the bed metres away from them, and devour every drop of her sweetness until she cried for him to stop, she needed this stern reminder. Wanted it, even.

“That’s it, darlin’...” he groaned, pulling at her hair and then pushing against her head, building up a rhythm that satisfied. She breathed out of her nose, hands flying to his thighs for any ounce of stability.

Minutes into the act, and she could already catch glimpses of her lipstick transferring halfway down his thick shaft, veins painted with a cherry crimson.

“I know you can do better than that.”

His gruff words encouraged her, and her nails dug into his firm thighs as a small indication of the microscopic ounce of resilience that still sat below the surface. In response, his hand twisted harshly in her hair, pulling a cry from the back of her throat that only served to translate as vibrations against him.

With another tantalising grunt, he brought her head precariously closer, leaving her with no other choice than to force the expanse of his cock further into her mouth, the tip beginning to prod at her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut briefly, winded by the sudden gesture.

“Awh, what’s wrong, baby?” Robert cooed condescendingly down at her, taking a sick pride in her labour. Teeth baring down on his lip, he reaped the benefits of his young lover’s mouth as it stretched so deliciously around his cock. Already there were tears forming at the corners of her smoky eyes. Fuck, that’s gonna look so good running down her face…

She unwillingly let out a struggled whimper, trying her best to relax her throat, knowing there was still more to receive.

“I thought you enjoyed using your mouth,” he scoffed.

He kept his comments to himself as he formed a steady pace with his hips, holding her head in place. She was certain her underwear was drenched by now. Having Robert’s warm, salty skin take residence on every taste bud available was sometimes too much for her cunt to handle. Especially when she knew the chances of getting immediate relief after the fact were short.

Soon enough, her nose was snug against the mass of hair that laid at the base of this God’s aphrodisiac appendage, the natural scent of him grounding her in the moment. She somehow willed her throat to relax enough to allow the slick and weeping tip to glide as far back as it needed as she fit every inch of him into her mouth.

Overcome with the desire to pleasure him, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder at him every time he withdrew his hips. Her lipstick was smudged, for sure. Tears had fallen, and she could only imagine how she looked for him at that moment.

“So pretty, baby…” he moaned. At one point, he ceased his thrusts, pulling her back to get a real good look at her fucked-out face. “Look at the state of you… you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, darlin’?” he asked with a crude swipe of his thumb across her chin, effectively smearing lipstick and saliva across her cheek in a further act of degradation.

Her vision remained blurred, and she felt borderline breathless. She didn’t even fully comprehend his question. And he loved it. What he could do to her…

“Aren’t you?” he pushed.

With wide, reddened eyes, she gazed up at him and meekly nodded. Wrong answer.

“Speak, darlin’, you’ve been so good at that today.”

“Yes…” she choked out, leaning her head back into his hand, completely submitting to him in every way. She didn’t care that her knees began bearing the burden of the cold, hard tiles in this hotel bathroom. It was for him. All for him.

“Yes, what?”

God, she needed him so bad… 

“…Daddy...”

“That’s better,” he nodded his head once, taking his cock in one of his hands. He lewdly dragged his tip along her lips, the precum coating the sensitive flesh. “Wish I had that camera right now, baby… you look so pretty like this. So obedient. All fucked out…”

Her eyebrows furrowed needily, her lips parting to allow her tongue to flick against the head of his cock. Maintaining eye contact, she circled around the bulbous area, applying pressure against the underside.

“My talented little thing…” he hummed, beads of sweat adhering stray curls to his forehead. “Keep going, baby… keep taking me in that pretty mouth of yours…”

Unable to challenge him any further, she abided by the rules of their dynamic.

Sloppily, lazily, yet eagerly, she bobbed her head up and down Robert’s cock, eyes fixed on him from below. His eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth hung open, head pressing back against the door. 

Witnessing his pleasure set a fire deep within her, and she sped up her movements, hand gripping firmly at his base. Whenever she’d pull back to spit messily over his erection, a thick rope of her saliva followed suit. It made her moan. Clench around nothing. Her clit throbbed. Her nipples hardened under her blouse. Every sense tingled. All because of him.

She needed all of him. To make him come undone—erupt. Needed it so bad… 

“Fuck, don’t stop, baby,” Robert breathed, once again taking her hair into his hand, guiding her up and down his length. Her free hand came up to massage his tight, full balls. “Fuck! Yes… so, so good…” he hissed, composure slowly crumbling. “Daddy’s gunna cum right down that throat, little girl…” he rambled, teeth clenched, before he yanked her back, running his own hand along his length rapidly.

She was forced to watch, the beautiful combination of red and purple tinting the head of his cock. “Please…” she whimpered, batting her teary eyes at him. “Please, Daddy…” 

Holding her head back, he leaned over her. “Open up, baby.” She did. Tongue stuck out. Waiting for his load. “My good little girl.” He let out a guttural moan, hips thrusting into his own fist, before the hot spurts shot out onto her tongue, some landing on her cheek, and some dripping down onto her chin.

She waited patiently until he had completely milked himself to move from her position, merely acting as a receptacle. Eventually, Robert regained his bearings and gruffly ordered her to swallow everything. To clean her own face up, and to not leave a single drop.

With his granted permission, she was finally allowed to stand back up. Her knees were weak, and had to rely on Robert to help her steady herself. As she cleaned her face up at the sink, he kept his head resting on her shoulder, tucked away and in the process of calming, and his hand held gently onto her waist.

“C’mere, honey,” Robert softly said, bringing her into his arms. He planted a kiss on her forehead and held her tightly to him. “‘M sorry for ignoring you, darlin’.”

She inhaled deeply, her face fitting perfectly against his chest. “It’s okay…” she mumbled.

Robert pulled his head back and stared down at her bare face, lips now natural and swollen from her Goddess duties. “You’re so special to me,” he whispered.

Smiling softly at him, she sighed contently. “I know.”

They shared a passionate kiss, solidifying their eccentric love for one another, and the thrill of the game.

[foodandfolklore]

Dry your own Orange Wheels and Peels

For many people it's strange to think that Oranges are often seen in winter decorations and are traditionally eaten this time of year. I know my house always had tangerines around, and I still buy them to this day in December. People also got them in their stockings as a treat. I didn't know still did this until I had my first Christmas with my now partner and they made me a stocking with an orange and apple. Gotta say, that orange was good. Now, this is partly because citrus fruits are in season in the winter. But there's another aspect.

The winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, is in December. Also called yule. It marks the celebration of the returning of the Sun, and Oranges are packed with solar energy. An orange wheel, fresh or dried, is a perfect symbol of the Sun to decorate with. Many people will dry their oranges during this season to make storage and decorating easier.

A dehydrator makes things a lot easier, but not everyone has one. However, fret not, you can still dry your oranges in the oven. You just need to set your oven to as low as it will go. Start at 150F and see if it will accept. Most ovens the lowest it will go will be between 160F to 200F. Don't try higher than 200F, your Oranges will get too toasty.

Orange Peel

If you want to just preserve orange peel, first decide what you are going to be using it for. If you plan to use it in things like tea, spell jars, basically need big chunks, simply use a vegetable peeler to peel the zest from the pith. Then place the strips on some parchment lined baking sheets, and place in the oven for around 30 minutes until they start to curl.

However, if you are wanting to use the peel in ways where us would need to be smaller; like curry powders, cookie doughs, and other general cooking, I strongly recommend grating your zest before drying. You can grind or cut up the larger chunks after they have dried, but orange zest (and all citrus to be honest) becomes rather leather like once dry. So grinding with a simple mortar and pestle is near impossible. You will need a coffee grinder or some other blender.

Orange Wheel

Lay your orange on it's side, so it's bump bits are on the left and right. This way, when you slice into the orange, you get your desired wheel look.

Now Start slicing. You want them to be fairly thin. I'm talking like no thicker than half a centimeter or quarter of a inch. If you have a mandolin, that'll make things easier. But if you're like me and don't have one nor can you consistently cut straight to save your life, fear not this will still work. These wheels just need to be thin.

One you have your wheels, arrange them on a baking sheet lined with parchment. You can dab off excess juice with a paper towel if you happen to have a leaky fruit. Place them in the oven and check on them after 3 hours. They may be done, or they may need more time. Be prepared to wait 6 or 7 hours drying orange wheels. Maybe have a home day planned.

If your wheels are getting brown but not dry, remove them from the oven and give them a moment to cool. Turn the tray around before placing back in the oven.

You can store these in a clean glass jar, and if done right can last a few years. This process will work with other types of Citrus too. Lemons, Limes, Grapefruits. You can make lovely decorations or dress up a gift in an eco friendly way.

[destinedfordiaperstories]

Sammy's Little Problem, Chapter 21

Sammy let Lindsay hold her hand as she followed her downstairs. It felt strange at first, but given her morning, she needed to feel closer to Lindsay.

And what a morning it was.

Sammy tried to process everything that happened in the few minutes she’d been awake. Having Lindsay see her like that, sleeping in her crib—and even worse, onesie—was deeply embarrassing. She must have looked just like a baby!

How could she ever look Lindsay in the eye again and think of herself as an equal, and not some diaper-filling Little? It was one thing for Allie to see her like that. Allie was always like a big sister to her.

But Lindsay was much more than a friend. She always thought of Lindsay as a sister. And now she’s here babysitting her. Sammy couldn’t put into words how it felt to go from Lindsay’s best friend, someone she shared everything with, to being so helpless that Lindsay was now in charge of her.

It was humiliating enough to have Lindsay change her diaper earlier. Sammy never felt more little than at that moment, listening to Allie give instructions on how to properly change her diaper. All Sammy wanted to do was disappear.

Yet, she was glad Lindsay was there to help. It may be humiliating, but so is being a Little. It was better than going to the Adoption Center to have some random Caregiver adopt her.

Sammy saw Allie had already set the table for lunch. She assumed Allie must have been super busy, because she never served take out. But to her surprise, there was a bag of McDonald’s waiting for them.

“I hope you guys don’t mind, but I didn’t have time to make anything. So, here’s to hoping you like McDonald’s!” Allie said, with noticeable embarrassment in her voice.

“Oh stop, Allie, McDonald’s will do great,” Lindsay laughs.

“Sammy, honey, I got you some chicken nuggets, apple slices, and some apple juice here,” Allie says, pointing to Sammy’s spot.

McDonald’s chicken nuggets were Sammy’s guilty love. She always tried to eat healthy, but chicken nuggets were the exception. Of course, when she went, she’d get a large Diet Coke with it. She doubted Allie would ever let her have one of those again. Another privilege lost to being a Little.

Sammy sat down next to Lindsay, hoping she wouldn’t mention her sippy cup.

Ten minutes later, lunch was done. Lindsay never mentioned the sippy cup to Sammy’s relief.

“Okay, well, I need to head out,” Allie says to both of them before turning to Lindsay, “I should be back before, but if not, Sammy’s bedtime is at 8. Make sure you put her in her nighttime diaper before you do. You should have everything you need in the meantime.”

Sammy blushed again having her bedtime announced so casually. She hated her bedtime. It was so early.

“I got this, Linds. Everything is under control.”

Allie smiles, turning to Sammy. “I want you to behave for Lindsay, okay, Sammy? You two can have fun, but you need to listen to what she says. She’s in charge. I don’t want to hear you were misbehaving.”

Sammy just nods, feeling like a toddler being chided for misbehaving.

“Do you want your paci?” Allie asks her.

“Okay,” Sammy concedes, allowing Allie to clip her paci onto her shirt before putting it in her mouth.

With that, Allie leaves. Sammy turns to Lindsay, unsure what to do next. Would Lindsay act like her friend or babysitter? What would Linsday let her do? As she looked at Lindsay, she wished she hadn’t wanted her pacifier, knowing it only made her look more like a little.

A slow smile grows on Lindsay’s face. For a split second, Sammy thinks it’s a bad sign.

“Soooo…this is awkward,” Lindsay jokes.

Sammy smiles, happy that Lindsay broke the ice. “Definitwy” Sammy lisps through her pacifier, causing Lindsay to break down laughing.

“I’m sorry, Sammy, but that was just too funny! I’m not laughing at you!” Lindsay admits.

Sammy spits out her pacifier, letting hang on her shirt, face red with embarrassment. She knows Lindsay isn’t making fun of her, but still.

“What should we do?” Lindsay asks, “I kinda want to see what the wreckage of that is.” Lindsay points to the Legos.

Sammy blushes, remembering her tantrum last night. “Well, it’s supposed to be the Millenium Falcon. At least it was until I broke it,” Sammy admits sheepishly.

“Well, why don’t we start over? You always loved your Legos, even when I made you play with Barbies every time. So, sounds like it’s time I play Legos for once! I owe you!”

“You do! Do you know how many times I had to pretend Barbies were fun growing up? And you always made me play with Ken!”

It was Lindsay’s turn to blush. “Sorry! I just loved it and wasn’t good at sharing yet!”

“It’s okay, now you have to play with Legos!”

“Sounds good to me!” Lindsay laughs, “and speaking of Ken…” Lindsay hesitates, realizing she should avoid telling Sammy about boys.

“What about Ken? Ken from school?” Sammy asks, interested.

Lindsay panics, wishing Sammy wouldn’t have put that together. “Oh, it’s nothing. Let’s build some Legos!”

“What about Ken, Lindsay? I want to know! You always had a huge crush on him!”

Lindsay knew she was in trouble. Allie wouldn’t want Sammy hearing about parties and boys. And she definitely didn’t want Sammy to be jealous that she was out going to parties and finally kissed Ken, especially when she had bedtimes and diapers instead of freedom and fun. How was she going to get out of this?

“Tell me, Linds! I know something happened! Don’t think just because I’m a Little now doesn’t mean I don’t know how you look when you have a secret!”

“I don’t know, Sammy. I don’t think it’s really appropriate to talk about now.”

Sammy looks both scandalized and hurt. “W-why not, it’s me, Linds!”

“Sammy…you know I want to tell you, but its not something I’m comfortable talking about with a Little. It’s not fair to you and it’s a bit too mature for Littles.”

“That’s not fair! I’m not a baby, Lindsay! I’m your best friend!”

“I know you aren’t a baby, Sammy,” Lindsay replies hesitantly, “its just…you are a Little now. These things aren’t supposed to be heard by Littles. You don’t need to worry about them!”

Sammy was on the verge of a tantrum. She knew it but was torn. The last thing she wanted to do was act like a tantruming Little in front of Lindsay. But, this was ridiculous. They’d spent hours talking about this stuff all year. How could she say it was inappropriate now?

“Just tell me, Linds! You’re being stupid! I can handle an ‘adult” story!’” Sammy demanded, putting up sarcastic air quotes when she said adult.

Lindsay sighed. “Look, Sammy. I don’t think its appropriate, okay? You can yell at me, but my decision is final.”

“Oh, so now you get to decide everything?”

“Yes, I do, Sammy. Just drop it, please!”

Sammy was seeing red. “No, that’s dumb! You don’t get to tell me what to do! This is bullsh*t.”

Sammy knew she went to far, but didn’t care. She had to tell Lindsay what she thought.

“I really didn’t want to do this, Sammy. But I think it’s time for a timeout. You can’t yell at me like that—and especially not use that language. You can go into timeout now or I’ll have to call Allie to tell her what you just said.”

Tears welled in Sammy’s eyes. This was so unfair. Lindsay was putting her in timeout? Her best friend? Yet, she didn’t want her to call Allie, she couldn’t handle Allie’s disappointment.

Lindsay walked over to Sammy, putting her pacifier into her mouth before giving her a hug. They embraced each other for a minute before anything was said.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I really am. But I have to put you in timeout. Can you go stand in the corner for ten minutes? If you behave I won’t tell Allie about this, okay?”

“O-kay, Windsay,” Sammy sobs, walking to the corner.

Sammy couldn’t believe she was back in timeout again. She never got in trouble at school, but here she was being sent to the corner by her best friend. At least this time, Sammy promised herself, she wouldn’t throw herself down on the ground. She’d stand there like an adult. Even if she didn’t feel like it.

Lindsay watched Sammy as she stared at the corner. She hated that this was all her fault. She never should have brought Ken up. If she hadn’t, they’d be perfectly happy building Legos together.

Once time was up, she walked towards Sammy. She wanted to apologize, but she knew she had to check her diaper first. She hated that she had to do this. She wished Sammy never needed this. But it didn’t matter now, it had been too long since they changed her diaper, she needed to know how wet she was.

“Sammy, it’s been ten minutes, are you ready to play?”

She could see the ghosts of tears on Sammy’s face, though she was noticeably calmer. “Yeth, Windsay,” Sammy whimpers.

“Good, I’m sorry for needing you to go to timeout. Let’s not do that again, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But I need to check your diaper, Sammy,” Lindsay says, trying to sound casual as she pulls down her jeans, checking Sammy’s diaper. It’s wet, but not full.

Sammy shivers in embarrassment. Her best friend just checked her diaper like it was nothing.

“It’s wet, but not ready to change,” Lindsay says, “now can we start playing?”

Go to Chapter Twenty Two.

[whump-me]

Obscure: Chapter 21

Chapter 21 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

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Elias

The orchard smelled like home.

Not the home of his childhood. Not the sick, sneezy pollen smell of the meadow, or the dark waterlogged rot of the marsh. But that home was gone. This was his home now. It was enough.

More than enough. The trees, dim in the moonlight, blurred as Elias’s eyes filled with unshed tears. He stumbled on a root buried in the grass Laina had kept carefully clipped in his absence.

And then he was on his knees, hands buried in the grass, the apple tree’s branches extended above him like a benediction. Like they were welcoming him home.

He had forgotten how sweet the smell of the orchard was. He had spent so long lost in childhood memories, he’d had no room to remember this.

He wanted to stay there forever, kneeling in the dirt of his home. He wanted to crawl under that well-tended grass, enveloped by the care it represented. He wanted to be buried here, if he couldn’t be buried in the fire-scorched meadow of his childhood home. He had died in PERI headquarters. It would be only fitting. And if he were to be laid to rest, he wanted to be under his trees, not sliced apart and stuffed into jars in the PERI labs.

But he wasn’t dead. His story couldn’t end that simply. The terrible cut of mercy had come down on him. He had escaped. He had survived. Now he would have to live with what he had seen in PERI headquarters, and what he had done.

And if he didn’t move quickly, they would catch up with him, and his home would burn around him. No doubt PERI would burn it anyway. But he would rather not watch it happen this time.

And, like last time, he had someone else depending on him. Someone who wouldn’t survive the flames without his hand to hold. Although he had no illusions about how long Laina would continue to hold his hand after he told her the truth.

It didn’t matter. As long as she survived. He had endured loss upon loss. He could endure one more.

He got up.

He stumbled across the grass. It was only when he was almost past the trees that the tickle of the grass on his bare feet registered. He couldn’t have come all this way with bare feet—had he?

He steadied himself against a tree. He lifted one foot and saw a mass of raw cuts from the pavement outside PERI headquarters and the streets on the way here. No wonder that cabdriver had looked at him so strangely.

As soon as he saw the cuts, the pain hit him. He breathed in for four, out for four. It was only physical pain. It was the least of what PERI had asked him to endure.

He hobbled up the wobbly wooden steps he had meant to replace for years. He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He had always told Laina to keep it locked. She had always laughed, thought it was a vestigial paranoia left over from his city years that he had only described to her in broad strokes and fictionalized anecdotes. Out here, she said, there was no need for locked doors.

Even now that he had been missing for months, she hadn’t started locking the door.

That alone told him PERI had fed her a lie about what had happened to him. Either they had claimed he had run off, and provided credible evidence, or they had manufactured an accident. And with an accident, with no broken body to visit him in a hospital, she had to think he was dead.

Widowed or abandoned—either way, she would be deep in her own grief right now. What did her grief look like? Did she have her own version of the big-eyed skeletal creature in his mind? Was she familiar enough with grief yet to see it that clearly, or was she still caught up in the initial shock?

He had never seen Laina grieve. All his sorrows had happened before they had met. They belonged to him alone.

She closed the door quietly behind him, not wanting to scare her at the thought of an intruder. He expected to find the house dark, and Laina sleeping a fitful sleep in a tissue-strewn bed. But ahead of him, the kitchen light was blazing like the midday sun. He drew in a breath, expecting the smells of all the food he had missed—something sweet and chocolatey, or maybe a savory midnight snack.

Instead, he got a nose full of bleach. It smelled sharp and sterile, like PERI headquarters. The blazing light turned to the light of the interrogation room. He reeled back with a gasp.

An answering gasp came from the kitchen. Laina rushed out, frying pan in one hand, raised like she was ready to slam it into his temple.

It had to be nearly midnight by now, but she was wearing her day clothes. The pair of jeans she loved so much she had patched them herself three times, the sweater with a jam stain on the sleeve. Her comfort clothes. Her hair was coming out of its ponytail. She had dark circles under her eyes, bigger and darker than Kirill’s had been at the end. In the hand not holding the frying pan, she held a bottle of spray cleaner.

He had thought he would never see her again.

He let out a low, sobbing noise at the sight of her.

She let out an identical noise. She dropped the frying pan and the bottle of cleaner.

She took a tentative step toward him, then froze, like she was afraid to move closer. Like she was afraid he was an illusion.

He understood that fear. After how long he had spent in memories of the distant past, she barely seemed real. Her life with her felt more distant than his childhood, more distant than his life with Lisbeth and Sammy.

But she was real. She was. And wherever he would stand with her by the end of the night, he had this moment with her. Another of mercy’s sweet pains.

When she didn’t move, he closed the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her. She was warm, too warm, like grief had sent her body into a fever, trying to fight it off like an infection. Or maybe he had just grown used to being cold.

He stepped back. Held her at arm’s length. Studied her face until he could be sure he was looking at something real, and not another memory.

Her hand came up. A soft finger brushed wetness from his cheek. He hadn’t known he was crying.

“You’re alive,” she said in a small voice. That answered his question about what PERI had told her.

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said probably the most useless thing he could have. “Why are you awake? Why are you cleaning? It’s the middle of the night.”

She let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’ve barely slept since they told me you were dead. What else was I going to do with myself besides clean? I’ve never been so happy we bought such a big ridiculous house.”

That explained, too, the care she had taken with the grass. “I’m not dead.”

“The police showed me your body. The accident… you were so badly burned… they said you never had a chance.” She paused. He watched her put the pieces together—the badly burned body, too badly burned for anyone to identify.

Then she eyed him, her fingers tightening on his arms, her gaze growing as sharp as an interrogator’s. “They said the dental records matched. They lied. Someone wanted me to think you were dead.”

“Yes,” he said. He watched her grow smaller at the lack of surprise in his voice. She knew, now, that there were secrets between them.

This was how the end began.

“We need to talk,” he said. The words that, since time immemorial, had presaged the collapse of something that had seemed stable.

At least she’d had some practice, over these past weeks. At least she had begun to learn how to lose him.

They sat in the living room, on the old sagging couch that she had reupholstered since he’d been gone. It was covered in a stiff blue fabric now. He didn’t have the heart to tell her yet that the effort was wasted, just like all the time she had spent cleaning. She would have to leave this place soon, and bring nothing with her.

“I should have told you all this a long time ago,” he said. “I didn’t tell you because I thought the best way to build a happy life for the two of us was to bury all my past grief. But memory doesn’t stay buried forever.”

“You’re scaring me.” Her hand quested toward his. But when he reached for her, her fingers caught her other hand instead. Her hands squeezed each other, turning her fingers white.

“I know telling you now will mean I’ll lose you,” he said. “But I have to tell you anyway. You deserve to know everything. Including why I never wanted children—why we’re rattling around in this big house all alone.”

She pursed her lips, irritation briefly winning out over apprehension. “I’d rather know why someone went to the trouble of faking your death.”

“We’ll get to that, too,” he promised. He took a breath. He had gone through this speech so many times before, but always in the bunker, in his other life. Always with a stranger.

“In the 1970s,” he began, “something about the pollution in the air and water started activating a dormant gene…”

He had known she would be skeptical. She didn’t disappoint. Her lips grew thinner and thinner with every word she said. Tension collapsed her body in on itself like a spring. He braced himself for that spring to release, to send her off the couch and storming upstairs to her bedroom.

It was a testament to the trust she had in him that she stayed.

“I’m guessing you didn’t believe a word of that,” he said when she was done.

“You guess right.” Her face looked brittle enough to shatter. “What I don’t understand is why you’re telling me this… this story. Do you believe it, or is the truth so bad, so dangerous, that you would rather try to convince me of this than tell me?”

“I can show you,” he said. “If you’ll let me.”

“This… memory power of yours?”

He nodded. “It will only be for a minute. But I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. Can I show you?”

She gave a jagged nod. “Sure. Why not?”

He stared into her eyes, and slipped into her mind.

It took longer than it had with Kirill. With him, it had happened almost without thought. With her, he had to find his way. But although nothing could compare to the bond of the friendship he and Max used to share, more than a decade of life shared with Laina was far from nothing. The process wasn’t effortless, but it was easy.

He spread the fog wide, because the effects had to be obvious. But he spread it thin, thin enough to blow away at the slightest breeze. Then he pulled back, and he waited.

She blinked away the fog in her eyes. “Where… am I?” she asked, her voice small and lost. “Who…”

Then she shook her head slightly. Her eyes grew sharp again. She reached out a hand to steady herself against the couch. Again, he reached for her. Again, she pulled away.

“I…” She shook her head hard, like she was trying to clear away the last of fog. “For a minute… I couldn’t remember you. I couldn’t remember… anything.”

“That’s what I do,” Elias said. “I can take away a specific memory, too. Or make the effect last longer. Or both. It all depends on how well I know the person. The more of an emotional connection there is, the more control I have.”

Her eyes narrowed. He saw the calculations behind her eyes. Almost fifteen years together. That was a lot of time to build an emotional connection. A lot of time for her not to know what he could do—what he might have been doing.

He shook his head. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I would have asked permission. I always do, unless my life is in danger.”

“And it has been,” she said. “Your life has been in danger.” The couple of feet between them on the couch seemed to expand as she stared at him as if across a vast gulf. For a moment, he saw himself through her eyes—an inhabitant of another world. A world where danger was ordinary. A world where memories were erased, and deaths faked.

“Eighteen years,” she said. “A year after we met, I told you there was nothing more to discover—that you knew everything about me. More than I had ever shared with anyone else. Do you remember?”

He remembered. It had been difficult, finding a way to imply that it was the same for him without saying it outright. He hadn’t wanted to lie to her—except for the unavoidable lies of omission. But he couldn’t have come out and said he had secrets, either, not without sharing with her what those secrets were.

That option—actually telling her his secrets—hadn’t even occurred to him. Not that night. His heart was still too tender from Sammy’s loss to risk exposing it. His network was too new and fragile to bring into the light.

“I should have told you then,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“You should have told me before then.”

“I should have,” he agreed.

“This isn’t like… like hiding a DUI from when you were a teenager,” she said. “You have… powers. You’re…”

He could have filled in her silence with the word Enhanced, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She wanted to know who he was.

“I’m the same person I’ve always been,” he said.

“You can’t say that,” she said, shaking her head. “Not when you have this whole other life I never knew about. I never knew you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, like she was getting ready to mourn him all over again. “I never knew you,” she repeated. “I knew… pieces of you. That’s not the same.”

He wanted to argue. He couldn’t.

“There’s more,” he said. Better to rip the band-aid off all at once.

He told her about the network he had created. Fifteen years of fighting against PERI and how they wanted to use people like him. The bunker in the backyard—her eyes widened at that, but she said nothing.

Her eyes looked slightly glazed. Her mouth hung slack, like she had forgotten what to do with it. He knew that look. He had seen it in the bunker more times than he could count. It was the look of someone who could no longer feel solid ground under their feet—because he had ripped it away.

And he wasn’t done.

“I’ve lived under four different identities,” he said. “The first was when I was a child. My first name was Elias then, too. I lived on a commune, people like me. About half a dozen families, maybe slightly more.”

It hadn’t been half a dozen families. It had been one family. But that was more than he wanted to explain to Laina right now. If he told her about his family, about the meadow and the marsh, about Max, he would fall back into the quicksand of memory and might never come out again.

“PERI destroyed it,” he said instead, skipping to the end, his voice clipped. “I was the only one who survived.”

Not quite true. But true enough.

Her hand came up to her lips.

“The second is when I lived in the city,” he said. “A couple of different cities, really. I’ve told you stories. I just didn’t tell you I was living under a different name then.”

“How many of your stories were real?” she asked. She was already catching on.

“Most.” His eyes lowered. “Some.”

She shook her head and looked away.

“PERI tracked me down. I ran, and changed identities again. That was when I went to work on the orchard, like I told you.”

“You were like… like some kind of spy,” she said, slowly shaking her head. He couldn’t tell whether still angry. It didn’t matter. If she wasn’t now, she would be in a few seconds.

“Spies have resources. All I had was myself, and the determination to live.”

She let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. “And the power to erase memories,” she reminded him.

“That doesn’t go as far as you might think.” Before she could speak again, he took a deep breath. “After the orchard… I met someone. We got married.”

A slight hesitation. “I never thought I was the first woman you were with,” she said. But she had thought she was the first woman he had married, and the slight tremble in her voice showed it.

He ripped the rest of the band-aid off. “We had a son.”

Tears came to him then, unexpected, like a summer squall. They ripped through him, tearing him in two, doubling him over.

Sammy.

The infant in his arms.

The eight-year-old who didn’t come home.

The assassin who didn’t know him.

He couldn’t see her through his tears. She said nothing. Maybe she was giving him the space she thought he needed. Maybe she was too furious with him to cry.

He wiped his eyes. A few last hiccups escaped him. He looked up at her, bracing for anger, hoping for sympathy.

He saw neither. She was still frozen in shock.

There was no excuse for not having told her about his child, so he didn’t offer one. “I saw him,” he said. “He’s grown up now. He works for them. They took him when he was a child. That’s when I became Elias Kitzner. I left my old life behind so I could fight them.” He hastily added, “I didn’t leave my wife. She left me first.”

It was all leaving his mouth out of order, in a hopeless tangle. He had no hope of retracing his steps and finding his way through the mess of words to untangle it. He could only move forward. “They found me. They wanted me to give them everyone who worked with me. They learned about Sammy. They thought… if they threatened him, if they hurt him…”

His voice failed. He couldn’t go any further.

Her mouth was a circle of horror. Her hands clutched each other for dear life. She still didn’t reach for him.

“I escaped,” he said when he could speak again. “But not before they…” He shook his head. “It worked. They got everything. And they know… they know where to find me. I need a new identity.” Another gulping breath. “We both will. You have to run, or they’ll find you, and I can’t trust that they won’t hurt you this time. I’m sorry.” He tried to stare at his lap, so he wouldn’t have to see her face when the shock wore off. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her, when this might be the last time he would ever see her. “I’m so sorry.”

Little by little, Laina’s face came unfrozen. Her eyes first. Then the thaw crept gradually downward until her mouth snapped shut.

Her lips tightened. Her eyes sparked with fury.

He had expected it. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I already have a call in to someone who can get us both good identities,” he said. “They’ll hold up.” Or that was what he had heard. He had never used this person before. His old contact… he had given the name to Kirill. He knew better than to think she was still around.

“I’ll help you figure out where to go,” he continued. “I’ll get you whatever you need. After that, you never have to see me again.”

The fury in her eyes didn’t abate. Sparks snapped in their depths of her gaze. “How old was your son?” she asked. “When he was taken?”

“Sammy was eight.” Was she going to make him explain every detail of his lies? He supposed he owed her nothing less. But every moment they spent would give them less of a head start. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But we have to—”

“Sammy,” she said softly. Then, “They took a child. They forced a child to work for them? These people who… you said they do assassinations? Secret military operations?”

“That and more,” he said, feeling the conversation slip out of his control. He didn’t know what was happening anymore. “But he didn’t do any of that at eight. They trained him. They made him into…” Into someone who was his son and yet wasn’t. A stranger who could talk to about assassinations without blinking an eye.

He didn’t say any of that, but when her expression shifted, he had a feeling she had seen it anyway. He might not have known his past, but she did know him, whether she thought she did or not.

“And they took you,” she said. “They faked your death. They made me believe I was a widow. They hurt you—they must have. I’ve seen enough movies to know how these things work. And then they hurt your child in front of you.”

It took Elias that long to figure out her fury wasn’t directed at him.

“We’re not running,” she said.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her and thank her for being so much more than he deserved. But he didn’t know whether she would accept his touch, and anyway, they had no time. “We have no choice,” he said. “They’ll be here within hours. If not sooner.”

“We’ll leave if we have to,” she said, like it was nothing, like she had been doing this all her life. Like the very thought wasn’t making her hands tremble in her lap. “We’ll get those new identities. But we’re not going to run and hide. We’re going to get your son back.”

How he wished they could. “It’s too late for that,” he said, and meant it. “He’s spent too long with them. It’s the only life he wants now. I know—I talked to him.”

It was too late for him, like it was for Kirill. Kirill—who had wanted to make plans for after an escape that should have been impossible. An escape that had happened less than an hour later. Had a freak stroke of luck really unlocked that door and turned off those lights? Or…

“Maybe,” Laina allowed. “But how much of a chance did you have to talk to him? And even if you can’t help him… you said there were others. You said you spent years helping people like him.”

“That’s all gone now.”

“For now. Are you saying you can’t do what you did a second time?” She shoved herself up from the couch. The sparks in her eyes hadn’t faded. “Are you going to let them win?”

He stared, shocked into silence by her fervency. And, perhaps, by how he had accepted his own defeat without question.

“I thought my life was over,” he finally said, by way of explanation. “I thought they were going to kill me.”

“Then make them wish they had.” Her lips pulled back from her lips in a fierce smile he had never seen before from her. Maybe there were sides of her he hadn’t seen, just like she had never seen all of him.

“You’ll be in danger,” he said. “I never wanted that.”

“At least I’m getting the chance to choose,” she said. “Which it sounds like you never got.” She held out a hand to him. “And I’m choosing you. On one condition.”

He waited.

“Never keep anything from me again,” she said.

He took her hand. It was warm in his. He craved that warmth, after the constant low-grade chill of PERI headquarters.

He wanted to tell her she didn’t understand. Sammy was gone. His network was gone. Elias Kitzner, the one who had created his network, was dead—as surely as Sammy and Max.

But someone had allowed him to escape. It was the only explanation that made sense. And there was only one person who would have done it.

As for Sammy, he still remembered that day on the beach.

Maybe they weren’t completely dead after all. And so maybe Elias would just have to live, too. Even if that meant living with what he had done.

“Thank you,” he said, as he clung to her hand as if she had pulled him out of the grave. Maybe she had.

Then, reluctantly, he let go. “But right now, we still need to run. I’ll take care of everything. All you need to do is trust me.”

She swept her pointed gaze over him—from his filthy scrubs to his bleeding feet. “You’re in no condition for that,” she said. “You’ve spent fifteen years protecting me. Let me take care of you for once. Just tell me who to call.”

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @suspicious-whumping-egg

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[n4talia-chaparro]

Meanwhile at the party, sp krupp has brought his world famous party salad. It's a pink colored casserole type dish with every type of candy imaginable, that it almost could rot your teeth instantly, which is why he put apple slices in it. He brought a lot of it, like a lot a lot of it and is sharing some of it lumberjack krupp, who he invited to the party. The music from dj manatee is playing a remix of barbie girl.

Sp krupp: hm? Where is everyone? I told them the party was starting in 20 minutes and now 24 minutes have pass.

Lumberjack krupp: I'm sure the others will show up strange crossed eye guy, so who's this gp guy you told me about?

Sp krupp: oh his great, a bit murder happy, but who isn't. He loves coral blue #2 lipstick and men, I'm sure his about walk through those doors with party hat ready and maybe even a big surprise to really light up the party! :3

🌙||꒷꒦︶🪵︶︶꒷꒦︶∪∪︶꒷꒦︶︶🪵︶꒷꒦||🌙

Gp Krupp was overhearing the conversation between those two krupps. He rolled his eyes as he continue hiding himself behind the wall to avoid being caught.

He said as he tried to calm down, the music was giving him a headache. Gp then took a little peek again, glaring at them.

He always hated SP, he always hated his guts and hates everything about him with a burning passion. He really wanted to hurt him and rip him apart into piece, but was it really worth it?

Not really. Gp wasn't sure whether to step in and attack him and the other Krupp. He didn't understand what was causing him to feel weird even tho he doesn't believe in feelings or any sort of effect. His eyes softened a little as he continues to spy on them. For some odd reason, he couldn't stop keeping his eyes on SP, it was....confusing...

Why does his heart race too fast everytime he's near or close to him (someone else)?

Why is it hard to be open about it? Is it bad?

Is it normal for a smart and sick murderer to develope a strange feeling towards someone he hates?

Is it okay to feel bad for him and try to apologize or end the beef?

Is it okay to be friends with him?

Is this even normal???

"Why is he starting to feeling bad for a crossed eyed person who wanted to have fun?"

Who knows! No one knows the answers to those questions. This of course made Gp more frustrated and confused, his face was flushing red as his mind was slowly getting fuzzy.

He immediately shaked his head.

"DON'T screw this up Ben! You can't let that crossed eyed moron beat you. Keep it together!!"

He said to himself as he glanced at the other direction. Luckily he wasn't the only one coming to the "party". Few people were entering the room without noticing Gp Krupp's existence which is a good sign that the plan will actually work.

He wasn't sure if it will work or not but he had to. He has to prove them wrong. He has to. Otherwise, he will end up failing if he gets distracted. Thinking of the plans he wasn't sure if it's easy to hide his weapon.

Some people were walking by and calling it a confetti cannon as a joke, making GP pissed off but he liked the idea, knowing people were dumb enough to realize it was a dangerous weapon and not some sort of cannon with confetti.

So he finally entered the room with his weapon, avoiding any eye contact with anyone around him. It was hard to walk in because of the manatees were all over the ground but he was starting to get used to it back where I was saying; he entered the room. Trying to avoid the awkwardness, mostly trying hard not to look at SP or any Krupp involved in the party, ready to start his mission.