#CAN'T SUMMER COME FASTER

[cookinary]

GOOD THING I HAD PLANNED TO ADAPT THE STORY OF MY FRIEND P TO WORK WITH THE DLC BECAUSE HOLY FUCK

[rueclfer]

best friend katsuki who starts finding himself getting a bit too flustered around you.

it starts with a hug.

you're so fucking dramatic, he thinks.

every time you see each other, you might as well be standing in the middle of an airport with the crowd split down the middle and fireworks going off in the background.

he'd never admit it, but he loves the theatrics. he loves the click between you when you lock eyes in a crowded room. he loves your "half-run" towards him and the hop you do right before you wrap your arms around his neck.

of course you two always get odd looks, because despite being best friends since childhood, and everyone knowing it, they still can't seem to understand how a person like you can get along with a person like him.

"you're choking me," he breathlessly chuckles, "ya missed me or something?"

"something like that." you murmur, the smile apparent in your voice.

katsuki stops breathing for a moment when his fingers sink into the soft skin of your waist and his palm goes flush against your bare lower back.

why the fuck is your shirt so short?

i should move my hand.

you're so warm.

i shouldn't be thinking about this.

he doesn't say anything, and he sure as hell isn't letting go first. instead, he buries his nose deeper into the crook of your neck, hoping that he could blame the blush blooming over his cheeks on the hot summer day.

"what's wrong?" you finally pull away, one hand locked on his shoulder and the other sliding down his bicep.

"what?"

his eyes lock onto your own. he's fighting the urge to trail his eyes down your body- see how that crop top looks from the front now that he knows how it feels.

"you seem weird."

"says the weirdo." he scoffs. "m'fine."

you roll your eyes, letting your hands drop to your side.

"come get a soda with me." you almost demand, starting to walk off knowing he'd follow close behind.

no one else in the world would dare speak to katsuki the way you do. he’d never allow it, but that attitude coming from you only had his heart racing even faster.

"you paying?"

"i have you to do that for me, don't i?"

you turn your head over your shoulder, flashing him that toothy grin of yours, and that's when katsuki knew for certain.

he was fucked.

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You���ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

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[beaunoor]

You tell you bf fingering doesn’t get you off, he proves otherwise

"Well how do you usually get off when I'm not here?" He chuckles in disbelief at what you had just admitted to him.

"I don't know, I just don't," You say with a light chuckle and look away in slight embarrassment.

The revelation that you would wait for him to come back home to you and fuck you had him hardening in his pants. There was no way his baby went on without any relief.

-

"Come on baby, you can do it."

Your right arm is tired from locked position you have it in as your middle and ring finger move in and out of your hot, wet pussy. Your forehead is glistening in sweat and your chest moves up and down with heavy breathes as you lay your head back onto his shoulder as he sits behind you on the bed. You could almost cry as you've been trying to get off for the past thirty minutes.

You let out a frustrated whine when you can feel the ache of your fingers, scared of loosing the arousal, you pull them out. The slick clinging on makes you shiver.

"I-I can't do it anymore. Please!" You cry out and look up towards his face to make him see your desperation.

But when you look up you see his eyes on your sex, eyebrows furrowed, an almost angry look on his face. He breathes out of his nose before his hand replaces your own, his two fingers slipping right in and move at a faster pace than what you were doing.

"So wet baby, look at this. Why can't you get off like good girl?" You let out a shaky moan as you looked down, watching his hands play at your cunt. His fingers reaching places you couldn't reach and the other hand rubbing on your swollen clit. You then feel his lips on your neck, kissing and licking, all the sensations making tears form in your eyes.

“So pathetic, can’t even do it yourself. Look how you writhe baby.” He chuckles, hearing the squelching at the pace he was going. You begin writhing, body moving in jolts at the sensation of your orgasm coming.

"Uhn! I- I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

“My poor baby, how long have you gone without getting off, huh? Don’t worry I got you. Need another one from you.” He coos

pulled this out of drafts to give new followers something, almost done with uni for the summer so I can focus on finishing writing the bigger projects

[rafecameronsleftbicep]

want more, rafe cameron

When reader and Rafe have been sneaking around with each other for the last two months, y/n can't help but want more. Bringing this up with him, she's under the impression he's embarrassed to be seen with a pogue.

warnings: swearing, insecurities, arguing, mentions of sex, angst, always a sucker for a happy ending though, it's a looong one <33

pairing: rafe cameron x fwbpogue!reader

Y/n was sat on the little bench outside her small home, right by the water as the wind blew through her hair. Her knees were tucked up to her chin as the kook boy who usually plagued her thoughts did just that, sink into her mind.

It was never meant to be more than a good time, something to pass the summer. He made her feel good - in more ways than one - he would take her out on dates, whisper sweet words to her, and the way he looked at her. She could swear he was in love, that he was just as infatuated with her as she was him. But the way he only took her to private and secluded places, the way his words were the most affectionate when he was deep inside her, the way he would put space between them whenever he saw someone he recognised. These small things, things he may not even realise he does, they all reminded her that she wasn't anything to him. He would never let himself fully be hers, he could never let his reputation fall like that.

He gave her just enough that she felt completely and utterly consumed by him. Craved his attention, his touch, even a small message would complete her day. However, as time went on she knew she needed more, she knew that she couldn't bear much more before she completely lost herself to please him.

"Come over" The message catches her attention, the illuminated screen laying on the bench beside her pulling her from her wandering thoughts.

She knew the message was from Rafe before her eyes even flicked to the screen, she never really had anyone else calling on her. It wasn't that she didn't have any friends, but she wasn't one to go out and the friends she kept knew that.

A couple weeks ago, she would've been on her way to his before she could even start replying, no thought needed except the thought of being in his proximity. Now, however, she was tired. Tired and sad, feeling pathetic really after spending so long thinking about him.

"feeling tired tonight. sorry, rafe" She replies slowly, her heart pounding as she sends it. She turns her phone back off, yet before she can place her phone back down her screen lights up with another message from him.

"Please, baby. I need you" He responds, her heart sinks. She doesn't know how much more she can stand up for herself, fighting that craving feeling she has for him.

"not in the mood rn tbh" She tries to stay strong, holding onto that tiny bit of dignity she has left in her.

"Don't even need to fuck"

"Just wanna be close to you"

Her heart pounds faster and her breathing is shaky. Fingers hovering over her illuminated screen. Every possible message she could write spinning though her head.

"you can come over then" She types out, deletes and types out again. She had never been so unsure in herself before, never doubted her own thoughts like this. But she sends it, stopping herself from contemplating and worrying further.

Rafe had been to her place a couple of times before, only ever to pick her up. Each visit shorter than the last, hurrying to leave as if humiliated to be caught in such a place. It made her feel ashamed of who she was, how she grew up and she felt even more embarrassed that she let a guy make her feel so insecure about something that could never change, something that literally made her who she was.

"Coming" The phone lights up for a last time in her hands and when her eyes run over the message she is filled with surprise and even more shame as her heart warms for him. She knows that him visiting her is the bare minimum. That being able to step foot in the place she calls home should not be seen as a difficult task. But she feels happy that he's coming to see her because he wants to.

She sits with her pathetic thoughts as she waits for him. Curling up on the bench as she watches the way the pearly moonlight glimmers across the waves perfectly. The soft wind sending chills down her spine and strands of her hair across her face.

"Y/n?" She hears his voice call out and for a moment she feels like she's lost hers. "Baby?"

"Yeah, around here" She replies softly as she sees him bend round the corner of her home. She has a tiny smile on her face, never fully reaching her eyes.

"Something wrong, pretty girl?" He mutters softly as he moves to sit next to her on the bench. He's dressed in sweats and she can only assume he's been relaxing at home prior to coming over. He gently takes her bare legs and slides them onto his lap. He can't help but let his eyes rake over her perfect body. The way she looks so small in his shirt he must've let her borrow once and some pyjama shorts. Yet for the first time, he puts aside his vulgar thoughts because he can tell she's unhappy.

Her eyes look into his, the way he's cracked open her feelings so easily, reading her like a book despite keeping a wall up of his own. Her breath shaky again as she gives a small shrug, her eyes dropping down to his hands. The way his thumb gently runs back and forth over her knee.

"Talk to me" He says softly, the crease between his brows deepening as he loses her gaze.

"Do you even care?" She voices gently. Not looking at him, to maintain the little power she has left over herself.

"What?" He mumbles with confusion, his body straightening up as he didn't expect such blunt thoughts from her.

"Do you even care that I'm upset? Or what I'm upset about?" She mumbles a bit louder as her gaze moves back over to the glistening waves ahead of them.

"O-of course I do, I don't understand?" He mutters as his thumb stops the stroking and instead slides to her chin, moving her face to look at him.

"I mean we aren't dating, and it feels like you've never really cared about how I feel outside the sex." She tells him for the first time. The tension feels suffocating, yet at the same time the weight off her shoulders is so liberating.

"That's what you think?" He asks her, a strong tone of annoyance or maybe disappointment.

The eye contact between them so intense that she feels as though she needs to take a deep breath before replying or she might pass out. "That's exactly how it feels." She admits gently with a shrug.

"That's not what this is." He says firmly, shaking his head as his hand slips off her chin and runs down his face with a huff.

"You're embarrassed to be seen with me. Face it, Rafe. It's not like we're dating. You only keep me around for a good fuck." She says shakily, running off adrenaline and the fact that there's no use stopping now that she's started.

"You don't embarrass me, I'm just not ready to make things official." He tells her unwaveringly, yet his eyes darting towards the water, the ground, her. Everything about his body and words make him seem so secure in himself. Yet his eyes express all his true emotions, how hesitant and insecure he really feels.

"God, Rafe. You can barely be seen with me, and I can't bear to be just some girl you fuck and take out secretly." She tells him, her throat feeling scratchy and sore as her eyes water lightly. She curses herself for getting so emotional, it wasn't even that serious yet she couldn't keep herself together.

His heart breaks, pained as she expresses her feelings to him, pained as he watches her fall apart in front of him. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He mutters gently.

"Don't be. You never promised me anything more than what you've given me." She shakes her head gently, as her eyes look at the side of his face.

"I want to give you more, I want to promise you the world." He whispers with his head in his hands.

"I can't continue feeling like this, Rafe." She tells him softly, "I can't handle craving you privately."

"I didn't know you felt like this..." He replies shamefully, his hands sliding down his face as he turns to look at her with torment. His eyes are glossy and his jaw is clenched, he doesn't know what there is to say to make this better.

"Don't bullshit." She mumble with a soft frown, not believing for a second that he didn't know she was completely infatuated with him.

"No, y/n. I mean it. I've... I feel for you. And I don't know how to handle it, express it. Fuck. I'm a mess, baby." He spills to her helplessly. "If I knew how I was hurting you, I would've done something, said something. I just- it's so difficult for me." His voice rasps and cracks unsteadily.

She doesn't know what to say, heart pounding as she watches his sincerity. She fiddles with her fingers anxiously as she tries to think of anything to reply with.

"Please believe me, pretty girl" He practically whimpers, his hands itching to feel her near him.

"What are we gonna do?" She whispers as she looks down at her hands. "Something needs to change... I can't go on like this" She tells him.

"I wanna make you mine." He tells her, giving in to his desperation to be close to her as his hand moves to rest on her anxiously fidgeting fingers.

"What's holding you back?" She mumbles as her eyes remain glued to their hands, fluttering closed for a moment as she soaks in the warmth of his hand.

"I-I don't know. I just, I feel so stupid because I want to give you the world but I'm the one stopping myself from giving it to you." He opens up quietly, his eyes boring into the side of her face. "But I know I need you, for more than just your body. I need you in every way I can have you." He whispers to her, gently pulling her closer so that his lips brush the shell of her ear. His closeness, warmth and the way his breath tickles her ear shoots a shiver down her spine.

"Please let me have you."

(a/n: i had to end it there or i would keep writing all night, i hope you all enjoyed!!)

[satyricplotter]

you have the red hood on speed dial. for information, you know? you're not part of any shady deals, but it pays to have an ear out in crime alley. not that you do your job. it's the third time this month jason has swung by your apartment to find you've called him over not to report on suspicious gang activity or some funny guy encroaching on his territory, but to... repair something. last week was your pipes. today's your AC.

"tell me something," he says, scrubbing at the filters over your sink. his sleeves are rolled up, forearms covered in suds. you pulled over a chair. to watch, mind you, not help. not that you could help much in this tiny ass kitchen. he's bent over the single sink, forehead perilously close to the perpetually slightly open cabinet. he wonders when you're gonna call him over to tighten your screws.

"something," you say, quite seriously.

jason exercises patience and throws some suds at you. you shriek like he'd held you at gunpoint anyway. "you got any yellow pages around? they still sell them. heard they've even moved to the internet. you know the internet? i know you have access to it because you asked me to rewire your modem three weeks ago."

"thank you for that, by the way." you smile bright and sweet at him. "it goes so much faster now. every single one of my freeloaders has come up to me to show me a different minecraft build since you did that. i can only hope that will translate to me getting a high rise penthouse when they all become architects."

he snorts. your freeloaders are the three children in the apartments on your floor that you've shared your wifi password with. jason had significantly improved on the system you'd been working with the minute he found out--it keeps the kids off the streets, you know? part of his responsibilities. nothing more.

"stop fucking deflecting," he says. this stain won't go out. is there mold here? he glances at the ceiling. hm. he should check next time.

you cross your leg the other way around. you're wearing shorts. it's a hot day out in gotham. summer. no AC. your skin sticks together at the thighs. he can hear it. he can almost feel it. a drop of sweat runs down his back, the phantom caress of a finger.

it's a hot day out in gotham.

he turns back to the filters.

"i just don't know what you're getting at, mr. hood," you sigh.

jason rolls his eyes. so needlessly evasive. and for what? just to keep him there.

"what i'm getting at," he says, "is why you don't call a plumber. or an electrician. or... whoever does this fucking job. some guy out there must be making their living scrubbing these things. call him, why won't you?"

"then what will you do?" you wonder curiously.

jason snaps his head towards you. looks at his helmet on your dinner table. then at you. helmet. you. his face must tell you everything he can't quite put politely, because you laugh uproariously. he shakes his head like an old man lamenting the state of the youth, even though you're probably older than him. he wonders if you know that.

"i could be out there doing serious stuff," he grumbles, just to say.

"like severing heads?" you pipe up, wagging your eyebrows.

jason huffs. "that was one time."

snickering, you stand up. "hey, don't sweat it, big man," you say, clapping his shoulder. your hand lingers there, and when you retract it, so does the heat of it. jason can almost feel its imprint. you smile up at him, hip leaning against the counter right next to him. jason thinks he might stay here forever. the grease on these filters won't give.

"i thought it was a grand entrance," you continue. "scared us all big time. made everyone put their guard up. i didn't see hide nor hair of skittish george for a week after!"

jason tongues at the inside of his mouth, trying not to seem surly and failing miserably. "i wasn't trying to scare you."

"it's 'cuz we didn't know," you explain, a smile bordering on shy dancing in your mouth. jason feels inexplicably wound up, like his body's picked up on something his mind hasn't. "hadn't met you yet."

when you move behind him, slowly, wrap your arms around his waist, jason cannot say he didn't see it coming. but it does catch him off guard. everything you do seems like it catches him off guard. the most vapid, inconsequential shit in the world suddenly has weight. a clogged pipe. a broken light switch. an empty gas canister. his presence in your life.

you press your forehead between his shoulder blades. the wet heat of your sigh sinks into his bones. he glances down at your hands hooked together by the ring and pinky fingers. do you always do this? he wants to know. he's filled with hunger.

"you're good people, hood," you mutter, cheek to his back.

jason swallows down at the water. "you don't know that."

"i know," you say. sound sure of it. the smile that unfurls against him has him squeezing the soap out of the sponge. "you fix all of my shit."

he sets everything aside. fuck these filters. you barely even move when he tries to turn around, caging him immediately against the sink with a bright grin. he should've seen this coming. you don't even care that his hands are cold and wet when he sets them above your hips, just shiver a little against him. he settles against the sink and you follow, rest your chin on his chest. jason just observes you for a moment, your bright, open face. he smooths a hand over your temple, leaves it resting on your nape. you receive the touch with eagerness that sends sparks down his spine, but he has to say the words before anything else goes down. it's just proper form. mom did say that.

in an apartment just like this, in fact.

"i don't do that because i'm good, though," he says.

you raise your eyebrows. "oh?" playful smile. he wants to eat it. he will. "why then?"

jason snorts. pinches at your eyebrow just to throw you off your game. you squeak and flail, chiding him for ruining the moment, and he takes the opportunity to grab your face in his hands and bring it close to his. you shut up mid-word, and the face you make is a little funny. he wants to keep seeing it. he will.

he speaks the next words against your mouth. "i do it because i like you."

[lovebugism]

📼  ; ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY | 1/2

summary: by the summer of 1987, eddie munson has mastered the art of dying and coming back to life again. but worse than that: he can't seem to stop running into the pretty lifeguard from hawkins community pool. the grumpy ol' vampire slowly learns to love sunshine in the afterlife. (23k)

pairing: vampire!eddie munson / ditzy!sunshine!reader

contents: fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, extreme canon divergence (most of the events of st3 and st4 still happen but starcourt is still standing, some people aren't dead, etc.) (i'm just here to have fun, honestly) cw for mentions of grief and ptsd, mentions of blood

( best listened with headphones, full fic playlist here )

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ��́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

          she lives in the place in the side of our lives

          where nothing is ever put straight . . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Being a vampire sucks.

No pun intended.

Eddie Munson’s too tired for puns. He’s too tired for most things, really.

That’s what they don’t tell you about being a vampire — it’s not nearly as cool as The Lost Boys make it seem. He isn’t any stronger now than he was the night he died. He isn’t any faster, either. And if he’s capable of shape-shifting into a bat, he hasn’t tried because the thought of becoming the thing that killed him feels like more of a purgatory than what he’s been doomed to already. 

He didn’t even get a cool cape out of it, which is more of a bite than anything, honestly. 

No pun intended.

All Eddie’s got to show for his death are the patches of marred skin on his stomach to prove it. And a couple of pointy teeth — which, so far, have only tasted his own flesh because he’s bitten his lip with them more times than he can count. And, yeah, maybe he’s got a heightened sense or two, but that’s it. It’s not nearly as cool as it sounds, either. Enhanced hearing and sense of smell are just code for being constantly overstimulated.

Eddie misses being alive. He misses not knowing what blood tastes like. He misses forgetting to eat all day and accidentally having ice cream for a first meal — which he’d then scarf down like a man starved until it inevitably made him sick, so that he could then complain about how sick he felt. 

He misses the consequences of humanhood because now he’s half-corpse, half-god — a dizzying mixture for a boy who used to just be somebody’s kid.

And what does Eddie do to cope with it all? He gets his weekly mint-chip cone at Scoops Ahoy.

Steve passes the ice cream over the counter with a kinder smile than Eddie’s used to. His skin is freckled and golden against the dark navy of his uniform. So full of life. The child’s sailor outfit hasn’t stopped being funny, but Eddie scowls at him ‘cause he’s jealous. He’s never been anything but pale, even before death, but he can’t exactly catch a tan now, can he?

“You look good,” Steve Harrington observes, distant but meaningful. 

The wild-haired boy ahead of him doesn’t seem nearly as poorly as he did a day or so ago, when he looked somehow more like death than the day he actually died. He’s got his usual color back now. A telltale sign of a recent feeding.

Eddie flashes the boy a dubious, brown-eyed glance. “Are you flirting with me?” he jokes with his ringed fingers curled around the waffle cone, too monotoned to sound as playful as he means.

Steve’s face screws. “No.”

“Damn.”

“See! That’s what I’m talking about!” the brunette proclaims proudly, waving an accusatory finger in the other boy’s direction. “Eddie from yesterday wouldn’t have made that joke. Eddie from yesterday wouldn’t have said anything, actually.”

“Well, Eddie From Yesterday, hadn’t eaten in two weeks,” the boy deadpans. (He isn’t talking about food, either). “And Eddie From Yesterday was so exhausted and filled with an inhuman rage that death was funnier than making stupid jokes.”

Steve tries not to cower at his faux-seriousness. “Touché,” he nods.

Eddie hands the boy the last bill in his wallet. Steve makes out his change and, like a total idiot, dumps a dime onto his palm. The silver hits his skin like a drop of acid rain or molten lava. Eddie winces at the burn, hissing through his teeth as he jerks his singed hand back. 

“Why are you giving me dimes, man?!” he shouts over the sound of clattering coins.

“Shit!” Steve grimaces. “Sorry, dude— I forgot.”

“Oh, you forgot?” Eddie bites in a mocking tone.

“Yeah! Sorry if I can’t remember everything about—” Steve pauses his rant to peer around the shop with cautious eyes. He quietens. “—Vampires, alright? Sue me.”

Eddie watches the boy scramble to gather scattered coins –– coth hat askew on his head, scarlet tie in his way. The sight alone makes him laugh. A sharp exhale through his nose, but a laugh nonetheless. “You know what? How ‘bout just keep the change?”

“You keep the damn change,” Steve grumbles under his breath.

“Nice one.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie takes a big bite from his fresh scoop. He lets the sharp peppermint and deep chocolate concoction melt in his mouth. The strange combination was always the best distraction from the coppery tang of blood lingering on his tongue. 

Distracts because the metallic taste never quite leaves him, no matter how often he washes his mouth out. The taste of death always persists. Not in a poetic way, though. It’s more like a mouthful of old pennies.

Only problem is, he can’t really taste it now — the tart mint-chip or the pint of blood he’d choked down yesterday afternoon. The sensuous scent of hibiscus lilts along an otherwise still breeze, sudden and very overwhelming. It’s powdery and floral, rich and fruity. A fragrance sweet enough to make him ill, and it’s accompanied by the rhythmic flip-flop, flip-flop of rubber sandals.

Eddie glances mindlessly over his shoulder, then nearly breaks his neck at the force of his double-take. The candied scent, he finds, belongs undoubtedly to the pretty face behind him.

You saunter into the ice cream shop like a rolling summer cloud — with a walk that’s as soft and delicate as you look. There’s something thaumaturgical in the honeyed atmosphere that follows you in, still unceremoniously punctuated by the flip-flop, flip-flop sound of your shoes against the linoleum.

You are, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the raspberry, marshmallow, lily-of-the-valley scent radiating from your sunkissed skin. There is much of it on display now, and what little is covered is hardly left to the imagination.

Straight from a shift at Hawkins Community Pool, your mandated uniform clings perfectly to your torso — a pretty, scarlet one-piece that scoops deeply at the chest. Stamped on the center is a pool floatie and two surfboards that make a more summery skull-and-crossbones shape. ‘Lifeguard’ is written just beneath it, right over the swell of your breasts.

You wear a pleated skirt on your lower half to match. The bouncy fabric rests scandalously, and perhaps unintentionally, low on your hips. A faint sliver of your skin is showcased in a way that drives him hopelessly wild. And you’ve paired it all with a pair of too-big sunglasses on your head and a cherry sucker in your mouth. 

Effortless. A total cakewalk of perfection.

Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington have never known much about either. 

The latter is still trying to dump change into the tip jar when he goes to greet you. Your eyes link, the words get stuck in his throat, and the coins scatter to the laminate all over again. Steve tries to catch them at first before realizing how utterly uncool he must look. He makes a bigger fool of himself by just letting them fall.

“Hey. Hi. Wel—Welcome to Scoops Ahoy,” the brunette clears his throat. He props his hands along the countertop and feels a rogue penny stick to his clammy palm. “You’re not lost, are you?”

Steve forces a lopsided smile at his sorry excuse for a joke. Eddie rolls his eyes. You blink at him and pluck the cherry sucker from your mouth — which has left your lips softly swollen and tinted a rosier shade.

“This is where pretty boys in tiny sailor outfits sell ice cream, right?”

Your deadpan expression makes it difficult to gauge whether or not you’re joking. Steve’s face glows red at the sort-of compliment. He nods rapidly until the words catch up to him. “Yeah— Yeah, it— It is, actually.”

You smile at him, tightlipped and warm. It fills the windowless shop with glittering sunbeams. “Then can I have a scoop of rainbow sherbet, please?”

Steve raps his knuckles against the counter and nods again. “Yep. Coming right up.”

Eddie takes another hearty bite of his ice cream while you linger at his side — a couple of feet away but feeling much closer than that. As the minty chocolate melts slow on his tongue, all he can taste is the fruity-floral scent of you. 

It makes his head go all swimmy because he knows your blood must taste the same. Like velvet. Or an expensive red wine people spend half a fortune on. He can hear the soft wooshing of your heart, too. Soft and unhurried. Gentle like an ebbing and flowing tide.

He shouldn’t be thinking this way, he knows. He fed yesterday; he should be feeling halfway normal by now. But your scent is dizzying still, and much stronger than Eddie figures it should be. If he’d met you a day or more ago, when the need for a feeding was quite literally eating him alive, he’s not sure he would’ve been able to contain himself.

He doesn’t think he would’ve hurt you, per se — because he hasn’t actually hurt anyone yet. Not in this stage of his afterlife, anyway. But it would’ve taken all the waning strength left in him to stop himself from doing something unthinkable. And that thought alone is somehow more terrifying than death.

Neither, however, is as scary as your gaze meeting his. 

Your eyes lock, and only then does Eddie realize how long he’s been staring. His blood runs cold. Cold-er. An eon blinks as he tries to recover from his hopeless leering. (He’s just as useless as Steve The Hair Harrington, turns out).

“Hi…” he murmurs through a mouthful of mint-chip once he realizes he’s got nothing else to say. How’s a freak like him meant to talk to someone like you? A walking fairytale of ethereal chaos?

You move the cherry sucker to the pocket of your cheek with your tongue. Through it, you mumble, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Eddie laughs before he means to. His pink lips curl into a smile, and the inside of the delicate skin scrapes the fangs threatening to poke through his gums. They fit just perfectly over his canines, typically veiled by his gums until it’s time to feed. Or until he’s faced with a pretty girl who smells like Heaven and looks just the same, apparently.

He hides his grin behind his fist and scoffs a breathy laugh.

Your face twists in a delicate look of confusion. “Why’s that funny?” you question once you’ve plucked the piece of candy from your mouth.

His smile ebbs instantly. “Oh. It’s… It’s not— It’s not funny, actually,” he stammers, chocolate eyes wide and round like a pair of buttons.

Your frown deepens. “So you don’t think I’m funny?”

“No, it’s— it’s not that I don’t think you’re funny, I just— I think that—” Eddie stumbles over himself trying to get the words out. He inhales deeply through his nose and swallows hard. “I’m a little confused, honestly…”

There’s a brief moment of silence that passes like minutes. 

There’s something distinctly wild in your unwavering stare. It possesses a sort of magnetism that makes it impossible to look away from — though Eddie desperately, desperately wishes he could. But because he can’t take his eyes off you or the fire swimming laps in your irises, he catches a flicker in your gaze. A flame. A spark.

A smile quirks at the very corner of your mouth before a brighter beam blooms there. A sunshine sort of giggle sputters past your lips. “Oh, gosh— You should see your face right now,” you manage through a fit of laughter, swatting his shoulder with your free hand (a little harder than he thinks you mean to.) “I’m just kidding! Seriously. You can laugh now. It’s okay.”

Eddie doesn’t find it all that funny anymore, but your gaze is pretty and expectant, so he forces out a faint laugh just to appease you. He gapes in confusion the second you look away.

You’re a strange thing. Pretty, yes. But still very, very strange.

When Steve passes you a rainbow scoop on a waffle cone, you fish a crumbled bill from the chest of your swimsuit. The boy takes it with a trembling hand — like touching the cash is touching you in some way — and struggles to recall basic arithmetic when he makes out your change. 

Eddie watches you savor one last taste of your diminishing sucker, lips curled around the lolly before popping audibly off of it. “Is there a trashcan—” you ask and glance around the shop.

“There’s one back here,” Steve offers mindlessly. “I can chuck it.”

Your hands brush when he takes the paper stick between careful fingers. Silky sunkissed skin sweeping against silky sunkissed skin. 

Eddie’s almost jealous. He wishes he could touch you in such an innocent, accidental way — or anyone, really. But his blood stopped circulating about a year or so ago, and he’s had a glacial disposition about him ever since. Sometimes, when he’s just freshly fed, he feels sort of warm. Sort of normal. But that only lasts about an hour or so before his skin goes wintry and grey again.

“Thanks,” you lilt with a kind grin, sandals squeaking as you step back from the counter. You arch a brow, and the sweet smile turns suddenly mischievous. “And don’t worry about the change. I’d hate for you to make a bigger mess.”

You tilt your head and take a kitten lick of your scoop, fighting back a giggle when the sailor boy gapes at you. You spin around and flip-flop, flip-flop out of the ice cream shop — back to whatever fairytale you came from.

The scent of ripe fruit and freshly-cut flowers leaves with you, along with the lavender haze Eddie had been swimming in since he saw you. Drowning in, more like.

Steve laughs at your sort-of joke until the mist passes. Only then does he seem to notice the coins still scattered across the countertop and the half-eaten sucker in his hand. His fluffy brows pinch together in a very evident confusion — like he’s just woken up from a dream.

“…What the hell was that?” he muses after a few long moments.

Eddie shrugs and takes another bite of his half-gone scoop, tasting it for the very first time now that you’re gone. “No idea,” he answers through the mouthful.

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

          once you get it, you never wanna quit (no, no)

          after you've had it, you're in an awful fix. . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Eddie finds you again several minutes later. Not between the pages of a fantasy book, but on a lone bench by the bus stop. 

You finish your rainbow sherbet in silence, people-watching behind a big pair of Sharon Tate-style sunglasses. The sight of you alone makes him trip over his feet, like you’ve got your own gravitational pull that makes him stumble on thin air just to be closer to you.

“Oh—” The huff spills accidentally from his mouth when his sneakers scuff the pavement.

It garners your attention accordingly as you turn slowly towards him. You lift your sunglasses to your head again, just to squint at the vividity of the golden hour. You flash the boy an ice-cream-stained smile, tight-lipped and warmer than the setting sun — like he’s one of your old friends who deserves to be looked at so kindly. (He’s neither.)

“Hello!” you greet brightly as you lift the waffle cone to your mouth. You take another bite and add through the mouthful. “Again.”

“You’re still here?” Eddie squints, ‘cause he’s not sure what else to say.

“I’m on lunch—” you answer, slightly slurred through the melting ice cream on your tongue. A milky drop of pink and orange falls to the side of your thumb, and you lick it away mid-sentence. “—Late shift.”

Eddie hums with a slow nod, squinting one eye to block the sun. 

His pale skin buzzes, even under his leather jacket and dark thrifted tee. It isn’t because he’s hot, though. He hasn’t broken a sweat — not even swaddled in the ninety-degree evening — because he lost the ability to somewhere between getting eaten alive and rising from the dead. 

The sunlight just makes him feel a bit weaker than usual. Hungrier, too. And he hates being hungry because it makes him feel viciously ravenous. Like a total barbarian. Cruel and angry and inhuman. So he tries to stay out of the sun when he can.

He knows he should start plotting his way out now, but talking to you is like getting caught in a spider’s web. He gets all tangled in his words, netted in his want to impress you. He ends up superglued in a trap he isn’t totally sure he wants to get out of.

“Must be a slow day then, huh?” Eddie jokes dryly.

Your face twists. “Hm?” you wonder wordlessly as your tongue darts to the corner of your mouth.

“I just meant that— You’re a lifeguard and everything, right? And you— You’re dry, so… There must not have been a ton of lives to save today,” the boy explains, gesturing wildly with ringed hands. He laughs at himself and sticks the trembling limbs into his jacket pockets. “That’s… That’s what I meant.”

You don’t seem to notice his sudden floundering, or the way he can hardly make out an intelligible sentence when you’re looking directly at him. He can’t tell if you’re just kind enough to ignore it or if you’re just totally aloof. He hopes for the latter.

“It’s a lot less swimming than you’d expect, honestly,” you confess as you analyze the melting cone in your hand. You twist your wrist with your face pinched in concentration — like deciding whether to bite into the pink, green, or orange bit is that intense. “It’s just a lot of, like, blowing whistles... And walking around…”

You choose the raspberry pink side in the end, crunching as you bite into the waffle cone.

Eddie nods in response — not because he’s really heard you, but because he feels like he sort of understands you in some way now. You were sweet raspberry in the flesh. The color pink incarnate. Gold and glittering, like the sunset was fashioned in your likeness.

But then you smile up at him, with crispy wafer crumbs clinging to the raspberry-lime-orange concoction on your mouth, and the moment feels a lot less poetic than that.

“Sometimes I just wanna be like, ‘Jeez— Can’t one of you fuckers at least try to drown or something? God,” you mock in an accent that’s hardly your own, giggling at yourself halfway through. 

You flash Eddie another expectant smile. Grinning with all your teeth as you wait for him to laugh with you.

It takes him a second too long to force another chuckle — still trying to gauge how serious you are — but you don’t seem to mind. “Right. Well, uh… Here’s hoping, right?” Eddie quips with a crooked smile, lifting his right hand to flash his crossed fingers.

You giggle louder at that. Laughing with him, and not at him, for the first time since he started making a fool of himself in front of you. 

His chest swells like he’s still got a functioning heart hiding there. It’s sparkling and warm, full of pride, almost like he’s alive again. Truly alive. He realizes, then, that he never wants to stop making you laugh.

When your giggling ceases, you hum a contented sigh and take another sloppy bite of your ice cream cone.

Eddie watches you — unblinking, like a total freak — and tries to figure out if he made you up in his head. 

You were like a fairy-tale princess come to life. An enchanted form of imagination, slightly childlike and effortlessly romantic in a way. You were the kind of girl who held butterflies on the tip of her finger, who reached out to touch the stars at night, who shared her secrets with the moon when no one else would listen.

You’re the kind of thing that only exists in dreams. You have no real sense of reality, accordingly, which Eddie thinks only proves his point.

With sunshine glittering in the strands of your hair, your eyes flit back to his. Eddie averts his gaze suddenly (and very obviously) from yours, but if you’re perturbed by his leering, you don’t show it.

Instead, you look at him the same way you’ve been looking at him this whole time — like you’ve got a world of magic secrets hidden in your eyes. Like you want him to come searching for every single one of them.

“Did you— Did you walk here, or…?” the boy trails off, eyes falling to your rubber sandals. 

He hopes you hadn’t. It’s far too hot, and the pool is quite a few blocks from here. From what little he’s learned about you, though, he figures you’re probably crazy enough not to care.

“Bus,” you answer plainly, pausing mid-bite.

Eddie blinks. “The buses stopped running a half hour ago… You know that, right?”

You freeze. Melted ice cream pools at the edges of your mouth. A very loud answer, even in its silence. 

There’s a very audible crunch-ing sound as you chew through the too-big bite. You bring your palm to your chin to catch rogue crumbs and blink up at Eddie with wide eyes. 

“…What?” you wonder pitifully in response. Though, with your mouth still full, it sounds more like a deep, muffled, and utterly pathetic, “Wah—?”

“They stop running here at six-thirty.”

You swallow, face screwed.“Why?”

Eddie shrugs. “Beats me.”

You turn away — staring far off at the parking lot but looking at nothing, really. Eddie feels like he can finally breathe now, without your eyes strangling him.

He watches you go deep in thought and wishes he could see what the inside of your mind looks like. He imagines it’s full of confetti. Wild, glittering thoughts and a handful of sparkling confetti.

“Well…” you huff after a few moments, a deep and whimsical sigh. You look down at the melting cone in your fist and try to find a silver lining in the swirls of pastel colors. “‘Least the ice cream’s good.”

“Are you gonna walk?” Eddie wonders aloud as his chest pinches with misplaced worry. He crosses his leather-clad arms over himself in a feeble attempt to soothe the ache there — to smother his palpable empathy, which makes him feel like your burden is his to carry. 

He doesn’t have to. Carry it, that is. It’s not like you’re not asking him to. But he can’t ignore the overwhelming urge to help you — this strange, elven princess who needs rescue by a lowly bard way out of his element. It’s an instinct that borders on primal.

“Do I have a choice?” you respond rhetorically. Eddie shrugs and you shrug back, unfazed. “I can walk. The sunset’s pretty… And there’s a dog park on the way there, so… That’ll be fun, I guess.”

Eddie’s dark eyes flit to the sky, where the sun’s slow descent paints the wispy clouds in vivid colors of blush and honey. He understands the simple beauty of it but rarely ever gives it a passing glance.

He spends most of his sunsets inside, hiding from the pretty golden hour behind closed curtains. He cowers under his blankets like a child (‘cause his tiny square window is west-facing, painfully so) and tries to tell himself that he’s not as hungry as he feels.

That he’s not hungry at all.

That he’s still normal.

Eddie looks back to you a moment later, features twisted with uncertainty. “I’m pretty sure the park’s gated after sunset…”

You don’t ask him how he knows that, and he’s grateful. He figures you must assume that he’s got a dog of his own, which is a lie he’s happy to stick to. 

It’s better than admitting that Jim Hopper nearly caught him dealing a couple years back and had to make a quick escape through the park — where he then had to hop a locked fence he didn’t know was there. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if he hadn’t rolled directly into dog shit when he fell to the ground. That’s a secret he’ll take to the grave. 

If the Chief takes mercy on him, anyway.

“Well… The sunset’s still pretty,” you conclude with another sigh, because at least that can’t be taken from you. 

Eddie watches you take another bite and makes a very pointed decision not to tell you that that’ll be gone soon, too. By the time you walk back to work, the sky will be a muddy mixture of orange and lilac and navy. Hardly a thing worth looking at.

He lets you revel in your little nothings anyway.

“I should— I should probably go. I have a… thing to get to, so…” he trails off, chuckling at his own hopelessness. His worn sneakers scuff the pavement when he steps back from you. He scratches at the small curls twisted at the nape of his neck and tries to find the words to say goodbye. “Uh— Have a good rest of your shift, I guess. Hope it’s more… eventful.”

You smile at his stammering and his poor excuse for a joke. 

“Thanks,” you nod. “Have fun with your… thing.”

Eddie nods once. His smile wavers only slightly when he turns away. His cheeks puff as he exhales a deep breath — which he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until now. 

He stops short at the edge of the sidewalk. Doesn’t even make it off the fucking curb before his guilty conscience catches up with him. It stops him like a force field and weighs heavy on his chest with a similar strength.

He turns quickly again, curls whipping around his face. “Do you… Do you want a ride?” he blurts with a squint in his deep chocolate eyes. 

The offer is hardly from the kindness of his unbeating heart. He just wants to make himself feel better, if he’s honest. He wants you to decline, actually — so then he’d be alone, and his conscience would still be clear.

Your eyes widen softly at his offer. You shift on the hard bench. It squeaks quietly under your weight. 

“Well, I— I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t wanna intrude,” you tell him, stumbling over your words for the first time in front of him.

Something about it, how shy you’ve suddenly gone, makes you feel a bit more human compared to the glittering creature Eddie made of you in his head.

The boy shrugs. “You wouldn’t be.”

“No?”

“No. It’s just… on the way…” Eddie insists, sighing to himself, because Hawkins Pool most definitely is out of his way. “So, you know… It’s no problem.”

There is a beat of fleeting silence, filled only by a whispering summer breeze and muddled conversation from distant mall-goers. Eddie’s eyes dart over your features, twisted softly with a faraway look of worry. 

The anticipation has his heart in his throat. He isn’t sure now what answer he wants to hear. Both might equally break his heart. A double-edged sword.

Your chest deflates with a dramatic sigh of relief. A lazy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Okay. Good. ‘Cause I didn’t wanna be, like, too eager, you know? But that would be… super duper nice.”

“Good thing I’m a super duper nice person then, huh?” Eddie jokes with a tightlipped smile, which ebbs into a scowl the moment he turns away from you. 

He becomes a storm cloud of annoyance as he stalks across the parking lot. Less so because of you and more so because of his deep-rooted sensitivity, where everyone else’s emotions demand to be felt by him and him alone.

It’s a very strange thing, indeed: to be dead and yet still carry the crushing empathy of a person with a bleeding heart.

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

         real to real is living rarity, people stop and stare at me

          we just walk on by, we just keep on dreaming . . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Eddie doesn’t look back to make sure you’re following him. He knows you are. He can tell by your lingering strawberry-vanilla scent, and your rhythmic footsteps in rubber sandals that trail just behind him. The incessant flip-flop, flip-flop, flip-flop quickens as you rush to keep up with his longer strides, trying hopelessly to finish your ice cream and talk at the same time.

“Adam— my manager— he’s such a hardass. Like, if I was late today, he definitely would’ve fired me,” you ramble and crunch hard into your cone. “Well… maybe not fire me… ‘Cause we’re kinda short-staffed right now— But he definitely would’ve given me a lecture! Like, dude, just because your dad owns the joint, doesn’t mean you have any actual authority over me, you know?”

You giggle loudly at yourself. Eddie just nods in response, barely listening, and not bothering to glance back at you.

You continue anyway, through a mouthful, no less. “Except, he kinda does have some authority, I guess. Since, you know, he’s the one who signs my checks and everything, but… You know what I mean.”

The boy ahead of you stops suddenly in place. Your sandals scuff the pavement to keep from running into the back of him. He turns to face you, brunette curls flouncing, and your heart skips at the proximity. He’s much too pretty for anything else.

You can smell the cologne spritzed on his neck from here. A high-pitched and very boyish cedarwood that makes him somehow more endearing. There’s something floral in it, too — perhaps from the conditioner making his hair all shiny. And the subtle powdery scent, you figure, comes from his old Back Sabbath tee. An evident hand-me-down of some sort. 

You can see more of him like this without having to ogle like a creep. His brown eyes are so dark they’re almost black, but you can see flecks of gold in them, too. His pronounced nose is dotted with pores and faint freckles you think you could count if he let you. There are a couple of spots on his jaw, too — some still red, others already scared over — that make his scowling face more youthful.

He’s got a couple of dark circles under his eyes, which you think means he doesn’t get as much sleep as he should. He’s got a pair of perpetual smile lines beside his mouth, too, which must mean he laughs a lot (even if he isn’t now). And he’s got a subtle furrow between his bushy brows ‘cause he’s totally the quiet, observant type.

You’d like to think you’re taking a closer look at him than anyone else in Hawkins ever has. Where they see a freak with crazy hair and a dangerous attitude, you see an old soul with young eyes and a wild mind.

“Is this you?” you wonder aloud, with ice cream clinging to the corners of your mouth.

Eddie lifts his hand and taps the key fob twice. The rusted tin can behind him unlocks with a hearty ca-chunk. He fakes a tight-lipped smile, “Yep.”

You rush around the hood then, hurrying for the passenger seat and struggling to finish the rest of your ice cream. Eddie eyes you expectantly as he lifts himself onto the chipped pleather of the driver’s side. His deadpan face twists with amusement as you inhale the remaining bits of your ice cream.

Your eyes go wide when you catch him staring, cheeks jutted like a chipmunk’s. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, then swipe your palms together. “Sorry— Sorry, I didn’t—” you swallow hard and try not to choke. “I didn’t wanna get ice cream all over your van.”

A laugh sputters from Eddie’s mouth, a more boyish sound than you thought he was capable of, and he hurries to cover his mouth with his fist. He can feel the sharp stinging of his fangs as they stab slowly through his gums, more prominent now that you’re so close to him — smelling as sweet as you look.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a sports car,” he scoffs. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

You swallow down the rest and hop in beside him. The faux leather of the passenger seat has grown distressed with time, sticking to your sunkissed thighs where your skirt doesn’t reach and poking you in places. The smell of his cologne stains the interior, along with a more subtle, skunkier scent.

You have to tug extra hard on the seatbelt — once, twice, and then a third time — before it gives.

Eddie sticks the key into the ignition and twists. A heavy metal guitar solo blares suddenly through the speakers, rattling the old van and making both of you lurch with a momentary panic. 

“Shit!” the boy curses as he reaches for the blasting radio. He turns down the volume with pale, lanky fingers, wide eyes flitting from the console to the pavement as he peels out of the Starcourt lot. “Shit… Sorry.”

You shrug a bare shoulder. “It’s okay. I listen to my music loud, too. I’m pretty sure I’ve blown out the headphones to at least two Walkmans by now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums with a lazy smile. “What kinda stuff stuff do you listen to?”

You purse your lips to the side and avert your gaze as you ponder the question. “Van Halen, definitely… Dio and Def Leppard occasionally— oh, and don’t even get me started on Ozzy Osbourne.”

Eddie feels like his heart’s in his throat. It settles there and makes it hard to breathe while his anxious hands fidget on the steering wheel.

You can’t be this pretty and like all the music he likes. It’s just not fair. It’s like the universe is trying to kill him. (Even though it kinda already did that once.)

“Are you joking?” he wonders aloud, laughing with furrowed brows. His chocolate eyes dart from you, to the winding road before him, and back again. The soft smile on your lips blossoms into a more mischievous thing, and he nods slowly to himself. “You’re… You’re joking, right?”

“I might’ve been looking at your cassettes, yeah.”

Eddie’s gaze flits downward to where he keeps his tapes stacked in a cubby beneath the console. His chest aches with a distant embarrassment. “Right…” he huffs.

“Real answer?” you offer with a twinkle in your eye, spinning in the seat to face him more. You tuck your feet beneath you and count each name on your fingers. “Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, and Blondie. That’s my top four— Not in that order, though! I love them all equally.”

“That makes… a lot more sense.”

“Do you have any of their tapes we could listen to?”

Eddie scoffs a faint laugh until he realizes you’re being serious. His tightlipped smile ebbs as he answers, “I can’t say that I do. No.”

“That’s too bad,” you huff and slouch further in the passenger seat. You gaze out the window with a faraway look in your eyes and start rambling before you mean to.

“I’ll let you bum one of mine, if you want. You can borrow my copy of Arrival, that’s one of my favorites! My most favorites. Or Super Trouper, maybe. I love that one, too...” You deflate with a heavy sigh. “Shit. I can’t decide— Which one do you prefer?”

Eddie stammers for an answer. He feels like you’re barely speaking his language.

“Screw it. I’ll just make you a mixtape,” you decide firmly. “It’s impossible to pick just one.”

Eddie nods wordlessly to himself, unconvinced that he’ll ever actually see you again — like this, anyway. With you making a home in the passenger seat of his van, which has never known a pretty girl like you before now.

“You could always swing by the pool if you want,” you offer with a hopeful grin. “Adam lets me man the radio sometimes.”

“Does he?” Eddie hums indifferently.

“When I wear my bikini, yeah.”

His face screws at the thought of someone taking advantage of you in that way, with you perhaps too gullible to understand. “Well, Adam sounds like a dickwad,” he grumbles and shifts his grip on the steering wheel.

“A massive dickwad,” you giggle like it’s your first time ever using the phrase. “One time, I played my Billy Joel tape, and he called it pedestrian. Pedestrian! Not only is that, like, totally sacrilegious or whatever, but it’s also extremely pretentious. Just call it lame or something, you sound arrogant.”

When your rambling ceases, you can hear Eddie laughing. Really laughing. Not just that weird breathy sound he keeps making. It spills from his mouth like sunshine, though he tries to stifle it with a fist pressed to his mouth. And even though you don’t remember saying anything particularly funny, you laugh alongside him.

“Why do you cover your smile when you laugh?” 

“Why do I do what?”

“You always put your hand over your mouth when you smile,” you observe with a curious squint. “Did you know that?”

Eddie’s tongue darts over his protruding fangs, which peek in faint slivers from his pink gums now. You would only see them if you checked his mouth like a dog, but he gets self-conscious about it, anyway.

“No. I didn’t. Must be an old habit, I guess,” he stammers, lying through his teeth as he turns into the parking lot of Hawkins Community Pool. 

The crowd there has seemingly ebbed with the setting sun, which he’s grateful for. He stays on the far edges of the property still, lest he draw any unwanted attention. ‘Cause the only thing more recognizable than his wild hair is the tin can he rides around in.

His ringed hands curl around the gear stick. The van jerks softly when he puts it in park. Eddie clears his throat. “We’re, uh— We’re here.”

You get distracted easily, and he’s grateful for that, too. You drop the conversation entirely as you reach for the seatbelt. The buckle clicks when you unfasten it. “Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you chirp with a pretty smile.

His head snaps in your direction with enough force to give him whiplash. His mouth opens and closes like a fish as he gapes at you. He struggles to find the words to say. He thinks he’d rather face a hundred demobats (again) than have this conversation.

“You…” he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “You know my name?”

You shrug, oblivious to his otherwise very palpable fear. “‘Course I do.”

His heart would stop if he weren’t already dead. He thinks the force of his current shock could jolt it into beating all over again. Though, he figures he has no right to be so surprised. He is Eddie Munson, after all — the town freak who didn’t murder Chrissy Cunningham but left her to die instead. 

No one knows that she’d been long in the dying before Eddie ran like a coward. No one knows that there was nothing he could do to stop the dark wizard from killing her. No one knows that he died trying to avenge her death despite all that. And no one ever will — save for the handful of teenagers who saved Hawkins alongside him. 

Eddie knew, from the moment he rose from the dead and made it out of that godforsaken hellscape, that he would never be seen as the hero. He didn’t want to be. He just wanted to be a kid.

But here he is now. A half-dead and hated thing. A creature not worth loving.

And here you are, smiling at him like you intend to love him back to life.

“So… So you know what happened with… With the…” He talks with his hands and struggles to make the words out. He always has. He always will.

You nod before he has to. “Yeah. I think I just… I figured that wasn’t something you wanted to talk about with strangers—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he insists.

“Then me not bringing it up was a good thing, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“Well, I’m hearing a lot of talking for someone who doesn’t want to talk about it,” you mock, not totally unkind, just a little bit strange. 

Eddie almost laughs at that. “I’m just— I’m confused.”

“About what?”

Now, he really lets himself laugh because the answer’s rather obvious. 

“Because most people are scared of me!” Eddie blurts with a cynical chuckle, gesturing wildly with his pale, ringed hands. “Everyone thinks I’m some— psycho-killing murderous freak.”

“Well, I don’t,” you insist, all pretty in your way, as you shift on the worn pleather seat beside him. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

You unlatch the glove box ahead of you and help yourself to its contents. The junk inside clatters together while you search very obviously through it, rambling mindlessly to yourself as you do so. 

“You like mint-chip ice cream cones smothered in sprinkles. And your initials are sewn onto the waistband of your jeans— like you’re gonna lose them or something. And… there’s a Blondie tape hiding in here.” You giggle to yourself and flash him the cassette.

Eddie blinks at you like an owl. “That’s not mine.”

“Secret girlfriend?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Secret tape,” he confesses before plucking it suddenly from your fingertips. 

There’s a whole story behind it that he’d tell you if he could. About how he couldn’t leave the house for some weeks after he came back to life and how his friends brought him things to pass the time. Robin Buckley had an elaborate assortment of board games that bordered on concerning, and Dustin Henderson had brought an entire library to his trailer. 

The rest of them put together a selection of tapes for him to listen to. He can’t be sure now if Nancy Wheeler really gave up her prized Blondie cassette or if Mike Wheeler did it without her knowing.

You struggle to bite back your laughter as you sort through the center console next. 

“See! That doesn’t exactly read psycho-killing murderous freak to me, Eds. Honestly, it kinda reads as someone who’s never hurt anyone in their whole life, who probably wants everyone else to stop hurting them—” You cut yourself off with a gasp. “Ah! Here it is.”

You dig a rogue ink pen from the depths of the console. A bright smile tugs at the edges of your lips. Eddie’s still struggling to breathe when you reach for him. “Can I have your hand?”

“Why?” he wonders with pinched brows.

“You’ll see,” you lilt mischievously and take his ringed hand in your smaller one. 

He worries, briefly, that you might comment on how cold he is for the middle of summer. But if you notice it at all, you don’t mention it as you scribble your number onto the back of his hand.

Eddie grimaces when the tip presses hard into his pale skin. “Ow…”

“See? You’re just a big baby,” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. You click the pen with your thumb as you part from him. “There. Now you have my number.”

Eddie flashes you a dubious glance, unsure of what he ever needed your number for.

You answer his silent question like it’s obvious. “So I can give you the mixtape.”

“Right,” he hums with a slow nod.

“Well, I’m gonna go clock back in before I get a total earful from Adam,” you sigh and reach for the metal door handle. “Thanks for the ride, Eddie.”

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs nonchalantly as you slide out of the van. The back of your pleated skirt rises softly in the process, flashing a glimpse of your ass. He swallows hard and stammers. “Just— Just, like, be safe, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you mock with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Well, this is a crazy world we live in, haven’t you heard?” Eddie jokes to cover up his blunder. He tilts his wild head to his shoulder as a pink smile forms crooked on his mouth. “I hear psycho-killing murderous freaks are roaming the streets these days.”

He expects you to laugh, but you grow strangely serious instead, furrowing your brows as you mumble to yourself. “Crazy World... That’s a good song, actually. I should put that on the mixtape—”

You forget to say a proper goodbye as you close the door behind you. The rusted metal hinges screech before slamming shut. You walk off towards the pool house without another word, flip-flopping the entire way to the front gate. Eddie watches you go with his features twisted in a subtle mixture of shock and awe.

Steve Harrington was right. What the hell was that?

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

         oh, how could i ever refuse?

          i feel like i win when i lose . . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Three days pass before Eddie sees you again. Not that he’s counting, anyway. He debates, however, calling you on the second one — but by then, your number had long disappeared from his hand. He decided, then, to count his losses and pretend he wasn’t as boyishly heartbroken as he felt. 

Missing you was a double-edged sword. He never wanted to see you again, but he mourned for you always. He prayed he’d never run into you like before but searched for you in all the faces he met. It was agony. 

When he drops Dustin off at Scoops Ahoy after a long afternoon of campaigning, Eddie tells himself it’s not with intent to run into you there. He tells himself it wouldn’t be the worst thing, but not to get his hopes too high. That he’d only make a fool of himself. That it’d be better if he didn’t see you at all.

He’s left grieving anyway when he doesn’t immediately spot your face in the dwindling crowd of the ice cream shop.

“If it isn’t the man of the hour,” Robin lilts from where she sits at one of the tables, obviously on her break and eating from a bowl of the rainbow gummy bears they use as toppings.

“You dweebs talking about me?” Eddie scoffs as he shoves Dustin light-heartedly ahead of him. 

As soon as he crosses the threshold of the small shop, you come very suddenly into view. You sit ahead of Robin, in your usual uniform, and with your usual rainbow sherbet cone. You steal a few rogue gummy bears from her cup and dip them into your ice cream, which has started to melt with your distraction. 

He stills in place, struck with a bolt of blue. Your pretty, summer scent hits him full force, then — slaps him in the face and demands to be noticed. You flash him a small smile, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“Not at all,” Robin answers with a knowing smirk.

Steve scoffs from where he wipes down the counter, tendons flexing in his golden arm. “Only for ten straight minutes.”

“We were talking about how I gave you my number. And how you never called,” you explain to the poleaxed boy, tilting your chin to your shoulder to peer at him from beneath your lashes. A mischievous smirk hints at the corners of your lips. “A girl could start to wonder, you know?” you tease, only partially playful.

Eddie stammers for an explanation. He feels like his heart’s in his throat, like it’s closing on him, and like he can’t really breathe.

He blinks rapidly as his head starts to swim. He zeroes in on your heartbeat, though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s a soft and rhythmic whoosh, whoosh, whooshing — like that of an excitable baby deer. His hands ball into fists until his dull nails leave crescent shapes in his palms.

Dustin gapes at the sight of you. “You’re real?” the strange, curly-haired boy blurts.

“Me?” you ask with pinched brows, motioning to yourself with the ice cream cone.

“Dustin!” Eddie scolds, nudging him pointedly on the shoulder.

The boy cowers. “Sorry. It’s just… I thought you were, like, an imaginary person Eddie made up or something,” he admits, squinting his hazel eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. You flash him a dubious look until he elaborates obliviously. “‘Cause Gareth was making fun of him for not having any friends outside of Hellfire and stuff—”

“Hey,” Eddie snaps to get the rambling boy’s attention, tapping the brim of his Thinking Cap. “Shut up.”

“What’s Hellfire?” you wonder aloud.

“Book club,” Eddie lies.

You grin with furrowed brows. “You talk about me at book club?” 

“I mentioned you. Once. ‘Cause Gareth asked— And I didn’t call because the pen smudged,” Eddie answers all at once, swallowing hard when he feels bile building in his throat. He can’t get your heartbeat out of his ears. Or your scent out of his nose. It’s suffocating, all of it. “Does that clear everything up, or…?”

Steve hisses through his teeth. Robin scoffs. You blink at him with wide eyes, hardly expecting him to be so short with you. “Uh-huh,” you nod with a forced smile.

Eddie would apologize for it if he didn’t feel so sick. But now he teeters on the knife’s edge of nausea, unsure if he’s going to faint or vomit or both. So he fakes his own smile and inches towards the exit. “Great. I’m gonna— I think I’m gonna go—”

“And leave us with babysitting duty?” Steve scoffs. “How nice of you.”

Dustin frowns and flashes the makeshift sailor his middle finger.

Eddie fumbles to come up with an excuse. “I just remembered, uh— Wayne wanted me to record Cheers tonight, and I totally forgot. The ol’ geezer’ll kill me if he misses an episode, so… I gotta run.”

He ducks out without another word, grimacing at himself because he’s usually a much better liar than that. The others can surely see right through him. They know that he’s unwell — that he’s just hungry and impossibly overstimulated. 

But you don’t. You don’t know him at all, and maybe that’s exactly why you rush out of Scoops behind him.

Eddie shoves the glass exit of Starcourt Mall with trembling hands. The summer breeze rushes over him immediately, billowing through his hair and clothes. He takes his first good breath and the swimmy feeling of nausea starts to fade.

The hunger remains even still. The ravenous thoughts remain, too — of your heart between his teeth, beating on his tongue, and your blood tasting of sweet red wine.

When he starts to scare himself, his mind tells him that he’d never hurt you. That he hasn’t yet, and that he never will. But still, the thoughts are there, and they hardly ever leave.

Your fresh berry scent covers him like a shroud as he rushes to his casket (his van, really, but the symbolism fits.) You struggle to keep up with his longer strides, pleated skirt flouncing as you hurry behind him — a kicked puppy who doesn’t know when to stay back. 

“I don’t mean to annoy you, you know?” you call after him.

Eddie stills and spins sharply around to face you. You stumble back on rubber sandals to keep from running into him, trying not to cower when he towers suddenly over you.

“What?” he asks with his features swirled in confusion and distant suffering.

Your wide eyes dart over his pallid features, more sallow than you remember. You forget everything you were going to say as concern drips from your pretty features. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel— fine,” he stammers, less than convincingly.

“Okay…” you nod, unconvinced, then repeat yourself. “I don’t mean to annoy you, by the way.”

Eddie shrugs. “What makes you think you annoy me?”

“I dunno,” you answers, sheepish in a way he hasn’t seen you before. You shift your weight on your scarlet sandals and talk wildly with your hands, looking everywhere but at him. “I kinda talked your face off a few days ago, and then I made that stupid joke about you not calling, and I just… I realized you don’t know me all that well. And that I can be kind of a lot sometimes. Or, you know, a lot of the time. But it’s not like I mean to be, you know? I don’t mean to be a burden or to—”

“You’re not a burden,” Eddie blurts.

Your breath catches as you blink at him with wild, glassy eyes. He gets the feeling no one’s ever said that to you before and tries to ignore the stinging in his chest.

“No?” you echo in a mousy voice.

“Not even a little bit,” he answers instantly.

You inhale a shaky breath that leaves through your mouth in a sigh of relief. “So you’re not upset with me?”

“No,” Eddie scoffs. “You haven’t done anything to upset me. So far, anyway.”

You nod to yourself at the reassurance. “Okay. Good. I just— I thought you ran off in such a hurry ‘cause you didn’t wanna be around me or something.”

You chuckle to yourself, feeling silly about it now. 

Eddie shifts awkwardly ahead of you ‘cause you’re not too far off.

“Do you… Do you want a ride?” he offers despite himself — despite his overwhelming feelings for you and despite the fact the buses are still running for another fifteen minutes. 

He chucks his thumb over his shoulder and flashes you a sheepish look. Because he isn’t sure of what to say now, or if he wants to leave you at all.

You duck your chin and scrunch your nose, too pretty for your own good. “If it’s not too much trouble?” you lilt.

Eddie only grins. “Who says I don’t like a little bit of trouble?”

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

         under those white street lamps,

         there is a little chance they may see . . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

He survives the golden hour, but just barely. Eddie hides from the setting sun underneath the covers, writhing on the thin mattress as he waits for the ravenous feeling of insatiable hunger to pass. It never does.

Instead, he feels the absence of you most ardently. He withers away as he grieves for you, like a wilting flower craving sunlight. But he’s nothing but a pale, gray, and exhausted thing now — an unloveable creature aching for a feeding. 

“Wayne…” Eddie grumbles tiredly, half muffled into his pillow. When he receives no response from his uncle, he musters the strength to shout. “Wayne!”

Footsteps trudge down the hall, bulky work shoes heavy on thin carpet. His bedroom door creaks slowly open, and his uncle stands beneath the frame of it — wearing the thick navy coveralls that has his name sewn in cursive on the chest. His weathered hands work at the buttons below the collar.

“What is it, Ed?” Wayne wonders in a gravelly drawl.

Eddie takes in a rattling breath, peeking one eye open to look at his uncle. His vision’s too swimmy for anything else. “Can you call Hopper?” he slurs like a sick child.

Wayne’s graying brows furrow in worry. He squints at his nephew across the bedroom, languishing beneath his covers and growing more waxen by the second. He’s typically only this miserable when he hasn’t fed in weeks.

“You hungry again? It’s only been a couple days.”

“I know,” the boy grumbles, squirming on the mattress like he can’t get comfortable. “I just don’t feel good...”

Wayne can see that much from here, so he doesn’t put up any more of a fight about it. He fastens the cuffs of his sleeves with wise and suddenly anxious hands. “I’ll give him a call before I head to work… You gonna be alright without me?”

Eddie nods against the pillow, curls frizzing around his head. He responds in jumbled slurs, “Mhm. ‘M alright. ‘M just… real tired…”

“I’ll call Hopper,” Wayne repeats, firmer this time, before shutting the door behind him.

Eddie spends the next half hour rotting away in the lonely trailer. 

Jim doesn’t bother to knock when he arrives, but it’s not like he needs to. He makes enough deliveries of the riboflavin kind to Forest Hills that he deserves his own key.

Besides, Eddie could smell him when he pulled into the driveway — the pint of blood he carried with him, more so. It’s a deep, rich, and powdery scent. Nowhere near as sweet as you. But then again, he doesn’t think anything could be.

“What’s the special this time, Chief?” Eddie jokes with a small huff as Hopper helps prop him against the headboard. 

The mustached man is still clad in his khaki work uniform, gold badge glinting in the lamplight. His hardened face remains in its usual deadpan frown, though his bushy brows furrow in a subtle confusion. “Do you really wanna know?”

Eddie thinks for a moment, then sighs. “No…”

Jim opens the brown paper bag sitting on the nightstand. He pulls out a plain styrofoam cup topped with a lid typically used for coffee. The thing looks innocent enough, save for a few drops of crimson staining the white of it, likely from an overfill. 

There was a time when Eddie could do it himself. Where he could puncture the blood bag Hopper delivered and pour it into one of the mugs he and Wayne have been collecting for years.

He stopped being strong enough for that a while ago, though. The sight of blood makes him queasy now, which is ironic for very obvious reasons.

The chief does most of it for him now, though Eddie thinks Hopper likes it best that way. 

“Here you go, kid,” Jim says as he passes the boy his cup of liquid scarlet. He holds the lid of it in his other hand, face screwed at the coopery smell engulfing the small bedroom. “Try not to think about it too much, alright?”

Eddie takes the cup in a trembling fist and squeezes his eyes shut so he can’t see its contents. He forces himself to down it in one go — equal parts because it’s easiest that way and because he doesn’t want to be too much of a baby in front of the chief. 

The blood tastes like a strawberry milkshake as he swallows it down, but that’s always the easiest part. It’s the after that’s so ruthless. After the overwhelming bout of starvation passes. After he’s half normal again. That’s when the blood starts to taste like blood — all metallic, like a bunch of old pennies. That’s when he feels like a monster.

Eddie groans when the cup is fully drained. He passes it back to Hopper with his eyes still shut. The man takes it with one hand and pats him on the shoulder with the other. “Good job, kid,” he mumbles, dropping the empty cup back into the bag. 

The boy relaxes against the pillows with a shuddering breath.

Jim waits until then to interrogate him. 

“What happened between now and four days ago?” he asks with his arms crossed over his chest, towering over the boy’s bedside. “This is the first time you’ve needed to feed more than once a week. Hell, it took Wayne and me almost a year to convince you to feed more than once a month.” 

Eddie shrugs lazily, lips jutted and eyes lidded. “Nothing happened.”

“I need to know, kid. So I can keep you safe.”

And so I can keep everyone else safe, too, but he doesn’t say that part.

“It’s just— This girl,” Eddie confesses, then grumbles with a sigh. “I don’t know, alright. It doesn’t even matter.”

Hopper squints. “What girl?”

“No one,” Eddie insists, then cowers under the man’s glacial stare. “Fine. Some-one. She just— makes me go all weird or whatever. I don’t know.”

Jim hums, nodding softly to himself and trying not to be too amused at the thought of Munson having a crush. He scratches at the coarse hair underneath his chin. “And is… staying away from this girl an option, or…?”

Eddie ponders the question for a moment, then exhales a chest-deflating sigh. Just like he did when questioning the origins of the blood in his cup. You were a lot of the same in that way — a thing he needed to survive but wasn’t strong enough to face.

“No… I don’t think it is…”

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Hawkins Community Pool is strangely liminal after dark. The property itself is illuminated by only a few amber streetlamps, with most of its light coming from within — from inside the wooden pool house and beneath the sparkling cerulean water. 

Eddie parks his van on the darkened edges of the parking lot and tries to find the courage to leave it. The crowd is minimal now, having lessened significantly since he dropped you off some hours ago.

There are only a few stragglers left, most of them teenagers soaking in the last few minutes before closing. He’s grateful for that much. The fewer eyes on him, the better.

If he wasn’t being ogled at with gazes hardened with disgust or softened with pity, people weren’t looking at him at all. Their attempts to keep from staring were perhaps more blatant than they realized.

Maybe they didn’t want to be rude, or maybe they wanted to pretend he wasn’t there at all. It made Eddie hyper-aware of himself either way, which is why he often preferred to stay hidden.

He idles by the chain-link fence, swaddled in the humid summer air that smells overwhelmingly of chlorine and dewy grass. It takes several agonizing moments to catch your attention.

You dance softly in place and mouth the lyrics to a song Eddie can only make out vaguely from here, while the girl beside you stands perfectly and unenthusiastically still. 

You freeze when you catch Eddie’s gaze. Confused at first, then surprised. It takes a matter of seconds for both emotions to mix together and leave you a bumbling ball of excitement. 

The boy raises a ringed hand in a curt wave, which you reciprocate with a much more enthusiastic one. You turn to your co-worker and mouth something Eddie can’t hear before rushing to the parking lot to meet him. The flip-flopping of your rubber sandals grows as you make your way to him, along with the rustling of the windbreaker you wear over your bikini.

It’s a modest scarlet two-piece, with a high waist and a halter neckline — but much more of your skin is on display than Eddie’s used to. (If there was any time he needed to be grateful for a recent feeding, it was now.)

“Hi…” you greet, panting heavily as you stand before him.

“Hiya,” Eddie grins cheekily.

“I… I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I didn’t either, honestly.”

“Did you, uh— Did you and Wayne get to watch Cheers?”

It takes Eddie a moment or more to recall his earlier lie. He nods rapidly in response, perhaps too quickly to be truthful, but you don’t seem to notice. “Uh, no. Not yet. He’ll watch it when he gets back from the graveyard shift.”

“Okay. Cool,” you beam, eyes sparkling as they dart over his features — which have seemed to gain a bit of their life back. He’s still pale, but his eyes are less sunken in than they were. The dark chocolate of his irises swim with a melted honey color. “You look a lot better, by the way. Than you did when I left, I mean. I was scared you were getting sick.”

“Nah, I just… Needed a breather, I guess,” Eddie admits with a breathy chuckle. “I was with Hellfire all day, and… Babysitting’s a tough gig, turns out.”

You laugh alongside him, noticeably less forced. “No, I get it. I basically spend all day babysitting, so…”

“Right. I shouldn’t be complaining.” Eddie scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck and grimaces when his rings get caught in his hair. It takes a very noticeable moment for him to gain the courage to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. “Can, uh— Can I see your hand real quick?”

Your brows pinch. “Why?”

“You’ll see,” he lilts with the same mischievous smile you used on him some days ago now.

He holds a ringed hand expectantly out for you. Your gaze glimmers with intrigue as you put your fingers in his paler, colder ones. You watch him dig in his jacket pockets for a moment before pulling out the same ink pen you’d rescued from the depths of junk in his center console. He clicks it with his thumb, and you jerk your hand out of his.

“Wait!” you blurt. 

Eddie flinches, feeling like he’s done something wrong, like he must’ve hurt you in some way. 

Your features screw in a pinched look of concentration as you stick your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker. “I’m pretty sure I have a marker in here somewhere— Ah! Here it is!” You’re smiling all over again when you pass him the black Sharpie. “So it won’t wash off before I get to call you.”

“Right,” Eddie hums with a slow nod, taking the marker from you. He bites back a smile when he catches you shoving a pack of sparkly stickers back into your pockets. “What are those?”

“Stickers,” you answer, then grimace when you realize that much was obvious. You rush to elaborate. “For the younger kids that have older siblings. They usually get dragged here, and nine times outta ten, they haven’t learned how to swim yet, so… I try to make ‘em feel better with sparkly things.”

The grin Eddie tries to hide blooms very suddenly across the expanse of his pink lips. His chest swirls with a warmer feeling because you’re sort of his sparkly thing, in a way. A bright and glittering thing that makes him feel whole without trying.

You offer him your hand again, shier now. He wraps it in his larger one with fingertips that border on glacial. You fight back a shiver while Eddie uncaps the marker with his teeth. He mumbles through it while he scribbles his number on your wrist.

“Don’t let this scrub off before you get to call me like other idiots do, alright?” he jokes, flashing you a sparkling stare beneath his lashes.

“I’ll call you the second I get home,” you promise with a firm nod. “I’ll write it down, too, so I won’t forget.”

Eddie caps the marker with a lopsided grin sitting lazily on his mouth. “And it’s only for emergencies, alright? Like, if you need a ride or… A spare Blondie cassette that I may or may not have in my glove box.”

You nod again, this time with a giddy and very poorly hidden smile. “Emergenicies,” you parrot, so he knows you really heard him.

(You call him the second you’re back from your shift, though Eddie expected nothing less from you. The emergency in question? You missed him too much.)

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

          this is stranger than i thought,

          six different ways inside my heart  . . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

You decide to visit him that weekend, unannounced and unexpected — which is basically how you entered his life in the first place.

You’re a smiling thing on his doorstep. A rival to the early morning sun beaming in rays behind you. Eddie squints one eye and grimaces at the brightness of each.

“Morning!” you chirp like a songbird.

“What are you doing here? How’d you even find me?” Eddie grumbles tiredly, rubbing his sleep-swollen eye with his fist. He wears his slumber all over — in the wild curls, and in the wrinkled shirt that used to be Wayne’s, and in the baggy plaid pants sitting low on his waist. 

The complete and utter opposite of you: an angel kissed with the summer season.

The sun sparkles in your hair. The warm breeze billows in your clothes. The scent of something sweet clings to your skin — of fresh cherries, vanilla cake, and swathes of dewy grass. Each is tantamount to your bone-crushing beauty, which borders on whimsical and intimidating now.

It’s weird seeing you out of your uniform. A strange, but welcomed sight. You’ve traded the mandated bathing suit for a flouncier dress. The thin cotton fabric clings to your torso and drapes over your thighs like summer rain. It’s a scarlet number, gingham-patterned, with two white bows for sleeves. 

Eddie’s tired eyes rake over your pretty form despite himself. He gapes when he finds the raging scrapes you wear on both knees, a bright crimson color to match your strawberry aura. “Jesus Chr— Are you okay?!”

You follow his gaze, bending softly at the waist to peer down at your legs. You press the skirt of your dress down with your palms, and your chest pinches at the sight of your raw knees.

Your eyes flit from the fresh scratches to the concerned boy ahead of you. “Which question do you want me to answer first?” you wonder with wide, sheepish eyes.

Eddie repeats, firmer now, “Are you okay?”

“I’m totally fine,” you shrug with a beaming smile before rambling an explanation, talking absentmindedly with your hands. “I decided to buy a bike after I got my paycheck, but I don’t really know how to ride it yet, so I’m trying to teach myself, and I… kinda accidentally swerved into a ditch on the way here.”

Eddie’s chest flares with a primal feeling. He can’t stand the thought of you hurt — can’t stand the thought of you hurt and him not being there to help you. “Okay…” he wavers with his face still screwed.

“I wasn’t stalking you, by the way! Scout’s honor!” you blurt, holding up four fingers instead of three. “I just knew you lived at Forest Hill’s, and, I mean, the van is a dead giveaway, Eds.”

“Fair enough,” he huffs.

“Besides, I really wanted to bring you something, and I couldn’t wait until I saw you at Scoops because the anticipation was driving me crazy—” You lose yourself in thought and slide past him in the doorway without thinking. 

Eddie just blinks and shuts the door behind you. “And… What is it… Exactly?” he wonders cautiously, only partially fearful of the answer.

It takes you a moment too long to answer him, as you get lost in the sights around you. The trailer was bigger than it appeared on the outside, not messy by any means, but very lived in. 

There’s a folded cot in the corner beside the recliner and a small square TV across from it playing morning cartoons. Vintage baseball caps line one wall, and a collection of mugs line the other. Everything feels like a self-portrait of the Munson family.

“The mixtape I promised,” you answer finally, spinning around to face him again. You pull a plastic cassette from the pocket of your dress and gesture with it in a nervous hand. “I was starin’ at this thing all night, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you— about giving it to you, I mean.” You correct yourself with a nervous laugh and rush to move on. “I’ve always been super bad with gifts— I can’t keep ‘em a secret to save my life. I’m good for, maybe, five seconds, and then I’m just like, gosh, I can’t wait anymore, you know?”

You realize you’re rambling and trail slowly off. You swallow hard, muster a wavering smile, and motion for Eddie to take the cassette. You watch as he studies it with a careful hand — pale and lanky and devoid of his silver rings.

“You made this for me?” he mumbles after a few moments.

“Well, I told you I would.”

“Yeah, but… You made this? For me?” he repeats, with a different inflection. ‘Cause he doesn’t know who else to put it. Doesn’t know how to tell you he doesn’t feel half deserving of anything you could give him.

You giggle in response. “You said you didn’t own anything ABBA. Or Madonna. Or Cyndi Lauper— so obviously, I had to make you an entire compilation of their discography. I’m not an asshole,” you laugh. “And I put a few of my favorite songs on there, too…. And songs that made me think of you and stuff…”

Eddie smiles before he means to. It’s a strange thing, he finds, to be thought of in such an innocent way — to be looked for in the places where he couldn’t physically be. He ducks his chin and peers at you with glimmering eyes. “Yeah? Like what?” he humors.

You don’t miss a beat. “He’s so shy!”

Eddie flinches at your singing — the volume of it, more so. Your voice rings across the quiet trailer, and a laugh sputters past his lips.  “Yeah. Alright.”

“That sweet little boy who caught my eye!” you continue and reach out for him, digging your fingers into the junction of his neck and shoulder. His skin is milky white, smooth, cold to the touch.

“Okay!” he chuckles and swats you away with a playful hand. “I get it!”

“It’s the Pointer Sisters,” you grin.

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

His chocolate eyes dart back and forth between both of yours, momentarily lost in the way you’re looking at him — with your eyes all squishy around the edges. He’s not used to being looked at so softly. Or being noticed at all. 

He swallows hard and averts his gaze. Your scrapped knees enter his vision again, weeping a bright scarlet that threatens to drip down your shins. He ignores any instinct of hunger. 

“You’re bleeding pretty bad, by the way.”

You only feel the ache when you’re reminded of it. Your stomach gets all swirly at the sight of your bruised knees, rubbed raw and stained with the grass that partially cushioned your fall.

“Gosh…” you mumble to yourself, clutching the skirt of your dress in your fists. You flash Eddie a sheepish look and a wavering smile. “Any chance I could bum a bandaid?” 

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

The bathroom is a tight fight, but you make it work.

You sit on the counter, per Eddie’s instruction, while he retrieves the first aid kit collecting dust in the medicine cabinet.  He sits on the edge of the bathtub across from you, way out of his element (in more ways than one), as he cleans your cuts with trembling hands.

His throat is tight with nausea. His head swims with it, too. White stars speckle his vision that he tries hard to blink away. The sight of your blood, diluted and pink on the white tissue, makes him weak.

He isn’t sure if it’s instinct or desire that makes him want to swallow you whole, but the primal urge to consume you is there — in the figurative sense, of course; to bury his teeth in your neck and have a piece of you forever. 

Being between your legs in such close confines is ample enough distraction, though.

You push the skirt of your pretty gingham dress up the expanse of your thighs to give him space to work. You sit with them slightly spread, too — enough to reveal a sliver of your underwear, he thinks. Eddie isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not, so he fights the boyish urge to catch a glimpse of the most private part of you.

“Jesus…” he huffs and chucks the napkin into the bin. With the blood and the grass stains now wiped away, he can see the scratches more clearly. Your delicate skin is abraded and raging with it. Like you fell and kept on falling. “Did you get mauled by a bear or something?”

“In the knees?” you quip.

“Looks like it.”

“I just wanted to match my dress,” you shrug. “That’s all.”

Eddie opens an alcohol swab with his teeth, then meets your pretty smile with a scowl. “You’re hurt. It’s not funny,” he deadpans after spitting the package from between his teeth.

“It is a little bit, though,” you argue just to argue, scrunching the bridge of your nose. He presses the damp wipe to your knee, and you flinch at the sudden stinging feeling. “Ow!”

He smiles at your pouting. “Maybe a little,” he concurs.

“That was mean!”

“You told me to distract you, so I distracted you. Sue me,” the boy shrugs, feigning innocence, as he reaches to toss the swab in the trashcan beside the counter. 

The sight of wadded tissue, all stained with your ruby-colored blood, makes his breath catch in his throat. The ground starts to sway beneath his feet. His eyes go lidded and heavy. His mouth waters with need.

Eddie shakes his wild head in a feeble attempt to remove the ravenous thoughts from his brain, but all it does is make him dizzier.

He blinks wildly as he reaches for a bandaid in the opened container beside him. It slips from his clammy, tremoring hands. He fumbles to grab it again and slaps it to the counter beside you.

“You okay?” he hears you ask, sitting right in front of him but sounding much further than that.

He sits up again and clears his throat, gaze dim and glassy. “Yeah. Yeah, just— Just give me a second…” He breathes hard through his mouth. Eyes squeezed shut. Knuckles going white around the edges of the ceramic tub. 

You watch with a wide, inquisitive stare as you smooth the bandages over your knees yourself. Your concerned gaze flits from the pallid boy ahead of you, to the plasters on your skin, and back to him again. 

“If blood makes you queasy, you coulda just said,” you joke, trying to make him smile, ‘cause you hate seeing him so ill. “You didn’t have to torture yourself just to help me.”

“Blood doesn’t make me queasy,” Eddie tells you, though he’s still slurring his words.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?” 

His glazed-over eyes are slow to open. “That’s just my face,” he deadpans.

“No. You have a pretty face, Eddie,” you insist as your giggling swells like sunshine in the tiny bathroom. “It’s just all scrunched together, like you’re gonna be sick or something— like this.”

You swirl your features in a manufactured look of drama and pain. Brows furrowed, nose scrunched, mouth snarled. Eddie chuckles before he can help it. The sick feeling still lingers, though not as obvious now. 

“You are bizarre. Did you know that?”

“I did, actually,” you giggle. 

Your entwining laughter fills the bathroom’s close quarters. The glittering noise echoes through the small trailer and finds Wayne at the doorstep. He toes off his work boots and pauses at the sound of giggling — one familiar and lower in pitch, the other foreign and sparkling. 

His socked feet pad down the length of the carpeted ground until he finds the door between Eddie’s bedroom and the kitchen’s edge, already ajar. It creaks loudly under the man’s calloused palm when he pushes it slowly open.

His tired eyes widen at the sight before him — a pretty girl on the sink with a pair of scrapped knees, and Eddie sitting on the tub ahead of her with bloodied tissue in the bin beside him.

Wayne’s heart falls to ass like a steep drop on a rollercoaster.

You smile brightly at the strange man. “Hello!” you greet with an enthusiastic wave.

He blinks slowly at you for a moment, then nods politely. “Hi there,” Wayne says in a deep and gritty drawl before turning to his nephew. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Nothing,” Eddie blurts, all wide-eyed and fidgeting. He struggles to be casual as he swipes his clammy hands over his thighs. “We were just, you know, hanging out…”

“Everythin’ alright?”

Eddie nods quickly, then stops when it makes him queasy. “Yeah,” he answers, clearing his throat. “Yeah, she just— fell on her bike on the way over, and—”

He flinches when you gasp. 

“Wait! You’re Wayne!” you shout with a sudden recollection.

The man tries not to recoil at the volume of your voice — much too loud for so early in the day, like a chirping bird outside his window. He forces a tightlipped smile and nods again. “I am,” he tells you.

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “You have Eddie’s nose!”

Wayne laughs, a single scoffed breath. “What can I say? Big noses run in the family.”

“Well, I happen to like ‘em that way,” you insist with a casual shrug, kicking your feet back and forth from where you’re perched on the counter. Your heels meet the cabinet in several rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunks.

When you look down at your bandaged knees, Wayne and Eddie share a look without you.

The older man raises his greying brows. This girl is bizarre, Eddie can hear him saying. 

He nods wordlessly at his uncle’s silent observation, as though to say: I know she is, and I happen to like her that way.

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

          i guess you’re just what i needed,

          i needed someone to bleed  . . .

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

The plastic case of the cassette you made him clatters on the dashboard of his van, filling a silence that would otherwise be occupied by you. 

Eddie’s passenger seat, cracked and worn with age, feels strikingly empty without you in it. Which is strange, ‘cause your presence used to frighten him once. It does, still, he thinks — but now he mourns the haunt like an old, empty house. 

He drives his rattling tin can across town to Hawkins Community Pool, with a cup of rainbow sherbet rattling in the holder at his side, like an offering for a ghost he no longer wants to exorcise from the home behind his ribcage.

“It’s gonna melt before you get it to her,” Robin remarked with a smirk as she scooped ice cream with an expert hand. “You know that, right?”

Eddie bowed his head and tried to hide behind his curls. “Not if I run real fast,” he joked sheepishly.

The pastel sherbet softens quickly in the summer heat. (Not even the van’s middling A.C., pointed right in its direction, could keep it sufficiently cool.) The muted hues of pink, green, and orange begin to swirl together as the milky concoction undulates in his ringed fist. He hopes you don’t mind and prays you see past his feeble attempt to be kind.

“Well, well, well…” Billy Hargrove lilts with a pretty pink smirk at the sight of Eddie Munson’s familiar face. He lifts his sunglasses to the top of his mulleted curls and rests his magazine on his lap. “The dead has risen…”

The poor boy sticks out without trying, despite his desperate attempts to stay hidden — all but swimming in his leather jacket, baggy jeans, and wild hair. He’s a pale, death-touched thing floating in a sea of golden life. 

But, unlike the contemptuous leers from the other patrons, (some who are still certain Eddie killed Chrissy, and others who have always seemed to look at him that way), Billy Hargrove only smiles. A fake, sardonic grin that shows none of his teeth and shines mostly in his eyes. 

His squinted ocean gaze glimmers like he knows all of Eddie’s secrets — which is only half-true. Billy knows what the end of the world did to him, because it almost killed him too, once upon a time.

So, no. He doesn’t know all of Eddie’s secrets. 

Just the biggest one, maybe. 

Despite being largely immune to the summer heat, Eddie still feels the burn of embarrassment stinging his chest. Clawing behind his ribcage like a thousand ravaging demobats. The hot-cold aching of wishing he were dead ebbs when you turn to look at him over your shoulder — when your wide eyes of sparkling hope lock with his darker, dead-er ones.

There’s an undeniable spark of delight in your irises, though Eddie doesn’t know what for. No one’s been this happy to see him in a year. No one’s been this happy to see him ever.

Something about it makes his stomach hurt. Or maybe it’s just the way you and Hargrove are sitting behind the front counter together, like a couple of old friends, with glowing sunkissed skin hugged tight in scarlet bathing suits. 

In that split second, Eddie feels like he’s in high school again — a loser, not yet dead, pining for the pretty girl way out of his league and praying the basketball jock doesn’t shove him into the bleachers.

If you notice the momentary fear in his eyes, you don’t show it.

And if you care that he’s a loser, you don’t show that, either.

“Eddie! Hi!” you greet, giggling as you push yourself off the countertop. Your pleated skirt swishes around your thighs as you rush to him. Your matching sandals pad rhythmically along the stone floor. The flip-flop, flip-fop sound echoes through the shaded breezeway.

Eddie doesn’t know how wide he’s smiling when you’re finally standing ahead of him, but he can feel it burning in the apples of his cheeks.

“You haven’t been around for lunch,” he says in place of a greeting, fidgeting with the cup of melting ice cream in his fist. “I was scared that you keeled over or somethin’.”

“You were worried about me?” you wonder aloud, voice a few octaves higher than he’s used to. You purse your smile to the side of your mouth and scrunch your nose. “Aww…” you croon and dig two fingers into the junction of his neck.

Your touch is soft and warm and less than gentle.

Eddie cringes, effectively set aflame by the electricity of you. He shrinks back with a wavering smile and finds himself grateful that he’s too dead to blush these days — or else you’d see how hopeless he is. 

You ramble an explanation while his skin buzzes.

“I’m a little slow on my bike, turns out, and I couldn’t make it back here in time,” you tell him, which rests his anxieties a little.

Eddie’s been worried about you ever since he patched you up in his bathroom. Everyone’s been worried about you, in truth, ‘cause it’s a well-known fact that you’re a total klutz.

“And after being late for the third time, Adam got kinda mad at me…” you continue, shifting on your feet. “He got really mad at me, actually. I wore his favorite bikini, and he still threatened to fire me. I was, like, oh shit, I’m actually in trouble—”

You giggle to yourself, but Eddie feels like there’s a knife between his ribcage. A sharp, burning, and pulsing urge to get you away from all of these assholes. To get you out of this town. God knows it doesn’t deserve you.

He swallows hard and tries to joke. “Must’ve been real bad then, huh?”

You exhale a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, so… I’m kinda trying to get back on his good side and everything. It’s easier to just stay here. I would’ve called, but I— I didn’t think you cared that much.”

“I care!” Eddie scoffs, pale face swirled with offense.

“You’re the one that said emergencies only!” you mock through another pretty giggle.

“Abandoning me for a week is an emergency.”

You light up like a goddamn Christmas tree at that. 

“See! I knew you were worried about me!”

Eddie scoffs again and looks away. He focuses on the crowd bustling outside the breezeway because it’s easier than meeting your eyes. Until one of them catches his gaze and flashes him a leery look, anyway. Then he feels like he might puke. 

“Not at all,” he answers in a playful deadpan, clearing his throat when his voice shakes. “That’s definitely not why I decided to bring you a… half-melted cup of rainbow sherbet.”

His chocolate eyes avert to the plastic container in his fist, swirling the milky pastels again for good measure. When he looks at you again, it’s through his lashes and with his head bowed sheepishly.

You smile with your lips curled under your teeth — obviously giddy and trying hopelessly to hide it.

“I thought it was for me, but I didn’t wanna assume,” you admit quietly, cheek squished into your shoulder.

“It’s basically a milkshake now,” Eddie mumbles and extends his arm. His voice shakes as much as his hand does. “Sorry…”

You beam at the pinched look of worry on his face. “I like milkshakes, too, silly,” you giggle and take the cup of melted ice cream from him. 

Your fingers are gentle and strikingly warm as they brush his colder, paler ones. Warm like dragonfire, or an old house bathed in candlelight, or a freshly sharpened blade through the heart.

Eddie bleeds out on the pebbled concrete as you turn away. 

You rush back to the counter you leapt from, balancing the container in one palm as you bend over the top of it. A satiny summer breeze rolls through the shaded shack and billows through the pleats of your skirt, lifting the thin fabric to reveal the thong of your one-piece — a sliver of soft scarlet running between your thighs.

Eddie’s undead heart lurches into his throat. He turns his gaze to the ceiling until the wind passes.

Billy looks up from his magazine to smile at you with his teeth. “This your boyfriend, sweet thing?” he asks as you pluck your straw from the styrofoam cup you were just drinking from.

The nickname floats on the humid air and strangles Eddie accordingly. Your mouth curls around the end of the bendy straw before you give him a proper answer. You blow hard to dispel the remnants of room-temperature water before sticking the plastic into the milky concoction in your fist.

“Yes,” you answer plainly, then take a long sip of the softened ice cream. You shrug with the raspberry-orange taste on your tongue. “He’s a boy. And he’s my friend,” you lilt. “Jealous?”

Billy laughs. Loud. 

“Of Munson?” 

You nod quietly, straw caged between your teeth.

He laughs louder and slouches in his swivel chair. The golden muscles of his toned chest flex as he flashes you a quieter smile — one that might say he knows a lot more than you do if you cared enough to read the signals.

“I can’t say that I am, no,” Billy hums, faux sympathetically.

“Well, maybe if you were a little nicer, he’d be bringing you food, too,” you tell him, very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, as you spin on the heel of your rubber flip-flop and saunter away. 

Eddie grimaces when you’re ahead of him again. “Please tell me this isn’t the only thing you’ve had today.”

Your face screws as you take another sip. “No,” you answer with a firm shake of your head, though the word comes out garbled from the fruity concoction in your mouth. You swallow it down and confess, “I had half a Poptart for breakfast, so…”

“That’s… not breakfast,” the boy monotones, then motions his wild head to the cup cradled in your right hand. “And this isn’t lunch.”

“Well, I told you I don’t have time to get lunch,” you argue like a child, soft and sheepish, head bowed to avoid his unwavering stare. You stab at the softened ice cream with the plastic straw, leaving holes in the pastel swirls, as you mutter to yourself, “And I can’t make it for myself, either. I’m not adult enough for that yet.”

Eddie feels it again. The sting of empathy in his chest. The primitive need to help you that makes it hard to breathe most days.

He shrugs his leather-clad shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his trembling hands under his armpits.

“Well— Maybe— Maybe I can, you know, bring you something?” Eddie offers, stumbling over himself the entire way through. He shifts on his feet and swallows through the frog in his throat. “Like, when I have the time, or whatever.”

He doesn’t tell you that he always has the time. (‘Cause he only works nights at The Hideout now, and spends the rest of the day’s many hours rotting in bed.)

Your face pinches into a girlish pout. Something soft, but sterner than he thinks he’s ever seen you before. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Eddie argues. “And I’m not doing it outta the kindness of my own heart, either— It’d just make me feel better to know you’re not totally withering away whenever I’m not here.”

You try hard to keep your scowl. But then your chest starts to glitter like a thousand sparklers in July, and you’re beaming before you can stop it. Eddie watches the pretty smile curl slowly on your lips despite your futile attempt to hide it.

“What’s that look for?” he cautions.

“Nothin’,” you shrug, smiling with the straw between your teeth. “I just like you.”

Eddie forgets to breathe and dies all over again, right at your feet.

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

         only boys who save their pennies

         make my rainy day!

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

Most Tuesdays, some Wednesdays, and every Friday — (the mornings after his late night shifts at The Hideout) — Eddie Munson buys you lunch. 

He stands at the counter of Benny’s Burgers and pays with the rogue quarters and crumpled bills he finds in random pockets of his jacket. The bearded man looks on in slow-blinking bemusement while the boy counts out the $4.89 your sandwich costs.

Benny ends up throwing in free fries for the effort.

It takes Eddie an embarrassing amount of time to realize you were sneaking money into his pockets every time he visited you, even though he told you not to pay him back. Even though you swore you wouldn’t. (He’ll never believe another one of your stupid Scout’s Honor promises again).

Saturday comes, and Eddie’s cleaned out ’til his next shift on Monday. 

He thinks he’s handling it pretty well — the very palpable lack of you — but the contrary is written all over his face.

He’s sprawled out on the sunken-in couch in the living room with the headphones of his Walkman around his neck. Madonna plays muffledly (and far too happily) as he stares up at the ceiling, trying to make constellations of your face from the cracks and water stains.

Dustin watches his best friend grieve from the other side of the coffee table and sighs. “It’s the sandwiches, right? You guys hate the sandwiches?” he wonders aloud, but to no one in particular. “God, I knew I put too much jelly in them—”

“The sandwiches are amazing, Dusty-Bun,” Robin insists from Wayne’s recliner, with a mouthful of PB&J jutting out her freckled cheek. Her chipping maroon nails are stained with crumbs as they flash an ‘ok’ symbol in his direction.

With grape jelly on the corner of his mouth, Steve mumbles from the floor in front of her, “Doesn’t explain why Eddie’s still sulking over there, though.”

“Exactly!” Dustin huffs, flailing his arms.

Eddie rolls his eyes. He exhales a heavy breath that makes his chest deflate, then turns to face the eyes staring back at him. “I’m not sulking,” he grumbles like a rain cloud.

“Yeah. It’s the pouting that’s so convincing,” Max scoffs from Dustin’s other side, blinking at him from behind her glasses as she fakes a tight-lipped grin. 

Eddie just squints at her. She’s not nearly as menacing as she used to be. Not when her ocean eyes are bugged out from such thick lenses, anyway. Now he finds her sort of adorable, in a subtly intimidating way — like a kitten holding a pocketknife.

“I’m not pouting, either,” the wild-haired boy retorts, features scrunched in a soft pout.

Lucas wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “He just misses Barbie,” the boy croons playfully.

Eddie blinks at him with a flat face. “Barbie?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, voice high. “Barbie.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is, or…?”

“Oh, you know who she is,” Lucas nods with a boyish chuckle. “Very well.”

He keeps on laughing about it until Max elbows him hard in the shoulder. Steve misses the silent cue as he tears off a piece of bread crust, snickering to himself at the inside joke.

He pops it into his mouth and meets Eddie’s gaze, emotionless and expectant. His eyes widen as he stammers for a response.

“The girl— Your girl— She was at Jazzercise the other day,” Steve explains, then swallows hard. “She was with that pretty lifeguard, too. What’s her name again?”

He looks instinctively up at Robin for an answer. Eddie beats her to the punch. 

“Billy Hargrove?” he monotones.

“Ha-ha.”

“Heather Holloway,” Robin tells him.

“Heather!” Steve exclaims, snapping his fingers. “I’m pretty sure I dated her freshman year, actually… Or was that Heather Hart?”

The boy loses focus quickly as he goes deep in thought. Fluffy brows pinched, honey eyes squinted. A heavy silence lulls over the crowded living room, and Madonna’s muffled voice grows louder. ‘Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl!—

Before Eddie has time to be embarrassed, Steve shrugs at himself. 

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway. She was at Jazzercise with Heather just, like, dripping in pink. Pink leg warmers, pink leotard, pink tights…” Steve trails off again, stare glazing over like he's imagining you all over again. “It was crazy…”

Eddie’s face swirls in disgust. Not at the thought of you, of course, but at the notion that your beauty is perceptible to others. That he isn’t the only one who can see you, admire you. He is not the only one you’ve threatened to kill with your piercing stare, and the thought alone makes his stomach twist.

“You’re such a boy,” Eddie scoffs.

Robin leans forward, freckled face solemn and serious. She rests her elbows on her denim-clad knees and slowly shakes her head. “No… It was crazy,” she echoes more earnestly.

It sounds different coming from her. It means something different coming from her, too. Eddie’s brows raise and disappear beneath his curly bangs. “Oh, yeah?” he hums with bated breath.

“Yeah,” Robin answers with a disbelieving sigh.

“Hence, the nickname,” Lucas nods, seemingly missing the meaning ‘cause the only other girl he’s cared to notice besides Pheobe Cates is the redhead sitting beside him.

The girl with magnifying glasses over her eyes and legs that don’t work as well as they used to. Despite the circumstances (involving dark wizards and a certain death), Max hasn’t changed at all. And neither has the way Lucas’ teenage boy heart beats for her.

Eddie scoffs a tired laugh. He turns back to the ceiling and throws an elbow over his eyes. “I’m gonna tell her you guys call her that behind her back, by the way.”

“It’s a compliment!” Dustin defends, a few octaves higher than normal.

“Or you could tell her to her face,” Max offers with an absentminded shrug, folding her napkin into a weird shape in her lap — only ‘cause she’s fidgeting, of course, not because Dr. Owens said it would help ease the stiffness in her fingers. (Being dead might’ve taught her some things, but listening to figures of authority is not one of them.)

“She’s working today. Billy said so.”

Eddie peeks at her, flat-faced. “Did he?”

“Yeah. Means you can go visit your girlfriend instead of bitching and moaning about how much you miss her all weekend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Mayfield.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“No. That is entirely the point,” Eddie argues, laughing more sincerely now. “Other than the fact that the sun will literally kill me.”

Max’s light eyes narrow into thin slits behind her clunky glasses. She says the hard thing out loud, without blinking. that the rest of them are already thinking, anyway.

“You’re already dead, Munson.”

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

          hey, you, with the pretty face,

         welcome to the human race!

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

No wonder the streets seemed so apocalyptically empty, Eddie thinks to himself as he walks through the front gates of Hawkins Community Pool. Because every goddamn person in town has chosen to spend their Saturday here.

Benny from the diner sits by the kiddie pool next to the entrance, watching his daughter wade in the shallow water. He looks like a different person without his grease-stained apron on. His swim trunks are bright red and slightly too short for him, his Hawaiian shirt is unbuttoned to reveal his beer belly, and his face is burnt everywhere but under his sunglasses. 

Jason, Andy, and all the rest of their goons hog the picnic tables while pretty girls sit on the tops of them — wearing their expensive bikinis and basking in the sun like it’s shining just for them. The boys laugh and shove at one another, trying to pretend like they’re far too cool for it all.

Familiar faces fill the blue water, but it’s hard to make them out in the crowd. Everyone’s swimming and splashing and stuffed within the chain-linked fence like cattle. They all go blurry, like a bunch of indistinct shapes before a backdrop of bright colors. Like a Claud Monet painting, if he ever cared enough to paint uninspiring Midwestern towns.

It’s far too packed to feel self-conscious ‘cause this is the kind of horde you drown in. But that just means it’s catastrophically overstimulating. For Eddie, most of all, who’s sorely out of place in his leather jacket and baggy jeans and dirty sneakers.

The boy cranes his neck to search for you, dark eyes flitting wildly over the crowd — once, twice, and then a third time.

You’re nowhere to be found, and he knows this because your face is far too pretty and not easily missed. Your sweet hibiscus scent is equally absent, drowned out by the overwhelming smell of chlorine, sunblock, and sweat.

If you were around, he’d know it.

“She’s not even here!” Eddie huffs, lifting his arms only to drop them dramatically at his sides. Any arguments about his pouting are surely moot now. Even he can feel the petulant scowl pinching his features.

Max, equally confused, stands at his side and pushes her glasses up her nose. “Billy said she was working today. I heard him on the phone. He definitely said it,” she observes, mostly to herself, ‘cause she can’t stomach being wrong. “Well… He said he was opening with the two prettiest girls in town, so I figured one was probably Heather and the other was—”

“Barbie?” Eddie finishes flatly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, she’s obviously not here, so… Let’s just go back home and do— literally anything else.” 

Eddie spins on the heel of his worn sneaker with the intention of going back the way he came. His van is parked crooked, anyhow. Steve complained as much when he parked his shiny new BMW right beside him. He figures he should probably get back before someone slashes his tires. Again.

He nearly runs into someone the second he turns around. Someone standing far too close for comfort, in a bright red bathing suit and matching skirt, with too big sunglasses on the top of her head.

“Who’s not working today?!” the person shouts loudly in his face, with the evident intent to scare him.

Eddie stumbles back into Steve, who promptly shoves him forward again. It takes him approximately that long to realize it’s you.

You guffaw when the rest of them jump in fright — a loud and heavenly sound that refuses to be drowned out by the droning of a million different conversations.

“I totally got you guys!” you exclaim, giggling so hard your head tilts back. 

Eddie laughs with you, mostly in shock, as he clutches his chest where his heart isn’t beating.

“Admit it! I got you a little?” you say, pinching your thumb and forefinger and squinting through the sliver of space between them.

“Yeah,” the boy huffs a forced laugh. “Yeah, a— a little bit.”

Visibly delighted by his words, you beam brighter than the golden hour sun.

“I knew it!” you grin before your eyes flit over his shoulder, to the group of friends gaping wordlessly behind him. You scrunch your nose sympathetically. “Sorry… You guys were just collateral.”

“You know I have a bad heart,” Steve complains for the sake of complaining, clutching his chest over his short-sleeved button-up. He flashes you a stern look and gripes, “That shit’ll kill me.”

Your eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “You’re twenty-one years old, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “And being around you ages me five years.”

“Well, then, I guess we’re gonna have a very long, very happy life together. Aren’t we, Stevie?” you retort with a sickly sweet smile that Steve meets with a scruffy-faced scowl. 

Eddie watches the brunette boy roll his eyes like he wasn’t getting half-hard at the thought of you at Jazzercise an hour ago. It makes him only partly jealous.

He could never dream of being so casual around you. ‘Cause when your eyes find his again, it feels like his stomach’s doing backflips. It’s like he blinks, and he forgets how to speak.

“So!” you chirp. “Family trip?”

Eddie opens his mouth and doesn’t realize until that moment that every word in the English language has left his brain. Robin shoves him hard in the back to put his head back on straight. The words fly from his mouth like a pull-string doll.

“I didn’t wanna bother you, but these idiots forced me into it.”

“Good. You need to get out of the house from time to time, Eds— You’re getting so pale,” you ramble and reach suddenly for his face. Eddie freezes when you take his chin by your thumb and forefinger. The warmth of your velvety touch sets his skin aflame; more so when you look directly into his wide-eyed gape and say, “There’s nothin’ wrong with needing a little sunshine, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Weird,” Max muses with a sarcastic lilt. “That is exactly what we’ve been trying to tell him, too.”

Eddie shoots her a glare — the best he can, anyway, with your hand still cradling his jaw. He can only see the redhead from the corner of his eye, but the smug smirk on her freckled face doesn’t go missed.

Your fingers slip from his face, and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. He feels strangely empty, still, without you touching him — like he’s starving, or like he’s never been touched before now. Sometimes, it feels like both are true.

He wonders if that’s just the price he has to pay. If being near you means feeling like he’s dying and coming to life all at once. There’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him he’ll pay it, with your pretty fingers strangling his neck and all.

“You’re MADMAX, right?” you wonder aloud to the girl with auburn plaits draping her freckled shoulders.

She’s mostly a stranger to you now, but you think she must mean a great deal to the rest of them. They talk a whole lot about the redhead with chunky glasses who acts like she’s way too cool for it all but defends her Dig Dug high score like her life depends on it. 

The girl nods and crosses her pale arms across her chest, flashing you a suspicious, tightlipped smile. “Yeah. Which means you must be Barbie?”

“Barbie?” you echo.

Eddie chimes in then. “That’s what these freaks call you when you’re not around,” he says, nodding his wild head to the group of aforementioned freaks behind him.

Your face twists as you bring your hand to the center of your chest. “That is the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me before,” you respond, strangely sincere.

Lucas smiles from over Max’s shoulder, nodding like he’s proud. “You’re welcome,” he tells you.

Dustin stands just beside him with a conspicuous paper bag under his arm. You squint past Eddie and over to the curly-haired boy. “What’s that?” you blurt.

It takes him a second too long to answer. “Oh. Uh. A sandwich—” he stammers vaguely, extending his arm towards you. You take the sack from him without thinking twice and rifle blindly through its contents.

“PB&J?” you guess with an inquisitive arch to your brow. Dustin nods, looking pleased by your assumption. Your arm stills suddenly within the crinkling brown sack, and your eyes narrow into thin slits. “With the crust cut off?”

“Uh… no.”

“Good. That’s obviously the best part of the whole sandwich,” you respond, almost to yourself, as you pluck the snack from the bag. 

You unwrap it from its plastic seal and take a hefty bite in one fell swoop. Your eyes flutter shut like it’s something gourmet, and not just something Dustin slapped together on his kitchen step stool at home.

“Thank you for this,” you mumble through the wad of food in your cheek. “You’re officially my new best friend, Dusty-Bun.”

“Rude,” Eddie scoffs.

You swallow hard and fight back a smile, like you were hoping for that exact response. “And who said you were my best friend in the first place, hm?” you argue playfully, waving the half-eaten peanut butter jelly sandwich in his face. “That is very presumptuous of you, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Your pleated skirt flutters at your hips when you spin on the heel of your plastic sandal. You flip flop, flip flop out of the shaded shack and towards the sunshine and unadulterated chaos. The rest of them follow behind you — save for Dustin, who migrates to Eddie’s side with a far-off gaze.

“Sure she’s not your girlfriend?” the kid wonders, never once taking his eyes off the back of you.

Eddie looks down at him with a flat face. “I’m sure,” he monotones.

Dustin grins wide, likely forgetting that other people can see it, too. “Good,” he hums to himself.

“Don’t get any ideas, Henderson,” the older boy blurts before he means to, then tries not to cower under the expectant glance he gets. “You’re obviously way out of her league.”

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

The group fits in pretty well despite being the self-proclaimed outcasts of Hawkins, Indiana.

Steve most of all, but that usually goes without saying. He looks like small-town royalty in his brand-name polo and too-expensive navy swim shorts. He’s lost his touch since high school, though, as he tries and fails to flirt with Carol Perkins’ sister.

“So, Amber— What’d you say you were studying again?” you hear him ask as he lingers awkwardly by the longue chairs.

“My name is Autumn,” she corrects in a drawl that’d give a valley girl a run for her money.

Steve, oblivious to his blunder, only smiles. “Oh, cool. That’s, like, definitely in my top four favorite seasons—”

Robin, in a strange turn of events, is much more casual in her flirting than her co-worker-slash-best-friend. She spotted Vicki the second she walked in, sitting with a few girls from yearbook and rubbing sunscreen onto her supple skin.

She pretended she didn’t, though, which only made it that much more obvious that she had. Vicki waved at her once, then again to invite her over, and Robin was far too awkward to decline. 

Now, she sits gracelessly with a bunch of half-strangers and her biggest crush, looking only slightly out of place in her frayed shorts and Steve’s baggy tee. She nods politely in conversation and thanks the universe for making it so damn hot today. At least now she can blame her burning freckled face on the golden setting sun.

Dustin and Lucas, meanwhile, stuff their faces with ice cream sandwiches in a feeble attempt to consume them before they melt. The softened vanilla leaves messes on their fingers and faces, making them look somehow more boyish than their respective Spiderman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle swim trunks.

Max sits off to the side of them in her own chair, partly overstimulated, and trying to let the piercing sunbeams ground her again.

Eddie Munson, however, in his attempt to blend in, only draws more attention to himself.

He sits beside your post, shaded beneath a wide umbrella, in the same attire you’d see him in on any other day. The baggy jeans, and the thick leather jacket, and the Corroded Coffin merch. He’s dripping in black and silver but hasn’t yet broken a sweat. You don’t know how, though. ‘Cause you’re hot just looking at him.

You pluck your plastic whistle from your mouth to ask, “Are you sure you’re not burning up over there?”

Eddie laughs before he means to because the answer’s obvious to him. 

The last time he felt an ounce of heat was when he was bleeding out on the dirt floor of an alternate universe — when crimson blood ran warm over the mangled skin of his chest and ribs. He’s been colder than ice ever since. And he keeps forgetting you don’t know about any of that.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he answers, angling his head to face yours.

There’s a white cast on his grey face from sunscreen deliberately not rubbed in. It feels like a shield in some way. Not in the warm-blooded human kind of way, of course, but in the vampiric curse kind. The kind that would otherwise make him debilitatingly weak sitting outside like this. Now, he feels somewhat normal.

The golden hour sun sits like a halo behind your head. He squints one eye to see you better. “If you wanna see me shirtless, you can just say that,” he jokes. “Instead of beating around the bush and everything—”

“I wanna see you shirtless,” you blurt in a strange monotone that makes it hard to tell if you’re joking or not.

The boy falters. Tries not to choke on his own spit. There isn’t a world where he can flirt with you where you don’t immediately snatch the upper hand. It’s like you’re immune to that sort of diffidence. Eddie wishes he was, too.

“Wow,” he scoffs after the few long moments it takes him to recover. “Way to be blunt, sweetheart.”

“You told me to say it!”

You give him a lazy shrug and a lazier smile as you swap the bright red lifeguard buoy to your other arm. Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as though physically affected by the way you look at him, and the plastic pool chair makes a weird squeaking noise beneath him.

“Yeah, well, most people tend to be more subtle about it.”

“I’ve never been subtle about anything in my life.”

You turn back around to scan the busy pool, and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. A laugh rattles through his tight chest as he quips, “I’m starting to realize that about you, actually—”

“God. Stop flirting,” Max groans from your other side, who has otherwise been so silent that Eddie was starting to forget she was there. She doesn’t turn to look at either of you from where she lazes on the lounge chair. “Sitting with Steve would be more bearable than this.”

“Yeah, Eddie. Stop flirting with me,” you grouse, obviously playful, and without missing a single beat. You glare at the boy over your mostly bare shoulder and try hard not to smile. (He can’t see it in your eyes, anyway, though.) “I’m trying to talk to my new friend MADMAX. Gosh—”

You spin on the heel of your plastic red sandal, and your matching skirt twirls with you. Eddie can’t take his eyes off the back of you. He forgets how to blink when the fabric swishes to give him a brief glimpse of your ass.

He’s always hated the sun, but he loves the way it kisses your skin — leaving you glistening and mouthwateringly supple. 

His fangs threaten to make an appearance when a warm breeze carries your cotton candy cloud scent to him. His gums start to burn with the sharp ache.

“—Hi, MADMAX,” you singsong to the scowling girl, grinning with your cheek pressed to your shoulder.

“You can just call me Max,” she deadpans. “You know that, right?”

“But MADMAX is so much cooler. And it suits you way better.”

“Does it?” MADMAX wonders with an unenthusiastic hum.

“Yeah. Maxine is a name for an old woman. Or, like, one of those ridiculously expensive French poodles,” you ramble and turn back to the pool again, head bobbing as you scan the crowd. “But MADMAX? Now, that is a name for a badass with really cool hair and a sick pair of reading glasses.”

There’s a beat of silence, filled only by the sound of splashing water and the buzzing of a thousand distant conversations, as Max tries to bite back a laugh. It sputters past her anxiety-bitten lips before she can stop it — a strangely airy giggle from such an intimidating girl. 

She shakes her head, still, to pretend she’s above the childish giddiness.

Your face screws in feigned offense. “Don’t laugh!” you scold.

Which, of course, only makes her laugh harder.

Eddie lifts his head, finally taking his eyes off you to gape at the redhead across the aisle, who hasn’t laughed like this since the world ended. 

It must be something strange you alone bring out of them, he realizes. Something special in you that the end of the world didn’t steal like it did everyone else.

“These guys bothering you, newbie?” you hear your manager call to you, only partially drowned out by the surrounding laughter and shouting from the bustling crowd.

His voice is annoyingly distinct. It’s deep and articulate in a way that makes him seem smart. You don’t know if he really is, but you do know that he’s really a raging asshole. 

Adam stands before you, gold and glittering under the setting sun like God’s first creation himself. He’s got veins up and down the length of his muscular arms, and a bulging chest that he waxes every two weeks like clockwork. He’s Steve The Hair Harrington pretty without an ounce of the charm.

“Huh?” you call back, brows raised and eyes wide, just to make him repeat himself.

“I asked if these guys were bothering you,” Adam repeats, flicking his cleft chin back to get the blonde curls out of his eyes. “You look distracted.”

“What guys?” you wonder with an innocent furrow to your brows.

The man’s emerald eyes flit instinctively over your shoulder at Eddie, who everyone has been trying and failing not to stare at this whole time. 

You wonder if Eddie notices it, too — if he’s gotten immune to the constant leering or if he’s bone-crushingly aware of it all. Either way, no one deserves to be ogled at like that. Like some kinda zoo animal. 

Everyone always walks on eggshells around him, refusing to look him in the eye out of fear he might bite. But you know he doesn’t have the teeth for it.

Despite that, you look at Eddie over your shoulder like he’s a stranger. His eyes are wide and swimming with apprehension as the chocolates of them dart between you and the man made out of chiseled marble. 

Adam knows that you know him. You know he knows it, too. Which makes lying to him all the more fun.

“I’ve never seen this man before in my life,” you shrug.

Adam squints and crosses his too-big arms over his chest. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s loitering. Along with the rest of these kids—” He looks around him with a visible disgust. 

Max pretends he isn’t there. Dustin and Lucas, meanwhile, forget to be casual as they cower under his stare with their ice-cream-stained faces.

“It’s a public pool, Adam. Everyone's loitering. Duh.”

You turn away and stick your whistle back in your mouth. You chew absentmindedly at the plastic and scan the pool for any reason to use it.

Adam’s neck twitches. An angry sort of tic he didn’t know he had until he met you. “You’re still on the clock, newbie. If I see you gettin’ distracted again, I’ll—”

You blow the whistle. Loud. And for far longer than you probably need to. 

The high-pitched chirping rings in Adam’s ears from the close proximity. He flinches away accordingly.

“No running, please!” you shout sweetly to the pudgy middle school-aged boy on the other side of the pool. (His babysitter always brings him here so she can sunbathe, and he’s always roughhousing in the deep end. Billy’s developed a personal vendetta with him over the summer.) 

The suddenly quiet pool returns to its deafening chaos a second later.

You flash Adam a cheeky smile. “You were saying?”

“I was saying that I’ll take it out of your paycheck,” the man bites, angled jaw clenched tight. “You’re already on thin ice. Understand?”

Your lip juts in a feigned pout. You nod slowly, eyes wide like a puppy he’s just kicked.

“One more strike, and you’re cleaning toilets, newbie.”

“Ah, I knew that’s what this was all about…” you lilt seductively, lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “You just want to see me bending over—”

You lean closer toward him until your spearmint breath fans across his chiseled jaw. Your bottom juts out in Eddie’s direction, until he can see the very bottom of your ass from beneath your pleated skirt. It makes him as flustered as Adam the Asshole, who stalks off on long legs quickly after, sufficiently embarrassed.

You laugh at the back of him until he disappears into the crowd again. The bubbly sound ceases the moment he’s out of earshot, and your smile ebbs into a girlish pout. “Dickwad,” you mumble under your breath.

You recover from it all rather quickly while Eddie struggles to remind himself to breathe. His mind reels as he, for the first time ever, grapples with the very real possibility that he might actually be in love with you. Or that you’re not real at all, and that this is just Vecna’s doing — long gone but still putting visions in his head somehow.

He doesn’t know which is worse.

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

         oh, what a strange magic!

         oh, it’s a strange magic!

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

The golden-orange sky turns a milky pink and lavender. Eddie’s friends, sunburnt and sufficiently pruned, don’t leave until the first star blinks faintly in the sky. The rest of the crowd goes with them, bustling bodies spilling out in a swarm.

It takes the rest of the gang several long moments to realize Eddie isn’t behind them. (You told him you forgot your sunglasses, and he offered to get them for you, ‘cause he’s nice like that and everything.)

(He doesn’t know the sunglasses are currently hiding in the pocket of your windbreaker.)

“What, where’s Eddie?” Dustin wonders aloud to the rest of the group, head flitting wildly in search of the misplaced metalhead.

“He went to the bathroom, I think,” you blurt the first lie you can think of. “He was talking about a nervous tummy or something. I don’t know.”

Steve scoffs like he senses a non-truth. “So, he’s leaving me with babysitting duty again?” he quips with a cynical, lopsided smile. “How predictable.”

“You say that like we’re the spawn of Satan or something,” Lucas jokes.

“You aren’t?” the oldest boy deadpans.

Dustin flips him off with a chubby finger and a flat face.

They bid their leave tangled in mindless arguments and lanky limbs. You watch them leave with the understanding that Steve’s 733i will be a tighter fit than it should be, crammed with a bunch of rowdy teenage boys. You feel sorry for Max and Robin most of all. 

Steve’s car peels out of the parking lot one moment, and Eddie returns the next.

“I couldn’t find your sunglasses anywhere,” he confesses sheepishly, face twisted like a puppy’s as he scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I think some asshole might’ve stolen ‘em—”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shrug with a tightlipped smile. “I found them in the, uh— In the lost-and-found bin.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool,” Eddie stammers, nodding slowly, just before a smile tugs at his lips. You watch from beneath your lashes as the subtle realization curls on his face. “You had ‘em the entire time, didn’t you?” the boy wonders in a low voice that makes your stomach do whirl.

“Yes,” you squeak in a mousy voice, then ramble before you can stop it. “But only ‘cause I wanted everyone else to leave! You know, so we can have a real date and everything…”

“As opposed to the fake ones we’ve been having?” he jokes with pinched brows.

“Exactly,” you nod, strikingly sincere. ‘Cause the constant carpooling and melted rainbow sherbet dropoffs had to have meant something. 

“As tempting as that sounds, sweet thing,” he humors, scrunching the bridge of his nose. “I do think I might be actually coming down with sunstroke.”

You turn your head wordlessly to the entryway of the shack. There’s only a sliver of the night sky visible from here, but it’s navy blue and sparkling with so many little stars. You look back to Eddie with a dubious glint in your eye. “The sunset twenty minutes ago, Eds.”

“Yeah, but… I’m still sick.”

He removes his hand from the pocket of his leather jacket and balls it into a fist over his mouth. He coughs once, trying hard to make it believable ‘cause he hasn’t been truly sick since the winter of ’84.

That’s perhaps the only cool thing about being a vampire — he’s basically got Superman’s immune system now.

“Well, I actually learned how to treat sunstroke while I was in training,” you lilt with an air of mischief in your voice as you take a daring step closer. The scent of sunscreen and cheap musky cologne clings to his skin. Something about the combination of the two is maddening.

You’re filled suddenly with the primal urge to bite into him like an apple. But you refrain, lest you scare him off.

Eddie’s caught in a similar dilemma, but with perhaps realer consequences than that. Your natural marshmallow-passionfruit scent suffocates him like a pillow to the face. His fangs threaten to force their way through his gums as his head starts to swim.

He ignores every vampiric instinct swirling in his mind and focuses, instead, on the pretty smile curling at your lips.

“Bet ya didn’t know that, did ya?”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “No, I— I don’t think you ever told me that,” he stammers, then clears his throat when the words get stuck there. He puts both hands back in his jacket pocket, balling them into fists until his nails bite into his palms.

“First, you gotta take off your clothes—”

“You’ve been trying to get in my pants all day,” the boy laughs. “You realize that, right?”

“—And then you gotta cool off in a very luxurious community pool.”

Eddie gets what you’re playing at, then. His smile ebbs almost instantly. “No,” he dismisses with a stern shake of his head. His deep chestnut curls, frizzed with the late-summer humidity, sway around his jaw. “No. No way.”

“Oh, c’mon! Please,” you whine. “The pool closes in, like, half an hour— Then it’ll just be us! We can swim together!”

“I don’t know how,” Eddie whines back, head tossed and face screwed. “Seriously. I grew up in a trailer park. No one ever taught me how to swim, alright? I’ll drown.”

Something about that seems to please you, as your pout curls slowly into another smile. You meet the boy’s wet brown eyes with a gaze that glitters something wicked.

Eddie can see your head spinning with a thousand bad ideas from here. His heart would race at the thought of getting into trouble with you if it was beating still. 

You’ll bring him back to life yet.

“Don’t worry, Eds,” you shrug with a sure grin. “I’d give you mouth-to-mouth in a heartbeat.”

                            ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦ (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

The pool glows a vibrant sapphire color. It makes the surrounding amber streetlamps seem dull in comparison. The water is as blue and crystalline as an early summer sky. Eddie figures you must be the sun, swimming in the center of it all. 

You wait patiently in the shallow end — out of both your windbreaker and pleated skirt for the first time in front of him — and swipe your hands over the water, letting it drip like liquid diamonds from your fingers. You hum quietly to the slow song playing on the boombox across the way, which now houses the mixtape you made that Eddie seems to take with him everywhere. 

The boy shifts uncomfortably at the head of the pool, feeling awkward in the pair of swim trunks you found for him in the break room.

You’ve never seen so much of him before. His paper-white legs are a lot longer than you expected, ‘cause his baggy jeans hardly do him any favors. And his arms are a lot muscular, too — likely from moving band equipment and bussing tables.

He’s already so pretty to begin with. You don’t know what he’s got to be such a Nervous Nelly about.

Eddie knows he’s making it harder for himself. It’d be a lot less awkward for the both of you if he just took his shirt off and jumped in the water. But he’s paralyzed by the misplaced panic that strikes that lightning in his chest. And by you, ogling at him like he’s a pretty thing that deserves to be ogled at.

“Stop staring,” he calls to you, pretending to be playful but meaning every bit of it. “It’s makin’ me nervous.”

“Would it make you feel better if I closed my eyes?”

“Much.”

You put your hands over your eyes, to make him feel better and all. Though, you can’t help but peek between the slivers of your fingers as he strips himself of his Corroded Coffin tee.

His torso is as long and lean as you imagined, with sprinkles of hair on his chest and the pudge of his tummy that trails into his borrowed trunks. You try very hard not to stare too long at the gray scars embedded in his pale skin.

Everything seems to come easier to him when you’re not looking at him. He slides the black fabric off his pale, pale torso, tosses it to his feet, and hurries to hide in the water in one fell swoop.

The chlorine makes his nose burn, but the water feels like satin on his skin. It’s soft and warm and smooth against the cold, sharp edges of him.

“You can open your eyes now,” Eddie scoffs when he notices your hands still over your eyes. He can see you blinking at him through the slits in your fingers. “I know you’re peeking.”

“I was not!” you gasp, mouth agape with a playful offense.

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it, sweet thing.”

“These are very nefarious accusations you’re making, Eddie Munson…” you scold with arched brows and wide eyes. The water ripples faintly around you as you stalk towards him like a predator to prey, eyes narrowed in a challenging squint. “Are you prepared to back them up?”

The boy cowers slightly under your unwavering stare. “I don’t like the way you’re looking at me right now—”

And he was right not to. ‘Cause you’re lunging suddenly towards him in a flash.

The water splashes violently around you as you wrap both arms around his neck and sweep him off his feet. Literally. You kick his legs out from underneath him, then catch him before he can fall completely backward. Both his downfall and his savior, ironically.

“Ha!” you shout in his face, the tip of your nose brushing his.

“Jesus!” Eddie gasps in response, still heart lurching in his chest.

“I asked if you were prepared!” you defend like you’re innocent, like you aren’t still cradling him in your arms — the only thing keeping him from going under.

“Not for this!” he yells back. 

Only then is he able to take a good breath in. He can smell the velvety scent of your blood from the achingly close proximity. He can feel your heart beating in his own chest from where you’re pressed so intently against him. It makes him instantly dizzy.

He fights back the primal urges that would otherwise drive him mad.

“Jeez…” he huffs, fangs burning. “You’re a lifeguard— You’re supposed to stop people from drowning.”

“Yeah, but no one ever needs saving,” you whine. “It’s so boring.”

His chocolate button eyes flit back and forth between both of yours. “You tryin’ to save me, sweet thing?” he jokes.

You squint. “Is it working?”

“Yeah, actually… If you let me up now, at least.”

He’s grateful when you do, though he mourns the lack of you when you step back a few paces.

His damp hair sticks to his skin when he rises to full height. He shakes his head like a dog, and you giggle when a few rogue droplets fly your way.

“You have freckles on your shoulder,” you observe distantly, eyes darting across the faint amber spots on his pale skin as you try to make constellations out of them. “I didn’t know that ’til now.”

Eddie’s lips jut downward as he peers at his arm from the corner of his eye. “Not really,” he shrugs.

“You do!” you insist. “There’s not many, though. I could probably count ‘em if I wanted.”

“Maybe on our second date.”

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo here, either—” You poke him in the chest, a little harder than you probably mean to. 

Eddie winces and rubs his palm over the fading black widow under his collarbone. “Well, you don’t know everything about me,” he quips. “I like it that way. It keeps you on your toes.”

Your face pinches into a girlish pout. “Only ‘cause you never tell me anything.”

“I tell you loads of things,” Eddie laughs.

Your frown deepens. “You never told me about the picture of Ozzy Osbourne you keep in your wallet.”

“…How do you know about that?”

“Dustin told me.”

“Of course he did,” Eddie huffs. “Remind me not to tell that little shit anything ever again.”

“You never told me about how you got those scars, either,” you blurt, eyes trained on his milky white torso. Beneath the clear, rippling water, you can see the parts of his supple stomach that are marred and turning pink.

You don’t realize what you’ve said until your gaze flits back to his startled one. Your eyes widen as you ramble quickly, “You don’t have to! I’m not trying to… I’m just— I’m just saying. ‘Cause, you know, Steve has the same ones… On his ribs…”

“I’m not even gonna ask how you know that,” Eddie jokes with a (mostly) feigned jealousy.

“Billy does, too. He’s got the same lookin’ scars on his chest,” you continue. “And then I started thinking, you know? I thought, since you all know each other and everything, maybe something happened to you guys. Like, in the earthquakes or something.”

Eddie swallows hard and debates on spilling his guts. 

He swallows his secrets down like bile, in the end.

“Yeah. You’re— You’re not too far off, actually,” he answers with a breathy, bitter laugh. He scratches at the back of neck, if only to busy his anxious hands, and flits his gaze to the velvety night sky.

The blinking white stars there ground him when the world starts to swim — reminds him that he’s on Earth, in Hawkins, and not in the hellscape he died in.

That was his final thought as he took his last breath that spring. How strangely fitting it was that there were no stars in the Upside Down.

“We, uh… We kinda went through hell and back, but, uh… ‘Least lived to tell the tale, right?” Eddie scoffs at himself, then remembers Chrissy — how young and full of life she was one moment, and how her wide blue eyes were sucked out of her skull the next. He recoils then, feeling like he’s said the wrong thing. “Wait. That was— That was insensitive. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What are you talkin’ about? You’re right,” you assure him with a quiet, emotionless laugh. “You guys survived. You got lucky. We all did.”

Eddie peeks at you beneath his lashes, through the wild curls sticking to his face. “Where were you?” he murmurs. “When… When everything happened?”

“Crying into my milkshake at Benny’s Burgers,” you answer without missing a beat. The memory’s far too vivid for anything else.

A laugh sputters from Eddie’s throat. He’s sure you must be joking. You blink at him like an owl, and he goes solemn all over again. “Oh. You’re… You’re serious?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I was… feeling sorry for myself over something stupid, and then the ground started shaking outta nowhere— like the universe was trying to say, ‘Hey, this could be soooo much worse, dude,’” you ramble quietly to yourself, skimming your fingers over the water’s surface. “…But then I found out people actually got hurt and everything, so I was like, ‘Oh, maybe I shouldn’t make this about my stupid broken heart, actually.’”

Eddie’s tight chest deflates with a wavering exhale. He didn’t know you back then, but something about knowing you were okay makes him feel better. ‘Cause, yeah, he died and all, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of Vecna taunting you.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the boy confesses in a honeyed whisper.

A soft smile quirks at the edges of your lips. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Your hand reaches out for him. Almost instinctively. Like he’s a whole universe with his own gravitational pull.

Your palm settles soft and warm on the outside of his torso. Your thumb grazes the marred skin over his ribs, and Eddie tenses at the foreign feeling. You jerk back instantly.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer, face twisted apologetically. “I didn’t— I should’ve asked first.”

“No. It’s— It’s okay. Seriously,” Eddie assures with a rapid nod. There’s a faraway look in his chocolate eyes, almost like he’s daydreaming. He feels like he is, anyway. ‘Cause he’s never let anyone this close before.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.”

Do it again, he says in so many words. Please, I think I might need it.

You reach for him again, more hesitant this time. Your hand settles over his scars again, and you breathe hard through your nose.

Your stomach twists with a phantom sort of ache, like you can feel every ounce of the pain he surely experienced back then. Thinking about how hurt he must’ve been makes you hurt, too.

Eddie can see it written all over your face. How much you ache for him.

He can’t stand it. 

He cups your cheeks between trembling, unsure hands. His touch is softly calloused and colder than ice. He tilts your jaw gently upward, urging you to meet his gaze once more. Your eyes are wet and glittering when they lock with his heavily lidded ones. Your mouth parts to say something, anything. But your brain doesn’t work fast enough.

‘Cause Eddie's kissing you before you can blink.

He tastes distinctly of nicotine and boyhood. Of midnight, full moons, and neon lights. You can feel every groove in his bottom lip from where he picks at it with his teeth. Every sensation is new to you, like cool sparkles of excitement in the pit of your tummy, but it’s strikingly familiar all the same. Nostalgia for something you’re experiencing for the first time warms the center of your chest.

You breathe hard through your nose. The gust of air tickles Eddie’s cupid’s bow as he parts from you, lips smacking apart in protest.

Your eyes, still yet to blink, remain wide and glazed over. “Whoa…” you sigh to yourself.

Eddie’s unsure of how to gauge your reaction. His face swirls with horror.

“What?” he mumbles, still cradling your face between worried hands. He can’t tell if your cheeks are heating or if he’s just colder than usual. Perhaps both are equally true.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly, still slightly faraway. “I just… I got a weird sense of deja vu just now…”

The boy forces a quiet laugh. “Who else have you done this with?” he quips.

“No one!” you blurt. “…But I think I might’ve dreamt about this once.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.”

“Was it better than you expected? Or should I just see myself out now—”

You lean forward to chase his mouth. The cerulean water ripples faintly around you. Your lidded gaze never wavers from his rosy lips, which you’re realizing now are all but begging to be kissed. You don’t know how you never noticed it before.

Eddie’s smiling too wide to respond appropriately.

“Why are you laughing?” you frown.

“I’m not!” he responds through breathy chuckles.

“You are—”

Eddie leans forward in a flash, pressing another chaste kiss to your pout.

You’re all smiles again the second he pulls away, bursting at the seams with a sort of giddiness that could give the sun a run for its money. 

He knows, somewhere deep down, that he shouldn’t make you this happy. He doesn’t even deserve the chance. But here you are anyway, smiling so wide at him that your eyes are starting to crinkle at the edges — showing him that there’s still sunshine in the dark, reminding him what it means to be living.

“Does this mean we get to do this forever?” you wonder in a mousy voice.

“What?” he chuckles. “Kiss?”

You nod wordlessly, blinking up at the boy with wide, wet eyes.

Eddie nods quickly back. 

“Then yeah…” he wavers, chest aching and gums burning. 

He loves you so much he’s gone hungry for it. For you.

He longs to devour you, in every way imaginable, and you want to devour him just the same. He can tell in the way you stare at him when you think he isn’t looking — in the way you stare at him even when he is looking — and in every one of your movements that urges him closer, closer, closer.

Your gaze is debilitatingly intense. Your attitude is mind-bendingly strange. You’re ruining his life, and Eddie can’t believe there was ever a time he wasn’t kissing you.

“Yeah,” he repeats, firmer now. “As long as you want.”

if you made it this far: i love you. so sorry for making you read something so long. i'd kiss you on the forehead if i could. also pls consider reblogging! this took me so so long to write, and it really helps a lot! thank u, love u (▰˘◡˘▰)

[bunny-jpeg]

the father who stepped up

cw: age gap, step-cest, dub-con, forced impregnation, breeding, daddy kink, degradation, graves sucks as a step-father, dead dove-don't eat

well, weren't you just a beauty? graves could understand why he simply couldn't control himself around you. it was an obsession. that was why he hated when you left for the new school year. summer was coming to an end, which meant he didn't see you for many weeks while you were out of town for school. it honestly broke his heart.

he didn't hate your mother, after all he did marry her. but he wanted a newer model. and that was where you came in. at home for the summer. it started out slow, when your mother was out of the house he'd put kisses all over you. then he groped your breasts and ass. until finally you crumbled into him.

then the true fun began. almost every night in your childhood bedroom he rammed his hard cock into you. he watched your breasts bounce with the force of his fucking. he often had to put a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud.

you weren't even in your mid-twenties and he was having thoughts about leaving your mother and marrying you. he hoped by that point you had a sweet little belly. a sign that he was the only man who ever got to seed you. the thoughts raced in his mind often, even when he wasn't fucking you into the double mattress.

he hated that you had to leave soon, but if anything it made him want to get you pregnant faster. his voice was a low purr in your ear as he said, "you like that, sugar? you like when daddy fucks you nice and good?" then gave you a hard slap on the ass. the house was empty expect for the two of you.

he currently had you on your elbows and knees with your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air. your tight heat was constricting his cock while made him feel hot all over. he got rougher when he was drinking, the drive to impregnate his step-daughter only became more intense after a few drinks in him.

and after all, you two were home alone so he could finish in you as many times as he wanted or needed. you were on cloud nine with the feeling of his cock stretching your more intimate area in a position that left you vulnerable to pregnancy.

"yeah, daddy wants a full house. and you got a lot of time left to give me all the kids i want. leave school and be my bride, sweetheart." he purred.

you whimpered, "I can't, it's my last year." you wiggled a little but it only enticed him more. you moaned into the covers and arched your back further as he got more aggressive with his thrusts.

he yanked your hair and pulled your head up, he leaned forward to your ear and said, "see, that's the problem. you don't get a say. you're mine, and nothing is going to stop me from breeding that sweet little cunt of yours." he said matter of factly.

you gripped onto the covers and felt butterflies in your stomach. the bed creaked with each of his movements and his heavy breathing was hot in your ear.

he chuckled and gripped your strands closer to the scalp, "you're mine, and once biology works its magic and you end up saddled with a few of my kids you'll see it my way. this is better for you than any degree." he then pushed your head back into the pillow and kept you there by your neck as he continued to ram his cock into you.

it felt like heaven, like the sweetest euphoria he could ever have. he never had it when he fucked your mother. only your sweet pussy left him yearning for more. he knew he'd still want it, even after a little wear and tear from having his big babies.

he continued to thrust in and out of you. he held you down and had his way with you. he was glad you were slowly seeing the picture. he let go of your neck, assured you were going to stay down and his hand trailed along your stomach.

he got aroused further by the idea of you being the most perfect wife for him. he'd cut up your credit card, burn all your shoes and keep that belly nice and full. you only had to rely on him. he was a traditional man and he'd take care of what was his. most times he would consider himself a gentleman, but it was hard to argue for it when he has your back arched and your pussy full. his cock bullied your cervix.

you whimpered and moaned, you clawed at the bed as it hit against the wall. such a sweet symphony. graves' cock twitched inside of you at the idea of you wearing his shirts to cover your swollen middle.

in all fairness you could be nude in your shared home, no one would see you. there wouldn't be a neighbor for miles. whatever his little wife felt comfortable in.

with a few more hard thrusts he finished inside of you, then laid his chest against your back, smothering you. he reached for your pussy and played with your clit as your hole contracted around his still hard cock.

you flailed and tried to move away but he kept you pinned down as he placed with your nub. eventually orgasm crashed down on you like rain and your felt a moan be pulled from your mouth before you felt the energy leave you.

you laid on the bed, soft and limp. but graves wasn't done. your mother would be home in an hour, he thought he could get at least two more orgasms in before he felt content with his breeding.

he slapped your ass once more and growled in your ear, "look alive, sugar, i ain't done with you."

-

you came back that winter break with a slight slope in your belly. all graves could do was smile by the rim of his scotch glass. he could feel the twitch in his pants, especially when your hand went to the bump. he knew, no words needed to be spoken.

he had planted his seed in his step-daughter, and soon he'll suggest that you take some time off school to raise that little baby. after all his brats weren't going to be raised without a mother.

xoxo, bunny

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?:

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power on what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.

[apricot-blossomss]

I have a somewhat reverse idea of your latest Apollo angst. What if Apollo strikes down some mortal who was flirty or aggressive towards reader? He goes into full God mode; grows into a giant, deepens his voice then punishes the mortal. Turns to reader and he fears that reader now being afraid of him but no, reader is so amazed and grateful that he saved her from that man's unwanted attention that she is running up to Apollo who picks her up and kisses her everywhere.

☛ when someone tries to harass you, apollo strikes them down

☛ tw: attempted sexual assault & graphic descriptions of violence, it turned out a lot more angsty than I thought, angst, hurt/comfort, set in ancient greece

The sun was shining down on the city's marketplace, unobstructed by clouds. Many people had covered their heads in an effort to protect themselves from this summer's unforgiving heat. Still, the place was packed with people, drawn out of their protective homes by the delicious smells, excited chatter and the many attractions, sprinkled in between stalls with fish, spices, bread, olives and fruit.

Your mother had instructed you to buy olives and oils, the latter you were storing in your basket right now. "Thank you very much," you said, bidding the merchant goodbye to try and make your way to the tight crowd.

As you were pushing through the crowd to escape the packed area, you couldn't help a giddy smile creeping onto your face. The sun had barely reached its peak and your mother was only expecting you back by the afternoon, which left you enough time to meet up with your lover under the pines outside the city, as planned. And the faster you got there, the more time you would have.

It was this prospect that made you speed up, maybe a little too much, because you found yourself tripping over your own feet. Out of instinct, you pressed the basket onto your chest and braced yourself for the impact. But it didn't come. Someone had gotten a hold of your upper arm to stop your fall. Quickly, you got onto your own two feet and picked at your braid in embarrassment. "Thank you very much, sir."

That's when you recognized the man and instinctively took a step back. He, however, didn't seem bothered by the gesture and took a step towards you. "You are welcome. Can't have my future bride dirty herself, can I?" Right. It was Agapios, whom your parents had chosen to be your betrothed, with no knowledge of your current love life that was very much occupied by the god Apollo himself.

"Uh, well, thank you," you said, not knowing how to finally break to this man that he had no chance with you. But why would you? If it weren't for Apollo, your marriage to Agapios would be set in stone. In his eyes, it was. "See you soon, then," you said, a little awkwardly, and turned to leave on the road that lead out of the city.

But when you passed the gates, Agapios caught up to you. "I should keep you company. It isn't right for a woman, especially one your age, to be walking alone outside." You bit back your protests while you thought of a way to get rid of him. Shoving him into the stream that guided your path to the pine trees didn't seem too wise, given that your betrothed was a prominent member of society and quick to claim injury. Not that he would be wrong.

"This is quite the interesting route to take home," he interrupted your silence once again. If he didn't leave you alone till your meeting spot, maybe Apollo would find a way to get rid of him without suspicion. Your lover was quick-witted enough to assess this pesky situation, you were sure, even though he had no knowledge of your betrothal. Not that you were keeping it a secret, but you simply had no ambitions to let this man intrude that part of your life as well when he was already meant to take up your future.

"I like the quiet," you responded after a period of silence, hoping he'd get the hint. To your surprise, he did, showing an unusual social awareness. He stepped in your way and took your arm, the one that wasn't holding your basket. You couldn't help but stiffen up, his touch was wrong and unwelcome.

"Why are you so cold to me?" he asked, or rather, demanded, holding your arm more tightly. "You should be happy I even chose you." Something flashed in his eyes that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A quick look around revealed that you were only surrounded by grass and trees, no person in sight. "You should be kissing my feet that I am doing you this favor. Otherwise, you would never even be able to hope for someone even close to my level." He wet his lips. "You really should show your gratitude."

"Sorry," you mumbled under your breath, now trying to escape from his company as fast as possible. Maybe you should jump in the river. Miraculously, you managed to break free from his grasp and walk around him in large, quick steps. Maybe that gave you a false sense of hope, because just a few steps away from him, your body was pushed into a roadside grove with such a force it made you trip, but his painfully tight grip kept you up.

You were barely able to process anything that was happening to you when you were pushed again and landed on the hard ground. Unable to soften the blow, you felt a pain on your hip, but that was nothing compared to the panic that set in when you saw your attackers feverish eyes. "Listen, please, I'm sorry-" you breathed and tried to stand up, get on your feet, flee, but he kneeled down and constrained you to the ground.

You should have kicked and screamed for help, you should have done something, you were screaming at yourself to do something, but your body was frozen up as one of Agapios' hands closed around your throat, so tight you couldn't breathe, and the other tried to lift the skirt of your dress.

That was when your body finally gave in to your demands to move, fight, do something. You managed to land a kick on him, but he only laughed and spit down on you. All your kicking was slowed when the lack of air made your brain go fuzzy and your body tingle. All gasping and ragged breathing was of no use when he was so much stronger than you. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you could only sob when you saw his winning grin.

He was about to forcefully pull your legs apart when something happened. Neither you nor your attacker were able to process it: The white flash of pure light that burned up your eyes. Still blinded by the brightness, all you could feel was that, suddenly, the hands were gone from your throat and body, and you took a ragged breath, coughing and gasping for more air.

Breathing past the lump in your throat, you looked up. Your heart stilled and then raced as you beheld the sight before you. You had only ever seen Apollo's human-sized form, only ever felt his gentle gaze and his bright aura. But it had to be him. The creature before you- it looked so much like him, and then again not at all.

He was taller than any of the trees, as tall as the city walls. And he seemed to be glowing. Not in the way you knew, where his breathtaking smile shone like the rising sun. His eyes were filled with fury, his nostrils flaring, his clothing and hair seemed to float around him. Not peacefully, no, they were moving as if violently ripped around by a storm. A storm that was so terrifying and wonderful.

That was when the realization sank in. You were saved. He was here. With shaking hands, you covered your thighs with your skirt. Now, you were shedding tears of relief. The sound of your sobs was the only thing disrupting the ghostly silence. Until he talked.

When he talked, you first couldn't believe it was him. The voice was deep, not only in tone but in gravity. It was old, and it was godly. It made the air hum with tension and your skin explode into goosebumps. The sound of it was so mesmerizing that you almost didn't catch the words, though they cut clear as razors through the air. "What did you just do?"

Apollo was trying to remain calm, for your sake, but his composure was slipping as he tried to think of the most painful way to punish this pathetic piece of garbage that was this mortal. This man who had dared lay his hands on you. He would destroy him, he would make him cry and beg, he would make him pay dearly. In order to remain in control of himself, he didn't dare look back at you, it would only fuel his rage.

"Please!" The mortal man cried out, shielding his eyes from the light of his godly presence directed against him. "I didn't do anything- She wanted it!"

SNAP!

The man screamed when Apollo cracked his bones and contorted on the ground, wallowing around in the mud and sobbing. His eyes found yours and they widened pleadingly. "Tell him it wasn't like that, tell him to stop!" You didn't.

"How dare you talk to hear with your filthy mouth," Apollo said and his words were like thunder, deep and rumbling, filling the air with a tension like in a storm. "How dare you look at her." Agapios whimpered in pain and fear and pressed his tear stricken face into the mud. With slow, torturous steps, Apollo approached him. Your sunny god had transformed into a terrifying monster, all powerful, set on revenge. And yet, you didn't think you had ever loved him more.

"Please... mercy," Agapios sobbed, but Apollo only laughed a cold, cruel laugh. His eyes were that of a madman, crazed with rage and thoughts of revenge. His fist closed around the man's upper body, lifting him up and clenching his fist so that he screamed in agony. Apollo leaned down and breathed into his mouth. It was not just any breath. It was hot and burned the air, like a fireball, like a small sun itself, it entered Agapios mouth. In order to avoid the gruesome spectacle, you averted your eyes, but you knew he was being burned from the inside out right now.

After a short while, the gasping and screaming stopped and it got quiet. Very quiet. When you lifted your gaze, you saw that Apollo had shrunken down to his human size and was looking at you with an unspeakable pain in his golden eyes.

Apollos hands were shaking, all anger had left his body when he was looking at you, twigs in your hair, eyes red from crying and a purple bruise forming on your arm where the bastard had laid his dirty fingers on you. His eyes observed the tremble of your hands, the curling of your fingers, your tense form. But he didn't dare look you in the eye and see the fear in them that he must have inflicted upon you.

Without thinking, he had subjected you to such a gruesome sight. As a god, he had eternally glorious sides, but also cruel and depraved ones. Ones that you were never meant to see. Revenge and wrath had consumed him whole. What if you would be looking at him with the same fear and disgust you had when looking at the puddle of flesh and bones that had been your attacker?

He heard you sniff and his heart seized. No matter if you would push him away, he had to try and comfort you. "Love," he said softly, raising his hands to show you he meant to harm and approaching you ever so slowly. A few feet away from you, he kneeled down to be at your level, hands still in the air. "Are you alright?" Normally, he would congratulate himself on anything coming out of his mouth, but he had to acknowledge that that was a very stupid question.

"I'm alright," you said and sat up. Your voice was hoarse, and only now you fully registered what had happened to you.

Somehow, Apollo looked even more distraught than you did. "Please, love, don't fear m-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence because you had launched yourself at him and landed right in his conveniently open arms. You breathed in deeply and immediately, his arms closed around your as he held you like he never wanted to let you go again.

"Thank you," you whispered, pulling him even closer and he readily obliged, placing you in his lap as he locked his arms around your waist. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I was late," he breathed and touched your chin to lift it from his shoulder in order to look at you. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

He looked so sweet, it was almost impossible to believe he was the same divine creature that had towered over trees and reduced your betrothed to a boiling pile of bones. There was such a softness in his expression, his touch was so gentle, his voice so calming. How could you ever be afraid of him? He had saved you.

"It's okay," you answered. "Thank you."

He groaned and tapped his forehead against yours, letting his full lips ghost over the skin of your cheek. "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you, only out of selfish rage and revenge, and now you have to fear me."

"I don't," you said, firmly. "And i don't believe that. Because you care. Because when you turned around and saw me, you were about to cry. Because you hold me so gently. Because I know you, and I also know you would never hurt me. I'm not scared, and I can decide myself wether I fear you." You didn't break eye contact, you had to make sure he understood.

And he did. Apollo nodded, cupped your cheeks with his and pressed featherlight kisses up your jaw. As the tension began to leave his body, and yours, he let out a sigh and it was hot against your skin. "No man will ever hurt you again," he promised, so gravely that you didn't dare point out the improbability of that statement, or the tone of his voice made you fear he would eradicate any man from this earth until only he was left to hold you, caress your bruises and kiss them away with his healing lips.

You locked your hands with his and kissed his temple. "Can we go some place else?" In this spot, on this path, you would never feel safe again, that Agapios had taken from you.

Your usually relentlessly talkative lover only responded with a silent nod and carefully guided your face into the crook of his neck. His arms closed around your upper body, engulfing you whole, and you felt his voice next to the shell of your ear. "Close your eyes, love, we're going home."

[ridher]

jj maybank running into the sweet new girl when stopping by a local smoothie shop

it was only your second day on the job, the first one where you were on your own to serve those strolling the hot summer beach packed with both kooks, pogues, and the occasional touron.

you hadn't even had a chance to make any friends beyond the other young girls you worked with, but even that wasn't more than friendly conversation. you'd gotten a job straight after moving to the south side of kildare — your family needed the money.

it was getting a bit stressful as soon as it hit late afternoon. the crowd of people in line along with the heat beating down during its prime hours, plus being so inexperienced, was overwhelming and starting to get to your performance.

pushing through, you get to what seems like the last group of people for a bit. by now, pieces have fallen from the messy updo of your hair and a thin sheen of sweat coats your body — even through the lenient dress code that allows you to wear a dainty tank top and jean shorts.

still, you greet them with a sweet smile that's mostly directed at the boy in front with brown, curly hair, sporting a bandana around his neck. your lips part to recite the words you'd been trained to welcome customers by when a blonde boy pushes his way up from behind and flashes a crooked smirk.

"um, what can i get you guys today?" you hesitate and it comes out less confident than when said to all the customers before.

"yeah.. let me get a uh— y'know, what do you suggest?" the same boy responds, arms crossing while his brows pinch like he's thinking awfully hard.

based on the expressions of the group accompanying him — two other boys and one girl — this behavior from the sun-tanned boy isn't an uncommon occurrence.

"this week's special's been my favorite recently." something about the attention of his intense eye contact has you nervous, shifting in your stance and brushing loose strands of hair from your face.

"shit, aight, gimme four of 'em." his haze only briefly darts to the little stand showcasing said smoothie before he agrees.

"wh—" the other boy behind him is ignored when he attempts to speak up, the girl only rolling her eyes and directing her attention elsewhere.

nonetheless, you get started on four of the same drink, back turned to the group as you move about — mind full thinking about the smallest interaction between you and the boy.

soon enough, you arrange the smoothies across the counter and ring up the price on a company tablet. that's when you finally look back up at the boy with a small but genuine smile and relay the total.

hassling the previous leader for money, he places the cash on the surface between you two, tonguing at his cheek with an almost amused look when his lips turn up slightly.

the smoothies get distributed and their change is returned, yet that one boy lingers across the counter.

"jj. you're new, yeah?" he finally asks, sticking out the hand that's not holding a drink.

you nod, shaking his hand and checking behind him to make sure nobody is waiting on the exchange before pulling your hand away and telling him your name.

jj nods, not so subtly taking in your full appearance with a sip from the straw. his eyes finally land back on yours and his expression is ever so smug noticing the flush on your cheeks.

knocking on the counter with his knuckles, he shakes his head to himself and starts to walk off in the path his friends went.

"i'll see ya 'round." drawing out your name at the end of his departing statement and winking, jj finally leaves.

it's all you can recall the rest of your shift, especially when you catch his stares from various spots across the beach before being punched in the arm or smacked on the back of his head by what you see now to be his group of pogue friends.

you can't help but smile to yourself, knowing he's just as intrigued by you that you are him — even if it just makes the hands on the clock move faster daydreaming about a cute surfer boy.

[fuctacles]

wiggly wormy wednesday

Thanks @formosusiniquis for tagging me!!! Here's a thing inspired by that one fanart of Eddie in that one t-shirt that I can't find now

Steve works during the summer as a pool boy. 

It's a good ego boost as he's been in high demand among the housewives in the area. His schedule is full, to the point he has to start declining some offers to have time for himself. When his phone rings with another job offer, he doesn't reject it right away because he's startled to hear a man's voice for a change. Then he hears he'll double the salary and he agrees. 

The address he jotted down leads him to the oldest mansion in town, dark and looming over the neighborhood. He understands the raise in money now and is glad that he told Robin where he'll be. 

The gate is open, so he pushes his way through the artfully neglected garden towards the door, where a note is waiting for him.

You'll find cleaning tools in the shed. Knock on the back door when you're done.

Steve knew of eccentric old people but this one was slowly taking the cake. He rounds the estate to find the pool behind it, and the cake is pulled out of his grip. Who in their right mind paints the pool red? 

By the state it's in, it probably hasn't been used in weeks. The surface is fully covered in leaves and twigs, and the tiles around it are covered in grime. It's a wild 180 after being called to clean pools just so he can hand out sodas and towels to a group of old ladies, but he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

Every now and then, he looks up from his work, expecting to find someone ogling him, but he never finds anyone. It's a weird thing to consider a constant of his job, but he came to expect it. Double-checking that he's really alone, he starts humming to himself to make the time go faster. If he's ever called here again, he might take a radio or a walkman with him. 

He's done surprisingly fast, with the sun still high when he goes to knock on the back door. His curiosity is through the roof to see what kind of person his employer is. 

He hears a click by his feet and when he looks down, he realizes the cat door has spat out an envelope. Inside he finds his payment and a note. 

Will double it if you come at 5pm next week

So Steve does, not worried much because the sun is still up, even if it casts ominous shadows around the mansion. 

In one of these dark corners, he spots a lawn chair, the shade doubled with a huge umbrella over it. He wonders if this time, some rich lady is going to join him. Or, the tiny bi-curious bone in his body supplies, the guy who hired him. For the time being, he focuses on his task. 

It's so dark, that he almost misses it. But when he does a double take as he's swiping the poolside, he yells. 

On the chair in the double shade, wearing all black, a huge straw hat, and sunglasses, sits a figure. Steve's eyes are confused as to why they're seeing a black-and-white picture in the middle of his technicolor world. 

The figure raises its hand, making its features more distinguishable. 

"Sorry!" says a voice Steve vaguely recognizes from the phone call. "Don't mind me, just getting my money's worth!" The man grins, sharp and bright, and relaxes against the chair with intent to stay, a glass of wine held in his hand.

Steve considers him for all of two seconds, before grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt. Fuck it. This is what half of the job is about anyway.

The fabric hits the ground, and he gets a surprisingly goofy whoop of approval. 

tagging if u wanna join: @stevesjockstrap @yesdangerpls @stevieharringtonwifeguy @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @adverbally

[ang3ltine]

"𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐲" - James Bucky Barnes x freader

Scenario - You and Bucky spend the last night in New York together at Starks expo with Steve. What he doesn't expect is for his date to be flirted with by a charming inventor.

a.n - this is set during Captain America the first avenger movie and is just self indulgence. Also here's pt.2!

warnings- slightly possessive Bucky, hickeys and suggestive comments but overall it has light banter and tooth rotting fluff

Bucky wasn't sure why you were so excited as you head home with shopping bags in hand.

He had picked you up from downtown after a shopping spree, but you hadn't told him what you had bought yet. Bucky pays the taxi driver his fee and he speeds off into the distance.

"Come on Bucky, can't you walk faster?" you ask impatiently as you gently drag him by the arm towards his apartment.

Bucky scrambles to get his keys out of his pocket as you bounce on the spot. Waiting for him to unlock the door before you make your way inside with the bags. Bucky chuckles at your enthusiasm while you brush past him.

You ask Bucky to wait in the hallway while you rush upstairs to unpack in his room. At this point its your room too from how many nights you stayed there. All your things was scattered around the snug room with a picture of you and Bucky on his nightstand.

Bucky waited patiently for you as he leaned against the wall. Growing worried as you were taking a while.

"Close your eyes Buck! I'm coming down" a muffled voice yelled from upstairs. He shook his head in amusement and closed his eyes.

"Ok doll, my eyes are closed," he shouted back as he waits patiently for your voice.

Bucky could hear the clicks of your heels coming down the stairs and hushed cursing because you misses a step. He was about to open his eyes out of instinct but stopped himself. Thinking that you're probably alright.

"Alright open them," you say with excitement. Bucky did what he was told and was in awe.

There you stood with a pale blue summer dress paired with a white bow that was neatly at the front. You had also quickly styled your hair with your curler. Giving you a classy look.

"Oh wow Darlin', you look gorgeous," Bucky was speechless as you reach the bottom of the stairs and twirl for him.

"Why, thank you kind sir," you say jokingly as you gave him a little curtesy. Giving him your best british accent while he bites back a smile.

"Was this my surprise?" Bucky asks as he pulls you in close by your waist and presses a sweet kiss on your lips. You pull away to quickly for his liking, eliciting a small whine leaving his lips.

"Let's just say it's one out of many surprises," you say, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "But that's for tomorrow."

"Oh c'mon, why not tell me now?" He whines slightly while you fix your hair in the hallway mirror.

"Bucky it's not a surprise if I tell you what it is," you huffed as you turn around to face the pouty man.

You take the hat off for a second to comb through his freshly trimmed hair with your fingers and styled it properly. His hair was messy due to stress so you had asked him to go to the Barbers the day before.

"But I'll be leaving tomorrow," he muttered, his voice wavering slightly.

During the whole process, you feel Bucky's eyes studying your face. Making you feel nervous despite being in such close proximity pretty much all the time. This time, however, his eyes held a look of longing that melted your heart.

"I know, but I promise it's worth it. So don't get too upset ok?" You whisper in a hushed tone as you place his hat back on. "Besides Sarge, we have a whole night to spend together."

Bucky bends down and nudges his nose against yours. Causing your breath to hitch as he pulls you by your waist into a firm yet loving kiss.

"Fine doll, I'm takin' your word for it."

He peers down at you with heavy lidded eyes and flashed you his signature smirk that always sets off butterflies in your stomach.

You wanted to tell him about the surprise but sadly, he'd have to wait until you both got back from Starks expo.

The two of you go to pick up Steve and his date and then head inside the building where Starks expo was being held.

Stark was a mastermind when it came to inventions, so you were super excited to see what he had in store for the future. The place was vibrant and futuristic that you had no idea where to look!

A group of girls gave you a dirty look as they walked past when they noticed Bucky's arm linked with yours. You give them a deviously sweet smile while you lean against his shoulder.

"Hm possessive aren't we?" Bucky snickers as he nudges you with his shoulder.

"I can't let all the ladies have you now can I?" You answered jokingly. Steve briefly looks over towards you both and had on a proud smile. Bucky sure seems to be happy with you and he thinks that maybe you're the right person for him.

Hearing the sound of trumpets playing and people cheering you turn your head towards a stage in the far corner of the room.

"Oh my God it's starting!" you jump in excitement and pull Bucky with you towards the crowd, while Steve and his date Maggie trail behind.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Its Howard Stark!" One of the show ladies announce, at least 3 of them were wearing oddly suggestive clothing. But you brushed it off as a marketing strategy.

You cringe as the lady then got pulled into a bold kiss by Howard.

At the corner of your eye you spot Steve handing some popcorn to Maggie but she refused with an uninterested look on her face.

"Hey Steve I'll have some."

Steve's eyes lit up as he hands you the bag of popcorn, you take a handful and give it back to him.

"Thank you," you smiled back at him, giving him a friendly peck on the cheek. He smiles back shyly in response while you turn your attention back to the stage and hand some popcorn to Bucky. Which he happily accepts.

"Can I have a volunteer come up?" Howard shouts into the mic as he scans the room. You stick your hand up while biting your lip in anticipation.

"You there, the lovely lady standing next to James," Bucky's eyes follow you in disbelief as he watches you walk nervously onto the stage. To be honest you didn't even know you'd get picked but tried to stay calm.

Howard kisses the back your hand while you roll your eyes at him playfully. You knew he was a womaniser so you didn't thinking much of it except for him being a gentleman.

"So what do I need to do?" You breathe out while you try not to look at the crowd. Knowing that Bucky is probably fuming right about now. Also you felt slightly uneasy with the crowd watching you.

"Ofcourse ma'am! You just need to press a few buttons for me on this panel," he states as he steps aside for you to stand behind the panel.

Meanwhile Bucky had his arms folded with an annoyed look on his face. Who the hell does he think he is? But his eyes soften when it met yours. You give him a small smile before pressing the buttons in the order Howard told you to do.

Amazingly enough, Starks car that had no wheels on began to hover off of the ground. Eliciting gasps of wonder and cheers in the crowd until it collapsed. Your shoulders slump in disappointment as you raise an eyebrow at the inventor.

"I did say it'll take a few years didn't I?" He sighs while turning back to face the crowd. You excuse yourself as he helps you off the stage.

Bucky found it a little ridiculous that he was jealous of Howard, but he had no right to flirt with you knowing that you were Bucky's date. Suddenly he had the intent on making you realise that you was all you needed.

Steve had wondered off while Maggie was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey Buck where's Steve and Maggie?" Before you could inquire further. Bucky pulls you into a kiss, his hands firms against your cheeks. He glances back to the stage while Howard shifts uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

You felt Bucky smirk against your lips as you try to push him away since you were still in the crowd. You hear whispers around you while Bucky continues to abuse your lips. Head tilting the side, his hot breath mingling with yours as he sucks lightly on your bottom lip. Causing you to moan into his mouth.

Eventually he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while you both breath heavily from the short makeout session.

"Let me guess...is this about Howard?" You ask cautiously with one hand caressing his cheek, the light stubble tickling slightly against your skin. He hesitates before giving you a small nod.

"Bucky you have charm too you know. Why do you think so many women want to go out with you?"

Bucky listens carefully while you fix his now messy collar.

"Besides, Howard doesn't own my heart. You do."

"So I own your heart huh?" He asks sarcastically while he sees how your cheeks flush. You scoff then hit his chest lightly for being silly while he coaxes you to carry on.

"You're also smart," you pause to play with his collar. "And not to mention super silly."

By now his usual lopsided smile returned, giving you a sense of satisfaction for making him feel better.

"Hmm that's not what girls usually think of first," as he gave you a suggestive look.

"Buck! Seriously??" you smack him lightly on his head, making his hat tilt forward into his face. You're not sure what he was insinuating but you knew it was something inappropriate.

At this point you felt like you should just tell him what the surprise was since you couldn't really be asked to keep it to yourself any longer.

You pull out a folded letter from your back pocket and handed it to Bucky.

He raised a brow at you but you urged him to hurry up and open it. His face turning from confusion to one of pure joy.

"You got a job in England?! Why didn't you tell me?" he yells while you could only laugh with him as he picked you up and spun you around. "And it's in my division too!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise! Besides even I didn't know whether I'd get picked or not. I only just got the acceptance letter a few days ago." You manage to say whilst he placed your feet back onto the ground.

"Thank God that you did. I don't know if I could have ever survived without you," he retorts sarcastically. Making you roll your eyes at his comment and then gave him a playful punch on the arm.

"Well it looks like I'll be joining you at work, Sargent Barnes," giving him a proud salute, which almost caused him to choke as he let out a small laugh.

"It's good to have you ma'am," he answers back with the same enthusiasm, giving you a tip of his hat.

Despite Bucky being genuinely happy, you noticed tears forming in his eyes. A pang of guilt hit you as you held his face in your hands. Almost getting upset yourself while you swipe your thumbs across his cheeks to get rid of stray tears.

"Hey, pretty boys aren't supposed to cry ok?" your voice barely coming out as a whisper. You didn't want to cry too so you composed yourself for his sake.

He nods his head rather quickly at your words and a small yet fond smile appeared across his lips. You then proceeded to pepper his face with kisses which leads him to giggle in response.

After a while, he calmed down in your arms. He looks around the room briefly while his chin sat atop your shoulder before getting a curious idea.

Without a second thought he leaves your arms before being pulled through the crowd into a dark corner of the room with no people.

Bucky takes off his hat and places it on your head. It was pretty big so it falls awkwardly to the side. He almost bursts out laughing at how ridiculous yet cute you looked.

"Take care of this for me would you doll?" Giving you a wink before capturing your lips into a passionate kiss which caught you by surprise.

You wasted no time reaching to the back of his neck and slipped your fingers into his dark hair pulling him in impossibly closer. Soft moans escaped your mouth in-between each kiss while Bucky soaked in every one, pushing him to kiss you deeper.

"Hon' what're you doing?" You hiss while his lips leaves yours briefly.

"Hmm just need you" he hums against your supple skin.

A hot trail of open mouthed kisses trailed down from the side of your lips towards your neck. Bucky groaned in satisfaction when he finally found your sweet spot as you squirm underneath his touch. Leaving dark hickeys all across your neck and collarbone.

"Bucky we're going to get caught," you squeeked while you frantically look around. After feeling satisfied with his work, he leaves your skin with a pop.

"You're insufferable you know that right?" You manage to catch your breath, feeling slightly lightheaded.

"Yeah but you still love me." You shake your head in disbelief before pulling him in by his tie for one last kiss.

"You have no idea," you sighed in content as Bucky looks down at you lovingly.

"Love you too doll."

You two decide to head back in despite the obscene amount of marks left on your neck. Bucky suggested that you show them off but you thought otherwise. Using your jacket collar to help cover them to much avail.

Luck was in Bucky's favour as Howard sees you both coming.

He almost chokes on his drink when he catches you with Buckys hat on and spots the dark marks on your skin. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment while a now happy and proud Bucky stood by your side.

He then leads you away from the shocked man and headed towards Steve, his date now absent. He gave him a wave to get his attention.

Bucky leans over, as you shiver from the way he whispers into your ear, "By the way we're not finished yet. I still have to reward you when we get back to my place."

p.s - I hope you enjoyed this! It seems a little rushed but I want the next part to be longer that's why xd

[melk-maid]

warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, afab/gn reader, office workers au, power imbalance dynamics (toji is your boss), alcohol consumption, piss kink, wetting yourself, public urination, fingering, degradation, a lot of shame and embarrassment, mentions of classic japanese work culture synopsis: on a work-paid night out for dinner and drinks you end up the last two people still out. between bar hopping, toji needs to take a leak and encourages you to do the same.

note: this is a reupload! enjoy~♡ minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked

"Can you take another?" Your boss, Toji asks with a fresh glass of booze waving in front of your face. Despite your churning stomach and blurred vision, you nod and take the drink.

When compared to other bosses you've worked for, Mr. Fushiguro isn't nearly as strict or serious in or out of the office. He's pretty lax about most things and creates a fresh work environment in the office — you love working for him, but that doesn't mean you're going to let go of all your formal training. At the end of the day, Toji is still your boss, and if he offers you the drinks other coworkers are buying for him, you take them with a smile despite it all.

The company had offered to pay for everyone's food and drinks to celebrate Obon in the short, mandatory holiday your office is given. Initially the plan was dinner and a couple of drinks, nothing too serious and definitely not an event that would bleed into the early hours of the morning. Despite missing the last train home, all your coworkers slowly tapped out through the night, sipping on the final drink Toji was bought when the last guest of your party leaves the bar.

Not long after do you both leave for the next bar on his agenda, something about watered down drinks; of which he hasn't actually drank himself. The peak summer air doesn't hit you as hard as it should, but it's enough to have you losing your balance only slightly when you step onto the uneven path.

Toji chuckles, a hand hovering over you, ready to catch you if you stumble but you're determined to maintain your composure. "You should go back to a hotel and call it there, you pounded a few drinks tonight."

You shake your head and grow dizzier from the action, inhaling deeply. When you offer your boss your best, most professional and sober smile, he grins. "I'm good." You say through a mouth of cotton. "Unless you want to go to your hotel — by yourself, I mean."

Raising an eyebrow at you, his grin widens and the scar on the corner of his lip stretches. He's so handsome and mysterious, you always wonder how or why he became the manager of your little team. As far as you know he doesn't have any familial ties to the company, he just fell into the position. While in your own head pondering Toji's existence, he had already set off down the street.

This part of Tokyo is much quieter than the main cities — much less expensive too. Toji had bartered with finance on where to eat since the company was being cheap, but the food was quite nice considering. It's a change in atmosphere from the bustling nightlife of Shinjuku or Shibuya. There aren't people sleeping on the streets or harassing police who patrol the area.

As quiet as it is, you're still unsure when your boss turns into a dark alleyway. It doesn't take long for him to realise you're not following him, standing on the edge of the streetlight, yellow frames his sharp features in a way that makes your mouth water.

"Come on, this way is faster." When you don't start following him, Toji steps forward. "Are your legs not working anymore? This isn't the office, that excuse isn't going to work."

You take a step back and bite the inside of your lip to hold back a pout. Maintaining professionalism when you're drunk is harder than it seems.

"It's…Dark."

Toji laughs, so loud it echoes off of the walls of the abandoned buildings he's stood between. "How about I protect you? You're safe with me." He smiles and you can't help but feel at ease. "I can't lose my best employee or else the team would collapse."

All you can muster is a giggle in response but begin to follow anyway. You trust your boss wouldn't let any harm befall you, best employee or not.

The alleyway is dark and disgusting, tucked away from any kind of life, it's just you and Toji. Streetlights peek in between the buildings the further you traverse down the path, only hearing the buzz of your veins in your eardrums and Toji's groan under his breath.

"Should've used the bathroom before we came out."

"The next bar isn't that far, is it?"

Toji doesn't answer but in the lowlights of the alley, you turn to see your boss pissing against the wall of a building. You jump and make an involuntary noise of surprise, embarrassed at what you'd just witnessed and turning away. The visual of your drunken boss leaning his forearm against the wall, forehead resting on the wall looking down at himself, hand on his soft cock with piss streaming out will forever be burned in your memories.

He groans and sighs in relief, continuing the steady stream that it sounds like he'd been holding for a while. The noise of his urinating sets off your bladder too, suddenly deciding you are ready to join him.

No, you tell yourself. You'll be a decent human being and wait rather than peeing in public — no matter the darkness or the privacy, you would never do such a disgusting and trashy thing in front of your boss.

"If you need to go too," Toji starts as he shakes himself dry and tucks his cock back into his pants, "Here's your chance 'cos the next bar is pretty far."

You do need to go and the more you think about it, the worse your bladder becomes. Holding onto your pride, you tilt your chin up and hum. "No, I can wait."

He laughs and you feel his presence behind you. "I won't look if you do, promise."

"I am not going to pee in an alley in front of my boss." You balk, turning around to face him and trying not to think about his piss.

"I'm drunk enough not to remember it…maybe, probably."

With a huff, you mumble "I'm still not doing it." And begin walking again, even if going to the bathroom and relieving yourself has become all you can think about.

Walking slowly, you try to concentrate on how not full your bladder is, on how nice Toji's piss sounded hitting the wall or his sighs of relief as he let himself go. You feel so full in a way that's not at all how you want and you're beginning to sweat in the muggy Japanese heat. Still on edge with your need to pee and maintaining a level of respect and professionalism with your boss, you jump and almost let yourself go when Toji hisses in your ear. Laughing at you, he teases with the sound of a running stream to encourage you.

"Don't…!" You start and cut yourself off, composing yourself while Toji grins all smug with an empty bladder. "Let's go to the next bar if it's far. It's too hot and gross out here. Please."

Your manners are slipping with each passing moment that your boss's cock is in your head. What if he remembers this and fires you? Maybe all of this was a test to see how you'd react, encouraging you to piss even within earshot so he can fire you for inappropriate actions.

Except when you began to walk again, Toji used his arm to intercept you and trap you against the wall. You moved quickly to avoid his touch — more out of politeness than rejection — caged between his arms on either side of your head. He's so much taller than you, bigger and buff he makes you feel like a little mouse.

It's so strangely intimate and inappropriate, your clit is beginning to throb with your swollen bladder. Needing to pee and growing horny is an odd combo.

"If you need to go," Your boss whispers in your face, "Then you should go while you can."

The strange combination of warm spice and alcohol is attacking your brain in a way that's so very unfair. It reminds you of work, stepping into Toji's office. The scent also reminds you of a long term lover storing their cologne in your bathroom, a homely reminder that sets your mind at ease.

Swallowing thick and trying to clear your head, you respond, "It would be inappropriate for me to do such a thing. I'm not a drunken slob."

You say, slurring every word.

He laughs. "Squat and piss for me right now." Toji's tone lowers, growing darker and your clit vibrates harder. "I'm your boss, aren't I? You'd listen to anything I tell you to do."

Looking up at him with almost wet, pleading eyes, you silently beg for mercy. Your bladder grows weaker with each passing moment, unable to stop yourself from thinking about peeing. The sweet relief every other time you've urinated, how shameful it would be to piss in front of him — you don't even consider the reason why he's poking and prodding you about going.

Toji grins, something so wicked and devious, it makes you forget this is your boss and not a hot guy you fell into at the bar. The last thing you want to do is disappoint your boss but it's clear the manipulation tactic he's using, though the power he wields over you is doing unspeakable things to your clit. He has the power to fire you at the flick of a wrist, to make sure you never work in Tokyo ever again, and you wonder if he will do exactly that if you do or don't do as he says.

Bladder so full, you sweat bullets as Toji continues teasing you. "You had a lot of drinks since I last saw you use the bathroom — that was a couple of bars ago, yeah? You're probably full to bursting."

To emphasise his point, your boss presses his fingers into your stomach, poking around to find your swollen and urine filled bladder. It's such an inappropriate and intimate act, your boss should never be touching you like this even as a joke, yet you find yourself almost wishing he would find it. Each press of his fingers over your shirt sends shocks of excitement throughout your body, as though his body was made of electricity. You wish he would touch you skin to skin, rub his hands over your stomach and really take his time trying to find the perfect spot to press.

When he finds your sensitive organ, you squirm and involuntarily cry out at the pressure. Toji grins, "I'm just trying to look after you." His voice is low; hot, alcoholic breath hitting your lips and you wish to devour the taste. "Be a good worker and make sure you relieve yourself when you need to."

He continues poking your bladder, savouring your whines and gasps before the same hand finds its way beneath the waistband of your pants. It's all too much; trying to focus on not pissing yourself, the distracting thump of your clit with arousal, alcohol swirling in your veins and the spinning of your head. Toji's hand moves so fast in your pants, snaking down beneath your underwear in the tight space and carefully sliding between your folds to find your clit. The skin-to-skin contact makes your legs tremble and when his fingertips prod your swollen bud, you can't hold back anymore.

You release yourself then and there, suddenly sober enough to see the surprise on your boss's face. The sweet relief of your bladder being emptied is almost as good as an orgasm, momentarily embracing the warmth between your legs. For a second, you forget it's piss and not a warm bath you'd sunken into. You keep going and going, there's no way to stop as your pants grow unbearably damp and liquid trickles all the way down your legs, dripping onto the concrete. It's quiet bar your whimpers of relief — you can't bring yourself to look at Toji.

While your empty bladder and throbbing clit with your boss's hand still in your pants is nice, the alcohol seems to hit you again with a fresh wave of embarrassment and shame. Nausea swirls in your gut and you hold back from giving Toji more reasons to fire you; not just fire you, but blast your crimes of disgusting behaviour all over Tokyo. Your family name will forever be tarnished because you don't know how to control yourself, acting like a child soiling themselves in front of your boss. You're ready to hand in your resignation immediately — that, or kill yourself before the sun comes up.

Toji laughs and you still can't bring yourself to look at him. If he hadn't trapped you against the wall with his enormous frame, you'd have run far, far away, never to be seen again. His hand remains in your pants, the heel of his palm pressing against the peak of your lips as his fingers press along your folds, having moved to hit the hot stream of piss coming from you.

"I didn't expect you to piss yourself." Your boss chuckles in disbelief and you wish the ground would collapse beneath you. "You're disgusting."

It's said with a smile, you can hear it but it doesn't soften the blow on your heart — or your clit.

You gasp when his fingers slide inside of you. Two of them at once, thick and stretching you so delicious, you instinctually grab onto Toji's arms for leverage. You're confused; he just called you disgusting, he's laughing at you, why is he continuing to touch you? Instead of running away like you expected, he pushes himself closer to you, trapping you further between his body and the wall. His hips press into yours, his hand still buried in your pants and fingers in your cunt between you, hips flush against yours with his prominent erection prodding you. Toji pants in your ear as he moves in and out of you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to get as close as he possibly can.

He's…getting off to this? It's hard to make sense of the situation, about anything that's just happened. Forced to piss yourself in an embarrassing act, your reward is being fingered in an alleyway at two in the morning. Still, you cling onto your boss, melting into his touch and allowing yourself to make the most of his generosity.

"So dirty, a filthy bitch." Toji whispers in your ear and you can't help the way your walls tighten in response, thriving off of the degradation. You are a dirty and disgusting bitch. "Would you piss on me again? If I put my cock in your pretty pussy, would you piss all over my thick, hard cock?"

You're breathless from the combination of his fingers and repulsive suggestion. Stars litter your vision and you know it's not from the alcohol. Nodding your head against his shoulder, you hum and whisper a breathy "Yeah."

Toji groans loudly, something from the back of his throat, pulling out before you'd even come close to finishing. Before you have a chance to process anything or maybe run away from shame, he's pulling your feet off the ground and hooking your knees on either side of his hips. The feeling of your slowly cooling piss being forcefully pressed into you by your boss's hips isn't something you ever expected to experience. His hard, clothed cock against your sodden and clothed pussy has you dizzy and drooling, though. Kissing you with desperation, he's all teeth and tongue and alcohol to the point you can hardly breathe. Everything feels like the strangest dream but you aren't complaining in the slightest.

"We're getting a room and some drinks," He demands, just as breathless, "And you can make a mess on my cock."

If you were any more drunk, you'd be convinced you're hallucinating as your boss drags you by your hand out the alleyway, intending to feed you drinks until you piss on him again.

[prxtze-l]

Sunshine

Clarisse La Rue x fem!Aphrodite kid!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ If somebody told you a year ago that you'd be spending your summer at a summer camp for demigods after being chased by a cyclops, you probably would've shrugged them off as crazy. What's even crazier though, is finding out your presumably dead mother is actually the Greek goddess of love. I guess that explains the sudden glow up you had mid-winter break after you dreamt about a pink glowing symbol hovering above your head one night.

ᝰ.ᐟ warnings: probably ooc Clarisse, tooth-rotting fluff, I think that's all

ᝰ.ᐟ a/n: I've only read the first book so I'm sorry in advance if some stuff are wrong, I literally love her sm I can't even

‎♡‧₊˚🧸🎀

Stumbling on overgrown tree roots, you literally ran for your life as the ground shook with each of the cyclops's stomps. You might be wondering how you got here in the first place.

You were peacefully listening to music with your headsets on, admiring the passing trees as the bus' movements combined with your music began to lull you to sleep. However, it was interrupted when your body jerked in your seat when the bus abruptly stopped.

Opening your eyes, you saw the bus driver ushering the passengers out and naturally you followed. Turns out, the bus broke down and you all had to wait until the driver finished fixing what was wrong. Since you figured it would take a while, you began to wonder off from the crowd of passengers when you saw a butterfly fluttering in the wind. You clutched your backpack's straps and began trying to follow where the butterfly would go.

After wondering around, you eventually lost sight of the insect so you decided to head back... If it wasn't for the looming shadow you noticed when you looked down at your newly bought white shoes. Every hair on your body raised with alarm as you didn't even think to look up and started to run without even looking where you were going.

Your body was going on autopilot as you ran faster than you've ever had in your entire life (besides that one time someone thought it was funny to toss a cockroach at you).

Your legs started to burn from all the running and you contemplated whether you should just ditch your backpack to be able to run faster. But the rational side of your brain was screaming at you to not lose the stuff you've just bought. You spent the past few days staying with one of your old friends who lived away from you and you both ended up shopping for a lot of things during your time there.

Anyway, back to where we were. The cyclops started to gain up on you and you almost lost hope of ever getting out of there alive when a pine tree on top of a hill caught your eye. As if clockwork, you started to run faster with the little bit of energy you had left and started to run up the hill. When you reached the top of the hill, you saw a barn near a field of strawberries.

Your moment of awe was cut short when you heard the loud sounds of the cyclops. Every muscle in your body was begging for rest and you couldn't even run anymore as you collapsed near the pine tree waiting for your inevitable doom.

However, what you didn't expect was for the monster to come to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from your limp body. Huffing and growling in anger. You on the other hand was trying to process why the monster stopped. The sound of your heavy pants filled the suddenly quiet but tense atmosphere. Your eyelids felt heavy and it finally dawned on you that you had earned some scratches while trying to run through the forest and all the cuts and scrapes started to hurt. The last thing you heard before you lost consciousness was the sound of a war cry.

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

The next time you woke up, you were on a soft bed. It took a moment but when things started to register in your mind, you shot up from your laying position and started to whip your head in every possible direction trying to find any semblance of familiarity.

Your frantic movements paused when you heard the sound of the door opening. It was a tall girl, probably your age. "Morning, sunshine. I'm assigned to tour you today." she grumbled. You were probably gawking for way too long because she spoke again "well, what are you waiting for? We don't have all day. Don't worry about your stuff."

Without wasting time, you hopped off the bed and put on your stained white shoes (which you noted that you'll have to clean when you had the chance). You noticed your cardigan was hung on the headboard so you took it and put it on. Now that you had time to check over yourself, you realized that all the cuts and bruises you had were completely gone and that you were still wearing the shirt and pants you were previously wearing.

You ran to the nearest possible reflective surface. The bow you were wearing before was also on the desk beside the bed so you tried to do something decent with it. Clarisse, on the other hand, was surprisingly waiting patiently while you tried to fix your hair. 'Definetly an Aphrodite kid'

"Done. What do you think? Do I look okay?" You asked her, straightening out your cardigan.

She did a once over and she had to admit, you clean up good. "You look fine, sunshine." And with that, she lead you out of the barn house and began to tour you around the camp, also explaining things on the way because she had a hunch that you probably didn't even know anything. Clarisse wondered how you even survived for that long outside.

The tour ended when you approached a cabin numbered 10. "And here is your cabin, your stuff's already inside." You stopped fiddling with your hands (a habit you developed when you were nervous or shy). "Thank you, Clarisse." She introduced herself right after you both left the barn and in turn you also introduced yourself.

"Sure. Whatever." And with that, she left you to your own devices.

Your half siblings were pretty nice to you and you were grateful for that. You didn't know what you would've done if you weren't close with anyone. You hated feeling isolated.

Everyday was unique on its own, sometimes you were by yourself reading a book you brought with you or you were with your siblings, following them wherever they'd go. Sometimes you would even see Clarisse with her half-siblings whenever you'd pass by the sparring grounds.

You'll never miss a chance to wave at her everytime you'd see her. When she was alone, you'd always try to get closer to her. You've been trying to talk to her ever since you found out that she was the one who lead the attack against the cyclops that almost killed you. Also it wouldn't hurt to befriend someone other than your siblings. It started with her trying her best to shake you off but you never seemed to get the hint.

You were trailing after your siblings like usual when Clarisse and two of her half siblings approached your group. "Sunshine! With me, I said." She called out. You pointed to yourself to make sure you weren't assuming things. "Yes, you."

She and her siblings turned around and started walking towards the girls' bathroom expecting you to follow. You stood there for a bit before you rushed to catch up to them.

When you got the bathroom, all of you were in a standstill. You didn't dare to make a move, their imposing figures standing taller than you, making you more intimidated. Eventually, you broke the silence, "did I do something wrong?"

"Leave us." Clarisse told her siblings.

After they left, Clarisse started to close the gap between you until you were merely inches apart. "Why do you keep following me?" She asked in an irritated tone.

"I– I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I heard you were the one who lead the attack against the cyclops that chased me. Also I was wondering if we could be friends?" You internally cursed yourself when you stuttered.

Her heated gaze lifted slowly to a more relaxed one and she stepped away to give you some space. It seemed like she wasn't expecting you to answer like that. "Alright. You seem worth the trouble."

After that, you seemed to never leave her side. At that point, everyone always assumed you were near when she was around. Trailing after her like an excited puppy. After a while, she'd let you touch her, whether it was just brisk skin contact or you grabbing her arm whenever you were excited, surprising everyone.

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

You showed an interest in the bow and arrow after you saw some campers practice shooting when you and your siblings were passing by. You wanted to learn but you were too shy to ask anyone to teach you.

That was until one day, after breakfast, you approached Clarisse at her table. You didn't know anyone else that well you could ask so, you decided that Clarisse would be the best person, since your siblings didn't show any interest in the sports.

You waited until she wasn't talking since you knew interrupting a conversation was rude. You called her name. "Clarisse?" The conversation quieted and everyone's attention was suddenly on you. You felt embarrassed since you weren't used to the attention. "Yes, sunshine?" Clarisse faced you.

Swallowing your saliva, you tried to find your voice. "I wanted to ask if you could teach me how to use a bow and arrow?" You avoided her gaze since you felt your face started to heat up. Clarisse was not expecting you to ask her that. Usually new comers would ask Luke or anyone other than her, but you did.

"Sure. Meet me at the shooting range." Her and her siblings stood up from their table and walked towards the fire to burn their offerings. "Thank you!" With that, you ran back to your siblings trying to suppress a squeal. Truthfully, you sort of had a crush on Clarisse for a while now. Your siblings looked at you like you grew three heads when you told them. Although they still supported you anyway.

You didn't know if it was the way she always seemed soft towards you compared to anyone else, or when she would have that look of pride whenever she won at something, or maybe it was the fact that you'd always meet her eyes across any crowd. But one thing was a fact, and that was you being totally whipped for Ares's daughter.

With Clarisse, she had to roll her eyes at the way her siblings would often tease her about you. Everytime you and her would cross paths (where you'd always wave at her with that stupid smile that made her heart melt) her siblings would nudge her with knowing stares and smirks or make comments like "hey Clarisse, isn't that your girlfriend?" or the occasional "when are you gonna ask her out?" which she'd just huff at.

Later that day, you and Clarisse would spend the rest of the day in the shooting range where she taught you the proper stance and how to aim properly. She had to admit, you were a fast learner. You were doing fine on your own, she only jumped in to occasionally give you tips. Sometimes people would stare curiously at you two, however you were oblivious since you were focused on hitting the target and Clarisse would glare at them to which they'd leave you two alone.

By dinner, you managed to hit the bullseye. "I did it! Clarisse, did you see that?!" You were jumping from excitement. Clarisse was subtly smiling with pride. "Yep. You did it, sunshine." You ended up hugging her out of excitement and it's seems neither of you even realize what you did until you did and quickly pulled away.

You cleared your throat, "sorry." and looked down in embarrassment. Clarisse was still processing what happened as she just stood there. You two just stood there in awkward silence. "Uhm... It's getting late. Thank you for teaching me today." You gathered your courage and eventually placed a quick peck on her cheek. You ran away after that.

Meanwhile, Clarisse touched her cheek where you just kissed her. Your perfume still lingering in the air and a barely noticeable kiss mark on her cheek was present.

"You're gonna kill me someday, sunshine." She smiled to herself.

[xxyuta]

sub nct

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warnings: masterbation, edging, mention of blood, overstimulation, p in v, mutual masterbation, squirting, small mention of choking, spit play, a cherry lollipop…, swearing, praising, mommy kink, somnophilia, nipple play, yelling/arguing, slapping, thigh kink, dry humping

authors note: back from my grave to post & once again, something for all! (btw this took forever because im a procrastinator ≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼) ty for reading!!! 💗

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

JOHNNY is laying down on the couch while you clean up the kitchen for the night. what you do notice is what you're wearing; something rather short and tight as pijamas. what you don't seem to notice is the way johnny sneaks glances whenever you bend down as he strokes his hard cock underneath his sweatpants. when you finally make your way over, he quickly takes his hand out from his pants in hopes you didn’t notice his action, but oh you do. you decide to mess with him a little. you take a seat in his lap before stretching your neck and back showing off your cute little outfit that he so dearly wants off of you. you can feel the way his cock twitches as you do so and his face burns up, turning a light shade of red as you coo to him, “my johnny wants something hm?”. before he could say anything you grind your hips earning a loud groan from him. “wait-”, he says as you continue rolling your hips against his hard. you giggle at him, he looks cute the way hes trying to make you stop to let him breath for a second. “what is it? want me to stop?”, you tilt your head. “want it off- off please!”, he begs as his fingers attempt to pull off your shorts. you smile at him before getting off to do so as he does the same. “better?”, you say, caressing his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense up at the sensation of his cock grinding against your bare cunt. “yes.. fuck- yes feels so good!!”. its seconds before he starts groaning loudly, jolting and squirming at the way you pick up your pace going hard and faster. “please…”, he whines, gripping at your tits and thighs. “please what?”, you ask, your hands on top his. “please, need to cum. please let me, please”, he begs. you prop yourself on his abs before going even faster and harder, sweat beading off one another's bodies as you both cum. you slow down your pace as he lets out soft exhales, bodies coming together in an embrace. “was gonna give you more than that…”, you start. he's definitely going to get exhausted tonight.

TAEYONG and you are chopping up fruit to eat on a sweet summer day, sun beaming into the kitchen gleamingly. the energy is comforting, until the knife taeyong was using slips off the table and onto your lap, the sharp edge grazing your mid thigh, cutting through deep enough for blood to course out. “fuck! i’m sorry, i'm so sorry”, he pleads as he rushes to get a damp towel. you sit there, taking in the slightly piercing feeling, to be honest it doesn't hurt much but you let taeyong treat you. “im sorry my love, the knife it- it fell then it just- fuck im so sorry.” he says as you notice his now glossy eyes. you smile as he's on his knees, gently wiping up the blood. “it's okay taeyongie, im fine, don't worry” you give him a peck on the lips, hands playing with his hair subtly. “i just- fuck” he sighs. you sense the way he's feeling, guilty. the atmosphere turns intimate, your hand continuing to play with his hair as his head rests on top of your thighs. his eyes are glossy and his lips a little red. he slowly caresses your legs now, as you tug his hair a little earning a moan from him. his lips meet your fresh cut, kissing it to soothe his guilt. but he for some reason can't stop. his lips keep kissing your legs and when he looks up at you, gosh does he look so adorable. you can't help but move a finger to his bottom lip, then between his lips then in his mouth. he sucks on it, slowly, eyelids struggling to stay open as he relaxes. you tug at his hair once more, he moans with your finger on his tongue as you make eye contact and pat the counter in front of you. you pull his pants down a bit as he sits on the counter in front of you, as you begin sucking him off. it happens quick, everything right now feels so intimate, relaxing, though, you just got sliced with a knife. he throws his head back, letting every sound escape from him as you take him all down in your throat. he groans loudly in response, hand moving to grip your head. “i'm sorry” he lets out softly. you replace your mouth with your hand, smiling up at him before leaning in to kiss him. it's like you can feel all of him, the way he's calm and composed, yet still feeling a little guilty, and you feel like he thinks he should be doing something to you instead. “i'm sorry, okay?”, he says again, this time quieter. pulling him closer to you in a hug, your hand moves faster on his cock as he whines a bit. you move close to his ear now, “cum”, and he does exactly that.

YUTA and you sit in the living room, playing on your switch and feeling all giggly. it isn’t long before you win the game and he comes attacking you, “not fair!”, he says as he tickles your sides. he showers you with kisses saying, “your just good at everything hm?” and you imply that he’s talking about other stuff. “why? wanna see what i can do?”, you say teasingly, but he’s definitely serious when he blankly says, “yeah”. you pause for a moment before you both quickly remove your clothing. you straddle him on the couch as you leave marks on his neck. you bring a hand to jerk him, resulting in loud desperate moans leaving his throat. you’re just too good, the way his adrenaline races as you act fast, and they way he feels your skin on his, it’s all so much for him, so he cums quickly, but you don’t plan on stopping now. you sit on his still hard cock, bouncing so effortlessly as he kisses your chest talking bout, “feels like heaven, so perfect, m’ perfect for you right?” and he’s looking at you with big glossy eyes. you grab his hair, tilting his head up as you let spit fall into his mouth. “your mine”, you whisper in his ear and that’s all he needs to hear before he cums. you pull off of him, letting the fluid run down both of you, he moans at the sight. “more”, he says. “u sure?”, you reply because you honestly thought this was a one and done thing. you shrug, pushing him on his back, as you turn around, fucking yourself onto him as he kneeds your ass. the sounds make you heat up more, the sounds of skin slapping and his shameless moans and groans. it’s not long before he cums again, but it’s certainly not the last time tonight.

KUN is nestled into you, the sunlight shining through the light curtains. he’s rambling about his plans for today while aimlessly tracing circles on your stomach. “so will you come?”, you snap back into reality. “come?”, you perch up. he laughs, “will you come to the store with me, silly”. you smile, “of course my love”. you cradle his face, taking in the way he’s naturally glowing and the way his toned body lays next to yours. it’s like he senses what you want, so he crawls between your legs, kissing up your legs, holding one over his shoulder. you let him do what he wants, eating the hell outta you. and when he does he’s rutting himself against the mattress, moaning into your pussy, not ever thinking to stop anytime soon. you feel overstimulated and tug his hair telling him, “no more, please…”, but he just can’t get enough of you. “so- so good though…”, he whines. you tug his hair harder now, maneuvering him to lay down beneath your. “why don’t you ever listen?”, you tut at him. you bring his arms beside his head as you grind roughly on his hard bulge. “fuck!”, he cries out, but you don’t care. you continue until he’s shaking uncontrollably. but right before he reaches his orgasm, you sit up off of him. he whines loudly, “shit- please no”. you just giggle, not feeling any pity for his bad behavior from before. you grind on him once again, but stopping when you sense his high coming, leaving him laying there edged and pathetic. “m’ sorry, just let me cum please!”, he pleads, but as you say, “i guess”, you just edge him over and over again.

DOYOUNG walks into your shared room, idling near the door looking at you then the floor. "whats wrong?" you ask. he says nothing as he presses his lips together, continuing to look at the floor as he sits on the bed next to you. he finally looks into your eyes. he cant quite talk right now. hes too embarrased. no, hes ashamed. "i-" he stutters out. "you what?", you say running out of patience. "i want you to play with me." he finally admits. you smile. "okay my doyoungie", you say softly. your fingers swipe against his damp lips, eyes fixated on the way he wants to open his mouth. you hum as he does so, allowing your finger to enter. he sucks around your finger, tongue swiping against it as he breathes heavily. he whines. you release you finger, holding him by the jaw as you tell him, "you wont make a peep, and if you do...you lose!", you say with a soft smile. he nods. hes laying on the bed as you straddle him, his briefs being the only thing keeping him apart from your bare cunt. hes trying so hard not to let a moan escape. he feels that he needs to, but hes a good boy, he would never. suddenly, you pull down his briefs, sinking quickly onto his erection. he groans, eyes darting to yours in hopes you didnt notice. buy you very well did. you bring a hand up, smacking him across the cheek enough for it to sting a bit. he whimpers. again, you smack other cheek now. his eyes turn glossy, a tear running down his cheek as you bounce so perfectly on his cock. his hands grip onto your waist tightly, keeping eye contact with you as you throw your head back, letting a loud moan out almost as if your taunting him. he bites hard on his lip, hands now gripping your ass. you take his hands and hold them to the sides of his head. you stare down at him and his wet cheeks and puffy eyes and flushed out face. he closes his eyes, he feels pathetic, but he loves it. "cum." you tell him. he lets out a quiet low groan as he does so. his body shakes against yours as he pants as he throws his head back against the pillows. you lay beside him, hugging him as he sniffles and wipes his cheeks.

TEN walks into the living room to see you cleaning. he sits on the couch watching you vacuum. when you finish, you notice the way he’s still watching you whilst laying on his back. you walk over, “what’s wrong?” you say caressing his cheek. he leans into it talking bout you’ve been ignoring him and leaving him alone and shit. “well i didn’t mean to, let me make it up to you hm?”, “well okay”, he smiles. “get on your knees okay?” and he does so quickly knowing what’s coming next. now what he likes is your thighs, your precious sweet and soft thighs that feel just too good around him. he kneels on the sofa as you stand in front of him. he slowly begins humping, cock squished between your soft thighs. he grips your waist tightly, hard enough to leave marks, as you squeeze your thighs closer together. caught by surprise he moans into your side and bites the flesh, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden feeling. you giggle at his pathetic actions and he whines in response. you let him at it for a couple minutes until he begins unevening his pace, going slower, signaling that he’s close. you reach behind you to intertwine your fingers in his hair. “aww my tennie, i’m sorry i left you alone”, you apologize. “n-no, ‘s okay” he pleads as he grips tighter onto your body. he finally releases his load, smearing it on your thighs as you turn around to face him. “where’s my thank you?”, you say cocking your head. he looks up to you, going in to kiss your thighs, lips slightly covered in his own cum. “thank you, i love you, i do”, he says in between kisses.

JAEHYUN is listening to you ramble about your day, complaining and whining about things that ticked you off. he’s leaning against the headboard, soothing your back, grinning, as he finds you just too cute. “what? why aren’t you saying anything?”. you ask him. you give him a light slap at his arm as he just says nothing and continues giggling. “just-“, he looks at you up and down, “keep talking”. you know that look, so you keep talking, but you slowly come to straddle him. you watch as his face goes from a soft smirk to a face way serious. “and at the store, gosh-“, you suddenly grind down on his lap, “the salesperson was just so uptight!”. he couldn’t believe that you were grinding down on him like this as you speak so casually. “don’t you just hate those type of people my jaehyunnie!”, you say frustrated as he can do nothing but hang his jaw open. you strike his cheek, “answer!”. “y-yes, i hate them”, he finally speaks. as you continue, you take off your panties and slide down his boxers. “why can’t people just love their jobs??”, you pull his hair a bit as you sink down on his cock. he moans loudly, hands coming to grip your hips as his dick twitches uncontrollably under you. you begin riding him as he stares, jaw still hung open. “jaehyunnie, you’re a good boy, you’re my good boy hm?”, you whine as you cup his face. “mm- fuck, yes, yes i am”, he says with the cutest puppy eyes, becoming glossy as a tear rolls down his cheek. “am what?”, expecting a different answer. “yes mommy, shit- i’m you’re good boy”. you fuck him faster as a reward. as he moans louder you know he’s close so you tilt his head up with one hand and with the other you wipe his tears. “why’re you crying hm? i’m the one having a bad day!”, you bring a hand around his neck as you lightly press bringing him to his climax as he cums inside of you. you sit up, letting everything drip out of you, “now clean this up!”, you demand.

WINWIN is bothering you as he does every night, however this time is different because you can tell he’s in the mood. your sitting beside him in bed, feeling him up and down as he pouts at you. you smile at him, no words needed to tell you how much he wants you right now, not to fuck you, but for you to just tease and play with him. he doesn’t say anything as he pulls his sweatpants down, and he doesn’t say anything as he softly strokes himself as you watch him. “fuck…” he sighs. you don’t really know how he’s such in heat, but you assume because you simply are watching him. he bites his lip, his finger playing with his sticky tip as he pulls it away, letting the strand stretch out and onto his stomach. you press your thighs at the sight of him, you don’t even need to touch him, but you begin touching yourself. hand coming between your thighs and rubbing over your wet, clothed, cunt. he notices and it makes him even more feral now, hand teasing his tip more so that it turns a blushed red. he moans quietly at first, eyes shutting every once in a while to avoid cuming too quick. he whines and squirms as he edges himself ever so slyly, but of course you notice so you do the same. you both edge yourselves to the sight and sound of each other masturbating. moments pass until your desperate to cum, so you tap his arm softly, back arching as he’s quick to move you on top of him so your sitting above his face. you recognize his desire as you let yourself cum, muscles tightening as your cum drips down and into his mouth. he makes direct eye contact as he sticks his tongue out, lapping at your pussy and tasting every last drop of you.

JUNGWOO walks into the room when you tell him you have a surprise for him for being so hardworking during the new comeback. grabbing his hand you lead him in front of the long mirror on the floor. he doesnt realize what your intentions are until youre sitting behind him against the bedframe spreading open his legs. his smile drops as he realizes what the surprise is. you dont hesitate to begin palming him through his sweatpants as his body tenses less and less. “relax mkay?”, you softly tell him. he nods as he makes himself comfortable between your legs, head laying on your shoulder and arms wrapped around your legs. he lets out soft moans that you cant get enough of, voice all gentle and mellow that he begins closing his eyes from pure bliss. “lets take this off ok?”, you nod at him referring to his sweatpants. he looks like hes about to fall asleep as you now stroke his now hardened dick, admiring the way he reacts through the mirror. your free hand reaches to his hair, massaging his scalp as he lets out a moan. It seems as he cant pick between keeping his eyes open or closed as you slightly add more of a grip on his dick. “you did so good today jungwoo…”, you tell him. this seems to make him close his eyes again, taking in the way you praise him. “but my baby is probably so tired hm?”, he nods as he cant keep still anymore, readjusting himself every second now in your embrace. “let go whenever you want mk? i'm here to take care of u my jungwooie~”, you whisper. he bites his lip as his hips twitch a bit before cumming. you help him ride out his high, continuing to gently stroke his dick as he nestles his head in your neck. “look at my pretty babys mess”, you tease, but he doesnt move his head away from your body, slightly embarrassed by his actions. “aw whats wrong?”, you coo. he pulls a way for a bit before staring at you then the mirror. you look into it, noticing how his shirt had ridden up and his torso down was completely bare, covered in his own juices. “jungwooie~ youve been a good boy, dont be embarrassed for getting a reward..” you soothed him. “m just-...never done this before thats all”, he admits. you giggle at his confession, earning a lazy smile back from him. he lets his eyes drift closed into a sweet slumber in your embrace, internally thanking the universe he has someone like you. 

MARK came back from a long busy day, and he really needed your help perhaps with one thing. “so, i wanted to ask you something…”, he begins as you cock your head. “sure markie”, you smile moving a strand of his hair. he smiles at the nickname, “i wanna, want you to- to just”, he stutters. you laugh, “don’t worry, i got you”, you say biting your lip as you push him down on the seat in your shared living room. you insert your legs between his, opening them wider as you tilt his head up slightly, caressing his bottom lip. “so cute”, you say quietly. he shifts at your compliment, leg bouncing but stopping when you insert two fingers in his mouth. he sucks on them sweetly, tongue swirling around them. you remove them before you lean down to kiss him with both passion and lust. you move your knee to nudge at his bulge, he moans into your mouth, “fuck”. you pull away, helping him take off his clothes as you kneel in between his legs. you suck on his tip first, letting it fall into your mouth as you lick it softly. he falls apart, his composure is all lost as he bucks his hips up, desperate for you to make him cum. “my markie, so tired and beat down, don’t worry, i’ll take care of you”, you say as you maneuver your hands ever so perfectly around his cock. he whines and moans as his back begins to arch, hips thrusting into your touch. you move your hands to his balls, massaging them as you suddenly deep throat him, making you gag and him groan. he grips the seats arms tightly as his body twitches and shivers, could you be even more better? you bob your head up and down as his hips match your pace rapidly. he feels himself coming to his high, and he feels so high that it feels celestial. you notice the way his legs twitch and you pull off, hand coming to finish him. he cums into your hand, but the way you’re not stopping makes him arch his back and squirt, fluid spraying over his body and you. your jaw is hung as you admire the sight in front of you, skin glistening in sweat and juices, his flushed cheeks, and glossy eyes fighting to stay open. “can you do that again?”.

XIAOJUN and you sit in the kitchen. you suck on your cherry lollipop as you admire your boyfriend’s side profile, “yknow you really are blessed”, you tell him. he blushes at the compliment, your finger coming to trace his facial structure. you pull out your lollipop as you turn his face to face you. he looks at you innocently as you bring your lollipop to his bottom lip, coating it in the cherry flavor. “do you like it?”, you ask. he licks his lip and nods. you bring it to his lip again, coating it again then inserting it into his mouth. he sucks in it briefly before you pull it out, tasting it as you suck on it teasingly. he breathes heavily now, and you turn his chair to face you. you bring a foot to his lap, rubbing over his bulge as he lets out the prettiest whimpers you’ve heard. xiaojun feels himself relaxing all his muscles as he lets himself fall forward onto your shoulder. “mm…fuck-“, he moans into your neck. you turn and capture his lips onto yours, kissing him as he moans into your mouth, the cherry flavor still lingering. “so stirred for my foot.” you say and he can’t help but whimper louder now. he unzips his jeans, your foot now rubbing atop his briefs. he bucks and twitches his hips up every so often. “fuck- so hot”, he says as he makes eye contact with you. you smile and kiss his forehead as you help him out his pants and briefs. he sits back down as you bring your lollipop to swirl around his cock, leaking with precum. the action makes him moan at the sight and you smile at his reaction. but he swears he’s about to cum when you bring the lollipop to your lips, teasing it a little before inserting it into your mouth, tasting the mixed flavors of cherry and his cum. “wanna taste?”, you say pouting before coming in to kiss him, swirling your tongue in his mouth to make him taste it. he whines and shakes a little and that’s when you notice he’s came untouched. he looks at you slightly embarrassed while you’re pressing your thighs together.

HENDERY walks in from the bedroom to the sofa where you’re watching a film. he doesn’t say anything but sits next to you and grabs your knee. he leans his head on your shoulder as you sit in silence. you know what he wants and what mood he’s in, so you play into it for him. you bring your hand to comb his hair with your fingers as the other sits in his lap, dangerously close to where he wants your touch most. feeling bold you say, “what? want to fuck me?” and he pops his head up quickly to meet your eyes. your serious and he’s even more serious when he says, “yes please”. you straddle his hips, shifting a little to take each others pants off. you bite your lip as you sink onto him, bottoming out as you let your head fall back. “yes- so good mommy, want you so bad”, he gives in. he lets out moans uncontrollably as you quicken your pace, making him feel overstimulated despite even cumming yet. you ride his length for a moment before he can feel himself coming to a climax. “already gonna cum?”, you tease at him. you slap his cheek lightly, “pathetic”. that’s when he thrusts his hips up before letting his body shiver and shake, releasing his cum into you. “again?”, you say and before he can even answer you sit back on his cock, fucking him as he yelps. “shit!”, he says with heavy breaths. you see the way his body starts glistening in a sheer coat of sweat. you lick the side of his face teasingly, “you wanted this so bad and im giving it to you, do you not want it no more?”. he can’t even speak, the overstimulating feeling of his cock inside you too soon makes him orgasm again. you can’t believe him, it’s like it takes less time for him to orgasm each time, so you test your theory out some more.

RENJUN has been wanting to make a move on you for a while now, but hes just too timid to do so. luckily, you notice the way hes staring at you while youre reading your book. he claims hes bored and insists on taking a nap, but whenever you look at him, hes staring at you. you discard the book youre reading to lay with him. facing him, you notice his glossy eyes and the way his mouth slightly parts as if he wanted to say something. instead, you close the space between you with a lustful kiss, hands roaming around until you could pull his shirt off. “renjunie..” you whisper, smiling a little as you now straddle him, feeling the way he's so hard beneath you. “please~”, he whines. you lift off a bit to push your shorts and panties off meanwhile he pulls his sweats down enough to release his twitching cock. “mmm~ my renjunie is so cute hm?” you tease at him, lightly touching his red-tipped cock. he feels like hes going crazy, squirming under your touch wanting you do to quite literally anything to him. you begin sinking down on his cock as he springs his head off the mattress to let out a loud groan. moving now at a swift pace, renjun finds himself in a sweat, endlessly panting and whining from your fastening pace. you bring a hand to his cheek, stroking his bottom lip and slipping your thumb in his mouth while he lets out a honeyed moan. “my junie being so cute”, you sweetly smile at him as you feel his cock twitch inside your plush walls. you clench in response, he panics though as he releases inside you a little too early. “shit- m’ sorry!! im sorry im sorry..”, voice filled with fear as he sits up quickly. you laugh at his cute actions, not stopping despite him finishing. you looks up at you concerned, “wait- wait fuck, feels too mph…”, he grunts. all he hopes is for you to stop, but its your mission not to, you wanna see your good boy fall apart underneath you right? you notice the way he looks right now, eyes shut as tears run down his soft cheeks, hair stuck on his forehead from sweat and eyebrows furrowed together. and gosh he cant stop whining and crying. “please!!!” he cries, rutting his hips up into you, hands gripping at your tits under your tank top. it sounds like he wants you to stop, but his actions say otherwise…

JENO is sleeping beside you, at peace as the morning sunlight glows against his skin. you woke up first, stretching your arms out as you admire his gleaming skin, focusing on the side profile of his nose bringing a finger to caress its shape. he's fast asleep when you get a sudden urge to toy with him. you sit up on the bed, legs sprawling on either side of you. you bring a hand to slowly lift the covers up and off him. noticing the way his bare chest heaves up and down, you trace his abs, slowly bringing your hand further down his torso. you reach his bulge, already hard as it is the morning as you swiftly pull his boxers just enough to release it. slowly beginning to pump his cock, you pay close attention as to whether he will wake up or not. his face contorts a bit before his heavy lids open, "fuck-" he sighs. his back arches a bit as his hand finds its way to your thighs. he lets out a moan with every exhale, breathing heavily as you move your hand faster against his shaft, making sure to touch the tip every now and then. his back arches more as he grunts out, "gonna cum- fuck honey". he lets out long stripes of cum over himself before you instantly straddle him. your panties are still on as you grind against his still hard cock. "shit baby wait...", but you don't stop. "want my baby to feel good okay?", you tell him as you slip your shirt off. "please..." he pleads, you notice the way his eyes are big and full of lust. his mouth hangs a little open tempting you to shove two fingers in it. he swirls his tongue around your fingers as you continue grinding on him, gradually quickening your pace. he lets out a long and loud moan, sending shivers through your body, helping you reach your climax. his hands grab the sheets beneath him as he once more arches his back beginning to hit his climax. you help him, hands coming under and arching his back even more up. "so good my baby, so pretty for me", you praise him as he lets out his load all over your panties.

HAECHAN wakes up just before you do, turning over and watching you wake up and stretch. he’s in awe of you, the way you’re naturally glowing in the morning despite you thinking you look a mess. he’s wants to show you just how much he loves you, so he swiftly moves down between your legs, kissing in between your thighs just before he moves to lick you over your panties. “haechannie, feels so good” you moan. but knowing you feel good makes him feel good too, so he starts grinding his hips against the mattress beneath him. you notice and let out a soft giggle, you push his head away, his mouth is glistening and hanging open and his eyes barely manage to stay open. he whines a little and you bring him to kneel in front of your mouth. sticking his tip into your mouth, he shivers and he suddenly feels limp. he grips tightly onto the headboard as he receives the best head of his life. but your not done playing with him, getting on all fours you signal him to start fucking you. but he’s so out of it that he just leaves his cock in you saying, “no no, can’t do it, i’ll just leave it here”. you laugh at him and instead move your hips back and forth. he’s moaning so loud that you turn back concerned, but he appears to be in heaven so you go faster on him. feeling his twitching cock, you pull away and see his reaction. “f-fuck”, he whines before falling against the bed. you sit next to him and bring your finger to his severely red tip, you touch it and observe how he arches his back. your eyes widen and he can’t do nothing but lay there and moan. “again, p-please, wanna cum” he pleads. you can’t believe it, so to test how needy he really is, you let a strand of spit drop down to his tip and he flinches at the feeling as he arches again and cums. you laugh at him, and he finally opens his eyes and notices. he’s flushed out from the bare minimum and your laughing. so he cums again. taking you by surprise, you stop laughing, and can’t do nothing but hang your mouth open as he hides his face in embarrassment.

JAEMIN and you lay in bed while scrolling on your phones. getting bored, he drops his phone beside him to look over to you. you notice and look back, but still scroll on your phone but letting a hand come over to play with his. a minute passes and you move your hand to his bicep, he takes it as a hint before saying, “oh so you wanna play with me hmm”, but you don’t respond. he sits up now facing you, “what? not talking?”, and you just move your phone to make eye contact before continuing on your phone. he huffs, “pleasee”, he shakes your arm. leaning over your body, he looks at your phone, but sees nothing interesting but you bring your hand back to his bicep, squeezing and massaging at it. “m just tired”, you finally say. he whines but you don’t react. so, he brings his hips against you, moving your legs onto his shoulders. he slowly begins to move against you, humping you while you’re both fully clothed. he watches your face through the mirror besides the bed. nothing. he goes harder now, moving at a faster pace. “cmon” he says as he feels himself getting hot. eventually he’s full on going at it, using you to bring himself to an orgasm. he grips your thighs as he fucks into you with just underwear between each other. you can’t lie, it feels so good, but you wanna annoy him so bad, but by the looks of it, he seems pretty annoyed so you decide to throw your phone on the bed, bringing yourself to your elbows watching the way he grinds against you. “finally”, he whines. he moans and let’s his head drop, you comb through his hair as you move your panties to the side. noticing, he doesn’t think twice to pull down his briefs, finally feeling you against his cock. “so…wet…”, he pants watching the way his cock glides against you.

YANGYANG and you were in the bathroom. you at the mirror and him in the bathtub. you seemed to be talking aimlessly, ranting to him about things that pissed you off lately. he sat in his bubbles in his own world before getting snapped back into reality. “hello? can you help me?”, you said as your back faced him, signaling him to take your bra off. as he did so, you felt the warm water from his fingers. sighing, you turned around, dropping your panties to the floor and getting in with him. his eyes widened a bit, but enjoyed the sudden action. “yang yknow…i’m sorry if i’ve been ignoring how your feeling, how are you feeling?”, you ask as you brush his hair out his face. “mm, good”, he says shyly. you giggle in adoration, “yeah? you don’t sound too sure”, you question before bringing your hand to his thigh, stroking it beneath the warm water. you inch forward, now coming in to kiss his jaw. “well- you sure are helping…”, he mumbles. you continue kissing his face and body before returning attention to your hand which now strokes his hard cock. “fuck- feels good”, he moans. it’s a lot for him, the warm water, your kisses, and the way you pleasure him. “mm- gonna”, he lets out quicker than you thought. “want u to cum for me”, you whisper and he does so while he whines softly. all of a sudden he’s sitting on the bath ledge, body glistening from the steamy air and warm water with your mouth wrapped around him, edging him. “please- just…”, “just what?”, “let me cum please!” he pleads. you suck harshly around him, mouth releasing him before he gets the chance to orgasm. he can definitely say he’s feeling good fr now.

CHENLE and you are cuddled close watching a movie late at night. you feel your eyes slowly closing before you feel chenle nudge you. he moves closer to you before letting out a whine, pointing to your chest. you look at him confused, but he just does what he wants and kisses your cleavage. you understand now, pulling down your cami and allowing him to suck and kiss your tits. he hums in satisfaction before rocking his hips against your thigh. you notice the way he’s twitching as if he was feining for this all day long. you bring a hand to his buldge, massaging it before slightly pulling his sweatpants down until his leaking cock is released. you tease him slowly and painfully, and you know he likes it by the way his hips shake every so often. he lets out pretty moans, pausing from sucking your tits to contain himself. he comes up to kiss you, but can’t even continue because he’s moaning so much. he rests his head on your shoulder as you start pumping his cock, cum leaking out all over your hands. “take your shirt off”, you say, he nods and does so as you straddle his thigh. continuing to pump his length, you bring your other hand to tease his nipples, causing his body to shiver. he feels hot but cold, even a little embarrassed as you tease his cock. eventually, when his tears cover his cheeks and his hair sticks to his forehead, you finally allow him to cum. “been so good for me, can you cum for me maybe?”, you say with slight sarcasm. he rapidly nods, chest heaving heavily as his hips lift off the bed. he lets out a loud train of moans as he releases his long awaited stream all over the both of you. you pat his cheek and laugh. you looks at you with innocence as he brings your body to his, kissing you with fervor.

JISUNG enters your shared room, walking slowly towards the edge of the bed beside you. "can i help you?", you say sitting up. "no-no but i-", he scans your body, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right now. the room is dimly lit with just two candles. he drops to his knees giving you the signal that he wants you. you swing your legs over his head so hes positioned between your thighs. you mess with his hair a little before leaning in to kiss him. the kiss is slow as you both lean into eachother a little more every turn your heads make. you bring a hand to the back of his head, lightly pulling onto his hair as he moans. you pull away and lay back down, head laying on the pillows. you bring a hand to his, leading him onto the bed with you as he kneels between your legs. your hand comes up to his erection, palming him through his sweatpants. he lets out quiet moans and shakey breaths. he unzips his sweater in which he wears nothing under. slipping off his pants along with yours, he leans forward to press his hard on against your panties. he lets out cute whimpers. "jisungie, fuck me already", you say. he doesnt think twice to take off his briefs and your panties as he enters his tip into your wet cunt. "fuck- so tight", he trembles a little as you giggle at him. you bring a hand to his cheek as he naturally nestles into it as he slowly pumps in and out of you. "mmgh- feels so good, you feel so perfect fuck", he lets out moaning uncontrollably. as good as you feel right now, youre entertained at the way he acts, the way he cant stop whining, how hes loudly moaning, how he cant look away from where his cock pounds into you, how his hands cant quite find a place to stay still at. he props himself up from hovering over you so hes now on his knees, holding your waist as he pounds himself into you faster now. he lets out loud moans, feeling his high out as he cums into you. if this is what your sungie started, youll make sure to not stop until hes crying from the overstimulation.

SION and you are honestly on some giggly shit. tumbling around on the living room carpet. soft material under you as he pinches your cheeks. you flip over him, capturing him between your thighs as his face suddenly turns serious. “what you like this?”, you say tauntingly. you laugh at him as his breaths become heavier. he bites his lip as you come closer to his face stopping just above his lips. you lick his lip, then his nose and he seems to enjoy the way you’re playing with him. “mm- please”, he says softly. “please what?”, you pout wanting him to get more frustrated. he bucks his hips up and lets out a quiet whine. he shuts his eyes, as he continues, dry humping you from underneath. you giggle at his attempt before you maneuver him so he’s now laying flat against the floor. “no-“, he says at the loss of feeling of you against him. you wait a moment before slowly snaking your hand beneath him as you shift off his body, kneeling between his legs. you find his bulge and begin palming him. “oh fuck!”, he suddenly moans, rutting against your hand now helplessly. “feels so good hm?”, you say going faster now. you remove your hand and whines. you grab his hips and pull them upwards so he’s arched and on his knees now. “better?”, you ask and he responds with a loud moan as you continue. “can’t hear you…”, you say slowing down your pace. “ye- yes. feels so good mommy. so good.”, he tells you as he lets out more pathetic moans. you bring your other hand against his back soothing it up and down as he feels himself climax. “fuck!!”, he groans shamelessly as he cums in his pants.

RIKU and you have been arguing all day, but you guys are ticking each other off by yelling even more. “idgaf bout your where abouts, but answer me when i tell you to”, he yells. you turn around, slapping his cheek as he hisses. “if i told you where i was, then you trust me, no?” you say. “y-yes…”, he says with glossy eyes. he acts all tough, but really he’s just a pussy about everything. “and you do what i say, no matter what, so we won’t be having this conversation again, got it?”. he leaves the kitchen to his room. you wait a minute before following him in. “i’m sorry”, you say cupping his cheek where a slight tint of red painted as he sat in bed. “it’s ok, i’m sorry for yelling at you”, he apologizes. you smile as he comes in to kiss you, hands coming to each of your thighs. he pulls away, biting his lip before asking you, “you need to punish me, will you please?”. he scoff at him, “mm you were being bad hm?”. you lay him down, palming at his buldge and you stare him down and notice the way he stares back and lets out little gasps, hips bucking into the air. your hand slips into his briefs, now palming his bare hard cock. he moans, “fuck! feels so good mommy”. you smile before leaning over his mouth, finger coming up to pry his mouth more open and letting your spit to trail into his mouth. he whines loudly, fucking into your hand faster. you close his mouth and he swallows faster than you can blink. you squeeze his cheeks together, “look at you, so obedient and pathetic”, you giggle. he moans as his eyes shut and his head tips back. “s-so…hot”, he compliments.

YUSHI has been yearning for you all day, but you’ve just been so busy. i mean you felt bad for him, you didn’t want to ignore him, but with all your work you unfortunately had to. now that you’re both doing nothing, you cuddle with him in bed, hugging him tightly and saying your apologies as he just hums and finally takes you all in. “i’m sorry, but now you have all my attention”, you smile softly at him. he doesn’t say anything but just maneuvers so he’s kneeling in front of you. “what is it?” you ask, concerned that something’s wrong. “just-“, he lets out an exhale before he presses his hips between yours. his head falls, feeling the friction as he dry humps you. “yushi”, you giggle, biting your lip at his desperation. “mm”, he whines, going slightly harder now. you cradle his face in your hands as you bring him closer into a slow kiss. you take control, letting your tongue slipping in his mouth, signaling that you too are desperate. “i just wanna feel you…”, he says before swiftly and quickly pulling his briefs down and pushing aside your panties and sliding just his tip into your wet cunt. “fuck-“, he whispers to himself. he’s trying his best to resist, but his efforts aren’t too well as he fucks his tip in and out of you, getting a feel of your tight cunt over and over again. “so wet…so good…god i can’t-“, he whines. he doesn’t know how longer he can take this, but that’s when you bring your hand to his shaft, suddenly stroking it. “but you like that huh? don’t you wanna feel me?”, you give him big puppy eyes as you innocently jerk him off. his legs begin shaking, in a trance as he can’t even speak, just moan. he watches as his release coats your cunt, dripping down and not wasting any time to feel you all the way now.

JAEHEE was in the living room watching tv as you cleaned up the kitchen. “god can’t you help?”, you exclaimed which got his attention as he propped up. “yes, yes, of course…”, he says as he begins helping you, in shame. you huffed, “yknow what”, you say as you dragged him closer to you. he frowned, knowing he’s about to be scolded. “why don’t you make yourself useful”, you say as you push him to the floor so that he’s on his knees. you quickly slide down your shorts and sit on the table. his eyes go wide in shock at your sudden instructions but he doesn’t think twice to do what you say, after all he’ll do anything for you. “m-m sorry”, he says as he kisses your thighs, eyes slightly watery. “bet u are, but you listen when i ask you to do something hm?”, you tease. “of course”, he says now lapping at your cunt making you moan. “make me cum then”, and before you know it your grasping onto the counter tightly, back arching as he licks and fingers your cunt quickly. for some reason he’s crying, cheeks slightly tinted pink, wet from his tears and your wetness, eyes locked onto yours, eyebrows furrowed, as he lets out little noises that cause vibrations making you climax. “such a good boy my jaehee hm?”, you run your fingers through his hair. “but you were you oh so bad…”, you tilt his chin up, slapping his cheek as he whined. he let out a hum, but you wanted words. you slapped his other cheek now, “what was that?”, you said frustrated. he looked so flushed out for you, desperate and willing. “i’ll do anything, i’ll help you clean next time im sorry”, he said timidly. “good, i’ll give you something to clean then, just keep going k?”, and at that he got right back to between your thighs.