#The Strange Mixtape | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

binisainz · 27 days ago

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does this feeling go both ways ? ⸻ lando norris x reader ⋮ part one .

it’s strange watching people — brilliant engineers, mechanics, designers — act like he’s a myth, something untouchable. he isn’t. or he wasn’t— that was, at least, a million lifetimes ago. you haven’t seen him in years, so you’re not really sure if you’re in any authority to say who he is and isn’t. or, the amylaurie au fic.

part one, two, three, four, epilogue. word count. 2.6k feat. non-linear storytelling, vaguely disguised little women (2019) references, childhood friends to strangers to eventual friends to lovers, stem major!reader, childhood nickname/s for reader, all lowercase as a stylization choice. author's note. happy lando win day !!!! every single fic i write will always be dedicated to kae ( @tsunodaradio ) , u all should know that . i yap for too long but know that this fic is based entirely on the shower idea of landoxreader to amylaurie . tried to not make it too on the nose when it comes to naming the older sisters but . well !! i decided to break these down into parts because after writing , like , the first few segments , i realized that . no yeah this is getting too long so . think of this as chapter one :) but also this first chapter is kinda angstyish… erm !!!!! it gets better this story has a happy ending i promise . also obviously this is through the reader’s pov, which i’ve kind of written to almost be. unreliable in some aspects? need u to know every personal thought she has has to be taken with a grain of salt ig 😭 mixtape. do i wanna know? cover by hozier , nothing new by taylor swift ft. phoebe bridgers , about you by the 1975 , be my mistake by the 1975 , the great divide by noah kahan , facebook friends by niki .

NOW, 2024.

woking, in winter, is still woking. not quite london, but close enough. still cold, the sky a permanent shade of grey. the commute to the mclaren headquarters is muscle memory now. a twenty-minute blur of trains and buses and the occasional walk. feet dragging, brain fried. there’s always a hum at the base of your skull, a dull ache behind your eyes. too many calculations, too much work, and not enough sleep. but it’s fine, fine, fine. it’s fine.

the mclaren headquarters smells like freshly printed cad blueprints and expensive coffee. the air hums with the low chatter of engineers and interns alike, the occasional clatter of a laptop keyboard, the rhythmic beep of access cards against security panels. it’s orderly, efficient, the kind of place you should feel grateful to be in, and yet—

and yet, you’re exhausted.

burnout isn’t anything new. by your third year at oxford, it had settled deep into your bones, heavy like lead. honestly, the mclaren internship was supposed to be a joke, a whim, an impulsive click on an application form. and yet, you find yourself here: with a badge and a desk and the feeling of never quite measuring up.

the whole place is buzzing today. lando norris is coming, the boys to the right of your desk whisper excitedly. site visit, car reveal, some press, a meet-and-greet promised to the interns. people fix their hair in the reflection of the glass walls, straighten their backs, murmur about what they might say to him. excitement, nerves, awe. it’s strange watching people — brilliant engineers, mechanics, designers — act like he’s a myth, something untouchable.

he isn’t. or he wasn’t — that was, at least, a million lifetimes ago.

you haven’t seen him in years, so you’re not really sure if you’re in any authority to say who he is and isn’t. you haven’t seen him in years, or in person, at least. the last time you saw him, he was seventeen, all sharp angles and wild potential, his name getting bigger and bigger by the second. the last time you saw him, he was walking out the door, your older sister josie yelling his name, something shattered in her voice.

he never looked back.

and now he’s here, standing in the middle of the workshop like he belongs (he does, he’s probably, like, half the reason why you all have your internships right now anyway), like he’s never been gone (he has). he looks older but not unfamiliar. still the same boy with the stormy eyes and the reckless grin, only now the whole world knows him.

he’s doing press, taking photos, charming the interns. you hang back, pretending to study the engine laid out in front of you. no need to push forward. you’ve had enough pictures with him for a lifetime.

( somewhere, back in your da’s house, beneath the stacks of old magazines, is a photo album with a photo of you and your sisters, lando in the middle of it all, bundled up in the warmest clothes you can find— though with a scarf, a coat, a pair of earmuffs, missing, now gracing the wonky snowman you made. )

he shouldn’t see you. shouldn’t even register you.

but then his eyes catch on something— someone — in your direction and they stop. narrow slightly. blink. and then, as if in familiar recognition, widen. and then —

“are you seriously avoiding me?”

his voice is deeper now, but the lilt is the same. you turn before you can stop yourself.

he looks the same. older, sure, but still lando. same curls, same eyes, same stupid grin that always made it hard to hate him.

you force a shrug. “why would i be avoiding you?”

he doesn’t answer, moves before thinking, barely muttering an excuse to whoever’s talking to him. there’s no hesitation in the way he crosses the space between you, no awkward pause. arms wrap around you like they’re meant to, and oh—

he’s warm.

he smells the same. something clean, something boyish, something lando. and the weight of him is enough to transport you straight back to twelve years old, hiding behind the sofa, fiddling with the same old alarm clock you’ve taken apart and reassemble a million times over, while josie and lando played fifa in the living room, heart hammering with a crush too big for your body.

you freeze for a second, not knowing what to do, and then you’re sinking into it, gripping the back of his hoodie, pressing your face against his shoulder. it’s disarming, how easy it is. how much you missed this without even realizing. people are watching. you can feel their glances, the silent questions in their eyes. why does lando norris know you? why does he care enough to hug you like this?

when he pulls back, he’s grinning, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“you’re here,” he says, like it’s obvious, like it’s good.

“i am.”

a pause, and then: “how?”

“engineering internship,” you say, the words still strange in your own mouth.

lando whistles low, impressed. “oxford, right?”

you nod, the blush finding its way to your cheeks, blossoming in soft pinks against your skin.

“damn. you really made it.”

something twists at that. a part of you wants to correct him—no, not really, barely, hanging on by a thread—but instead, a smile, wry and small. “yeah. guess so.”

the conversation meanders. somehow, the company party the next night gets brought up, a belated new year’s thing. lando hadn’t planned on going. but now—

he grins. “but now that i know you’ll be there…” he trails off, tilting his head. “might have to reconsider.”

“seriously?”

“yeah. i’ll pick you up.”

“at my flat?”

“at your flat.”

it’s dizzying, how quickly this feels like old times, like nothing’s changed, like the last time you saw him wasn’t a million lifetimes ago. it shouldn’t make the world feel lighter. but it does. you exchange numbers. you give him your address.

he turns to leave, throws a look over his shoulder. “see you, kit-kat.”

it slams into you like a freight train. the nickname, the way he says it, the way it spills out of his mouth like he’s said it a thousand times before.

because he has, and—

and, really, you do not get to truly process your thoughts at the moment, standing almost in shock as the other interns crowd you, asking you about lando, if you could get them an autograph from piastri, since you and norris seem so close, another intern says, voice laced with obviously jealousy, and—

it’s shut down immediately by your managers, thank god, but there are glances directed at you the rest of the day. you ignore them.

THEN, 2008.

you are six years old and you think you are the smartest girl in the world. or, at least, in your little circle in glastonbury, that is.

your da always says there’s a difference between book smart and knowing-how-things-work smart, and you think you might be both. you’re learning to read bigger words, and you know how to hold a spanner properly. you can tell the difference between a flathead and a phillips screwdriver, even though your eldest sister, maggie, keeps calling them “the plus one” and “the minus one.” you don’t make those kinds of mistakes. no, you are serious. you know things.

which is why you are standing beside your father now, in front of the open hood of a big, fancy car, lips pursed and brows furrowed, mimicking the same expression he has as he studies the engine.

you don’t understand everything yet, but you will.

your hands tighten around the handle of your bright red plastic toolbox, the one that says "junior engineer!" in big, bold letters, the one that's a little too big for you, but you don’t care because real mechanics have toolboxes, and you are going to be a mechanic like your da.

(or maybe something bigger. you don’t know yet. you are six. but you know you like machines, and you know you like understanding things, and that is enough.)

you do not entirely understand what he is seeing—what he is looking for—but you act like you do. that is important. that is what grown-ups do.

"fan belt looks fine," he mutters to himself, tilting his head.

you glance up at your da, and tilt yours too, nodding solemnly. "mm," you say, as if this means anything to you.

"ah, you agree, do you?" your da teases, nudging your side gently.

you beam up at him. "yes," you say. "very professional."

"right, well. let's see if we can figure it out, then."

josie is here today, even though she usually doesn’t come with you and da to work. she is ten and she is different, prefers books and stories to nuts and bolts. she has big ideas, dreams of being a writer, and da listens to her talk about it the same way he listens to you talk about machines—like both are equally important, even though one is not work.

josie is talking now, laughing with the client’s son, some boy with messy hair and an easy grin.

you don’t care. you are working.

but then, suddenly, the boy is there, in your space, grinning down at you like he knows something you don’t. "why aren’t you playing?" he asks.

you look up and see a boy with curls, cheeks flushed pink from the early autumn air, standing next to josie. he is looking at you like he does not understand you.

"i'm working," you say, simply.

josie lets out a little laugh, shaking her head. "she thinks she's da’s assistant."

you frown. "i am da’s assistant."

josie only smiles wider. she is not mean about it—never mean, just amused, like she knows something you do not, like she sees you and thinks, oh, how funny, how cute. you hate when she does that.

the boy is still looking at you. "what's in there?" he asks, pointing at your toolkit.

you hold it up proudly. "tools."

"it's almost bigger than you are," he grins.

you scowl. "it's not."

josie snickers. the boy looks like he is about to say something else, but then he pauses, tilting his head. "you really like cars?"

"yes," you say, firm. "i'm going to be a mechanic. like my dad."

he grins again, the kind of grin that makes you think he must smile a lot, like it is something he was born doing. "i'm going to be a driver."

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "you are?"

he puffs up a little. "yeah. a really good one. the best."

"hmm." you nod, as if you are thinking about it very seriously. "okay. i’ll fix your cars, then."

josie laughs. "you're making deals now?"

you shrug. "i think it's only fair. and professional."

the boy watches you for a second, then nods, like he is deciding something. "alright, you'll fix my cars." he says, like it is a promise. "kit-kat."

you frown. "what?"

he gestures at your toolkit. "kit-kat," he repeats. "because of your kit. and like the chocolate."

josie gasps, delighted. "oh! that's cute."

your frown deepens. you look at him, then at josie, then back at him. "you can’t just give me a nickname."

"why not?"

"because you don't even know me."

he shrugs, unbothered. "i do now."

you narrow your eyes at him, then look back at your da, who has been watching this exchange with quiet amusement. he winks at you before returning his focus to the car, but you do not miss the small smile on his face.

you huff. it's fine, fine, fine. fine.

but you will not answer to it. no matter how many times he says it.

(you absolutely will.)

NOW, 2024.

you should have never trusted him.

you wait in your flat for an hour, watching the second hand of the clock drag itself forward, waiting for a knock that doesn’t come.

stupid, stupid, stupid. stupid to think lando norris, fucking golden boy supreme, would show up at your shoddy company housing flat like he promised. you should have known better. it was stupid to think that the warmth in his voice yesterday meant anything real. that he still saw you as someone worth making time for, someone he wouldn’t leave waiting.

well. whatever. you got all dressed up, so you might as well go.

the party is in full swing when you arrive. glittering lights, flowing champagne, the hum of conversation and laughter under the bass-heavy music. you slip in without much fanfare, blending into the crowd, doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach, the reminder of what an idiot you were for believing, even for a second, that things might be different.

and then—

he shows up late, cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes bright and reckless. he spots you across the room and grins, that same boyish, all too-charming grin, only now it’s edged with something sharper, something careless.

he stumbles up to you, to your unsmiling expression, eyes narrowed at the sight of him, and says, “when did you become such a stick in the mud?”

your jaw clenches. you grab his wrist and pull him aside, out of the crowd, into a quieter corner.

“you’re drunk,” you say, like it’s an accusation.

“a bit,” he admits, unbothered.

“you were supposed to pick me up.”

he blinks. slow, unfazed. “oh, yeah.” then, with a laugh, “did you really wait?”

heat rises to your cheeks, a mix of humiliation and anger. he doesn’t even look sorry.

he leans against the wall, tilting his head at you, eyes still glinting with amusement. “do you think i’m selfish?”

you let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “yes. very selfish. with your money, your talent, your—”

“beauty?” he cuts in, smug.

“—oh, you'd like that, don't you? you and your vanity.” you bite out, rolling your eyes. “with all these good things to enjoy, you can find nothing better to do but dawdle.”

his smirk falters, just a little. “dawdle?” he echoes.

“yes. dawdle. waste time. self-destruct, maybe.”

his gaze flickers over you, assessing. then, lightly, “you sound like josie.”

your stomach tightens. your older sister. of course.

josie, who is everything you are not. brilliant, driven, certain of herself in ways you can’t even begin to be. josie, who never burned out, never wasted potential, never let the world make her small. josie, who walked away from him.

you swallow. “she’s doing well,” you say, because it’s true. “better than me, at least.”

lando exhales, looking away. the air between you shifts, something unspoken settling into the space. you both know why he hasn’t been around. why he left. why he never came back.

you don’t say it outright. you don’t have to.

instead, you say, “i feel sorry for you, i really do. i just wish you’d bear it better.”

his mouth twitches, but there’s no humor in it. “you don’t have to feel sorry for me, kit-kat.” then, quieter, “you’ll feel the same way one day.”

your throat tightens. “no,” you say, and there’s something significant in the way you say it. “i’d be respected if i couldn’t be loved.”

he scoffs. shakes his head. “you really think that?”

you lift your chin, refusing to waver. lando watches you for a moment, then exhales, tipping his head back against the wall.

“you’re brilliant, aren’t you?” he says, almost absentmindedly. “oxford. mclaren engineering internship. what else have you done on your way to that fancy degree?”

something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist. you laugh, but it’s not a nice sound. “this is embarrassing, lando. are you not embarrassed?”

he smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. you don’t wait for a response. you turn on your heel and leave the party, a mess of emotions curling in your chest—humiliation, anger, something else you don’t want to name.

lando doesn’t follow.

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vivwritescrappythings · 1 year ago

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late night visits

eddie munson x harrington!virgin!f!reader

Eddie catches you dropping Max off and invites you over, he teaches you how to smoke weed and smut ensues.

an: Second fanfic is smut? Not proofread because this is an adapted excerpt from a much longer fanfic that I've been writing for a long time.

tw: smut, marijuana use, dubcon? (they are both high so take that as you will), p in v sex, fingering, loss of virginity, afab reader, she/her pronouns.

word count: 6.8k

masterlist

MDNI!

You turned your car into the trailer park, Kate Bush blasting in the car as you took Max Mayfield home. Your older brother, Steve, had asked you to give her a ride after his band of high school freshmen had come over for a movie night, Max was singing along, closing her eyes as she drummed her hands on her thighs. You could feel yourself smiling as you looked at her out of the corner of your eye. She was vibrant, glowing under every streetlamp you passed.

The lights in her trailer were still on when you parked out front, grabbing the mixtape out of the stereo. Max was already out of the car and snatching her bag out of the backseat by the time you got out, leaning on the driver side door as you waited for her. You made it a rule to always watch anyone you dropped off go inside, especially after what happened with Will.

“Max?” Sue called, leaning out the front door. You couldn’t quite make out her face, but the tension in her tone was obvious.

“Hey Mrs. Mayfield!” you yelled back, waving. Her sigh of relief was loud enough to be heard down the street. She went back inside without saying anything else, leaving the front door open for Max to follow. The lights from the TV lit her up as she settled back into the couch, crossing her ankles as she grabbed her beer off the side table.

“Don’t forget this.” You tossed the mixtape to Max as she passed. She called back a thanks and a quick goodnight as she ran up to her front door, slamming it behind her. You huffed, letting your head roll back and rest on the roof of the car as you looked at the stars.

Life had felt off lately, your parents were still gone a majority of the time and you were a senior in high school. You’d been getting nightmares, strange dreams of your parents screaming at you that you were a disappointment in comparison to Steve and how they were ashamed you were their daughter. Their mouths would end up sewn shut, blood dripping down their chins. You hadn’t slept right in weeks.

“What are you doing aaaaall the way out here, prom queen?” The way Eddie Munson stretched his vowels was unmistakable. You looked over your shoulder at the trailer across the way, seeing him toss a bag in the trash can out front by the curb. If you didn’t recognize him instantly, the beat-up van out front was a dead give-away.

There was something about Eddie that ignited a flare of excitement in your spine, it was a thrill that he was even talking to you. You’d had classes together, seen him in the halls, but never really acknowledged one another more than a simple nod of greeting.

“Just dropping off a friend,” you called back, spinning the rest of the way around to get a better look at him. You pressed your stomach against the driver side window as you crossed your arms on the roof. The metal was warm as you rested your chin on your forearms. He was backlit by the floodlight, his frizzy hair glowing gold.

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “You feelin’ okay to drive?” he yelled, you felt yourself stiffen. There was a rumor flying around the high school that you were showing up drunk. It turns out that you were just exhausted beyond belief. You looked back at Max’s trailer to see if there was any movement inside. “Just with your new habits and all.”

You’d been going through a confrontational streak lately. You marched around the car and right up to him, your fists balled at your sides. Eddie was grinning like an idiot as he watched you approach, crossing his arms over his chest like it was a challenge. You’d never seen him look so casual before, wearing only a black tank top and tattered plaid pajama pants. Usually he was decked to the nines, trying to look like a member of Motley Crue on their day off.

“Will you shut up!” you seethed, watching his eyes sparkle as you came to a halt in front of him. He opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath, raising his head to the sky like he was getting ready to shout. Oh my god he’s just fucking with you now. You pressed your hand across his mouth, whatever he was trying to say muffled by your palm. You couldn’t help the smile that was spreading across your face as you looked back over your shoulder at Max’s. “Seriously, Sue knows my mom! And I wasn’t even drinking!”

He made a noise to get your attention, your hand still smacked across the bottom part of his face as you felt him smile. Then you felt his warm, wet tongue lick a stripe across your palm. Your face twisted into a grimace as you pulled your hand away, wiping the spit on your sweater as a smile twitched the edges of your mouth.

“Alright, alright. Just didn’t expect to see you on this side of the tracks.” You cocked your head, what did he mean? He gasped dramatically, raising a hand to fan his face as he batted his lashes. “Oh Mr. Munson, I could never be caught dead in a trailer park. What would my loyal subjects at Hawkins High say?” His voice was high pitched and aloof, mocking you.

You laughed, a flush heating your cheeks as you were caught off guard. “Shut up! I don’t sound like that.” He dropped the act, smiling as he looked you up and down.

“What are you doing the rest of tonight?” he asked, scratching his cheek with his pointer finger. Your eyes narrowed slightly, was he trying to make a move? “Hey, not trying to steal your virtue or anything,” Eddie laughed, looking sheepishly down at his bare feet, “just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out or something.”

You appraised him for one more moment, nodding solidly. “Sure, but we are keeping it platonic with a capital P, Munson.” The smile that bloomed on his face could have lit up the whole block as he nodded enthusiastically. He crossed his fingers over his heart with a flourish as he turned to lead you inside the quaint trailer.

The aroma of cologne and weed hit you first as you walked up the porch, Eddie opening the door wider. You stepped inside carefully, looking around as you toed your shoes off in the corner. It was cozy inside, maybe a little cluttered and messy. The carpet in the living room was squishing under my socks. The black loveseat and mismatched recliner took up most of the space, minimal furniture along the walls otherwise. There was a small kitchen off to the side and some stools at a breakfast bar.

“Yeah, it’s no White House.” Eddie shut the door and locked it. Was he… self conscious? “It’s nice,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him. His eyebrows shot up in a ‘whatever you say’ vibe as he shrugged and walked inside. “Is this your place?”

He was shutting the door at the end of the hall, his bedroom? “No, my uncle lives here with me–works nights at the plant. Makes the big bucks.”

Eddie sat in the recliner with a groan, stretching his legs out under the coffee table. He gestured to the loveseat next to him with a ringed hand, a clear sign to join him. Of course he’d wear all his jewelry in his pajamas. You sat down, crossing your legs beneath you as you sank into the well-loved couch. “What are we watching?” you asked, resting your cheek on the rough fabric.

He held out a stack of movies: “I just got these from Family Video.” You pressed your lips together, taking them out of his hands.

You shuffled through, mostly horror titles. “Wow, no Grease?” You giggled at his expression before continuing through the selection. “What about Return of the Jedi?” You were way too skittish to watch horror movies anymore, you already couldn’t sleep as it was–you didn’t need anything to help with that.

You pushed the movie in his hands before he had time to protest, placing the rest on the coffee table. “Really, Return of the Jedi?” Eddie asked, getting up from his seat to put the movie in the VHS player.

You nodded matter-of-factly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re the one who rented it,” you argued, watching the commercials begin to play on the TV. A blue light cast over the living room as he sat back down. The lamp next to you clicked as he switched it off with a twist of his fingers.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d have to call you a geek, prom queen.” His voice strained as he reached over the far side of the recliner for something. He produced a bong with a flourish, the glass glimmering in the low light. The slightly murky water sloshed around inside as he set it on the end table between you, pulling the bowl out. You tried not to stare, you’d only ever seen bongs in passing at parties.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he dumped the contents into an ashtray on the end table, scraping the inside of it clean with a pocket knife. He produced a metal cylinder out of what seemed like nowhere, pulling the top half of it off carefully. His movements were delicate and methodical, clearly he’d done this a thousand times.

“You want some?” he asked as he put the bowl back in it, holding the glass piece out to you by its neck. He held a zippo lighter in the other hand. You watched him spin the square of metal between his forefinger and thumb, thinking of an answer.

The truth was better than anything else. “Oh, uh, I’ve never smoked before,” you muttered, glancing down at your hands. Your nail polish was horrendously chipped, a nervous habit you’d picked up over the summer.

“Well if you want to try, on the house.” His voice was gentle as he held it out to you again. An offering. You shifted slightly to face him, your gaze bouncing between the bong and his soft brown eyes.

Hesitantly, you took it from his hand. Your fingers bumped his as you grabbed the neck of it, the glass cool to the touch. Your other hand had to support the base—it was heavier than you expected. “I uh, I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, a nervous grin pulling at your lips.

“Don’t worry it’s easy, I’ll help you,” he murmured, getting up to sit on the coffee table in front of you. His knees bracketed yours, the soft fabric of his pajama pants rubbing against your jeans. The minty smell of his shampoo was thick in your nose. “Alright, so, put your mouth on the top. You should feel the rim of the mouthpiece on the outside of your lips.” He watched you do it, your hand still holding the neck. You already felt self conscious.

“Okay good, now I’ll help you with the rest. Pretty girls should never light their own bowls—got it?” You fought the urge to protest, just rolling your eyes instead.

“So just do what I tell you.” You gave him a brief nod, barely lifting your head. He was grinning mischievously. You looked at him through your lashes as he flicked the lighter on, putting the flame to the bowl. “Okay suck in.” God, you must be as red as a tomato by now.

His other hand came up to hold the bottom of the bong, his calloused fingers overlapping yours. You resisted shying away from his touch. His hands were warm as he lifted it a little, letting you straighten your spine. You could hear the water bubbling as the bong filled with a thick white smoke. It was a few seconds before he plucked the smoldering bowl out, letting you suck the contents into your lungs.

You sat up abruptly, tears in your eyes as you fought to keep the smoke in. The bong was thrust back to him clumsily in your haste to get away from it. You managed to last a few seconds before you coughed it out, blowing smoke over his living room. “Jesus Christ,” you grunted between coughs. It felt like your chest was on fire. Eddie was chuckling, going to the kitchen. You could hear the sink running before a mason jar full of water was set on the coffee table.

“That was pretty good for your first time.” He repeated the same motions with himself, exhaling the smoke slowly as he settled back into the recliner. You couldn’t stop coughing, your throat feeling like you tried to swallow steel wool. “You’ll cough less the more you get used to it, everyone coughs their first time,” he said encouragingly, motioning for you to drink water.

You finally were able to breathe again, taking deep gulps of air. You wiped the last of the tears out of the corners of your eyes on the back of your hand. Thankfully you hadn’t bothered to put on makeup tonight.

“Now’s time for the fun to begin,” he whispered, grinning as he rubbed his hands together. You watched the tattoos on his arms flex as the muscle under them moved–slightly surprised by how many he had.

“When am I supposed to feel it?” you asked, the beginning credits of the movie starting. You watched the yellow text fly across the screen, your fingers nervously twisting a loose thread of your sweater.

“Oh, you’ll know when you feel it.” You nodded, tucking your feet back under your thighs as you leaned against the arm of the loveseat.

It must have been a mere ten minutes later when you realized your face was buzzing and your head was full of air. Your eyes moved slower than you thought they would, taking snapshots of the room before settling back on the screen. At some point you’d slid off the couch and onto the floor, contorting yourself in the small space between it and the coffee table.

“How you feelin’, prom queen?” Eddie was still in the recliner, leaning back but not fully stretched out yet. His pajama pants looked soft, you fought the urge to touch the fabric.

You laughed—like, really laughed rather than your practiced soft giggle—your head rolling back so you could look at him. He was grinning broadly, watching you with his arms stretched over the back of the chair. “M’feeling pretty good,” you said, trying to stifle your giggles. What was so funny?

Eddie giggled along with you, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, you’re definitely feeling it.” He looked goofy upside down. His hair was curling in all directions as he shook it back out, turning his attention to the movie. You lifted your head, feeling like you were fighting the full weight of earth’s gravity to look at the TV again.

It felt like you had blinders on, your peripheral vision swirling dizzily. You barely moved as Eddie got up from the recliner to disappear somewhere. Your breath was shallow, you could feel every fiber of the carpet rubbing against your socks. The sweater you wore was warm, practically making you melt into the shape of the furniture. Your limbs were heavy, everytime you moved it was like fighting molasses. Was this how being stoned always was?

The smell of food brought you back to the present as Eddie settled back down, a big plate in his hands. You watched him pick up a piece of food and put it in his mouth, immediately hissing as he burned his tongue. “Shit are those pizza rolls?” Your stomach rumbled, were you always this hungry?

He laughed, “If you want some, you gotta come sit up here with me, pretty girl.” You scrambled, feeling progressively more uncoordinated as you pulled yourself to a standing position. Your joints cracked as you stretched, feeling a little dizzy as the blood rushed to your head. You slumped into the couch, leaning far over the arm of it and the end table as you reached for one. “They’re hot,” he warned, sounding like a babysitter.

You rolled your eyes, biting the corner off it carefully and letting the steam billow out. “You’re a freak, no one eats pizza rolls like that,” Eddie said, but his smile gave him away. You watched the steam swirl in your breath, disappearing quickly.

You stuck yourr tongue out, eating the pizza roll in one mouthful after it cooled. You chewed thoroughly, swallowing with a gulp of water. “At least I didn’t burn my tongue.” Not to mention, it was the most delicious thing you’d ever tasted.

The pizza rolls were long gone and the movie had ended a while ago. The Twilight Zone played on the TV, but neither of you were paying attention. “So like, am I a stoner now?” you asked, laughing quietly. The question even sounded stupid when it tumbled out of your mouth.

“I’d say you are a hopeless drug-addict,” he joked. He had taken another hit only moments before, letting you have the remnants. It reinvigorated the goofy haze. Your head was buzzing again and you just let thoughts tumble out of your mouth.

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You wish, Munson.” You were smiling as you ran your hands through your hair, tossing it against the part. You were sure it was sticking up in a million places, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Eddie’s umber colored eyes darted to look at you, dragging up you in a way that set you on fire. You felt yourself squirm under his heavy gaze, your lips parting a bit. “Thanks for asking me to hang out,” you blurted. You cracked your knuckles as you shifted around, trying to find a new comfortable position.

The seam of your jeans kept pressing in all the right places, making you wiggle your hips in an attempt to get it to stop. You’d never felt this sensitive before, but now every sensation seemed to send a tingle up your spine and heat in your belly. A flush covered your cheeks, your gaze tracking back to the television.

“You okay? You seem awfully… squirmy there, prom queen,” Eddie murmured, his gaze still focused on you. His eyes were softened at the edges with concern, the whites of them bloodshot.

“Yeah, um, just trying to get comfortable,” you said, stilling into a position despite your heart pounding in your chest. A rumor had been flying around Hawkins High that Eddie was… well endowed. All of a sudden you were curious to see if it was true. “S’just getting to my head, I guess.”

One of his eyebrows lifted enough to disappear under his bangs. Eddie stood from the recliner, moving to sit next to you on the small couch. His arm looped behind you, bat tattoos printed into the pale skin as he stooped to make eye contact. “You alright? Don’t want you getting overwhelmed, prom queen. Some people get anxious when they’re stoned.”

You couldn’t help the overwhelming heat that consumed your whole face and neck. “I-I’m not anxious, I promise,” you mumbled, your tongue darting out to wet your lower lip on its own volition. Eddie was sitting close to you, his knee pressing into your thigh. You could smell mint, tobacco, and weed on him, the combination making your stomach flip.

“You sure? I really can’t let Harrington’s little sister have a heart attack on my couch,” he murmured, moving a little closer. You giggled half-heartedly, glancing at the television for a moment to give yourself a second to not think about the way Eddie is crowding you against the arm of the couch.

“M’sure,” you said, your voice soft and a bit airy. You didn’t look back at Eddie, your face still hot. You pressed your thighs together a bit, the friction helping relieve some of the pressure building between your legs.

Eddie’s calloused thumb hooked under your chin, directing your gaze back to him. He had a gentle smile on his face, leaning forward toward you. “What’s going on in your brain, pretty girl?” he asked, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. Your breath was shallow in your throat, your chest tightening as you looked at the metalhead in front of you.

“I dunno,” you said, his fingers pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger keeping your head in place. His eyes flickered between your lips and eye contact with you. It made your mind short-circuit, clumsily trying to work toward an answer for his question that wasn’t the honest answer. “Does, uh, weed ever make you feel… weird?” you asked, wanting to smack yourself as the words left your lips.

“Weird how?” Eddie asked, his fingers finally left your chin. His large hand curled around your shoulder, squeezing lightly. Every touch kept sidetracking you–you’d done some things with guys before. Kissing and making out and touching weren’t new to you, but you hadn’t really ever gone farther than that. You never wanted to–but you did now.

You didn’t stop to think about it, not even considering whether or not you should ask Eddie if he was okay with it before you leaned forward and twisted your head up to capture his lips in a kiss as you shut your eyes. You could feel him smile against your mouth, the hand curled around your shoulder continuing on its path to press between your shoulder blades. Eddie leaned forward, the small of your back hitting the armrest of the love seat.

It went from hesitant and tentative to needy, your lips slotting together and noses mashing against one another as you both got more into the kiss. Eddie’s other hand found the back of your neck, his fingers slotting into your hair as he tilted your head just the way he wanted it. His lips parted, his tongue slicking along your bottom lip before you let it lick into your mouth.

You only parted when your lungs were on fire, your mouths separating with a soft click and a gossamer string of saliva illuminated by the warm light of the lamp behind you. Your eyes fluttered open, already finding Eddie looking down at you as he smoothed a hand down your back and around your waist. Chests heaving and foreheads bumping together, you both smiled and giggled sheepishly,

“Weird like that,” you whispered, a tinge of a joke in your tone. Your body was twisted, both of your feet on the carpet as you twisted at the waist to face Eddie. His knees were pointed toward you, one leg bent beneath him as his other pressed into the floor to get leverage.

He smiled, his hand dipping to run his fingertips along the hem of your sweater. “Good weird, then,” Eddie mumbled, stamping his lips over yours with an urgency you didn’t expect. You twisted your body in a comfortable position, slotting your legs around his slim waist as you returned his fervent kisses.

His hand slipped beneath your sweater, ghosting along the soft skin on your belly. The sensation of Eddie’s fingers on your skin made your breath hitch. You could feel the clench in your lower abdomen, need burrowing deep within you as his hand continued to travel upward. He cupped over the fabric of your bra, his thumb pressing the swell of your breast just along the edge of it.

“Eddie,” you whimpered against his mouth, the press of his index finger through the thin padding of your bra to tease your stiffened nipple making you keen. He smirked, repeating the motion by circling the hardened nub with the pad of his index finger over the slippery polyester. Your breath stuttered in your throat, desperation clouding along the edges of your eyes as he tilts you even further over the arm of the couch.

“Feelin’ okay, princess?” he asked, rubbing turning into heavy petting as he pinched your nipple between his index and middle fingers. Your brows were pinched together, your back arching as you chased the sensation. You nodded, eyelids partially obscuring your gaze as you met Eddie’s.

His hand slipped beneath the underwire band of your bra, his knuckles pressing against the squishy cup of it as he finally felt your bare breast. Your eyelids fluttered as you softly moaned his name beneath him. Your sweater was bunched up on Eddie’s forearm, the backs of your thighs pressing against the top of his as he bent to lave his tongue over your throat.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you sighed, tilting your head to expose more of your throat to him. Each swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent a jolt of sensation to your clit. You could feel yourself get more turned on with every touch, your hands winding around his exposed biceps to keep him close.

He sat back on his heels, pulling your sweater over your head to expose your plain, black bra. A dopey smile came over his face as his gaze focused on your breasts like a kid opening presents on Christmas morning. You took initiative, your arms twisting behind you to unlatch your bra at your spine and shed it onto the living room floor.

“When is your uncle supposed to get back?” you asked, that bit of information springing forward in your mind as something that could be important. Eddie was too distracted, his ringed hands finding your breasts and squeezing the soft flesh beneath the stretch of his fingers. “Eddie,” you said, your voice somewhere between scolding him and moaning.

“Not ‘till morning, princess. We’re okay,” he mumbled, his tone airy as he licked his lower lip. You gasped as he teased both of your nipples, your spine arching toward the sensation as he massaged your chest. Your hips jolted, the seam of your jeans pressing against your clit and practically punching the air from your lungs.

A smirk found its way to Eddie’s face, his brown eyes darkening as he left one of your breasts unattended to unbutton your jeans with swift fingers. He let out a soft groan when he saw your baby pink underwear as he tugged the zipper down, his fingers gently pulling at the little white bow along the waistband. He bit his lower lip, his brows pinching together as he looked at you beneath him.

“This okay, princess?” he finally asked, his voice deep and raspy as he spoke.

“Yeah, more than okay.” You desperately wanted him to continue, already so soaked that you could feel the gusset of your panties sticking.

Eddie dipped his fingers below the waistband of your panties, leaning forward so he didn’t have to twist his arm that much. It still looked like he was halfway dislocating his shoulder as he did it, but he didn’t seem to mind. His eyelids fluttered over his soft, chocolate-brown irises as the pads of his fingers finally dipped into the wet heat of your soaked cunt.

“You always this wet?” he asked, his voice ragged as his forearm pressed against the arm of the couch to keep himself aloft. His fingers sought out your clit immediately, rubbing slow circles around it that made you see stars.

You blushed, embarrassment curling around your ribs. “No, not really,” you said, sheepish at how flustered Eddie had gotten you. He just smirked, watching your face as he experimented with pressures and speeds. Finally, he must have gotten a reaction he liked, one of your wines eliciting a wicked smile from him as he repeated the motion.

“C’mon, let’s get these off,” Eddie said, pulling away from you. You whined at the sudden lack of contact, your brows furrowing in frustration as he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and panties and started to pull both off of you. You lifted your hips and then curled your legs toward your stomach so he could discard your clothes carelessly.

You moaned loudly as his fingers messily traced up the seam of your cunt, finally able to touch you properly as your legs settled on either side of him. You could feel him smearing the sticky, clear wetness that has practically been pouring out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit with agonizingly soft pressure.

Eddie was good with his hands, unsurprising for someone who was well-practiced in guitar. You’d seen him play once in the guitar class you both had signed up for as an elective, watched the way his fingers expertly moved over the strings while you fumbled pathetically.

You weren’t really aware of Eddie slipping his heavy rings off, putting them on the coffee table with soft thumps. Even knowing how good he is with his hands, nothing prepared you for the way your mind turned upside down when he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you.

“Oh,” you exhaled, his thumb still steadily rubbing over the swollen bump of your clit. You were so wound up, arousal forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. Your back curved to desperately grind your hips against his hand, any embarrassment forgotten as your eyes practically roll back in your head. Eddie’s fingers pressed into the squishy spot on the front wall of your pussy, his gaze focused on the way his fingers plunged inside of you.

“Doing great, princess,” he hummed as you grabbed at him to ground yourself. Your fingers twisted into the strap of his black tank top, stretching the fabric in your pleasure-filled haze. It was impossible to keep still, your hips humping against the movement of his hand as you tossed your head back against the cushioned armrest of the couch.

“Eddie…” you panted, starting to feel that familiar bliss of a climax coming. He’d gotten you there embarrassingly fast, your legs trembling around him as your chest heaves with each breath. He smiled, shushing you gently as his free hand caressed your cheek on its way to clasp around the back of your neck. The squelching noises filling the living room were ungodly, almost drowning out the sounds of the television altogether.

Eddie let out a soft chuckle. “It’s okay, just let it happen,” he said, his tone soft despite the undeniable rasp in his voice. It was like permission was all you needed to make the coil in your stomach snap with the harshness of a rubber band stretched too tight. You let out a soft sob as your cunt pulsed around his fingers, sucking at them greedily. You’d never cum so hard before in your life, your ears ringing as you squeezed your eyes shut. You were vaguely aware of the way you were chanting Eddie’s name like a broken record, your nails digging into his arm with no mercy.

Eddie slowed his fingers down, still working you through your orgasm until you were limp against the couch. You came back to reality with a sob, the sound thick and wet as overwhelmed tears form at the edges of your eyes. You felt weak as his fingers finally slow to a stop, your focus narrowing to just Eddie.

“That was so pretty,” he murmured, pulling his fingers from inside you. They were shiny, strings of your cum shining in the low light as he spread them. Eddie sucked them into his mouth with a grin, his eyes rolling back before he curled himself back over you to pull you into a needy kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the tang of your own pussy distinct as Eddie smeared his wet fingers on your ribcage. His hard cock pressed against the back of your thigh, warm and pulsing through his pajama pants and boxers as he rutted it against your soft flesh.

“Wanna fuck you, princess,” Eddie said between kisses, almost sounding drunk with the way his voice dropped into a low rumble. He kissed the corner of your mouth before his lips fluttered up your soft jawline. He paused to suckle behind your ear, his plush lips making you whine pathetically again.

You realized you wanted to have sex with him. The way he said it made you clench around nothing, desperation rising in you again. “Eddie, I’m a virgin,” you mumbled, embarrassed and worried about his response.

He pulled back to look you in the eyes, seriousness and lust mixing in his expression as he looked down at you. His hips slowed, still pressing his erection against your thigh and slowly rocking. He bit his lip, one hand smoothing some hair off your face. “What do you want to do? Don’t want you to feel like you gotta do anything.”

The pressure lifted from your chest, the worry dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. “I want to,” you said, lifting your head to kiss him quickly. For some reason you felt comfortable with Eddie, that panic that you have had before with previous guys nonexistent.

His eyes widened as though he didn’t expect that response, a grin stretching across his face and making his eyes wrinkle at the corners. “Okay,” he breathed, unable to keep the excitement out of his tone. He lifted himself off of you in a stiff motion, palming at the front of his pants as he looked down at you. “You just stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind him to hide it from your view. When he came back he had a silver foil in his hand, the other one pulling off his tank top and dropping it to the floor.

“Seems like you’re hiding something in your room,” you said, a soft joke to ease the tension as Eddie settled himself between your legs again. He was ripping the condom wrapper open when he cracked a smile, his gaze flicking back up to yours.

“I didn’t know such a beautiful girl would be over or I would’ve cleaned my room,” he said in explanation. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, discarding the wrapper on the table.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, biting your lower lip as you nodded.

Eddie accepted your confirmation, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you looked at his cock, not sure if it was big or average sized–but there was no way it could be considered small. The tip was red and engorged as his dick curved up and slightly to the left from a thatch of curly brown hair. There were prominent veins on the underside of it, the ridges visible in the skin as he took himself in his fist to roll the condom on.

“Lay down,” he said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, making you gasp. Even through the condom it was hot to the touch. Eddie’s eyes were dark as he looked at you, still rubbing his cock along your cunt. “If you want to stop, you just tell me, princess. Okay?”

You exhaled as the head of his cock caught at your entrance, making your pussy clench needily. “Uh huh, I’ll tell you, Eddie,” you agreed frantically.

The press of the crown of his cock into your dripping cunt coaxed a gasp out of you. It was a burning stretch despite how slow he was going, your hips wiggling to find a comfortable position. It didn’t hurt, but it was different, the sensation of fullness making you let out little huffs of air as he pushed into you. He kissed any part of you his mouth could reach, peppering his lips over your face and neck as he slotted himself inside you.

Eddie caged you to the couch, his hand stroking your hair and your neck and your waist. He just kept going and going, your back arching and your pussy fluttering around him as you adjusted to the new sensation. Your huffs turned into whines, your head spinning as you started to feel overwhelmed.

“Shh,” Eddie hummed into your ear, an attempt to soothe you. “Relax, you’re doing so good for me, princess. Deep breath.”

The breath you took in at his instruction was rough and ragged, rattling in your lungs. He snorted a soft chuckle in response.

He drove the rest of his cock into you in one smooth motion, punching all the air from your body with a soft yelp. Your hands found his shoulders, holding onto him has you hooked your legs around his waist. You felt full and vulnerable beneath him, your walls stretched tight around him as the two of you breathed together for a moment.

Eddie decided you were adjusted enough, pulling out and thrusting back in. Your hips lurched with nowhere to go, a quiet ah pulling itself from your throat.

He leaned forward to press his lips to yours as he slid rhythmically in and out of you, making you mewl pathetically against his mouth. Eddie was relentless, fucking you smoothly as he mashed his lips against yours. You could hardly think straight, clinging to him as he pressed you into the cushions of the couch.

The wet, squelching noises of your pussy were loud, your tight walls sucking at Eddie’s cock greedily each time he pulled back from you. His fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, keeping you where he wanted you as you took every inch of him inside of you. His teeth nipped softly at your jaw, making your head spin as you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to brainlessness.

“You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, you know that, princess?” Eddie groaned into your ear, his pace picking up. “She’s so fucking hot and tight around me, poor thing just needed my cock so bad.”

His voice makes you moan, the way he’s talking to you makes delight bubble in your chest. You got lost in the feeling of the head of his cock rubbing against the spongy spot on the inside of your pussy. Your brow was furrowed, lips pouting as it started to feel like you’d snap again.

Eddie lifted himself off of you, his gaze fixed on where his cock kept sinking into you over and over again. His hand smoothed over the hinge where your thigh met your hip, his thumb stretching out to swipe over your swollen clit. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as you clenched around him like a vise, a punched-out groan rumbling from his chest as his free hand dug into your waist to keep leverage.

You were trembling beneath him, your skin started to feel like it was stretched too tight over your body. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, his pace grinding a second orgasm out of you like it was his job.

You were almost delirious from being stuffed full of his cock, your legs trembling around him as your back arched off the cushions of the couch. Eddie kept his pace, his own resolve starting to crumble as his thrusts got increasingly sloppy. His hands both found your waist, his thrusts becoming quick and shallow as his long, curly hair fell in his face. His eyes fluttered shut as soft grunts and whimpers pulled from his throat.

Watching Eddie cum made your heart twist, the way he stopped thrusting to grind into you as he crumpled down to press his chest to yours is almost tender. Your legs wrapped around his waist, everywhere that your skin was pressed together was sticky with sweat. Eddie spilled into the condom, part of you wishing he hadn’t worn it at all so you could get the full sensation. The sound he made was breathless and sultry, his mouth open and head tucking into the curve of your neck as he kept his hips tightly pressed to yours.

Your eyes slipped closed, your hands curling into the damp curls at the nape of his neck as you both caught your breath. You pressed kisses to the shell of Eddie’s ear, a bit delighted that the night had turned out this way. The muscles of your thighs were starting to burn from being bent in an unfamiliar angle, but you weren’t about to protest.

After a few moments Eddie pulled out of you with a hiss, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead. There was a look of affection in his eyes as he regarded you with a goofy smile that matched your own. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked up at him.

“I think you should start coming over more often.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x virgin!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x reader smut #Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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sayoneee · 1 year ago

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☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual.

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song.

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night.

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you.

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin.

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin.

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge.

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness.

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship.

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange.

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things.

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you.

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red.

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

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waynes-multiverse · 2 months ago

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Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

(Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition)

Prompt: How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader // Soldier Boy x reader // Beau Arlen x reader // Russell Shaw x reader

Warnings: +18 for some language and spice, tons of fluff, a smidge of angst

A/N: Something sweet to sweep you off your feet for the most romantic day of the year 😉 Happy early Valentine's from me, my loves 💖 (And big thanks to the lovely, amazing @zepskies 💜 for starting this trend in the first place. It's addicting 😂🫶)

Dean:

Dean isn’t big on Valentine’s Day and romance. Not because he thinks it’s an unnecessary holiday invented by greeting card companies, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to be romantic.

You’re aware of this and don’t care if he surprises you with a big gesture. Because truth is, Dean’s romantic when it comes to the little things.

You don’t care if he brings you flowers because he brings you your favorite take-out order when you so much as mention that you’re hungry.

You don’t care if he gets you a card because he gets up in the middle of the night and saunters all the way to kitchen to bring you a glass of water when you tell him you’re thirsty.

You don’t care if he gets you chocolate because he creates personal mixtapes for you with songs you said you liked during random drives.

He listens to you. He holds open doors for you. He protects you. He keeps you calm. He takes care of you when you’re injured. And he loves you with every fiber of his being.

So, really, you don’t care if he makes a big deal out of one random calendar day a year or not. It doesn’t prove his love for you – the little things do.

However, you’re still sweetly surprised (and moved to tears) when you find the Dean Cave dipped in the warm glow of fairy lights and candles.

He’s picked out your favorite chick-flick and your favorite snacks.

He opens his arms with a big, cheeky grin and invites you into his snuggly embrace on the couch.

There’s a box of chocolates on the coffee table, a few of them half eaten, and a note that reads: I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is. Be mine?

You smile and kiss his scruffy cheek. “Always.”

Flustered, he smiles, cheeks tinged pink, and kisses your crown. “Happy unattached-drifter-Christmas, sweetheart.”

Soldier Boy:

To say Ben’s old-school when it comes to romance would be an understatement. While the rest of the year his bedside manners leave much to desire, he strangely shines on Valentine’s.

Mostly, because he knows sex is a given on this holiest of holy days. No sickness or period can stop him.

If you accidentally died, you’re even sure he’d pull a full Weekend at Bernie’s and have a night out with your corpse.

First, he surprises you with a delicately wrapped gift on your bed: a tight-fitting, beautiful emerald evening gown and the matching lacy lingerie set.

Of course he got you underwear, even though he won’t mind if you don’t wear anything at all under that dress.

He then takes you out to the fanciest restaurant in the city, where he reserved a private room away from all the other commoners.

His attention is only on you.

He praises you all night long and gives compliments as if he's never done anything else his entire (long) life.

He orders the most expensive bottle of wine and the best steak and makes sure you know that it is.

He encourages you to play footsie under the table with him before he slips the heel off your foot, and your toes massage the growing bulge in his slacks.

He holds your hand in public and protectively guides you goddamn everywhere with a palm on the small of your back, showing you off like arm candy – the trophy wife.

Sure, you could protest and critique his… traditional views.

You’re not a fucking award he’s won for bad acting!

But your cheeks flush furiously every single time he brags boisterously about you to anyone who will listen. And those who don’t listen are forced to listen.

But you can’t deny it feels good to be so wanted, so desired.

When you come home at the end of the night (with a fucking horse-drawn carriage no less), Ben can barely keep his large hands from roaming your curves. You know he expects his reward now for being the best possible lover ever.

On the kitchen island, you also find a huge bouquet of red roses waiting for you. You can barely appreciate its beauty before the zipper in the back of your dress slides open. Well… rips open.

Between the thorny stems, there’s a card attached, too. It doesn’t read “Be Mine,” however.

Nope, it says, “You are mine.”

And you know he fucking means it.

Beau Arlen:

Your favorite cowboy sheriff will pull out all the stops as soon as the calendar on his desk reads February.

He doesn’t wait for D-Day either. Every day for thirteen days straight, there’s a little surprise waiting for you when you get home.

Your favorite flowers, your favorite meal, your favorite movie, a framed picture of you and him from your first vacation together, a necklace you saw in an antique store you mentioned in passing…

Some might say he’s a little overcompensating.

But Beau has made mistakes in his past, especially on the relationship front, and will be damned if he hasn’t learned from them.

So, he will make sure you feel wanted and loved till the day he dies, even though you keep repeatedly telling him he doesn’t need to make a fuss about Valentine’s Day.

Really, you’re good with picked flowers from the garden.

But Beau’s stubborn and won’t be discouraged. The southern gentlemanliness is rooted deep within his heart and soul.

This day is all about his endless love for you.

Honestly, the sheer amount of everything makes you even slightly uncomfortable. It might sound dumb, but how could you ever compete with that level of commitment?

There ain’t enough blow jobs in this world to make up for his devotion to you.

But on the big day itself, you are actually the one who surprises him with a romantic weekend trip to a cabin in the mountains and excellent fishing spots close by.

You know the biggest gift you could give him is some peace and quiet, time for himself, and a listening ear because he will surely talk the entire time about God and the world while you’re stuck on a boat with him.

But on the night itself, when you give him your gift, he’s actually speechless. Tears brim in his green eyes because you thought of him.

He’s moved, and it moves you.

Because, after all, to you, there’s no bigger gift in this world than his smile.

Russell Shaw:

You don’t expect much when Valentine’s Day looms in the distance. In fact, you don’t expect anything at all.

You’ve only been dating Russell for a couple of months now, and you barely ever see him. Your time together mostly consists of text messages, late night phone calls, and the occasional video chats.

You know his job is complicated. You know he can’t be around as much, even though you direly wish he could.

On the morning of the dreaded day, you receive a simple text message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart! I’ll call you later!”

You hate to admit it, but you feel a little disappointed – disenchanted even. You don’t want to make a big deal out of it because it’s a stupid, unimportant almost-holiday.

All day long, you curse the greeting card companies and the poisonous claws of consumerism for making you care in the first place.

You’re a strong, independent woman. You shouldn’t need a man to give you flowers, gifts, or attention to feel appreciated.

Still…

As you park in the driveway after a long day at work where you watched your colleagues fawn over the bouquets they received from their partners, you feel disheartened when you still haven’t even gotten your promised phone call.

Russell always leaves you wanting more… That can both be a good thing and a very bad one.

But as you close the car door, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You all too keenly pull it out and pick up, almost dropping it because your hands are jittering with excitement at this point and your heart is pounding furiously.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Russell greets you on the other end, the deep timbres of his voice sending immediate shivers down your spine. “You home yet?”

All your worries and sorrows are instantly forgotten when you hear the big smile on his freckled face that he’s surely carrying.

He’s worth it, you remind yourself, even when it’s not easy. Life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

“Uh, almost. Unlocking the front door as we speak,” you tell him.

“Sorry I couldn’t call you sooner. Was stuck on a plane. Long flight,” he says mysteriously. You don’t even ask at this point. You know he can’t tell you.

“No worries. I was busy, anyways,” you lie and hope he buys your nonchalance. “Anywhere interesting you are now?”

“You could say that, yeah…”

“Well, if you hold on a second, I’ll slip out of those clothes and make your evening even more interesting with some pictures,” you tease flirtatiously and push the door open to your dark apartment.

The light switches on by itself, though. You blink in surprise before the phone falls out of your hand when Russell beams broadly at you.

“As much as I love getting your dirty little photos, I think I prefer the real thing tonight,” he says slyly.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” You surge forward into his strong arms so forcefully you almost tackle him to the ground, your hands slinging around his neck. If you could keep him caged there forever, you’d be fine with it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Russell says with a warm chuckle and claims your lips in a searingly passionate kiss that shows you just how much he’s certainly missed you too. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hope you enjoyed these little snippets, friends! Do you agree with these? 😉

I legit stole Dean's half-eaten box of chocolate and the Forrest Gump note from another fic of mine. I couldn't resist. I can totally see him doing something silly and cute like that 😂

Happy Valentine's 💕

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theoldwest · 5 months ago

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Dean shows affection by asking you if you need a little money for the motel vending machine.

He shows it by asking you to come with on pointless drives, just because the weather is nice.

By remembering what you get from the corner store.

By making you mixtapes and showing you old movies.

By ordering you your own pizza when you aren’t feeling his usual.

By sitting in the room while you fix your hair.

He shows affection by pissing you off, lifting your foot with his when you go to take a step, eating the leftovers you’ve been thinking about all day.

He shows it with tenderness, detangling your hair and scratching itches you can’t reach when your shoulder’s dislocated.

With a random bundle of flowers that look strangely like the ones you had mentioned looked nice in someone’s landscaping.

With handing you the first piece of bacon off the griddle.

With showing up when you need him.

#cowboy thoughts #dean winchester #there is something wrong with me #supernatural #dean x you #dean x reader blurb #Dean blurb #Dean and affection #Anyways I wonder if this brainrot will ever end #dean spn

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teeztruthers24 · 3 months ago

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You've taught me what home is - and for that, you are my home

PAIRINGS: yunho x mingi x reader (poly relationship)

WARNINGS: anxiety-related rumination mentioned, brief mentions of OC sending seemingly threatening messages to main characters and brief (not graphic at all or explained) mentions of harm and explicit messages (please stay safe <3)

Also, this is a reader insert so there are no physical characteristics mentioned of 'You' except it is implied 'you' is feminine and suffers from anxiety.

FYI: none of the characterisations in this fic of any real-life people should be considered true-telling of the real individual. This is just a work of fiction and does not represent anyone in their real-life.

SUMMARY:

Yunho, Mingi and, You are all dating - and everything is perfect. Yunho and Mingi are part of a band that does exceptionally well and you face your own challenges at work and from family, but nothing else in the world can ruin your mood when you're with your boys.

So why then, does overhearing a conversation right before the boys perform on stage, send your heart shattering and make you question your relationship status?

And more importantly, how do Yunho and Mingi fix what they don't even know they've caused?

START:

The people around you might think you’re relationship was…unusual. Might even go as far as to call the three of you strange for failing to be monogamous and having one lover instead of having both.

But that’s what worked for the three of you and it was no one else’s business to interfere with your relationship. It was no one else’s business to know how comforting the arms of your lovers were when wrapped around your shoulders during movie night at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s shared apartment or how protective their hold on you was on a night out after an exhilarating performance on stage. How grounding their touch was after a draining day at work and coming home to see Yunho dancing around Mingi who was cooking your favourite dinner in your homely kitchen, soft music playing from the Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen counter, and nearly every candle in your house lit emitting a pleasant lavender smell that had your shoulders dropping from exhaustion and relief you were finally home.

Because that’s what they were to you – home. When your manager at work had a bad day which meant everyone had a bad day; or whenever phone calls to your parents would generally end up with you in tears and silence on the other end; or whenever your friends had a falling out and left you in the dust feeling lost and alone – Yunho and Mingi never failed to uplift your mood and let it known to you that you are their solace.

Being best friends with Yunho and Mingi from middle school meant you had seen them in all their phases – from when Yunho was adamant he would become a professional video gamer to when Mingi would make mixtapes in his tiny bedroom, which only you and Yunho would be privy to. And finally, when they both found themselves pursuing a passionate love for music.

This tight-knit friendship between you and the boys allowed you to see their hearts so clearly, which they wore on their sleeves, and it wasn’t hard to fall in love with them. It wasn’t long before you realised their soft smiles and the endearing look in their eyes when you caught their gaze meant they bared their hearts out to you with just as much ferocity as you did.

Being in a relationship with the two soft giants didn’t feel different from being best friends - with the lovely addition of soft kisses and going to sleep feeling like you were wrapped in two weighted blankets.

They showed you what love is – who love can create.

When Yunho and Mingi decided to create a rock band alongside two childhood friends of yours’, Hongjoong, an amazing guitarist, and Jongho, who had the best set of vocals, you were unwavering in your support and encouragement. From playing in either Hongjoong or Mingi’s garage to playing sets in bars and smaller venues across town, you joined them in their wonderful endeavours and got to enjoy their music with a side of the beautiful sights of whichever town you were in.

After their set, Yunho and Mingi would be visibly exhausted, sweat dripping down their faces, their legs barely dragging them backstage and towards the car, but they never failed to take you out for dinner after and then collapse into bed and sleep the night away. And when you woke the next morning to a cup of coffee and breakfast served for you, you grabbed whoever was closest and kissed them with such fervour, sometimes sight-seeing was traded for spending the day in bed with your lovely boys.

Luckily, the venue the boys were playing at gave them an hour extra to play their songs which meant you had to stock up on food and drinks for the boys and yourself and make sure the hotel room after was ready because you knew you weren’t going to be taken out in the city after a long set on stage.

With a bag of snacks and energy drinks from the convenience store in your hand, you walked backstage towards the dressing rooms where Yunho and Mingi were.

Reaching inside the bag, you picked out Mingi’s favourite drink and stepped towards him to hand him his drink. When you looked up smiling, you noticed a somewhat troubled look on his face, his hand gripping his phone so tightly you could see them turning white.

“Mingi…is everything okay?” You asked, concerned.

“Hm?” Mingi looked up from his phone and noticed you and Yunho looking at him with odd expressions. He shook his head, “Everything’s fine love. I’m just nervous about playing,” he tried comforting you, though his face paled significantly.

You nodded and handed him his drink telling him to drink up before sitting next to him. When you reached over to hold his hand, Mingi seemed to startle and immediately stood up before announcing he needed to go to the bathroom.

You frowned. Mingi was acting strange…almost secretive. You hated casting any form of doubt on your boyfriends, but Mingi’s behaviour was certainly odd and it was rubbing you in the wrong way…

You turned to Yunho, about to ask him what was wrong with Mingi, when he turned to you and gave you a tight-lipped smile with a pensive look on his beautiful face, before rushing out of the room, supposedly following Mingi. Feeling somewhat helpless and incredibly confused, you looked around the room and found neither Hongjoong nor Jongho in sight to converse with, and fell back onto the couch.

After a few minutes, the door opened and you sat up expectantly, hoping Mingi and Yunho would be back in, hopefully, good spirits…but in walked Hongjoong and Jongho.

Seeing your shoulders slump with disappointment, Hongjoong came over to you on the couch and asked if you were okay.

“What’s troubling you? Everything okay?” He asked.

Not wanting to put stress on a man who had to conserve his energy to play a large set, you turned to Hongjoong and gave him the best convincing smile you could muster and said, “I’m great! I’m just waiting for Mingi and Yunho to come back from the bathrooms.”

Standing at the table of snacks and drinks, Jongho, in the middle of choosing a pre-show snack packet, turned to you with a tilt of his eyebrows and confusedly told you, “But Mingi and Yunho aren’t in the bathrooms. They’re outside the venue talking. They seem quite stressed so I don’t think they’ll be in here for a bit.”

“Oh…thanks for telling me Jongho,” you gave a small smile, though from your tightened brows and quivering chin, the boys could tell you were worried. You rushed out of the building, turning your head in all directions to try and find your boyfriends.

Moving towards the back of the venue facing the carpark, you came across Mingi sitting on the curb, back facing you, yet you could tell from his hunched figure and shoulders shaking, that something was wrong. Yunho also came into view, large hands rubbing Mingi’s back and softly speaking to him.

You angled yourself so you could hear them, but they couldn’t see or hear you. You hated eavesdropping, but something was wrong with your boyfriend - maybe both of them - and they weren’t telling you.

You pushed aside the feeling of dread starting to pool in your stomach and forced your ears to pick up on their conversation.

Mingi’s voice was shaky and breathy, almost like he had been crying for a while, “I can’t do this anymore, Yunho. I can’t keep lying to her like this…”, he broke off, tears continuing to drip down his face.

Yunho sighed, “I know it hurts Mingi…But how would we even tell her about–” His voice was drowned out by some people on the other side of the street drunkenly singing.

“It’s so hard to lie and keep up this happy facade with her Yunho. I just wished she stopped being such a burden and left us alone…” Mingi said wistfully. “It might hurt her but we have to tell her what’s going on…”, he sniffled.

That feeling in your stomach iced your veins. Feeling your eyes start to burn with tears and your heart stop yet race at the same time, you refused to listen anymore. Thoughts racing, you turned to head back inside the venue to grab your things and leave.

Maybe in hindsight, you should’ve heard more of their conversation, or confronted them right then and there…but the feeling of pain and hurt in your heart was something you’d never felt before.

Speed-walking back to the dressing rooms, you opened the doors and rushed in, startling Jongho and Hongjoong who were in opposite corners of the room, preparing for the show.

After grabbing your bag and phone, you turned to the boys, who now looked at you with puzzled expressions, and gave them your share of good luck.

“Are you not gonna stay and watch the show,” Hongjoong asked confused. You always stayed to watch your boys rock the stage. Not once had you ever failed at showing your boys your unwavering support.

“No sorry…something came up at work and they need me to do something but I can’t work here…sorry guys,” You replied, hoping they wouldn’t ask any more questions so you could get out of there.

When there was a brief pause after your response, you turned and left the room, not even waiting for Jongho or Hongjoong to say something. When you got to the front doors, you noticed Mingi and Yunho on the other side about to walk in, and you hid behind the pillars in the lobby, praying they wouldn’t see you.

As if your prayers were answered, they walked right past you. Not wanting to stay back and watch them any longer, you rushed out to your car and locked the doors.

You sat there, numb. That feeling of dread and pain and hurt had morphed into something you couldn’t even describe. Cheating… that wasn’t something you had ever considered your boys doing…and the notion of them cheating made your heart pound, filled with doubt and your mind feel like a bag of rocks was weighing it down.

You debated calling them to tell them you were going home because you knew they would immediately leave the show to console you…and you just needed some time to think clearly. So after sending a ‘good luck for your show!’ text to your guys’ group chat, you put the car in drive and made the painful journey back home…alone.

When you got home and noticed the darkness of such a small space, your scattered brain hurt even more and it felt like the room got even smaller than it was. Your chest was constricting with anxiety and you felt like you couldn’t breathe – and in that moment, all you wanted – no needed – was for your boys to come home and hold you.

But they weren’t there.

That ugly feeling of anxiety started to make you wonder if either of the boys had even noticed you were gone. If they had cared. If they were texting her whoever she was, or if she was there in the crowd watching them the way you were supposed to be doing.

A part of you hated these thoughts – hated the way you rushed to label your loving, healthy relationship with the boys as ruined and call them cheaters when you probably didn’t know the whole story. That same part of you felt toxic…and made you think the boys deserved better than whatever you had going on.

With your brain driving thoughts in two directions, you feel physically and mentally exhausted. Crawling into bed, you wished for nothing but the past hour to have been a painful nightmare. And for the first time since you moved in with the boys, you slept all alone.

Being asleep, you didn’t realise when Yunho and Mingi had raced home after their show, their bodies physically exhausted but that paling in comparison to how heavy their hearts hurt. When they noticed you had curled around their pillows in bed and were fast asleep with dried tears tracking down your face, their eyes felt wet and Mingi felt a sob rising at the back of his throat; you had cried yourself to sleep…and something they said or did was to blame.

They patted your head and looked at each other, giving the other a silent nod and agreeing they should give you some space in bed; taking the couch for the night.

When you woke the next morning, your eyes felt like someone had glued them shut and your mouth felt as dry as a desert due to all the crying last night. You contemplated going back to sleep in hopes of shutting out the world around you, but the slight smell of coffee and hearing something sizzling in the kitchen made you rise out of bed.

Your heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time – your boys were back…which meant avoiding them about last night was out of the question. Never in your years of being friends, and eventually dating, had you ever seen them raise their voices in anger…but worried thoughts of an argument started floating around your head.

When you walked out of your room, you noticed Mingi near the coffee machine and Yunho standing in front of the stove flipping what seemed to be (burnt) pancakes. They were both dressed in the same clothes they were why you left your apartment the day before and when you looked at the couch, the blankets and pillows were ruffled. Your heart clenched… had the boys been afraid to sleep in bed next to you? Was this the start of the end? Were you going to lose not only your boyfriends but your best friends?

Hearing the floorboards creak under you, Yunho and Mingi shot their heads up to look at you. The looks in their eyes made you soften and tears spring to your eyes – they gazed at you with such longing and pain in their eyes.

Mingi stepped towards you and you thought he would either kiss you or tell you to get out of his way, but he mumbled, “Yunho and I are gonna wash up. Please eat your breakfast my love…I think we need to talk.” With that, he and Yunho looked at you with determination in their eyes and leaned down to give you a small kiss on either side of your cheeks before heading towards the bathroom.

After managing to move your feet towards the kitchen, you forced yourself to eat and ignore your lack of appetite; you figured it wouldn’t be best to have a conversation on an empty stomach.

When you were done, you sat on the couch and waited for the boys. You felt a sense of deja vu from the night before waiting on the couch for your the boys (you should start learning to not refer to them as yours anymore..huh?). When they came over, they sat close together on the loveseat in front of you.

When you looked up, you noted Mingi’s were tinged red…like what would happen if someone cried themselves to sleep and continued in the morning. Your heart ached even more. Yunho grabbed Mingi’s shaking hands and looked at you with an undecipherable expression.

Okay, you thought, let’s make this breakup an easy conversation .

You decided to speak first, hoping that you could start amicably, “Sorry for not staying to watch the show…How was it?” Your voice was strained, but hopeful.

Yunho gulped. “Baby…we know something is wrong. You left way before we even started playing and didn’t tell us…please…what’s wrong?” His shoulders notably sagged down.

Jaw clenching to not let a sob escape, you looked down at your hands intertwined with each other and tried to catch your thoughts to respond, “I heard you.” That was all you could mutter.

Both Mingi and Yunho seemed to be confused. What did you hear?

When you took note of their confusion and silence, you continued, “Outside in the carpark. You said you don’t love me…that it hurt to lie to me and you wanted to stop lying.” By this point, you felt the saltiness of your tears enter your mouth but kept on going. “You said you weren’t h-happy with me anymore…and you think I’m a… b-burden. So please…be quick with it and just b-break up with me.” You tried to contain your sobs but the painful reminder of yesterday hurt too much for you to keep quiet.

Sniffling, you forced your head up to look between the boys…only to feel puzzled about their expressions. They had matching looks of almost…relief (?) on their faces. What could they be so relieved about when you sat across from them, heart-shattering into the tiniest of pieces?

Heart pounding and head feeling heavy once more, your mind seemed to cloud over in preparation for the next four words that would leave you devastated.

“Oh baby…we weren’t talking about you…” Yunho uttered, his tone sounding so vulnerable.

Oh.

What??

Time seemed to stop. It was so silent in your living room that you could hear your blood rushing through your body; hear your breathing slow down and feel your mind quiet instantaneously.

They…weren’t talking about…you…they don’t think anything bad of you…they (might) still love you…

In the quiet void, Mingi’s quiet voice speaks out, “My love, can I please give you a hug?”

When you slowly but surely nod yes, he leaps over to you and hugs you so hard you can feel your inside being squished together. But you ignore that feeling because it feels so good to finally be held by your boyfriend.

“Wait Mingi, we still need to explain what happened…why we said what we said,” Yunho pulled Mingi back slightly, teary-eyed, and gave you an understanding look. “Please hear us out completely first, darling,” he seemed to beg.

After you nodded in acceptance, Yunho turned to Mingi and seemed to urge him to speak.

Mingi sniffled and took a deep breath, before admitting, “I don’t know if you remember back in high school, there was this girl…Yuna…and she would follow us everywhere? Do you remember?,” after receiving a hum of affirmation, he continued, “After school one day, she cornered me in our classroom and told me she liked me. And I just stood there and said nothing because…because I was in love with you and Yunho – I still am of course! – but she kept saying that I had to either choose between the two of you or pick her or she would tell my parents and I-I hadn’t told my parents about us at the time and I was so worried s-she would tell them and I didn’t know what to do so I just gave her my n-number and told her to please please keep quiet and–” Mingi spluttered before sobs racked from his throat and rendered him quiet.

You felt a gush of tears prick your eyes once more and moved to sit next to him, rubbing his back along with Yunho. You said nothing to allow Mingi to get his bearings together but frowned as you thought of Yuna. Yuna – the girl that did follow you guys everywhere in high school and rejected your advances to be friends. You had never thought you had to worry about her because you always attributed her ‘affections’ as idolising her seniors at school and once you all graduated, she left your mind as quickly as you all left your hometown.

After a while, Mingi took another deep breath and continued, “After we graduated and moved to the city, I completely forgot about her you know? And I thought we had become adults now so I didn’t have to worry about her anymore…but one day she started texting me and when I didn’t respond she moved to DMing me and she would send me messages of her…some explicit at first…some almost threatening harm but…to herself. She would ask me for money for dresses she wanted to buy and wear on our first date and kept telling me to break up with you guys because she said she wanted me all to herself…” He broke off, not quite sure how to end his recounting.

Yunho then took over, “Mingi told me one day what was going on when his phone kept blowing up during practice. And after he told me and I sent a text from his phone telling her to leave him alone, she started sending me messages too…telling me to break up with you before she started talking to you.” He stopped to gauge your reaction, before adding, “We tried our best to ignore her and block her but she kept finding ways to message us…we’re sorry for not telling you, darling.”

You felt…conflicted. Here your boys were telling you about a girl that was threatening to ruin everything you had built together for her selfish gain which gave them a reason for their words, as hurtful as you had perceived them, last night…but you didn’t understand why didn’t tell you.

And because you wanted an answer to put an end to your confusion, you simply asked them, “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought- I thought when you said all that stuff yesterday…I thought you wanted to break up with me…” you choked out before dissolving into tears.

Mingi wrapped his arms around you whilst uttering soft ‘no’s’ and shaking his head. Yunho felt the stress of not knowing why his girlfriend was so upset the night before leaving him, and he gathered you and Mingi in his arms before softly rocking you all back and forth.

With both the your boys holding you and whispering sweet nothings in your ears, your wails reduced to soft hiccups.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry for believing either of you would…c-cheat,” you threw the word out like a bad omen. Almost immediately, Yunho and Mingi started shaking their heads in disagreement, “No my love, you don’t have to be sorry,” and “We’re sorry for not telling you darling.”

“We noticed how stressed you’ve been recently from work and your family dumping all their issues on you and everything you’re friends have been dragging you through…we didn’t feel right making you feel insecure in our relationship by telling you about some girl we spent no seconds thinking about. Because this, of all things in our life,” Yunho said gesturing between him and Mingi, “This relationship with you is our constant. Our solace. Our home.”

“He’s right you know? Last night she kept texting me and I realised I couldn’t keep hiding the burden that was her from you anymore,” Mingi agreed.

You kept quiet and let their words sink in. Those ugly feelings started clearing from your heart and mind – your boys never wanted to leave you. This was all just a misunderstanding…

“Trust me when I say my love, beyond you and Yunho, there is no one else I want to fill my heart,” Mingi whispered before looking deep into your eyes for any hesitation, and when finding nothing but love and adoration, pressed his lips onto yours.

Yunho watched the two loves of his life with the utmost love and fondness and then decided he, too, wanted a kiss from you. When you and Mingi pulled away for a breath of air, Yunho swept in and held the back of your head whilst he kissed you like you were all the oxygen in the world he was trying to breathe in.

When he pulled away from you, you giggled – and the sight of your tussled hair, soft lips glistening and sparkling eyes sent waves of warmth and love through Mingi and Yunho.

“What do you say we skip whatever we each had planned today and just stay home? I think we could all do with some loving today huh?” You offered, hoping your boys would say yes.

Before you could even finish your sentence, your boys nodded their heads so fast you worried they would fall off.

And so, that whole day went like this: you, Mingi, and Yunho spent all day intertwined on the couch watching rom-coms, with Mingi squished between the two of you. You reached over to kiss the small mole under Mingi’s eye and Yunho kissed the spot on his cheek whilst Mingi erupted in giggles that had your and Yunho’s hearts soaring. Hands enclosed in one anothers’, the three of you fell asleep, each vowing to never stray far from one another – not now and certainly not in any other lifetime.

#ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #yungi x reader #yunho x mingi #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #hongjoong x seonghwa #ateez #jeong yunho #song mingi #choi jongho #kim hongjoong #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa

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today-in-the-bunker · 9 months ago

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Today, Dean uses some previously thrifted technology to make Cas a custom mixtape. He sketches out a track list before hesitating on the title. He thinks that it might come off a little strange to spontaneously gift a friend a painstakingly custom mixtape full of suspiciously romantic songs that just so happen to perfectly encapsulate his feeling for said friend. That being said, he decides to title it "Cas's Music Education", hoping the guise of getting the angel into his music will overshadow the true nature of the gift.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #team free will 2.0 #today in the bunker

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discoscoob · 4 months ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

˙ ✩°˖🎄⋆｡˚ Ted Logan x Reader

KEANUVERSE SECRET SANTA: My contribution to @faerl’s Keanuverse secret santa project for my giftee @scarlettspectra! 🎁

SAN DIMAS, CHRISTMAS EVE 1992

Below a slanting ‘Merry Christmas’ banner, Ted is sprawled across the well worn, pre-loved couch, his long, gangly frame fitting awkwardly. Mismatched socked feet dangle over the edge of the armrest, while his arms drape snuggly around your waist as you nestle peacefully across his body with your head tucked under his chin. A santa hat sits askew atop his unruly dark locks that have fallen over his sleeping face.

You sniffle as the framed photo begins to gently blur from the gathering tears clouding your vision. Bill had captured the candid moment of you and Ted having a post Christmas dinner nap. How you wish you could travel back to that precious moment, nuzzled comfortably in Ted’s warm embrace. Of course, afterward, Bill had taken a permanent marker to both your faces, leaving the two of you with drawn-on moustaches until the new year — it earned Ted some strange glances when he served customers at Pretzels ‘n’ Cheese.

Carefully returning the photo to its pride of place on your nightstand, you pick up the mixtape Ted sent you. The hand drawn candy canes, forming the shape of a love-heart on the cover, brings a watery smile to your lips — reminding you how much thought he puts into even the simplest of gestures. The smooth melody of Please Come Home for Christmas by Charles Brown drifts from the cassette player and seeps straight into your aching heart, stoking the heavy swell of longing that presses against your chest.

Yesterday, Ted called you from a payphone at Fairbanks Airport with the devastating news that a blizzard was grounding all the flights, forcing him to holdover at the military base in Alaska for the holidays.

The moment you pressed the phone to your ear and he uttered your name in a quiet quiver, you knew something was wrong. Your heart sank like a boulder. He sounded so defeated. The two of you had exchanged stacks of letters filled with plans and promises of making the most of your time together over the holiday season, hoping to compensate for the months spent apart. Now, you can’t even talk to him over the phone because the lines are down.

You haven’t physically seen him since he left for military school in the spring — the longest the two of you have ever been apart since you met in high school. Both you and Bill had begged him not to go, insisting that you were happy to support him as he couch-surfed between your place and Bill’s dad’s after his own father flat-out refused to take him back in. That refusal came after he and Bill got evicted from their apartment for falling behind on the rent.

At that time, it felt like one knock back after another. With the band going nowhere, no matter how hard they tried, Ted couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a burden and a failure. His father’s relentless words would echo in the back of his mind, always there to remind him he would never amount to anything.

It had all come to a head one night after yet another failed audition to get on the bill at some music club. That’s when Ted ran into Colonel Oats. The man barely had to say a word — just a gruff “it’s not too late” — and something inside Ted broke. He was so beaten down, so full of self-doubt, that he thought it might be his only option left. A week later, he was packing for Alaska.

You had wept your heart out — not only for the fact that Ted would be miles away, but for how beat down he must’ve felt to even consider leaving in the first place. You had let him down. You hadn’t reminded him enough of how incredible he was. You hadn’t defeated his father’s voice in his head. You felt like a terrible girlfriend.

You cross the room, switch off the cassette player, and eject the mixtape just as the opening notes of Darlene Love’s Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) start playing. Ironically, most of the songs Ted had chosen were about longing for loved ones to be home for the holidays, and with him stormbound in Alaska, they’ve become unbearable to listen to.

Your doorbell chimes and you quickly check your reflection in the mirror above your dresser. Puffy red eyes stare back at you with glistening tears reflecting the glow of twinkling Christmas lights, you soak them up on the sleeve of your sweater in vain as more soon gather.

As soon as you open the door, a hard chest ploughs into you, almost knocking you off balance until a pair of strong arms swoop you off your feet — all before you even get a good look at your visitor. You would have kicked and screamed if it weren’t for the sweet scent of blue raspberry swaddling your senses, Ted’s favourite candy, inviting you to sink into his sturdy embrace.

With all the enthusiasm of a boisterous Great Dane, blissfully ignorant of its own colossal size and strength,

Ted clutches you tightly against him, his arms noticeably bulkier than the gangly limbs you recall.

He burrows his face into the curve of your neck as you cradle the back of his head, eager to delve your fingers into his thick tousled mane. Instead, they stroke over smooth, freshly chopped strands. You falter briefly, before pulling back to get your first proper look at him since he arrived on your doorstep.

“Your hair…” you blink, momentarily stunned as you drink in the sight of him. Where an unruly mop of tousled locks once sprouted and tumbled over his eyes, there’s now a military buzz cut, clipped uniformly to reveal the sharp angles of his face and stubble-dusted jaw.

You didn’t intend for that to be the first thing you said to him after all this time apart, it tumbled out before you could stop it. You wince, realising how many other things you could have — no, should have — said instead.

“You hate it.” Ted’s broad grin falters as he sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck, dipping his gaze to the floor, clearly self-conscious.

Your lips part, and you quickly shake your head, your heart hammering at the thought he might believe you could hate anything about him.

“You… your ears will get cold.” you caress his jaw, noticing the reddened tips of his ears.

Your concern eases his pink lips into a coy smile as he leans his rose-tinted cheek into your warm palm.

“Mhm… then you’d best let me in before I turn into a popsicle or something.”

Wrapping your fingers around the edge of his jacket, you tug him inside as he kicks the door shut against the cold with the heel of his combat boot. He eases his bass guitar case carefully against the wall and shrugs his heavy duffle bag off his shoulder, letting it thud softly to the floor.

“I don’t understand…” you step back deeper into the living room, still tugging Ted along with you. “How did you get here? I thought the flights were grounded.”

“Santa’s sleigh!” he jokes with a giggle, ducking his head to pepper kisses across your cheeks and forehead. His enormous hands hold you steady while his eyes sparkle with delight.

You’ve always known Ted to be affectionate — it’s undeniable that physical touch is his love language. But even by his standards, there’s a noticeable shift. As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder — and in Ted’s case, bolder. His once restrained and hesitant displays of affection, shaped by his benign nature and lack of experience, have given way to a liberated eagerness to show you just how much he’s missed you.

“There’s this, like, total rich dude at school,” he pauses just long enough to rest his forehead against yours. “His dad’s some mayor or something, like, really important. He managed to pull a few strings and got a private jet to fly him out.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his dilated pupils flicker to your neck. “And… he offered me a ride.”

“Wait…” there’s a noticeable flutter in your voice when he starts kissing the side of your neck, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “A private jet?”

“Hm-hm…” his warm breath fans across your skin and you feel his lips twitch into a smile. “Felt like a total rockstar.”

Ted raises his head with a softening expression. “I missed you.” he murmurs, his doe eyes briefly meeting yours with timid sincerity, before dropping back to the carpeted floor.

“I missed you too, Ted. So much.” gently, you curl your forefinger under his chin, giving him a soft nudge to lift his head. As he looks up, you lean in and press a tender welcome home kiss to his lips.

˙ ✩°˖🎄⋆｡˚

Cocooned by Ted’s impressive wingspan, his chin hooks over your shoulder as his nimble fingers flit across the fretboard with a newfound ease. No longer is he serenading you with out-of-tune melodies or clumsy, off-beat riffs. Now, you’re motivated to softly sing along to the unmistakable, toe-tapping groove of one of your favourite songs.

The fluidity of his precise and controlled movements are so captivating, you’re locked in an almost hypnotic trance as your gaze lingers on his long and skilful fingers. The dedication he must’ve poured into practicing during his downtime at military school is remarkable, however, your unrestrained mind is soon bombarded with vivid images of all the possible ways you could reap the benefits of his enhanced dexterity.

Regrettably, the visions only intensify when he gently guides your far less experienced fingers along the neck of his bass while his breath tickles along the shell of your ear with soft-spoken instructions. You gulp, noticing that it’s not just the calloused tips of his fingers that are new. A fresh scar cuts across the back of his hand, presumably left behind by the whip of a snapped string — a subtle badge of honour to his devotion and passion for music.

Unfortunately, a dark cloud lingers at the back of your mind, casting a shadow over the moment, reminding you of how fleeting it is. When the new year arrives, Ted will return to Alaska and you won’t see him again until blossoms bloom on the trees and rainbows are painted across the sky after sunshowers. While you want to be content and savour the moment, there’s a throbbing ache in your chest that is impossible to ignore, it snatches your focus and prevents you from fully appreciating the time you have together.

“Babe, you totally keep zoning out.” Ted teases, cutting through your spiralling thoughts to pull your focus back to the present.

“Huh?” you freeze, trying to buy yourself some time to come up with an excuse by feigning confusion. You’re already working on eradicating whatever outward expression you were wearing as you nose-dived through the whirlwind of trepidation.

Your Ted, ever patient and sweet, sets his bass aside with care to give you his undivided attention, attentively settling his now-empty hands lightly on your knees.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?” he coaxes, his brows scrunching with concern.

You rearrange your face into a smile, trying to alleviate that heavy pressure in your chest.

“I’m just distracted by how skillful you’ve become with your fingers now.” you tease, your smile turning cheeky as you take his larger hand in your own, pressing your lips to his calloused tips.

“Oh…” Ted gulps, his cheeks tingeing pink as he shyly averts his gaze. Even after all these years together, Ted still becomes a flustered puppy at the slightest hint of suggestiveness.

In the background, Die Hard plays on the staticky TV. Neither of you have been paying much attention, but just as Hans Gruber plummets from the window of Nakatomi Plaza, Ted blurts out, "I'm not going back to Alaska in the new year."

Your head snaps toward him, your wide eyes meeting his as your mouth falls agape.

"What?"

"I'm not going back," he repeats, and the weight of his words settles over you like the warmest blanket, replacing the suffocating mass of anxiety that had been choking you moments before.

Your face eases into a genuine, uncontainable smile as your heart leaps weightlessly in your chest. You throw your arms around him, nearly knocking him across the couch in your excitement. “I’m so relieved you’re not leaving. I couldn’t bear saying goodbye again.”

“Me neither.” Ted mirrors your smile as he secures his arms around you properly, but there’s a slight shadow in his expression — something else lingering unsaid.

“There’s, uh… there’s more,” he says, tugging himself back but keeping his hands on your shoulders.

“More?”

“I’ve um… like put in an application to the LAPD.” the excitement bubbling in your chest is replaced by confusion.

"Wait. You want to be a cop?"

Ted nods slowly.

"Like... your dad?"

Ted looks startled, his brows shoot up and he waves his hands as if trying to manually wash away the thought from your mind.

“Woah, no way! That, like- he has nothing to do with it. I mean, I don’t care about what he thinks anymore. It’s… I dunno-” he looks down at his lap, his shoulders lifting slightly in a small shrug. “I had a lot of time to think in Alaska and… I guess I was actually pretty good at some of the stuff they taught us… for the first time in forever, I felt like I wasn’t flailing around trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life. And maybe… maybe I could use that to help people… like be a hero or something.”

You tilt your head as his words settle over you, still processing them. Despite his sincerity, apprehension lingers. You can’t shake the worry that he might be rushing into something else he feels he has to do — just like he did with military school. "But... the LAPD?"

"Yeah." His gaze softens, and his lips curve into that sweet, earnest smile that always makes your heart flutter. "I don't want to go all the way back to Alaska. I can't stand the thought of being away from you again until the spring. If I stay in LA, I'll be much closer… and maybe…” he pauses, his smile turning hopeful. “Maybe you could even come with me…”

Your breath hitches at his words and the endearing sight of his hopeful smile. You don’t even question the thought of uprooting your life to follow Ted, there’s no doubt in your mind, your heart belongs with his. Before you can respond, his hand drifts up to play with a strand of your hair, idly twirling it around his finger as he gazes at you, his voice softening.

“I know it’s a lot to think about, you don’t have to decide anything right now.”

“I’d follow you anywhere, Ted.” you assure him, needing no time to make up your mind.

Ted’s face lights up brighter than the Christmas lights.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls you into his arms again, his fingers threading through your hair with care. You close your eyes, nestling into the crook of his neck as Ted tucks his head against your shoulder.

Credit to @scarlettspectra for the headcanon that Jack Traven is older Ted if he was sent to military school. I love that headcanon so much and I had to steal it writing this so technically this is a little bit of a pre-speed Jack fic too. Chopping off Ted’s floppy hair did hurt me though 😔

My little easter egg is that the rich kid who’s father is the mayor is Scott Favor who was forced to go to military school if he wanted to receive his inheritance

#keanu reeves #ted logan #bill and ted #ted logan x reader #jack traven #jack traven x reader #speed 1994 #keanuverse secret santa

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r4fe-cam3ron · 2 months ago

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𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY NINTH; side b — secret love song - little mix | r. cameron x maybank!reader

w; intended to be s1 rafe — but also can be any season you’d prefer for this, this doesn’t follow any events of outer banks (just the characters and the pogues vs kooks thing), maybe a bit ooc!rafe? i’m not sure, slight mentions of john b & reader as well, cheating 😔, this is a bit short — not sure how i feel about this one </3 !! i always try to use few to no pronouns or descriptions for r — can be adopted or half sibling! whatever you'd prefer <3 an; love this song and i also thought of rafe and then bam it came to me.

mixtape here!

John Booker Routledge had been one of your favorite people ever since you had been younger — besides your brother.

The three of you attached by the hip, the three troublemakers you had been so lovingly called. And knowing him since you were all little tots, only to blossom into a young adult, it was only normal to develop a small crush that had JJ gagging every time he noticed where your eyes lingered.

And it was only normal for him to be your first kiss.

It was strange. Not that he wasn’t a decent kisser, it just felt…void of something. You weren't sure why it had felt that way, especially when you felt a small amount of jealousy whenever he tended to stray his attention away from you and to Sarah instead.

It was confusing as much as it was aggravating.

But, Rafe Cameron, the one person who had made everyone’s life worse just by looking at them with baby blues and a smug smirk, took you by complete surprise.

In the sense that when he kissed you, it never felt null of anything. Even after he had pulled away, you could still feel the phantom of his lips brushing over your own.

It also took you by complete surprise because you’re both supposed to keep a distance due to ‘image’ — something you’d always thought was ridiculous, but also never really breaking away from the hate you’re supposed to have for Kooks.

For Rafe Cameron.

But at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, or even show him an ounce of faux hatred even if you tried.

Midnight was your favorite time. Because exactly when the numbers turned to 12, there would be a small tap at your window. Because if he were to knock on the door at this time, Luke would have probably shot him, or JJ would have no problem throwing punches and taking them.

It was best to stay a secret, even if you hate it. And even if you want others to see the love you both have for one another.

The tapping catches your attention, a small smile tugging on your lips when you close your book and crawl off the bed and quietly make your way towards the window, pushing the sheer curtains back before unlocking the window and pushing it up.

Glancing back at the door to keep an eye out, you allow him to grip your arms as he slips inside your room as quietly as possible — he’s gotten better with sneaking in — before turning and closing your window slowly.

His hand is a bit cold when it wraps around the side of your neck, causing you to gasp and shiver as you look at him quickly. “Rafe!” You whisper sharply, trying to push at his arm. He smirks slightly, pulling you closer and pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. “Why are your hands so cold?” You mumble.

“It’s freezing outside, sweetheart. What do you expect?” He snorts quietly. You smile a bit, taking his hand from your neck, sandwiching it between both of your own the best you could. His eyes are soft as they watch you. “You coming tomorrow?”

“Hm?” You look up at him. “Oh, yeah. JJ wanted to go,” You shake your head slightly, reaching for the other one. “Figured he would anyway when he heard about it.”

Rafe nods a bit and pushes away a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You wanna lie down?” You nod and pull him towards your bed, scooting close to the wall as he slides in after kicking off his shoes. You scoot up a bit, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer to you the best you could.

He hums and lies his head against your chest, ear placed over where you heartbeat, slipping his eyes closed and melting into the bed when your fingers begin to scratch against his scalp. His fingers rest against your side, twitching every so often.

It’s silent for a while, except for the beat of your heart, loud and comforting, in his ear. His eyes then slide open and he pulls his head away from your chest to stare down at you instead.

Your eyes are pointed upwards at the ceiling and he can tell by the small scrunch of your brows, you're worrying yourself sick over something. You flinch at the sudden touch of his fingertips running over the lines that had been between your brows.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers softly. You glance over at him and tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you think of what to say. Tracing his finger down the slope of your nose before pushing his fingers into the strands of your hair, he gives you a slight worried look.

“You can tell me whatever is on your mind, you know that, right?”

Nodding, you sigh quietly. “Is it always going to be like this?”

“Is what always going to be like this?”

“You and I. This. Us,” You say as if it’s obvious because, well, it is obvious. “Having only a short amount of time together, or having to…rush date night and act as if we’re with someone else,” You shake your head.

“It’s…I love you and I want to be able to love you freely — not privately and only a certain amount of time.”

He frowns and drops his forehead against yours gently, nudging your nose against his. “You know I love you, right?” Your eyes drift away from his. He frowns when he notices your eyes become wet with tears. “Right? Hey,”

Your eyes hesitantly drift back to his face. His thumb drags over your cheekbone softly. “I do love you. A lot,” He nods. “We’ll tell people. But now is not the right time.”

“When will it be the right time?” Your brows pinch together as you stare up at him.

His lips press into yours — a soft kiss, and a gentle hold with his hand — before pulling away slowly, his thumb pressing gently into your chin. “Soon.” He whispers against your lips.

Which is why, when you look for him everywhere (just for a quick, shared look), you're confused when you see him pressed close to some brunette.

Even more confused when they both laugh together and she presses a hand against his chest.

Now you’re frozen when he’s leaning in and kissing her — a bit too fiercely for a party in front of people. Your eyes and they drift down towards the coffee table in between the spread out teens.

There’s some substance on some type of gold tray with other various items around it on display. Your eyes quickly look back up, watching as he finally pulls away from her, smirking as he leans back and looks ahead.

His smug demeanor drops when he sees your face. Rafe is quick on his feet when you turn away from him, pushing past people to get outside and find JJ, John B, and Pope and leave.

You hear his voice calling out for you, anger thrumming through your bones. Once you step outside, Rafe is suddenly closer than you realize, his hand brushing your arm.

You turn and smack him before you could catch yourself. The sound catches the onlookers from outside, lifting some brows.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Rafe. I swear—”

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what—”

You cut him off with a crazed laugh, pushing him by his chest. He allows you to push him around. “You didn’t know that you were making out with someone else?! What, you thought it was me, huh? Is that your excuse!” Your brows are furrowed in anger, your cheeks flushed and wet with tears as you stare up at him.

He opens his mouth to speak, shaking his head, but someone is cutting in, calling out your name. “You okay?” John B.

“I want to go home,” You turn towards him. Rafe calls out your name, eyes wide and desperate. “JB, please. Take me home.” Your voice is raw and it eats away at Rafe’s heart. Because instead of you turning to him, you’re turning back to John B to comfort you.

All because he was an idiot.

John B glances at Rafe, a small look on his face has you stepping closer to him, shaking your head, glancing over your shoulder at him. “He’s not worth it,” Rafe’s jaw clenches as he stares at you. You look away and pass by John B, walking towards where he had parked.

JJ had gone somewhere with Pope, more than likely crashing at his place after. John B had decided to stay with you until you had calmed down, allowing you to talk and get everything off your chest.

He listened and never once judged you.

So, why is it when you kiss John Booker Routledge — again — you feel null of any emotion?

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sereneera — @dearestjune — @sstar-ggirl

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

#rafe cameron x maybank!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n

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worth-the-chaos · 11 months ago

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Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 17

Chapter Summary: After finding out more information about Vecna, you and your friends prepare for the worst, and tensions rise as you mentally prepare for the possibility of a future without you in it.

Content Warning: swearing, general angst, mentions of sex (like nothing graphic or explicit), Jason being a dick, Upside Down scary shit, existential dread

Word Count: 7.7k

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m so sorry that this took so long for me to get written! I am home for summer now, so I’m hoping to have some more down time to write, so hopefully the next chapter won’t take so long! I also am curious as to what you guys think I should do with the story regarding the fact that season 5 isn’t out yet…should I go on hiatus until season 5 drops or would you rather me write an ending with season 4?

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted! I highly recommend this if you want to keep up with the story since I don’t do regular updates!

Series Masterlist | Part 16 | Next Part

***

Steve felt your body go limp as you dropped the makeshift rope, your head lolling backwards as you collapsed towards him. His heart stopped as he swiftly set you down on the floor next to him, pulling back to look at you.

He felt sick to his stomach when he noticed the way your eyes were rolled into the back of your head, and he felt like he was suffocating on the ash that drifted in between the two of you.

“Y/n,” he shook your shoulders, desperation lacing his voice. You didn’t respond, the only indication that you were still there was a slight whimper that escaped your parted lips. He shook you more aggressively and felt like he could vomit at the way your body caved to inertia.

You were somewhere else.

“Y/n, baby—stay with me!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking as fear invaded his tone, “Wake up, y/n! Wake up!”

His eyes were welling with tears and he felt like his legs were going to give out as panic began to fill his chest. He felt like he was drowning. You had always been his lifeline and he felt like he was watching you fade from existence. Blood started to drip from your nose, and he gently wiped it away, breaking down at the sight of it.

“Come on, y/n,” he sobbed as he pulled you closer, trying to shield you from the dangers of this strange world. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered into your neck as he buried his head there, placing a small kiss against your skin.

He heard arguing above him, and his attention was momentarily pulled back towards the world he was trying desperately to get you back to.

“Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles—Music! We need music!” Robin’s voice rang out, and he heard the clatter of mixtapes falling to the floor.

“This is music!” Eddie shouted back.

Suddenly, Steve remembered the walkman in your pocket, and his fingers furiously pulled at the ziplock bag. His hands were shaking and he cursed himself as he struggled to get the bag open. He placed the headphones over your ears, hitting play and turning the volume up. He could hear the music faintly playing and watched as your eyes continued their rapid movement side to side underneath your eyelids.

He held his breath, hoping that something—anything—would change, and he thought the world was ending when it didn’t.

But then, suddenly, your eyes shot open as a gasp escaped your lips. You began falling backward and Steve barely had time to wrap his arms around your back to slow your fall, dropping to the floor with you.

You panted and your whole body trembled at the horrors you just witnessed. Vecna—or more accurately Henry Creel’s voice still rang in your ears as you hyperventilated, trying to push the images aside. As you began to settle, another voice filled your consciousness.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’m right here,” you looked up to see your boyfriend’s big brown eyes staring down at you with concern and love and all the words he still had yet to say to you.

Your terrified expression broke into one of great sadness as tears began to fall down your face while sobs wracked your tired frame.

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s voice was a whisper as he wiped away your tears, neglecting the ones that were falling from his own eyes. He cradled your head in his hands and you melted at his touch. In this moment, it was just the two of you; nothing else mattered and nothing else existed.

You took in the sight of Eddie’s denim vest draped over his shoulders, your eyes drifting to his bare arms and the blood and dirt caked against his skin. “We have to get out of here,” you whispered, your fingers gripping into his bicep.

With that, Steve swiftly stood up, and helped you back onto the makeshift rope. You felt his hand on your ass as he pushed you up, trying to quicken the pace at which you climbed. You saw the way your friends stared at you from the real world, concern lacing their features. As you crossed the threshold between the Upside Down and your world, you felt your stomach drop as the gravity switched directions. Your heart jumped to your throat as you free fell for a moment before hitting the springy mattress with the questionable stains.

You didn’t lie there for long before Robin grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet and into the tightest hug she’d probably ever given you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cry at the horrors you’d just witnessed as you held on to her. You released a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding as you heard a soft thud behind you, knowing your boyfriend had made it safely out of the hell that you’d just been stuck in for far too long for your liking.

“We can stay at my house tonight,” Max spoke up and you broke away from Robin to face her, “my mom should be gone until tomorrow afternoon so we should be fine.”

And with that, you all quickly made your way over to Max’s under the cover of night. Once you got there, everyone spread out as much as possible in the small home to camp out to sleep and Steve and you curled up together on the floor in the living room.

You shut your eyes tight as you tried to tune out the ticking of a small clock on the living room shelf. You buried your face in the crook of Steve’s neck as you both drifted off into a restless sleep.

***

The next morning everyone gave you a bit of space and no one really talked much, giving you a bit of time to cool down from the events of the night before. When you were finally ready, you all huddled up in the living room and everyone waited with bated breath for you to explain what you saw.

You cleared your throat before you spoke up. “He…showed me things that haven’t happened yet. The most awful things. I saw a dark cloud spreading over Hawkins. Downtown on fire. Dead soldiers. And this…giant creature with…a-a gaping mouth, a-a-and this creature wasn’t alone; there were so many monsters—an army—and they were coming into Hawkins, into our neighborhoods…our homes.”

You could barely get some of the words out, taking a deep breath before you continued. “And then he showed me my parents, and-and you guys and you w-were all….” Your voice trailed off as a lump formed in your throat, unable to say the words, afraid that you would speak it into existence. Tears began streaming down your face and Steve was quick to try and ease your pain.

“Okay, but…he’s just trying to scare you, baby. Right? I mean, it’s not real,” he tried to be the voice of reason, but his tone showed his lack of confidence in the truth he was trying to present. The real truth was that none of you knew what was going on, what would happen next.

“Not yet,” you whispered through teary eyes, “but…but there was something else. He showed me gates. Four gates, spreading across Hawkins. They looked like the one outside Eddie’s trailer, but they didn’t stop growing, and this wasn’t Upside Down Hawkins, this was our Hawkins.”

You looked between your friends, each one’s face twisted with worry and fear. The kids all looked so much older, the weight of the world constantly on their shoulders aging them, causing them to grow up too fast. You pushed the thought down as you continued. “Four chimes. Vecna’s clock always chimes four times. He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.”

“Four kills, four gates, end of the world,” Lucas spoke up, elaborating on your explanation.

“If that’s true,” Dustin took over, “he’s only one kill away.”

You felt everyone’s eyes turn to you, and you shrank under their stares, knowing that you were next.

“Try them again, try them again,” Steve looked at Max and she rushed to the phone. Max fingers worried at the cord of the phone before she hung it back up and turned around.

“Rang a few times and then went to busy signal,” she announced.

“Maybe you punched it in wrong, just try again,” Steve pushed, desperation lacing his tone.

“I didn’t punch it in wrong,” Max rolled her eyes.

“Dude I think she knows how to use a phone,” Dustin defended the redhead.

Max dialed again anyway, hanging up the phone with a resounding clang before turning around with a look that screamed I told you so plastered across her face. “Same shit.”

“I told you, Joyce has this telemarketer job. She’s always on the phone, Mike’s always whining about it,” Dustin explained.

“Yeah, but the phone’s been busy for, what, three days now? That’s not Joyce. No way. Something’s wrong,” Max countered.

“Whatever’s happening in Lenora, it’s connected to all of this,” you spoke up. “But Vecna can’t hurt them…not if he’s dead. We have to go back to the Upside Down.”

Steve and Eddie both immediately voiced their disagreement, Steve standing to put his two cents in.

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s think this through,” he put his hands up in a pacifying way trying to calm down your impulsivity.

“What is there to think through?!”

“Y/n, we barely made it out of there in one piece!”

“Yeah, because we weren’t prepared! But this time we will be. We’ll get weapons and protection, we’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Or he’ll kill us!” Steve yelled back at you. “The only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us and I’ll be damned if I let him have a chance to hurt you again. No, not happening.”

He said the words with such finality, but you opened your mouth to argue with him again, anger boiling below the surface. Before you could speak, Robin spoke up.

“We learned something new about Vecna/Henry/One…He’s a number like Eleven, only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin, but-but my point is, he’s super powerful. He could turn us inside out with the snap of his fingers, it is not a fair fight.”

“So why fight fair?” Dustin interjected, “he’s like Eleven but that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths and weaknesses. When El remote-travels, she goes into this sort of trance-like state. I bet the same is true of Vecna. When he attacks his next victim, I bet he’s back in that attic, physical body defenseless.”

“Defenseless? Yeah? What about the army of bats?” Steve gestured to the deep bruising around his neck from his last encounter with Vecna’s very present defenses.

“True. We’ll have to find a way past them. Distract them…somehow,” Henderson replied.

“And, uh, how do we do that exactly?” Eddie looked like he was damn near close to killing the boy.

“No idea. But once they’re gone, he doesn’t stand a chance. It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

“That all sounds good in theory, but there is no pattern to Vecna’s killings. I mean, at least not one that I can decipher. We don’t know when he’s going to attack next. We don’t even know who he’s going to attack next.” Robin countered.

“Yeah we do,” you spoke up, “I can still feel him. I ditch Kate Bush and I draw his focus back to me.”

“No way in fucking hell!” Steve was quick to cut across the room to approach you. “He’ll kill you!”

“I survived before, I can survive again…I-I just need to keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Steve pleaded, grabbing your hands in his, his thumbs gently rubbing over the back of your hands.

“Maybe there is,” Dustin spoke up. “Y/n, other than last night—which was clearly just a scare tactic—the last vision you had was in the cemetery, right?”

“Yeah?” Your words came out as a question, not quite following the fast paced turning of the gears in the young genius’s mind.

“Well, then maybe he isn’t after you anymore…I mean, you basically found the antidote. He can’t get to you with that music playing, so maybe you don’t have to be bait at all…maybe he’s moved on to someone else.”

“That’s so highly hypothetical, Dustin. I mean, we’re not in a position where we can operate purely on a hunch!” Robin exclaimed. She wanted nothing more than for it to be true, for you to be safer than you had been, but it was too big a risk to take.

“Think about it! If Vecna was going to kill y/n, why didn’t he just do it last night? They all spent hours in the Upside Down yesterday, and he didn’t even try to get her until the very end to send a message! We’re all so convinced that Vecna isn’t scared of us, but maybe—even to just a small degree—maybe he is.”

“He’s always been two steps ahead of us,” you spoke up, your voice quiet but sure.

“Exactly! And I can’t help but think that he is expecting us to fawn over y/n, trying to keep her safe to prevent the end of the world while he’s just gearing up to cause it somewhere else.”

“I mean, I gotta say, that kind of makes a shit ton of sense,” Eddie supported the boy’s hypothesis.

“But what if we’re wrong?” Steve questioned. “What if we’re wrong and Vecna is still coming for her and she fucking dies? What then?”

“If we don’t do anything, it’s the end of the world either way; it’s just a matter of time,” you replied. You sounded so confident and your words seemed final. He knew you were stubborn enough that once you settled on something, there was no way that you were budging on it. It was something he loved about you—your pure grit, your determination—but he couldn’t help but hate it in this moment.

Eddie had moved across the small living room, pulling a thick phonebook from the highest shelf. He quickly thumbed through it and brushed past you, dropping it down on the table with a satisfying thud.

“Check this out. The War Zone,” he pointed to the bottom left corner of the page, “I’ve been there once. It’s huge…they’ve got everything you need for, uh…well, uh, killing things, basically.”

“Do you think fake Rambo has enough guns there? Is that a grenade? I mean how is any of this even legal?” Robin inquired, critiquing the advertisement in the phonebook.

“Well, lucky for us it is, so…this-this place is just far enough outside of Hawkins. As long as we steer clear of the main roads, we oughta be able to avoid cops and, uh, angry hicks,” Eddie explained.

“If we’re trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn’t go to some store called the War Zone,” Erica spoke up.

“Normally, I’d agree with you but we need the weapons so I think it’s worth the risk,” Nancy replied. She sounded tired and you couldn’t help but feel the same. You wished you could just be young adults who had to worry about normal things like figuring out what you wanted to be, what you wanted to do with your lives. Not trying to determine if a calculated risk was going to get you killed.

“Is it worth the time though? It’ll take all day to bike there and back,” Dustin pointed out.

“Who said anything about bikes?” Eddie chimed in.

“You got some car we don’t know about?” Steve questioned.

“It’s not exactly a car, Steve. And it’s not exactly mine, but uh, it’ll do,” Eddie smiled and you knew you were all in for a hectic, chaotic time. “Hey, Red, uh you got a ski mask or a bandanna or something like that?”

And that’s how you all ended up sneaking around the trailer park following Eddie Munson in a Michael Myers mask…which somehow wasn’t the weirdest thing that this group has had to do for the sake of the greater good.

Eddie rounded the corner around an RV and slid open a side window before hoisting himself through it. Steve followed suit and helped pull you through the window, steadying you as you dropped very ungracefully into the vehicle.

Eddie began pulling at wires under the dash and Steve watched him work with a concerned confusion plastered across his face. “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

“Well, while the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire. Now, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t wind up like he did, but now I’m wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So yeah, I’m really living up to that Munson name.”

“Eddie, I’m not sure I love the idea of you driving,” you spoke cautiously as you leaned into Steve’s back to join the conversation happening at the driver’s seat.

“Oh, I’m just starting this sucker. Harrington’s got her, don’t ya big boy?” And just like that, the RV revved to life, and the owners of said RV began banging on the sides of it, screaming at you to get out. You felt bad, like really bad, but you kept reminding yourself it was for the greater good as Eddie and Steve swiftly switched places.

“It’s just a car,” Steve whispered to himself, trying to psych himself up before yelling back to the other passengers of the now stolen vehicle “everybody, hang on to something!”

“Drive, Steve! Drive!” Dustin’s voice rang out and he didn’t have to tell Steve twice, as he put his still bare foot on the gas, taking off out of the trailer park.

“Shit they look pissed,” Lucas pointed out, watching as the RV’s owners tried and failed to run after their vehicle.

“Well, it’s not every day that you lose your house and your car in one fell swoop,” you cringed at how awful your actions were, hoping that you’d somehow be able to return the RV undamaged but that was unlikely given your present predicament.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” Steve shouted, making a sharp turn. You nearly would’ve fallen out of your seat if it weren’t for Eddie’s quick reflexes as he grabbed at the collar of your shirt, pulling you back towards him.

What had you gotten yourselves into?

***

Everyone was asleep in the back, catching up from the eventful night that you had the day prior. Naturally, you couldn’t sleep, so you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat next to Steve, and you couldn’t help but feel wistful for the way it all felt so normal. You had fallen into a comfortable silence, until Steve broke it as he spoke up.

“You know, it’s silly, but I…I’ve actually…I always had this dream that I’d have this really big family. I’m talking, like, uh, a full brood of Harringtons, like five, six kids.”

“Six?!” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, six of ‘em. Three girls, three boys…and-and every summer, I figured all of us Harringtons, we would pack into something like this and just…see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. And then end up in some beachside town in California, spend a week parked in the sand…learn how to surf or something.”

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. You and Steve rarely ever talked about the future because everything always felt so precarious. The most you’d ever talked about was wanting to simply have one together. The fact that he’d been day dreaming about a life was almost too much for you to handle. You thought about Vecna and your visions and your headaches and your eyes began welling up with tears at the very real possibility that it would be someone else giving Steve the life that he wanted, the life he deserved.

“That sounds nice,” you whispered through your watery eyes.

“Baby,” Steve noticed your tears, reaching over and putting a hand on your thigh to comfort you. “What’s wrong?” There was a lump in your throat and you couldn’t quite get the words out, so Steve jumped in, trying to make you laugh. “I mean, I guess the six kids part is a bit much—a bit tear inspiring—so maybe I should’ve held that detail back, you know? I’ll work up to it once we already have a few little Harringtons of our own, what do you say?”

If it were under any other circumstances, his effort to make you smile would’ve paid off but instead, it just made you cry harder, considering this future that you were damn near sure you wouldn’t have.

Watching you react like that was sending Steve into a spiral. He wished he could go back and just keep his damn mouth shut because maybe you didn’t want that. Maybe you didn’t want a future like that with him. Hell, maybe you didn’t even want a future with him at all.

He knew that you loved him, but he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were falling out of love. You had been through so much together, but this shit was so much fucking worse than what you’d been through before. Maybe you were realizing that he wasn’t the one for you…that he wasn’t enough. There’s nothing like a series of near death experiences to make someone rethink all their life choices.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, quickly getting up and moving to the back of the RV, needing some space. Robin had been awake and overheard the conversation the two of you had just had, her heart breaking for her best friends. She’d be damned if she let this blip break up her favorite couple, so just like that she gave Eddie a swift kick to the shins.

“Ow! Robin! What the fuck!” He exclaimed, the abrupt wake up something he was not happy about.

“We’re putting out fires okay? I need you to go talk to Steve and keep him from going fucking crazy.” This was a divide and conquer situation.

Eddie noticed the way you sat in the back corner, sniffling and staring out the window. “Trouble in paradise?” He asked.

“Yeah, but under these conditions, I’d hesitate to call it paradise.”

With that, Eddie made his way up to the front of the RV.

“What do you want, Munson?” Steve groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he tried to keep his anger in check.

“Nice to talk to you too, Harrington,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m just really not in the mood to fucking chat right now, okay?”

“You need to chill out man.”

Steve stared incredulously at the long haired freak in front of him. “Did you seriously just fucking say that to me? Munson, I’d like you to tell me how the fuck you think I should just chill out. It’s not like I’m barefoot, driving a fucking stolen RV to a store called fucking War Zone, and the world is fucking ending, not to mention my girlfriend is basically fucking dying…oh, and if we end up getting out of this shit storm okay, I think she’s going to dump me anyway…so forgive me for not being fucking chill.”

The words dripped like poison from his lips, but he kept his voice to a seething whisper so as not to upset you further. He could hear your soft sobs from the back of the RV and his heart ached as he tried to figure out where he went wrong.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Harrington?”

“What do you mean?” Steve answered Eddie’s question with a question.

“Like yeah, yeah, yeah, all that shit you listed is, well, pretty fucking shit…but there is no way in hell y/n is going to dump your ass.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Steve rolled his eyes, aggressively flipping on his turn signal as he pulled up to another side street.

“I don’t think you know what the hell you’re talking about, man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people as in love as the two of you dipshits are, and considering you’ve faced the end of the fucking world more times than I can count, I’d say that your relationship outlook is pretty fucking solid.”

Steve sighed, debating whether or not he should open up to Munson. He didn’t really like Eddie all that much before all this shit, but he was learning that the metal head wasn’t as terrible as he thought. Besides, half of his hatred was no doubt misplaced jealousy over the fact that you had been tutoring him and spending extra time with him. Despite this, Steve decided to take the calculated risk of being vulnerable.

“We were sitting up here talking…and-and I just brought up how, in the future, it would be nice to have some kids of our own and pack up into an RV like this and travel the country…and…ugh, and then she just started crying! And, yeah I did say that I want like six kids—“

“Six kids?!”

“Yeah, it’s a lot, but that’s besides the point. And! And I made a joke about it, because yeah it is a fucking lot, but that just made her cry harder and I feel like the only explanation is that maybe she doesn’t fucking want that with me, and she just isn’t ready to rip off the band aid yet. I mean, I know we love each other, but maybe she’s realizing she doesn’t love me like that, you know?”

Eddie sat there quietly for a second considering what his newfound friend just said. I mean, Steve’s thought process did make sense, but Eddie thought back to the conversation you had with him; the one where you told him that you were pretty confident Steve was the one. Eddie swore himself to secrecy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put his two cents in.

“Look, there’s no way she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life with you dude. She is head over fucking heels for you, trust me,” Eddie started out, “Besides, you guys haven’t been officially dating for that long anyway…I don’t see something happening in that short amount of time that would have caused her to change her mind like that. No way, man.”

“I don’t know,” Steve mumbled, and Eddie could tell he was holding something back.

“Spill it, Harrington,” when Steve looked at him hesitantly, Eddie rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m a wanted man and the whole fucking town hates me. Who am I going to fucking tell? Besides, bro code and all that patriarchal shit.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. You were still locked in a pretty serious and hushed conversation with Robin, so he felt a bit better about the fact that you wouldn’t overhear what he had to say.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you myself, understand?” Eddie nodded, and Steve continued, “okay…we…um, you know how we broke into the high school to find all those files and shit?”

“Yeah…?” Eddie replied, not quite sure where this was going.

“Well, that night, y/n came back to my place to spend the night because she had her first vision and we needed to talk a lot out, and….well, and we had sex.” Steve whispered the last part so quietly it was barely audible.

Eddie stared at him like he was a fucking idiot. “Okay….? And….? You two have been dating for like eight fucking months. You had sex. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Steve rolled his eyes, trying not to flush with embarrassment about giving Eddie Munson of all people the intimate details of his love life. “We had sex for the first time, okay? So yeah, it’s a pretty big fucking deal,” Steve defended himself.

Eddie looked absolutely dumbfounded. “So you’re saying that you, King Steve, have been dating a girl for eight months and you haven’t fucked her until like a few days ago? I’m sorry man, but I have to call bullshit on that.”

“I swear, dude. Y/n hasn’t really dated anyone before so it was her first time, first time, so we were waiting until she was ready.”

“That had to fucking kill you, man. I’m surprised you waited that long at all,” Eddie tried to hold back a chuckle.

“Hey! Knock it the fuck off, Munson!”

“Was it good?”

“I’ll pull over right now and beat the shit out of you. I’m not fucking joking.”

“Well I am, so you can chill the fuck out,” Eddie laughed. “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with her potentially wanting to dump you.”

“Well, it’s just a change, you know? Like what if she didn’t like it and—and…I don’t know, the spark is gone?”

“Dude, respectfully, that’s surely not the case. There’s probably a shit ton of women in Hawkins who would be lining up just to sleep with you, so there’s no fucking chance that she’s going to break up with you because you’re bad in bed.”

“I did not say that I was worried I was bad in bed; don’t put fucking words in my mouth.”

“What a fragile little ego you’ve got,” Eddie teased, “no dude, but seriously, please don’t worry about it. There’s no way that your little lady isn’t hopelessly in love with you.” Eddie gave Steve a pat on the shoulder before moving back to the back end of the RV.

Meanwhile, Robin was trying desperately to calm you down. Sobs wracked your tired frame as you wiped at the tears that were flowing down your face.

“Y/n, please. What’s wrong?” Robin asked, pulling your hands away from your face so that she could get a good look at you. You took several deep breaths, hiccuping through a few more sobs until you calmed down enough to speak.

“I-it-it’s Steve,” was all you could manage to say before another communication breakdown had you unintelligibly sobbing again.

Robin shook her head, “honey, you have to tell me what’s wrong; I can’t help you otherwise, and I want to help. Please.”

“He’s just so perfect,” you whispered, your eyebrows furrowed together with such a hopelessness that Robin nearly wanted to cry with you. She wasn’t exactly sure what you meant, so she just stayed silent for you to continue. “Like, he was talking about how he wants this future together with all of these kids and-and…and Robin, I want that. I want it so fucking bad, but I don’t think we’re both going to make it to the other side of this.”

Robin’s heart stopped in her chest. “What do you mean, y/n?”

The sympathetic look you shot Robin was enough to kill her. “Robin.”

“No, y/n. What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I’m making it out of this one alive, okay?” You sighed, another tear falling down your cheek that Robin was quick to wipe away. “And…and it’s just hard to hear him talk about a future that he’s going to have to have with someone else…because I want him to have that—I really do, Robin—but I just know it’s not going to be with me.”

“Y/n, you have to let us try. I’m not going to fucking let that happen,” Robin argued as a tear fell down her face, “you and Steve can have all the gross, sticky children you want because our plan is going to work, it has to work, okay?”

You took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes one more time. You didn’t feel confident, but despite that, for your friend, you agreed, the words coming out in a whisper.

“Okay.”

***

As soon as you stepped foot into War Zone, you were immediately overwhelmed. “So much for avoiding angry hicks,” Robin voiced what you all were thinking. The store was packed full of people, and you figured that everyone from Hawkins was probably gearing up for what they thought was the inevitable with an alleged murderer on the loose.

“Let’s be…fast,” Nancy spoke up, and you all split off in different directions to gather the supplies you needed to face Vecna. Not quite ready to face Steve after your breakdown in the van, you sped off to a corner of the store away from him, ducking and weaving between other customers before he could argue.

As he watched you disappear in the crowd, his heart jumped to his throat. He didn’t like the idea of you being out of his sight right now; none of you had any way of knowing what was going to happen, and he liked to keep you close so that he could be there if and when shit hit the fan. The fact that you were still upset was also killing him. You guys usually communicated so well, but this whole Vecna situation was really throwing you off your game. How long would it be before you guys couldn’t communicate at all? How long until you were shells of the people who fell in love, destroyed by grief and pain and tragedy?

Robin pulled him out of his thoughts before he could spiral too much. “How many of these do you think we need?” She asked, holding up a canister of kerosene.

He threw on a jacket he had found in the store, throwing another canister in the cart. “Five or six,” he answered, though in all honesty, who could really be sure?

Steve placed a few more canisters in the cart before noticing that Robin was suddenly very sidetracked. His heart rate picked up for a second, thinking it was due to some sort of threat, but he calmed down a little when he realized that she had spotted Vickie.

“What are you gonna do, Rob? Just stand here and gawk at her?” He asked as a smirk broke out across his features.

“Shut up,” she was quick to respond. Steve’s heart soared as she took a step towards Vickie, but it quickly shattered to the floor when a guy came up behind Vickie, wrapping his arms around her frame. His heart was breaking for his friend as she turned around, running the other way, embarrassed by the hope she’d allowed to grow in her mind.

“Robin! Robin!” Steve called after her, but it was no use.

You stood at the gun counter, rifle in hand, heart pounding as you inspected the firearm. “How much is this?” You asked the man at the counter.

“$120.99, but I’ll throw in twenty rounds of buckshot for ya,” he replied. You were glad you weren’t the only one that was going to have to cover the cost for all of this shit, because you certainly didn’t have the funds for end-of-the-world-apocalypse preparation supplies. You nodded softly at the clerk and he turned to help another customer when you heard a voice that made your stomach drop ring out next to you.

“Hey, can I see this real pretty .375, please?” Jason asked, his hands pressed against the countertop, letterman jacket looking pristine compared to your dirty and disheveled clothes from the hell you’d been through.

“Here you go son,” The clerk handed the gun over the counter and Jason thanked him. You tried to turn away so as not to be recognized, your heart pounding in your ear.

“Y/n,” Jason spoke up, gesturing at you with the pistol, “wouldn’t expect to find you here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just…scary times,” you used the easy excuse at your disposal. “I’m…really sorry about Chrissy,” you added, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

“Want my advice?” He took a step closer to you. “Shotguns are not good for much of anything past killing small birds. I mean, they got power, sure, but not much range.” You swallowed back your fear as he took another step closer to you. “And that’s just gonna force you into close-range combat, then someone can just grab that barrel like this and redirect it.“

You jumped as his hand wrapped around the barrel of the shotgun you were holding, inertia carrying you as he jerked the gun towards him.

“You look nervous,” Jason pointed out, his steely gaze not wavering from your eyes.

“Like I said, scary times,” you refused to look away either, meeting his intensity with a burning hatred of your own.

“You…you know Munson,” Jason continued, leaning even closer towards you, if that was even possible. “Physics. You tutor him, right?”

“I did,” you tried to emphasize the past tense nature of that sentiment, hoping that giving him as little as possible would make him let it go.

“He…he here with you, by chance?” You could see the craziness in Jason’s eyes as he said it, and your heart began beating faster. This was a man that had snapped, and you were afraid of what he would do to you and your friends if he knew that you were helping hide Eddie.

“No,” you shook your head, still not breaking eye contact.

“I’m only asking because, after all, he’s in charge of Hellfire, you know?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feigned ignorance.

“What about his friends?” Jason pushed the question, tightening his grip on the shotgun and taking another small step towards you. “They here with you?”

“Would you let go?” You asked in a hushed tone, your expression settling into something fierce and serious. Jason didn’t respond, his eyes still locked onto yours, his stern expression matching your own, so you raised your voice a bit. “Let. Go.”

“What’s going on over here?” A familiar voice rang out behind you and you felt relief flood your veins as you felt a hand at the small of your back. You wanted to roll your eyes as Jason eased up a bit, his grip loosening on the barrel of the gun in your hand. The countless ways a man will not hesitate to disrespect and intimidate a woman astounded you compared to the complete change in demeanor as soon as his actions could be construed as disrespectful of another man. Bro code was a bunch of certified bullshit.

Steve knew Jason better than you did. After all, they played basketball together just the year prior, with Steve being the team captain. Steve looked at Jason quizzically, his eyes practically daring the letterman jacket wearing jock to cause trouble.

“Steve,” Jason’s crazy, out of control expression melting into a polite smile, “nothing’s going on. Just two friends having a chat. Right, y/n?”

Jason’s stare made you feel nauseous, so you moved your head in a small and stiff nod, being agreeable to avoid any further confrontation. Steve could obviously sense the tension and felt his blood boiling at Jason’s clear attempt to intimidate you.

“It’s just, you’re standing awfully close to my girlfriend, and she’s very clearly uncomfortable,” Steve refused to back down.

“My apologies. Store’s quite crowded, is all,” Jason explained, his expression swiftly changing, menace dripping behind his mundane words.

“Certainly still enough room to back the fuck off,” Steve moved between you and Jason. You quickly waved down the clerk to ring you out for your purchase.

“Woah there, Harrington. Being a little defensive, don’t you think?” Jason’s eyes narrowed. “If I was crazy, I’d even go as far as to say you’re hiding something.”

“I don’t have any clue what the fuck you’re talking about,” Steve took a step towards Jason before continuing. “She’s my girlfriend, so I’m just trying to make sure she’s alright.”

“And Chrissy was mine,” Jason shot back, and you watched the way his fists clenched and unclenched. He looked like he was about ready to lose it and you weren’t really too confident in his ability to self regulate right now with everything that was going on.

“Is everything okay between you boys?” The clerk asked after handing you your bag. At this, Steve and Jason took a step away from each other.

“Everything is fine, sir. Thank you for all your help,” Steve spoke up, putting a hand on the small of your back again and moving you in front of him as he began guiding you through the store towards the front.

Before you could get far, Jason spoke up from behind the two of you, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder to make him stop. “If you know anything, I recommend you tell us because we’ll find out one way or another.”

“Is that a threat?” You questioned, finally finding your voice. You were surprised by the way that it didn’t waver.

“Oh, no” Jason chuckled, “it’s a fucking promise.”

With that, Jason backed away, moving to the other end of War Zone to meet up with the rest of his entourage, and Steve quickly moved the two of you towards the front of the store. Robin, Nancy, Max, and Erica had clearly realized the presence of Jason’s group and were finishing up checking out the rest of your supplies. Nancy finished paying and the five of you swiftly exited the store as fast as you could, all piling back into the RV parked outside.

“Your old friends are here,” Erica announced to Lucas as she boarded the bus.

“Shit!” Lucas exclaimed.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Dustin shouted, fear lacing his tone at the thought of what Jason would do if he got his hands on any of them.

“I’m going! I’m going! Sit down!” Steve shouted as he rushed to the driver’s seat, starting the vehicle up and peeling out of the parking lot.

No one talked for a while, everyone still reeling from the close encounter you had just had in the War Zone. Once you were a considerable distance away, Steve spoke up.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” you let out a bit of a chuckle, trying to play it off like you weren’t still a little freaked out from the way Jason was acting.

“Babe, come on,” Steve glanced over at you, “I know you.”

You sighed. “He just seems so unhinged right now. I felt like he was going to try and fucking kill me right in that store. And I’m just…I’m worried about Dustin and Lucas and Eddie. If Jason was that willing to be that aggressive towards me, who knows what he’ll fucking do to them if he gets ahold of them!”

“He’s hot headed, that’s for sure,” Steve agreed with you, “but we’re going to figure it all out, and it’ll be fine.”

You weren’t so sure that you agreed with him, but you didn’t say anything as he continued driving. He took several backroads until the occasional buildings disappeared, the scenery shifting to rolling hills and open fields. He pulled off into an open field that was shielded enough from the road by the tree line, and you all exited the RV, ready to prep your various weapons.

You sat on a basket, sawing at the barrel of the shotgun you had just purchased as Max and Nancy watched.

“Is this legal?” Max asked.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s a felony,” you replied, continuing to saw without a care in the world of the legal repercussions of your actions. “But it guarantees one thing. I won’t miss.”

Once you were finished, you handed the shotgun to Max, standing up and wiping your hands on your pants, before smiling at her and moving to sit with Steve and Robin.

“I mean, it just doesn’t make sense,” Steve spoke up, holding a funnel as Robin poured kerosene into an empty bottle.

“What doesn’t make sense?” Robin asked.

“That was Dan Shelter. He graduated like two years ago,” Steve went on, and you realized you were clearly missing something.

“So?”

“So, he’s in college, which means he was visiting on spring break. Fast Times was returned, like, I don’t know, a week ago? Right? Unless she’s got some horndog brother we don’t know about which is possible. Or she’s just really into Judge Reinhold?” You finally caught on and realized that this was all about Vickie. Putting two and two together, you figured she must have a boyfriend, putting a total wrench into your plans to land Robin a kick ass girlfriend.

“Steve!” Robin cut him off. “I don’t care, and I don’t understand why you do either with everything that’s going on. Honestly, this feels like a prefect time for that little pull of the rug because in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

“You deserve to be happy though, Robin,” you spoke up, weighing in on the conversation.

“Not everything has a happy ending,” she reminded the two of you, and your mind flashed back to Steve’s dream of six kids packed into an RV together. You figured now was the right time to speak your mind…after all the world was ending.

“I have this terrible, gnawing feeling that…it might not work out for us this time,” you explained, leaving out the part where you were pretty much 100% confident that it was specifically going to be you that was caught in the crossfire.

“You think we shouldn’t be doing this?” Steve asked, concern flooding his brown eyes.

“I think we’re mad fools, the lot of us…but if we don’t stop him, who will?” You looked out at all of your friends, each of them with their makeshift, modified weapons, and you willed yourself not to cry. “We have to try, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, his expression stoic. He picked up one of the empty bottles that had yet to be filled with kerosene. “To killing Vecna?” He proposed a toast.

“Slash Henry,” Robin added.

“Slash One,” you finished as each of you picked up bottles of your own to clink together. Your free hand searched for Steve’s as you wrapped your pinky around his, silently making an additional promise to him too.

A promise that you were going to fight like hell to live for the future Steve was dreaming of. A promise to believe that maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be okay.

His pinky tightened around yours, and for a moment, that was all that mattered in the world.

***

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! If you commented or reblogged or even sent an ask about what you thought of it, it would honestly make my whole day! I really enjoy reading your comments and it 1000% motivates me to write more (I also have a list of some ideas for once this story is finished, so stay tuned for that!!!)

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