#and Robin who wants us to be free and happy

[austenpoppy]

Interestingly, there are those issues of Gotham Knights (Gotham Knights #8-11) in which Bruce hypnotizes himself (because he wanted to prove to Dr. Strange Batman and Bruce weren't the same person) so that all he remembers is his Brucie persona.

At first, when Bruce keeps being Brucie even though there's no one else, Dick thinks it's a strategy on Bruce's part, that they're being bugged.

Gotham Knights #11

Then he starts to get more and more frustrated, to the point that he yells at Bruce to snap out of it while doing a move with his leg that sends Bruce flying. Dick is apologetic because Bruce was supposed to block it (he always blocks it because of a tell Dick apparently has). And that's when Dick begins to be terrified.

Gotham Knights #11

Shenanigans ensue, and Dick as Nightwing ends up asking him why he took his first ward in when they're in Doctor Strange's lair. Brucie answers something along the lines of "I don't know, but I liked him. He was fearless, effusive and full of grace."

Gotham Knights #11

And wouldn't you guess ? Those were the words Bruce used in those files of him to describe Dick.

Gotham Knights #10

Later, Dick reminds Bruce of the words of the oath they'd taken, and that's what stops the autohypnotic suggestion. Turns out Bruce was counting on Dick to say the words to free him.

Gotham Knights #11

(Also can I just squeal at how cute it is that young child Dick Grayson spent days practicing the oath speech ?).

So the way I see it, Dick felt very disconnected from the Brucie persona for the longest time. Bruce said it himself : "You have almost no relationship with that man."

Gotham Knights #11

Up until that moment he knew it was an act, and had trouble reconciling this persona with the man he knows. If anything, the fact that Brucie was an airhead had to be weird, irritating and maybe frightening to him - did he despise Brucie as much as Bruce does ? Batman/Bruce is the one who knows what needs to be done, who cleverly thwarts the villains' plans, and can take care of himself and others - he's someone to be relied on. Brucie, on the other hand, is someone who relies on others, a civilian who doesn't know his left from his right and needs to be protected. In that same issue of Gotham Knights, Dick was fully confident Tim, Alfred and he didn't have to fear Dr. Strange when it appeared Bruce was alive because he was certain Bruce would know what to do. Then when the Brucie persona took over, he fearfully tried to reassure himself Brucie knew how to take care of himself.

He once told Tim that it must be hard on Bruce to play stupid all the time, and that it was why he didn't try too hard to be Dick Grayson (meaning he didn't spend time crafting a role).

Robin volume 4, #12

Also in the JLA/Titans team-up when "Vic" was showing his friends the things he thought they wanted most, he shew Dick a Batman running at him and hugging him tight (not sure whether this was before or after the whole thing with Dr. Strange, though). Dick was shell-shocked for a few seconds, until Batman grinned (we know Bruce can smile and laugh, but it's certainly rarely a big toothy grin he can't keep off his face). Then he yelled at the illusion that he was not Batman, and walked away scoffing when the illusion kept telling him he was proud of everything Dick'd done and wanted to know how he felt.

JLA/Titans #1

So, apart from the fact that it's absolutely heartbreaking because it shows how little affection Bruce has given Dick over time and how he's not the type to be interested in how Dick feels (there's another panel in NTT of Bruce being too busy with Jason working on a case when Dick, depressed after Kory's wedding, wanted to talk to him; Bruce dismissed him, wished him a happy birthday in passing and Dick ended up muttering "The more things change, the more they stay the same), I think it's interesting that Dick saw this wasn't Batman thanks to the smile in particular, and right after the hug. Indeed, this may not be Batman's smile, but it's certainly Brucie's. And Dick reacted here after that the same way he would to Brucie - dismissively.

So if I had to hazard a guess, I would say Brucie had to be rather demonstrative in his affection toward Dick - this would tie in with other panels of Brucie showing Dick proudly to ladies at party. And also if Brucie was too dismissive of Dick in public, this would've garnered attention and raised eyebrows.

But the thing is, "Brucie" being affectionate, if that was indeed the case, didn't make Dick think this was how Bruce could act. He dissociated the two in his head, the two were separate entities: one he feared and adored in equal mesures, one he could dismiss without a thought; one who he relied on and knew all the answers and could protect him, one who was stupid and needed to be protected instead; one whose approval, love and attention he craved but barely received, one with whom he wanted nothing to do with but kept showing him around at parties.

Was separating the two personas and thinking Bruce couldn't be affectionate, attentive and fun a coping mechanism, a way to protect himself ? Maybe, and personally I would say yes.

In that case, learning from Bruce the files he created about why he took Dick in as Robin and how he wasn't sure how he considered Dick had to mess with Dick's head. And two issues later in Gotham Knights, Dick wrote that letter to Bruce he never sent about how he wanted Bruce to be sure about how he felt, how much he wanted to matter in Bruce's life and - most heartshattering of all - how he knew Bruce would trade him in a heartbeat for his parents while Dick would never do the same.

As an aside, some people may think it's weird for Bruce to reflect on Dick's role in his life after calling him son at least twice (at Donna's wedding, at the end of Knightfall), or for Dick to doubt his place in Bruce's life after that.

For the first case, Bruce was trying to think about why Batman had taken Robin to accomplish the mission he had set himself to do. It was also a point in his life when he started to question the duality between Batman and Bruce Wayne, became crankier and crankier to those around him and decided, right after Vesper Fairchild's murder, that Bruce Wayne was no longer of use to him.

As for Dick, he's spent his entire life getting mixed signals from Bruce : Bruce took him in and made him his partner, but fired him from the role after his first real encounter with Two-Face; he raised him, but never adopted him (at that point at least), and adopted Jason instead; he called him his son twice (that I remember at least), but also told him several times he never should've had a partner in the first place and threw him out after Jason died, and chose Azrael to replace him when he broke his back (learning Dick wasn't even with the Titans at that point but was flying solo makes this so much worse); is he valued for his usefulness in the mission or for himself ? So in the end, it's not surprising he wasn't sure where he stood with Bruce.

The Brucie and Dick relationship.

[Obligatory ‘new to comic canon’ warning, where I use my Tumblr to process all my thoughts!]

While thinking today about the impact that Bruce and Batman have on Dick growing up, I realised there was a third person to consider.

What impact does Brucie have on Dick?

Because Brucie is a big part of the Bruce/Batman/Brucie identity triangle, although he often isn’t really taken into consideration when looking at their overall relationship with Dick.  However, Brucie is who the world in general sees – his colleagues, his ‘friends’, the women he dates and the people he socialises with.  There are articles written about him in the papers, paparazzi snapping his pictures.  Businesses and charities being set up in his name.

The thing is though, once Dick comes along, Brucie isn’t just a solo act.  Now, Bruce has to decide what role Dick plays in the persona.

Brucie is deliberately crafted to send particular messages: he’s not a threat, he’s easy to manipulate, he’s rather stupid and clumsy but well-meaning and incredibly likeable.  Which means that, when they are together in public (or even when Brucie is talking about him without Dick being present), Brucie and Dick are meant to send a message as well.  I can’t see their public relationship not being just as carefully crafted as the Brucie one – if it’s not, it puts the whole Brucie persona at risk.  This isn’t Bruce having a relationship with Dick, after all – it’s Brucie.

I haven’t seen enough of Brucie and Dick together to really formulate something based more deeply in canon, so a couple of thoughts instead about what that message might be intended to be.  Is the message supposed to be that they are a shiny happy family (completely normal, as much as a man and his ward can be)?  From what we know of Brucie, that would mean that Brucie would likely be more openly affectionate when they are together, much more tactile and prouder of Dick than Bruce or Batman would be.

Is the message more supposed to be the scatterbrained playboy who collects things that interests him in a well-meaning way but moves on quickly, meaning Brucie is more likely to be kind but dismissive of Dick and their relationship?

Both versions send a message: one that is we are a normal, functional family (who clearly are not Batman and Robin!), one where the relationship is more superficial and Dick isn’t really quite that important anymore and therefore you shouldn’t worry too much about him/think about him/consider him to heavily connected to Brucie at all (and all the risks that might involve for Dick, Batman and Bruce).

Both serve a protective role and both are deliberately crafted, but neither are necessarily healthy for actual Dick in the long run – especially as this would have all started when Dick was 9-10 years old.  He’s not only having to navigate his own, actual relationship with Bruce (and Batman), but manage a fake version of it as well.  And, while Dick knows that it’s all an act and probably at times finds the whole Brucie situation deeply amusing while being frustrated at other times with how people underestimate Bruce, I could also see how the deliberate choices that Bruce makes about how Brucie and Dick’s relationship is portrayed could have a deeper impact.

After all … Affectionate!Brucie potentially highlights that Bruce chooses not to be like that with him at other times - he’s clearly capable of acting that way but doesn’t necessarily feel that way.  Or, at the very least, it highlights what could have been but isn’t.  Dismissive!Brucie potentially highlights some of Dick’s greatest fears.  

There are also things that Dick could learn just from Brucie away from the Dick and Brucie relationship (you never show your true self to people, even if they are not a threat – they are ALWAYS a threat) that have the potential to shape how he sees the world.

Again, none of these are fully realised thoughts or ideas.  There are also a dozen other variations of the Brucie and Dick relationship that Bruce might have crafted, but I think the thing I am getting at is that Bruce would have crafted something – and that potentially this might have had some impact on Dick.  He grew up with Brucie alongside Batman and Bruce, after all.  I could see young!Dick absolutely leaning into it and loving to play whatever the role was (love the ‘it’s us against the world’ feel), but you get the sense that as he gets older, some realisations might creep in.

Which leads me to my last random thought: are there some versions of the Brucie and Dick relationship where Brucie of all people is actually a better parent than Bruce is (especially later on)?  Brucie – who is generally ridiculed and looked down upon by everyone who knows that he is an act?  Who is meant to represent all the things that Bruce and Batman aren’t so as to throw people off their scent.  Are there versions of the Dick and Brucie relationship where Dick might actually prefer some of those Brucie traits to some of Bruce and Batman's more harsher edges?  

From a purely evil head canon perspective, I kind of like the thought that, out of all the Batkids, Dick is the only one who actually enjoys Brucie at times, because when Affectionate!Brucie is in action he can lean into the warmth of the father-son dynamic without it being complicated or difficult, even if it is just for a short time.  And you know what the kicker would be?  Bruce would probably tell Dick afterwards how well he played the role.

…. I did not intend to have so much to say about this relationship as I did!

[finisnihil]

Haha just realized the cutscene where the Trailblazer is first entering Penacony and you see them hold out their arms like wings and then crash into the ground before being found by Sunday and Robin is supposed to parallel the dove from Sunday and Robin's childhood.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[gothamite-rambler]

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) with all the batkids when they were kids

Dick Grayson:

Diana (rubbing young Dick Grayson's cheek with her hand): Baby, tiny, precious! You so cute!

Dick giggled with a smile.

Diana: You want a candy?

Dick: Hm, yes! Yes! Please!

Diana: Aww, so precious.

Bruce: He's not supposed to eat a lot of-

Diana (a sweet smile on her face): Bruce, you and I both know I can break every bone in your body at once.

Bruce (hiding his fear): I do remember that, I'll be talking to Superman.

---------------------------------------

Jason Todd:

Diana: Oh, you're so cute and precious! I just want to hug you for hours and hours. I love how tiny you are!

Young Jason feet dangled as Diana scooped him up and hugged him. He couldn't breathe well, but he wasn't not trying to break free.

Bruce: Okay... you're smothering him. Let him go.

Jason (struggling to breathe): Hold up Batman! I'm not complaining.

Diana: And remember I know how to break your bones.

Batman: All right I'll just go.

Batman walks away.

Young Jason: This is the greatest day ever. I... I'm trying not to cry.

Diana: You're so sweet.

---------------------------------------

Tim Drake:

Tim Drake clutched to the woman's hip, crying happily. Batman tried to pull him off, but Tim wouldn't let go.

Tim: This is the greatest day of my hero life! I am so happy to meet you!

Diana (simpering): I can't hold myself longer, I am happy to meet you too young warrior! You are just as precious as the rest!

Bruce: I have to stop bringing them around her- Dick, why are you crying?

Dick: That used to be me!

Dick cried, resting his head on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

---------------------------------------

Stephanie Brown (for the short time she was Robin)

Stephanie: Oh my goddess, you're Wonder Woman! Bomb girl boss! I've been wanting to meet you forever! I- Oh my goodness I'm embarrassing myself aren't I? You want me to leave, right?

Diana (elated): If I could I'd adopt you, but for now you're an honorary Amazon warrior! Want a hug?

Stephanie: YES!

Diana and Stephanie hugged, any attempt Bruce tried to take to break the two apart was met with Diana shoving him away.

Stephanie (dramatic fake sobs): I needed this, Batman is like so mean to me. Doesn't braid my hair even though I showed him the best tutorials and he doesn't appreciate me! I swear he's like my dad.

Diana glared at Bruce who's face turned red with anger.

Bruce: Okay, that was mean. I'm leaving!

Bruce stormed off while Diana took Stephanie's hand and led her way to chat and braid her hair.

---------------------------------------

Damian Wayne:

Bruce: Okay so Wonder Woman is bit... Obsessed with cute kids. Just be ready.

Damian: Oh father please, I've dealt with way worse.

The doors to the meeting slid open where Diana was already in the room. She sat at the Justice League meeting table. Once she spotted Damian, she gasped.

Damian tensed surprised, he backed away slowly as he began to get flashbacks to Talia.

Diana (eager): You got the itty bitty ones again?! Come here young warrior!

Damian: Noooo!

Damian ran away as Diana chased him with her arms open wide.

Diana: Let me give you cheek rubs!

Damian (screaming): Get away from me!

Clark Kent walked over to Bruce while snacking on a granola bar.

Clark: You ever think about not having a kid sidekick?

Bruce: You've got one more time to tell me that and I'm sending kryptonite to your house.

Clark (sarcastic): Glad your practicing being kinder to us like I told you too.

[little-pondhead]

[unedited. In this, I gave Danny a walking cane to help with mobility issues caused by his nerve damage. Feel free to continue where I left off!]

Everyone knew about the coffee shop. They couldn’t remember the name. It’s been there forever, on the corner of Gotham Proper and the East End. Northwest of the opera house. A few blocks away from the high school. You know, that coffee shop.

Some of the seniors at the high school insisted it really did have a name. It was one of many in some corporate chain. They couldn’t tell you what it was no matter how hard they tried, and none of the freshman believed them. Why would the coffee shop need a name? Everyone knew where it was. It was a popular spot. There were only a few employees at a time, but they always knew what everyone wanted and the line was always super short from how fast they worked.

There were a few odd things that always stood out, however. The coffee shop was always ahead in food trends and popular drinks, so they never ran out of supplies. The kitchen had been expanding to fit more equipment than what a coffee shop needed. (The construction crew didn’t make a peep, even in the middle of the work day.) Those few employees that could cook prided themselves on being able to make anything you wanted, even if they shouldn’t logically have the ingredients on hand. They always charged you what you could afford and not a cent over, which seemed weird considering it was part of a chain. Shouldn’t they be focusing on profits? But no one had ever met the local owner, and no one had any complaints about it, so the issue was left alone.

All of these points were easy to look over. Most people were just glad to have a warm drink and a filling meal at the end of the day.

There was…one more thing, however. Something that caused the hairs on people’s necks to rise as soon as they crossed the threshold, right before the warmth of the shop hit them, brushing the feeling away. Something that called for them to come back, to relax, to be kind and quiet. Something that was a waiting danger in a cursed city.

That something was a boy.

He was by far the youngest employee there, and always worked the register, sitting on a little stool with a cane by his side. Probably wasn’t even of legal working age. But this was Gotham; who the hell cared?

No, what made him strange was his piercing eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. He was the best at telling you what you needed, no matter if you knew it yourself or not. His cold hands made people shiver as he exchanged money with them, and his voice was smooth when he asked for their name.

People gave it to him without hesitation. He would smile gently, say thank you, and write the name in horrible cursive on a cup or kitchen ticket, never misspelling it, and sending it back to be made before beckoning the next customer forward. The first time someone experienced this, they usually experienced some sort of foggy overstimulation as they wandered to the pick up counter, thanking the kind baristas. Everything felt bright and strange and loud, like they were just plopped into another world.

The second time was easier, and they often felt light as a feather. The third time made people sneeze. The fourth made them cry, and the fifth made them happy. This tended to go on up until a person’s twelfth visit. As soon as they gave their name for the twelfth time, a few things clicked into place, and a few slipped away. It was always a special visit, whether they knew it or not, and they never walked out of there the same.

Today was Tim’s twelfth visit.

The commute to the coffee shop was the same. He’d memorized it months ago, even though he hadn’t had the chance to go as often as he’d liked. The shop was always neat and tidy on the outside, and he took a strange comfort in the split second feeling of fear that shot through his system as he opened the door.

Something felt wrong, why was he happy to be afraid?

“Hello! Nice to see you, Tim!” The boy was at the counter again, smiling widely and waving to Tim.

Tim smiled back and approached the register. “Hey, uh, how are you today?”

Why don’t I know his name? He’s wearing a name tag.

“Doing okay so far. My cane was being an ass, but I made it to work safely.” The boy tapped away at the menu, apparently ringing up Tim’s order.

I haven’t even told him what I want.

“Don’t worry about what you want, this is what you need, Tim.”

“Oh, okay.” Tim felt a little floaty. Of course the boy knew what he needed, it was obvious. Man, how tired was he? Tim rubbed his eyes and turned away for a second.

Blinking, he scanned the shop with fresh eyes, noticing things he never did before. The boy’s cane was made of wood, with an ugly face carved into it. Wasn’t it a black metal cane earlier? Some of the windows were casting rainbows despite the lack of sun. It smelled of ash despite no fireplace existing. A jackhammer was going off in the unfinished kitchen literally thirty feet away, but no noise was being made and no dust was in the air.

Something isn’t right.

The boy poked his arm, a cheeky grin on his face and a blue marker in hand. “Can I have your name?”

“Tim.”

A violent shiver ran up his spine as his name rolled off his tongue. It felt like he just got shoved to the side by a gust of cold wind. The boy-Danny-didn’t notice as he stuck his tongue out and drew little shaky stars around his name on a cup.

His name is Danny. That’s what the name tag says.

He blinked, moving to the side in a daze so the next customer could come forward. Were the lights in the shop always so bright? No, it wasn’t the lights. It was Danny. He practically glowed under the cheap fluorescent. His ears were pointed, and his teeth were sharp as he bared silly grins at everyone. His eyes were green now, too. Or were they always green?

They weren’t.

A barista behind Danny turned to grab a lid and he spied sparkling dragonfly wings cascading down her back, right out in the open. Another had longer ears than Danny did, and a third had actual metal disks braided into their hair. Almost everyone behind the counter was very much not human.

Why didn’t I notice this before?

The shop changed, too. Artistic scribbles on the walls became lines of swirling script-the same kind Danny had written on his name tag. He would need a notebook and a few days to properly read it all. More and more customers seemed to warp behind his very eyes. Every time Danny greeted them by name, they both glowed a little brighter. One little girl had scales on her face. An old man was sporting a pair of rat ears that twitched as he enjoyed a grilled cheese.

His skin suddenly felt itchy. He scratched absentmindedly at his hand, a little unsure of what was going on. He had the sudden urge to go stargazing.

“Hot chocolate for [ ]!”

His feet were moving before he realized. The barista smiled as she handed him a to-go cup of hot chocolate and a bag with a blueberry muffin.

I don’t want a hot chocolate. I need coffee. I have a meeting later.

As if hearing that tiny thought, Danny smiled mischievously to him and waved as he took his food and left. “It’s not about what you want; it’s about what you need! You’re gonna crush that meeting either way. See you next time, Tim!”

The itching got worse.

He felt his neck hairs raise again as the bell chimed, announcing his departure. Stepping back into the hustle and bustle of Gotham shocked him, and he had to wander over to a bench to sit for a moment.

He stared at the cup in his hands. T I M was written, with shitty little stars drawn all around. This drink was special, he somehow knew. If he drank from this, something in him would change forever. It already had, but this drink was important. He considered, briefly, about not drinking it. About tossing the cocoa and muffin away. Something wiggled at him to go through with it.

But Danny said he needed this.

Danny was always right.

He sipped the cocoa, letting the hot liquid settle into his body and soul. It eased aches and pains he didn’t remember getting, and he sighed, closing his eyes. He lost himself to the moment of peace the drink gave him.

If this wasn’t his twelfth visit, or if he’d waited a day to visit the coffee shop and come with the Laughing Magician instead, the boy on the bench would still know what his own name looked like. He would know what it sounded like. He wouldn’t be glowing and growing feathers, turning into something other than human.

But now the deed was done, and the heir to the Drake family belonged to Danny Phantom, the newest Lord to join Gotham’s magical courts.

Danny is a Fae at Starbucks

So! Danny works by Fae Rules, Names and all, but he has no idea about that because he was forced to run away from Home (and the Ghost portal) before his Ghostly Education could be completed.

He runs to Gotham and eventually gets a job at Starbucks, or some other Cafe.

He has to ask the question "Could I get your name please?" A LOT while working there. And unintentionally steals hundreds of Names by the end of his first day, much less a week or a month into his job.

One day, Constantine visits Gotham for a Meeting with Batman, but by the time he gets to the Meeting Point he has bigger issues to discuss.

"Why the hell does half of your City belong to a Fae Lord?!"

[fantasylandloser]

marriage pact pt.2

summary: the besties are getting used to their new relationship

Warnings: smut, mdni, oral (fem recieving), mentions of dry humping, mentions of implied bi!reader, Stevie's happy trail makes another appearance, public sex?? (not actually penetration), lmk if i missed anything

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/N: thank you to all the people who showed part one so much love, especially everyone who had v unhinged things to say (i love you the most) also i gave us a cool ass, loving mom

part 1

*****

“I’m just saying, we should talk about it eventually.” Steve tells you, unable to conceal the smirk on his face. He stood in the doorway of your bathroom watching you evade questions he threw at you about your past hookups. Essentially he didn’t really care, he was the last person in Hawkins who should have the privilege of caring about who other people hookup with. But he was a little curious, considering your face went up in flames as soon as he brought it up. Also maybe slightly jealous.

You huff at Steve’s persistence, dropping your mascara back into the bag. “Are we going to talk about all the people you’ve hooked up with Steve?” Annoyance laced your tone at his line of questioning, but he knew your annoyance was just poorly concealed embarrassment. 

The two of you were supposed to be getting ready to meet up with Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan when he randomly asked you about the past guys you’ve been with. He was already dressed and now he was waiting for you to be, curiously watching your every step. 

“We’ve talked about me for years. Everyone in Hawkins has talked about me.” He laughs, a little self deprecating. “We’ve never talked about you, and we don’t have to.” He’s moving in on you arms, caging you into the counter, shaggy hair sweeping from his forehead. “I’m just curious, not judging you.” Your eyes meet his sincere ones in the mirror, the kicked puppy look he’s been giving you since you were kids working like a charm.

“Billy Hargrove fingered me in our Anatomy class, junior year.” You start, your face red as you shift your eyes, from Steve’s shocked ones. “That was before he..”You trail off not knowing exactly how to word your next thoughts.

“Beat me to a pulp?” Steve offers, with a sardonic grin.

You nod with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” You really mean it, too. You felt so bad after you saw Steve like that, bruised up by a guy that had been touching you.

“Not judging, remember.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and despite the ugly feeling of jealousy sitting in the pit of his stomach he really wanted you to continue.

“I always knew he had a thing for you.” He says, thinking of all the times he’d catch Billy staring at you. He’s pretty sure that’s half the reason he beat his ass. Steve would always have an arm around your shoulder or one of your legs in his lap. 

You go back to distracting yourself as you put your eyeliner on. “And don’t be weird about this later,” You say, which gives him warning to brace himself. “Eddie took my virginity in the back of his van senior year.” You say it so casually that Steve’s sure he didn’t hear you correctly. 

“Eddie?” Steve says, his face wearing his shock. “You mean like Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” You slap his arm at that.

“Don’t call him that.” You defend, which Steve rolls his eyes at, knowing Eddie loved the nickname.

“Our friend, Eddie? Who, we happen to be seeing tonight?” Obviously too flabbergasted to remember his no judgment rule, you quickly remind him. 

“I thought this was a judgment free zone.” You murmur, too mortified to even look at him. This brings Steve back to himself.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. Didn’t see that coming.” Steve’s hands are on his hips and you know he’s about two seconds from pacing a hole through a floor to wrap his head around it. You can’t help but think he’s adorable for stressing himself out about a question he asked you to answer.

“Yeah we hooked up for a while I guess, but then-” You’re cut off by your own thoughts, sheepish at the thought of your next words until you look at Steve’s puzzled expression. “Then Tommy threw that huge party and you got drunk off your ass and told me we were gonna get married and I just-” You shrug, pretending to be oh so busy with your eyelash curler. “Broke it off with him the next day. Didn’t wanna lead him on, when my head was… elsewhere.” Thinking of you. You tell Steve all this without making a morsel or eye contact. It should really scare Steve how good you are at playing casual with your feelings. 

“Oh, honey.” The kiss he plants on your shoulder is sweet, as he secures his arms around you. “I really love you.” Steve whispers, and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but in this context it is. The words are so much heavier after the shift in dynamic between the two of you.

“I love you too.” Again you say it so unbothered, so naturally, that Steve would think you didn’t mean it if he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened. 

“So, after Eddie?” He prods. You take a second like you’re contemplating telling him. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell Robin.” Steve looks confused but agrees regardless. “You can’t tell anyone.” You reiterate. 

“Okayy, based on what you’ve already told me I’m not sure how it could get worse.” Steve says. “But I’m not judging.’ He adds after his little sentence. 

“Last year, Tammy Thompson, once.” It’s all you say before Steve understands and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“I don’t know you at all.” He states dramatically. 

“In my defense..” you began, “The only reason I didn’t tell you was because like right after I had been talking to Robin and told her that I went to the mall with her and then, she randomly mentioned that she used to have the hugest crush on her. And then she told me that the two of you hooked up before and it was weird. Because I never in a million years thought we would have any overlap.” By the time you’re done with your explanation, Steve is still looking at you in shock.

“You don’t tell me anything.” He lies, unaware of the pout that’s formed on his face.

“I tell you everything important.” You counter. You look like you’re thinking, biting your bottom lip nervously. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal for you.”

Steve is all over you before you can overthink any further, and he’d never tell you but you look like you’re about to launch into tears. “Baby it’s not a big deal… I’m just surprised I didn’t know this about you.” He finally understands some of your hesitancy about opening up about your sex life. You were scared to be judged, by him of all people. 

“That was the shortest list ever, if it was me we would have been standing here for hours.” He jokes, it's another self deprecating jab and it’s one you can’t ignore. 

“Stop doing that. Be nice to yourself.” You scold lightly. 

“It’s true.” You knew Steve was no longer a fan of his own promiscuity. You know that he had some regrets about it, but you couldn’t for the life of you understand why.

“It’s hot.” When the words leave your lips, you find yourself turning around in his arms, tilting your head up to get a better look at him. You meet his eyes, watching the bewildered expression on his face.

“It’s really hot for me, that my boyfriend is more experienced than me. Now.. you can teach me what you know.” You elaborate. Steve’s eyes are watching your lips intently.

“Call me that again.” He requests, his voice gruff. You hold his gaze even though your entire body is on fire from the sudden intensity.

“My boyfriend.” You say softly. The first time you acknowledge him as such. He’s leaning in to kiss you when you duck under his arm, not allowing him to smudge your newly done make up or make you any later than you know you are.

“We’re late.” You remind him, grabbing your shoes. 

“Fucking tease.”

*****

Your night out with Steve and your friends, paled in comparison to waking up to him. He’s holding you tightly against him. No shirt on his chest, per usual. A large hand splayed under your shirt and against your stomach. His heat is almost too much for you and you consider rolling away briefly but that’s the last thing you want. 

Without ever opening your eyes or moving, you flail your legs to kick the blanket off you, only pausing when you hear a throaty chuckle vibrating beneath you. You freeze realizing you’d been caught looking silly.

“You hot?” He asks, ever so attentive. Usually when the two of you slept in bed together, there was a respectful amount of space between you, now your limbs were intertwined and your heart beats synced. 

“Mhm.” You hum, still half sleep. You wouldn’t know it but Steve woke up about thirty minutes before you and he was also feeling like the bed had turned into a sauna overnight, but he’d rather burn to death than wake you up. 

Still groggy from sleep, you whine when Steve removes himself from you to turn on the fan and remove the covers the rest of the way off of you. Much to your relief. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” He tells you, letting you know he wasn’t coming back to bed. You were unsure of how he did that. Getting up as soon as he woke up. You were more of a wake up and rot in bed for two more hours kind  of girl.

You hadn’t realized, you’d drifted back off to sleep until Steve’s waking you up. “Wanna get up for me, so we can spend some time together?” He offers.

“We could go play basketball at the gym.” He tries again when you don’t budge. This has you perking up slightly. For a reason unknown to him, every time, even in high school, if he mentioned anything to do with basketball you would be there. At first he thought you wanted to play, especially since you proved yourself to be useful on the court, but when he mentioned it to you, you looked disturbed at the idea. 

You’re rolling out of bed without answering, but he knows that is your answer and you’re just adjusting to the morning again. So he goes on making sure to cook you a good breakfast. 

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered you find Steve behind the stove looking very boyfriendish. You can’t help circling your arms around his waist as you inhale his scent.

“Morning’” There’s soft music playing from his phone but other than that the house is quiet. 

“Good Morning. Baby.” You grin into his shoulder, feeling oddly domestic..

After eating breakfast with Steve, you made your way to the gym. You’re stopped a million times because this is Hawkins and everyone knows Steve, the once golden boy basketball star, and you who graduated top of your class with a long list of extracurriculars. But most people still only referred to you when speaking about Steve and that was okay with you.

Playing with Steve is never actually about winning for you. The win is seeing Steve like this. Sweaty. In his zone. So fucking focused. You were competitive everywhere else, but on the basketball court, you were all about Steve. He played less now that you were older, so when he offered you couldn’t help but jump at the chance.

You’re barely paying attention to the game because Steve is everywhere. You’re losing really badly even though he’s taking it easy on you. You don’t care.

“Where’s your mind at, honey?” He asks, dribbling the ball he just stole from you and shooting it. You pretend to be frustrated, pretend like you actually care if you lose, like you’re actually giving your best. Steve knows better, but he doesn’t push it, figuring you were just tired still. 

When a group of guys Steve played basketball with came into the gym, begging ‘king’ steve to join a game with them, Steve almost declined until you made some comment about being tired and going to sit on the bleachers for a break.

You knew the real show was about to start, and that he’d love a chance to show the guys from high school how he’s still got it. Steve’s gearing all the way up when they start picking teams, and you know based on the line up it’s going to be an aggressive game.

You’re dazed while you watch him play for the next hour. He’s concentrating hard, yelling out an instruction to his other teammates, in charge, sweating so hard that he keeps lifting up his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead and revealing that happy trail. Your composure is crumbling quickly. 

And you don’t realize the way you’re looking at him even though you know you’re thirsting hard. He sees though. About halfway through the game when he’s checking on you during a time out. You give him your water bottle to drink out of even though you hate sharing germs, run your fingers through his sweaty hair, and give him two kisses despite the fact that he knows he tastes like sweat, and that you have an audience. 

After that he realizes how hard you’re watching him and he knows he has to show out for the end of the game. Everytime he glances at you, you look so invested. Like you used to in high school when you suddenly became interested in basketball again after a long hiatus during your pre teen years. Except now there’s a new detail that Steve has noticed. You’re squeezing your thighs together so hard, he thinks you’re about to burst. He can’t help but wonder how long you’ve been that way and if that was the reason you’re so intrigued with basketball, with no interest in playing. 

Steve made sure to win. Made sure he earned every filthy thing he was going to do to you. When he walks up to you, you don’t realize that you’ve been caught. Not when he’s dragging you behind him, not even when he opens the door to the men’s locker room, ushering you inside. It’s when he locks the door with you against it that your brain finally kickstarts into realizing what’s happening. 

“Steve we’re gonna get caught-” You start but your voice is lodged in your throat when his fingers dip into your shorts. You know what he finds when he does, and if you didn’t the smirk on his face would have told you. 

“All this from watching me play, honey.” The condescending lilt to his voice, has your brain turning to mush in the best way. That mixed with the way he’s running his knuckles over your  folds. 

“Steve”  You try again, more firm when you hear voices passing from outside the door, but your voice just turns into a whimper, as you try to cope with the way he’s touching you. 

“Shut up for me, so I can focus.” He shushes, yanking your shorts down. You gasp when he does so, but step out of them nonetheless when he gestures for you to do so. This is his first time touching you like this since you dry humped him for all he was worth in the family video parking lot and you’re curious about where he’s going with this. 

He grabs your panties, balling them up in his hand before coming back up to you. “Open your mouth.” You do without a second thought, letting him stuff the underwear into your mouth.

“Fuck you’re a good girl.” He notes before dropping to his knees. “Prettiest pussy, I’ve ever seen.” And he’s not talking to you really but to your pussy. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder before going in, licking and slurping at you like a starved man.

You’re pretty sure it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s so sloppy about it and you love every second.

When he leans down a bit to fuck your hole open with his tongue, his nose nudges your clit. Your moans and whimpers are concealed by the makeshift gag, but the way your hand flys to Steve’s hair to hold him in place lets him know exactly the effect he’s having on you.

He chuckles when he feels you clenching up on his tongue, already so close and he’s just barely touched you. He presses you deeper into the door when he feels your knees buckling, moaning into your cunt at the feeling of you tugging his hair. 

Steve wishes he didn’t need you to be quiet. He wishes he could hear every single one of your whimpers and moans. Hear you calling him ‘Stevie’ in that whiny little voice, but he also knows he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. Not when you’re all his.

You tumble over the edge pretty quickly, tears cascading down your face, which is the first thing Steve sees when he stands back up, licking his lips. He’s rubbing your overstimulated clit, when he pulls the damp panties out your mouth, releasing all the built up sounds from you. 

“Aw, honey.” He coos, wiping away the tears with your panties. He’s fucking filthy. He kisses you after that, so tenderly that you almost forget how he’s toying with you.

“Stevie..” There it is. Steve thinks to himself. He kisses you again trying to hush your moans.

“You like watching me play, sweetheart? That turns you on?” He asks, still massaging your clit.

“So much.” You admit. Steve wants to laugh at how gone you are, but he’s affected just as much as you.

“Not very nice, that you didn’t tell me.” He says. 

“M’sorry, Stevie.” You’re getting too loud and Steve has to shush you as he hears voices in the hallway, suddenly remembering where you are.

“It’s okay baby, you gonna cum for me?” As soon as he suggests it, he knows it's coming and his lips are back on yours, silencing your moans.

******

“Dude, why are you staring at me?”  Steve asks you, his face red. You stared at him all the way home from the gym. You stared at him when you got home and it had been an hour later, both of you showered and supposed to watch a movie, and you were still staring. 

“I just think you’re kinda rude.” You say.

“I’m rude?” Steve asks, flabbergasted wondering what he could have possibly done in such a short period of time. His mouth hanging open.

‘“Yes because I have had, I want to say maybe like three- four orgasms with other people, in the span of multiple years and you’re telling me this whole time you knew how to do that twice in the span of not even like ten minutes.” Steve’s once red face was now taken over by a cocky grin. 

“Like dude. How did you do that? I’ve never done that before.” You can’t even bring yourself to care that you’re inflating his huge ego. You’re genuinely confused and you’re thinking it has to be witchcraft.

“It’s easy when you’re that turned on.” He tells you, but you shake your head.

“I’m always that turned on.” You dismiss, making him laugh at how genuine you sound when you say it. 

“Always?” He asked, to which you nod. 

“You walk around here shirtless every morning. Of course I am.” You say simply, and Steve can’t help but be surprised at your sudden frankness.  “And even then I can’t even make myself cum twice. Especially not that fast.”

“So, let me get this right.” Steve starts with a mischievous grin. “You’re saying when you play with yourself, after seeing me shirtless you can’t make yourself cum twice?” He’s teasing you for your slip up and you know it. You can’t help rolling your eyes.

“That’s what I said, Steven.” You say playfully, your eyes narrowed. 

His eyes narrow back at you before he’s tackling you to the couch, tickling you. Laughing at your shrieks, and the sight of you trying to wriggle away from him.

“I’m sorry!” You let out in between gasps for air and laughter. When Steve finally lets up you pinch him for being unfair. 

When you finally catch your breath, you realize Steve is staring at you with a look that can only be described as adoring. 

“Here you go, again.” You say with pretend exasperation, and shaking your head. You’re only teasing him, so that you yourself don’t turn into a pile of mush like always. Steve rolls his eyes at you, realizing just how much he’s missed your banter, these last couple days. You’d gone shy on him, when getting used to the changes in your relationship and he was glad to see that your sass was back in full swing.

“Come give me a kiss.” He insists, gesturing to his lap. 

“Why are you always trying to get me into your lap?’ You ask before settling down on top of him anyway. Nothing sexual about it, as you press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before trying to move again. 

“I like you here.” He says before pulling you back down on top of him to get another one. “If that’s how you rush touching yourself, no wonder you can’t make yourself cum.” He jabs, even though that’s not what you said. 

You’re about to respond, when you hear someone clear their throat. “Mom!” you yelp in surprise, practically flying off of Steve’s lap.

“Well this is an interesting way to be welcomed home.” Your mom looks almost amused at the display in front of her. The other part is as shocked as you feel, knowing she was home way earlier than she was supposed to be.

“How long were you standing there?” You ask, mortified, You’re seconds away from having the worst meltdown of your life. 

“Long enough to know that you should invest in a vibrator. “ She goads, sending Steve a look. He’s redder than a tomato, knowing that the woman who’s known him since before he was ten heard him say that. 

Your mom is way chiller than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she’s always been that way. Unbothered and entertained.  If that was your dad standing there, you both know this would be an entirely different story. 

‘Oh my goodness. Kill me now.” You mutter dramatically.

“No need for theatrics. I knew last week when you came home with that hickey on your neck. You didn’t even bother to try to cover it up either. Where’s the respect?” She jokes , as you hide your face behind your hands at your carelessness. 

You’re sure that life cannot get much worse than this.

“Good for you guys. But no and I mean it..” she started seriously “no funny business at all, on my couch.” When you groan she doubles downs. “I’m serious that couch was expensive.”

“Okay mom, we got it, thank you.” You say pulling Steve up from the couch and towards your room, too mortified to make eye contact with her.

Once you and Steve make it to your room both of your horrified faces meet… and you’re doubling over in deranged laughter. 

*****

tags: @smilesworldsposts @livsters @ali-r3n @em-guitar-pick @wolflover1005 @lexingtoon @eds1986

p.s. some of these didn't work and idk why

[feefivefoe]

The Damian bonding post I promised.

The first few times is him just standing at your door, asking to be let in. If this does not work, he will soon switch to already being in your home by the time you get back.

He's willing to start polite, but if you insist on being stubborn, he'll just pick the lock or climb in through the window

Shouldn't this kid be at school or something?

But reader is an expert at ignoring inconveniences in life, and just pretends he isn't there for a while. Disregarding any conversation attempts even when he's standing right in front of you and refusing to move. Lying face down on the couch, wishing it would swallow you whole so that you wouldn't have to go to work tomorro- DID THIS KID JUST SIT ON YOU.

It's kind of like having a cat for a while. You occasionally return home to find a small creature demanding your attention, but this one talks and expects answers. You actively avoid answering questions that actually tell him anything about your life. Sure, you know any Robin can just follow you, but if he's gonna find out, he at least has to put in the work.

Very quickly he gets tired of hanging around your apartment. This slum house is below the both of you. He starts trying to talk you into going back to the 'family home.' Barf.

You're still heavily guarded against him, and he recognizes that. He doesn't LIKE it, but he knows it.

So he essentially bribes you. Starts inviting you to more expensive restaurants than you could ever go to on your own. A sibling outing!

Of course you know there are strings attached. There always are in this cesspool of a city. But free food is free food, and in this economy? Who in their right mind would turn down a free meal.

At this point, reader still thinks the rest of the family doesn't even remember them, and Jason is dead. So to them, this is just Bruce's newest kid having a fleeting interest. They don't think it'll last, and they certainly don't see it progressing to them having contact with the rest of the family.

So sure, they'll entertain the kid for a few hours a few times a week in order to eat some rich people food using the Wayne family money.

Damian is happy with the arrangement. His sibling is out in public with him, something that doesn't go unnoticed by the general public. You've been out of the public eye long enough that nobody knows who you are. There are insidious rumors at first.

Any questions are answered with a planned out response.

"Stop harassing my sibling. Our father gave us money for dinner, so we're going to enjoy it."

Now Gotham knows that you're Bruce's kid. And people with too much time on their hands now connect the dots to the handful of news stories that came out when you first joined the family. The only time you really spent in the public eye.

You couldn't go back to being a recluse now if you wanted to.

If the food and occasional alcoholic beverage cause you to lower your guard enough to start talking about where you work, even if it's just naming a chain?

He certainly won't complain! He'll pass that along to Drake or something as grunt work. Get the place shut down or something so you'll stop being stubborn and come home already.

Having meals with just the two of you is nice and all, and he isn't eager to share with the rest of your family, but the comfort of home would surely be better than all the stares, right?

[j2hoes]

All Your Fault (Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader)

Word Count: 12.5K

Summary: In no world could Y/N like Steve Harrington, that's what she kept telling herself despite everybody's insistence that he was a good guy. They couldn't possibly be right, could they?

Warnings - Mature Language, Suicide, Mentions Of Sex, Death, Injuries, Bullying, Drug Use

A/N: This is my longest fic yet and of course it's for the one and only Steve Harrington! Just wanted to say that I know this doesn't follow the exact plot and I have changed some things so it fits in with the storyline. Also I am not condoning bullying in any way, shape or form!! Not proofread so forgive me.

“Hey, dingus, we need a ride!”

My bedroom door swings open, just about slamming against the wall before the irritating voice of my younger brother reverberates throughout my bedroom. Startled by the noise, my head snaps in Dustin’s direction. Not expecting to see his little group of friends in tow or for them to be in the company of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. Who I know them to spend a lot of time with nowadays despite my incessant complaints about Harrington being quite possibly the worst person on planet.

“Dude! Knock much?” I groan, swiftly closing the notebook that I had previously been writing in, in order to avoid any wandering eyes. “I was in the middle of something!”

“What? Making out with your stuffed toys?” Dustin jokes, resulting in a few snickers from his friends and a roll of their eyes from the older teens.

“I’d be happy to make out with you.” Mike comments, my brother throwing a small tap to the back of his head in disapproval.

“Ew gross. Get out of my bedroom you little perverts!” 

“Listen dickhead, mom and dad have gone to the movies and if I’m remembering correctly they said you have to drive me places when they’re not here. So, we’ll be taking that ride now please.” 

“Fuck’s sake.” I grumble, combing my fingers through my hair in annoyance. “Doesn’t your new best friend Steve drive?”

My voice is laced with malice, eyes fixated on the older boy with a glare, eyebrows raised as I await his response. Not that I needed any confirmation, everybody in Hawkins knows that Steve drives. God, he never shuts up about his deep red BMW, it’s one of his more insufferable qualities.

“Yeah, my car is kind of in the garage right now. It’s gonna be out of action for a while.” He admits, cheeks flushing a soft scarlet indicating his embarrassment. 

“So that makes you our designated driver.” Dustin tells me, a smug look on his face as he knows that I have no option but to accept defeat. “Plus, your truck is a lot bigger than Steve’s car. You won’t even have to speak to us because we’ll sit in the bed!”

“Fine! But I am not giving you a ride home because I’ve got a shift at the roller rink tonight and I cannot afford to take another night off!” I state, reluctantly grabbing my keys and throwing my fur coat over my shoulders.

Making my way towards the group, they’re quick to make their way down the staircase, scurrying out the front door as though afraid I may change my mind at any given second. I take my time locking up the house, wanting to delay the inevitability of having Steve Harrington in my truck for as long as I physically can. Sure, it’s annoying having to cart my brother and his friends around the town of Hawkins at their will, but the kids, I can deal with. One of my childhood bullies, not so much. 

Strolling over to the garage, it’s hard to miss the way Steve and Robin stand close to one another, giggling like school girl’s at whatever they were discussing. With furrowed brows, I can’t help but wonder when they became friends. Not only is Robin a year younger than Steve and I, but she’s also the complete opposite of Steve’s normal company. After all, he is friends with cheerleaders and jocks, Buckley is in the school band and spends most of her free time studying other languages. There is no world in which they could possibly be friends and yet here they are.

“Steve and Robin are gonna ride up front with you.” Dustin speaks, clambering into the bed of the truck with very little grace.

“What? No, you can all get in the back!” I argue, offering Max a hand as she struggles to pull herself up.

“Sorry but eight of us back here is too much of a squeeze, guess you’ll just have to make do.” Lucas remarks, arguing my brother’s case for him, forcing me to plaster on a fake smile as if I couldn’t be happier.

“Okay. Let’s just hope I don’t crash on the way, I’d hate to see a six body pile up on the side of the road.” My tone is ominous and I catch the slight gleam of fear in each and every one of the kid’s eyes. “Where am I taking you assholes?”

“Starcourt please Y/N.” Max hastily replies, hand clutching the side of the truck so tight her knuckles are turning white and I smirk to myself as I close the tailgate, pleased I have managed to instill a sense of panic in the usually overly confident group.

Hopping up into the driver’s seat, I’m about to turn on the ignition when out of the corner of my eye, I register that Steve has taken it upon himself to choose the middle seat. Situating himself comfortably between Robin and I.

“Uh no. Not happening. You two need to switch sides.” 

“What why?” Steve questions and I could be wrong but I’m almost positive there is a twinge of hurt in his tone.

“Because I don’t mind Robin.” I smile sweetly at the girl, before replacing it with a scowl as my eyes lay on the chestnut haired doofus. “You, on the other hand, I’d rather take a knife to the eye, than sit besides you.”

As much as it feels like a punch to the gut when I spot the pained expression wash over Harrington’s face, it is completely overshadowed by the sense of pride that I feel at being able to make him feel small, the same way him and his posse of imbeciles did to me for years. I know, deep down, that I should be the bigger person, that just because he treated me poorly throughout our school years that I shouldn’t do the same to him. Yet, I’m resentful. I’m resentful and having accepted the cruelty of this world, I’m also bitter. No longer the sweet and optimistic young girl that I once was.

“Yeah, I actually can’t take the middle seat.” Robin confesses, an awkward smile resting on her face. “I get real bad claustrophobia.” 

With an exasperated huff, I focus my eyes on the road as we begin the drive, doing my best to ignore the passenger sitting beside me. Even if I am trying to distract myself, I’m unable to hide my annoyance, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard, I’m afraid it may shatter beneath me.

Fortunately it’s only a short ten minute drive to the Starcourt Mall, as long as traffic is in my favor, I should even shave off a couple of minutes. Though the silence within the small space is deafening, frustrating me even more. Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching over to turn on the radio, hoping the joyful melodies of Joe Jackson’s Steppin’ Out will boost my mood before my shift.

Unluckily for me, as I reach to grab the steering wheel once again, my hand lightly brushes over Steve’s hand, causing me to flinch away with such force it feels as though I have been electrocuted. 

“Sorry.” Steve mumbles, tucking his hands away into his pockets to avoid any more uncomfortable interactions.

“So, I’m sensing a teeny bit of tension here.” Robin comments, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, no shit Robin.” I snap, feeling my entire body go stiff at her teasing.

Glancing over at the two teens, I take note of the way Robin slumps down into the seat at my words. Folding her arms over her chest as if she’s a child that has just been scolded by their parents. 

“Why are the kids so desperate to go to Starcourt anyway?” I ask, not directing the question at either of them in particular in an attempt to change the subject, feeling slightly guilty at my previous outburst.

“Oh um, we’re meeting Eddie, just thought it’d be nice to take that bunch of losers out for the day you know. Nancy and Jonathan might even be joining us later too!” Robin explains, smiling to herself as she peers out the back window to make sure the kids are doing fine.

“Besides, they deserves a break with everything that’s been-”

“What Steve means to say is that they’ve had a lot on at the moment, what with school. We think they’re getting a little stressed.” Robin interrupts, doing her best to subtly elbow Steve’s stomach, though I’m able to spot it, mostly because his body jerks into mine as she does so.

“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” I ask, slyly peering over at them from the corner of my mouth.

“Nope, we’re not hiding anything.” Robin asserts, turning away from me to gaze out of the window.

“Yeah, nothing to tell. Definitely nothing going on.” Steve agrees, the haste in which they both answered only raising my suspicions.

Before I can question them even further, I realize I’m pulling into the Starcourt parking lot. Quickly finding a space and turning off the ignition, I don’t give the duo any time to get out of the car before I’m turning the child lock on, forcing them to remain in the vehicle with me.

“I swear to God, if my baby brother is in any sort of trouble and you haven’t told me, I’ll kill the pair of you, okay?” I ask, both of them nodding their heads furiously at my threat and leaping out of the passenger door the moment that I unlock it.

Rolling down my window, I can hear the kids hopping over the side of the truck, eagerly chattering amongst themselves at the plans they have made for the day. Tiny smile forming on my face as I light a cigarette, watching Dustin jokingly fight with Steve. The interaction holds no maliciousness, I can see no sign of the older boy deliberately trying to hurt him and for a split second I find myself questioning whether it could be possible that the great King Steve has changed in his ways. However, I’m quick to shake that thought away.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Y/N Henderson?” Eddie Munson’s voice calls from a mere few feet away.

“Oh shit.” I whisper, taking a long drag of my cigarette before jumping out of the truck and resting my back against the door, waiting for him to approach.

It’s safe to say Eddie and I have a complicated relationship. What started out as him simply being nothing more than my dealer, blossomed into a somewhat beautiful friendship. Considering we’re an unlikely duo, we have a lot in common. Sharing similar taste in films, books and sense of humor.

I suppose it was inevitable that we’d end up sleeping together. Fuelled by our drug induced state, we shared a very hot and very exciting night of passion together. Following with me sneaking out of his trailer first thing the next morning after I had slowly come to my senses and discerned that our relationship should remain just friends. Not wanting to pursue anything at this moment in time.

“Hey Eddie, it’s been a while.” I comment, flicking the ash from my cigarette onto the ground as he places an arm beside my head, caging me between his body and the truck.

“I never heard from you.” He speaks quietly, doing his best to avoid the attention of the group standing not too far from us.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.” I mumble, looking anywhere but the boy in front of me.

As my gaze finds the group, my eyes instantly fall upon Steve Harrington. He’s speaking to Max, clearly in some sort of debate with her that looks like it may be about to explode into a full blown argument, yet his attention is solely focused on me. Observing the close proximity between me and the metalhead. His eyes falling to my lips as I allow the smoke to exhale from my mouth.

“You know, you could at least look at me when I’m talking to you.” Eddie chuckles, attempting to hide the hurt undertone in his voice, head rotating to follow the direction of my eyeline.

“Sorry, I just don’t get what Harrington’s problem is. He’s been staring over here this entire time.” I tell him, finally staring up at the tall boy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, teasing smile resting upon his lips. I shake my head slowly, dropping the cigarette to the ground. “He thinks you’re hot.”

My hands slap against his chest instinctively, the idea being completely and utterly absurd to me that I have to laugh. 

“I’m serious! Look at you, you’re a fucking smoke show.” Eddie asserts, pushing his argument even more as he sneaks another glance over to the topic of our conversation. “Want me to prove it?”

The idea of Steve Harrington finding me even remotely attractive is so far off the table that I find myself entertained by the idea of proving Eddie wrong. I’m sure he’s simply intrigued by the idea of me and the freak being friends, nothing more. 

With a small nod, Eddie’s hands drop to my waist, touch as light as a feather to not push any boundaries that I may not be comfortable with. Playing along with his antics, I take the lapels of his leather jacket in my hands, pulling his body impossibly closer to mine. The hard expression on Steve’s face is difficult to miss as Eddie’s head rests in the crook of my neck, peppering gentle kisses along the base.

“Ew Eddie, come on man!  That’s my sister!” Dustin’s whines pull us back to reality and Eddie takes a dramatic step away from me to please the curly haired young boy.

Although we now stand with plenty of space between the two of us, Harrington’s face remains in the same cold expression as before. Jaw clenched tightly as his eyes flick between Eddie and I. Leaving me more confused than ever at what his problem is.

“Alright, see you later kids.” I shout, climbing back into my truck and leaving them in the capable hands of their babysitters. “Don’t be causing any trouble!”

***

Steve could think of nothing other than the mean girl that had reluctantly drove them to the mall. It didn’t matter how many stores they went in, or arcade games they played, he just couldn’t get her off his mind. Wondering why she had such a huge vendetta against him. What could he possibly have done to this girl, that he is almost certain he has never met before, to cause her to act in such an unpleasant way towards him.

He knew he hadn’t been the nicest of guys throughout high school, caring more about his popularity and how his friends perceived him than being a decent person. However, he was sure he’d remember if he had been rude to her. He was sure he wouldn’t have been rude to a girl like her. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t pursued her sooner. Her beauty indescribable and more radiant than any other girl he had seen before.

“Steve, what’s going on? I’m regretting picking you to be on my team!” Dustin exclaims, frustrated at the loss of yet another game due to Steve’s lack of focus.

“That was your sister?” He asks in disbelief, still completely overwhelmed by the limited interaction they had shared hours prior.

“Yeah, she’s a full on bitch right?” Dustin comments, unaware of his friend’s infatuation.

“Has she always been that unkind?” Steve asks, causing Dustin to look up at him with a questioning glint in his eye.

“Oh you got to face her wrath did you?” The younger boy laughs, amused at the thought of his normally cool and charming friend being bitched out by his older sister. “Yeah, she still hates you dude, never shuts up about you actually.”

“Wait, she talks about me?” His tone is hopeful, feeling pleased to know that he’s on her mind. I mean, that’s got to be a good sign, right?

“Calm down loverboy. It’s not a good thing.” Dustin smirks, though when he sees the downcast look on his friend's face, he can’t but sigh, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “Look, I think you’re cool, smart, charming, and some would say classically handsome but my sister usually refers to you as a no good, shit for brains, wank stain. Amongst other things, that’s usually her preferred term.”

Steve sighs at his words, combing his fingers through his hair awkwardly as he comes to terms with the fact that he quite possibly has a zero percent chance of becoming romantically involved with the intriguing girl. He knew that since leaving high school his luck with the ladies had severely dwindled, struggling to maintain a relationship that didn’t solely focus on sex, and yet, his heart sank a little lower knowing that the one girl that had truly piqued his interest was the one girl he would never stand a chance with.

Dustin, on the other hand, took pity on the boy he looked up to. Despite the countless tales of torture and misery that he knew Steve had put his sister through during their school years, he knew that the boy had changed. Sure, he’d felt sympathy towards Steve when he ended up working at Scoops Ahoy following his graduation, knowing how much it took a hit to his ego that he’d lost his King Steve title and was now serving children scoops of ice cream every passing day. However, he knew that the shitty job was a good thing for his friend, alongside his role as the unofficial group babysitter and assisting in their pursuit to save Hawkins, Dustin knew deep down that taking such a low blow was Steve’s saving grace. Reminding him that he wasn’t in fact above everybody else and truly changing him for the better. The young boy had seen it, but he also couldn’t blame his sister for being blind to it.

“Look Steve, I know that you’re a good person and I know that you’ve changed but you put Y/N through hell. She struggled a lot at the hands of you and your friends and I know she’d kill me for telling you this but she’s been in therapy since she was fourteen years old because of what you guys did to her. We were really worried about her actually.” Dustin admits, Steve’s breath catching in his throat as he hears the shakiness in the boy’s voice. “My parents still are. She didn’t even bother applying to college, and now she spends most of her time hiding herself away in her room or getting high with Eddie.”

“Dustin I’m so sorry, I don’t even remember her.” Steve states, struggling to get over the sinking feeling in his stomach that seems to be consuming him.

“Of course you don’t remember her, you only thought about yourself and your stupid friends back then.” Those words hit Steve like a ton of bricks, never had anybody truly called him out on his former behavior, not to this extent anyway. “Look, you just need to show her you’re a good guy, I’m not gonna say it’ll be easy because if I know Y/N, then I know she can be a cruel, heartless bitch, but I also know that she has a good heart and as long as you can prove to her that you’re sorry and that you’ve changed then she’ll come around. Maybe just wait until after we’ve destroyed the Mind Flayer.”

***

Monday nights at the roller rink are always notoriously quiet, only a couple of people passing through our doors for the majority of the night. I’ve argued with my manager on numerous occasions, pleading with him to change our closing time from eleven to nine, but to no avail, I fail every single time. As a punishment for doing so, I’m placed on almost every monday night shift alone, which wouldn’t be too bad, had I something to do. Instead I stand at the counter, lazily snacking on some popcorn that I most definitely didn’t pay for, awaiting any customers that may wander into the building.

Hearing the large doors squeak open, I immediately straighten my posture, my best winning smile slapped on my face as I prepare to serve the group that just strolled through the doors. That is until I see the group just so happens to be the same group that I dropped off at the mall earlier in the day. Smile dropping from my face almost instantly.

“What do you want?” 

“Don’t you mean, welcome to Paradise Skate World, how can I be of assistance?” Eddie jokes, leaning against the countertop.

“No, I mean what do you want?”

Wasting no time, the group excitedly shout their shoe sizes at me, a flurry of words and numbers that I struggle to understand. After swapping a few pairs multiple times, I finally manage to line nine pairs of rollerskates along the countertop, the kids frantically grabbing at them and discarding their personal shoes all over the floor. Not caring to use the cubby holes provided.

“That’ll be twenty seven dollars please.” My voice is monotonous, not caring to be pleasant with them, not that they seem to care.

Steve doesn’t speak as he hands over thirty dollars, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as I hand him his change. He sits beside Robin on one of the dirty old benches, helping her to lace up the boots before slowly escorting her over to the rink where she is left in the capable hands of the younger teens. Who, for whatever reason, all seem to be incredibly confident on eight wheels.

Having lost sight of Steve as my attention was fixed on the kids gleefully skating around the rink, I round the counter preparing to pick up all of their discarded shoes, only to see the boy already on the floor matching pairs of shoes together.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I tell him, joining him on the carpet to gather together the rest of the shoes.

If I didn’t dislike him so much, I’d think his actions were sweet. Paying for the entire group and cleaning up after them, he’s a customer service worker's dream, yet I still can’t help but feel resentful. Why couldn’t he have been like this in high school?

“I know, but those guys make so much mess that it’s not fair to leave it all for you to clean up.” Steve comments, placing the last pair of shoes in one of the cubby holes. He rises to his feet slowly before offering his hand to help me up. However, I choose not to accept his help, rising to my feet without his assistance.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He smiles softly at me, returning to the bench to remove his own shoes and placing the rollerskates on. When he rises from the bench, I can’t help but giggle at the shakiness in his legs, standing like a baby deer, he just about makes it to the countertop before needing to grab hold of it in order to keep himself upright. Resulting in a loud laugh from me, finding much amusement in the situation.

“Need some help Harrington?” I ask through my roars of laughter, having to cover my mouth to keep my volume down as he looks at me with sheer panic in his eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna just stand there and laugh at me in my time of need?” He questions, flashing a cheesy smile my way to ensure I know that he is joking.

With a small sigh, I make my way over to him, taking his hands in mine, forcing him to let go of the countertop that he was clutching onto. 

“I may not like you Steve Harrington, but I’m not gonna let you fall on your ass like an idiot, not with the kids watching.” I state, walking backwards at a snail’s pace to allow him to find his feet. “Besides, it’s company policy to offer a hand when needed.”

Steve laughs at my words, a deep chuckle that causes my mouth to quirk upwards. Am I actually smiling in the presence of Steve Harrington? Shaking my head, I rid myself of the contentment on my face. 

“I’m going to embarrass myself aren’t I?” He asks, staring over my shoulder towards the rink with worry. “I don’t know why they thought this was a good idea, I’ve never skated in my life.”

“That’s probably exactly why they wanted to come here. They get to embarrass you and they also get to annoy the fuck out of me at the same time.” 

“I’ll try my best to keep them from annoying you, it’s the least I can do after ruining your peaceful evening.” His voice is soft, and I find myself unable to look away from his face.

It comes as no shock that the boy is attractive, he had girls falling over their feet for him since the moment he hit puberty. I’d never understood the obsession with King Steve, though I suppose I’d never been this close to him before. Never able to see how boyishly handsome he was. 

Chestnut brown hair that falls lazily over his forehead, coffee coloured eyes that hold a deep softness and a cheeky twinkle. His nose falls in a perfect slope, lips plump in a gorgeous salmon color with a sprinkling of light freckles scattered across his face. He truly is the epitome of beauty, it’s just such a shame that his personality is completely lacking.

I’m snapped out of my trance when I feel the hardwood of the rink beneath my feet, hesitantly letting go of Steve’s hands as he pushes himself forward ever so slowly. Testing the waters as to how far he can go without falling flat on his face.

“Well you did it. Now you just have to show that pack of dickheads that their ploy to embarrass you isn’t going to work.” 

He smiles at my comment, opening his mouth to say something in return, however, I spin myself around and hastily walk back to my position at the counter before he can say anything. Muttering a small ‘have fun’ as I do so. Not wanting to be entranced by him further and not wanting to forget about all the shit he put me through just because we had a fairly nice interaction for all of ten minutes.

In an effort to distract myself, I busy myself with cleaning any and every surface behind the counter. Very unusual behavior for me, but at this point, I would do anything to get the thought of Steve possibly being a good person out of my mind. Even if I have to spend my time cleaning to do so. Though, I guess anything is better than gazing longingly over at the boy in the rink and trying to ignore the racing of my heart.

“You know, I used to think Steve was a bad guy too.”

Robin’s voice startles me as I don’t notice her standing by the counter, she’s smirking playfully at me. 

“How the fuck are you and him friends? I mean, no offense but you’re exactly the type of person whose life he would’ve ruined in high school.” I don’t mean to come across as rude but my tone definitely says otherwise, Robin raising her eyebrows at my statement, clearly taking offense.

“Steve has a good heart, he’s doing his best. I know it’s not my place to say anything and I have no idea what went down between the two of you but what I do know is that if he can reconcile with Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie then perhaps that’s a sign you should give him a chance.” Robin remarks and against my best judgment, my eyes instantly find him out on the floor of the rink. Max and El hold his hands as they drag him around, all proudly displaying their delight.

“He did a lot of fucked up shit to me Robs.” I sigh, knowing that no matter how much I want to forgive him, I’ll most likely take my hatred to the grave. “They all did.”

The girl follows my lead and releases her own sigh, reaching across the countertop to take my hands in her’s. Thumbs gently stroking the backs of my palms.

“I know, I’m not going to excuse his behavior. He was a complete asshole, even when I first met him, I thought he was an asshole but he proved me wrong. Trust me, I never thought I’d be over here vouching for Steve Harrington of all people.” Robin’s gaze never leaves mine as she speaks, asserting just how much she truly means the words she’s saying. “Just maybe try to let go of that grudge you’re holding, I reckon you two would actually make pretty good friends.”

***

Regardless of how much I tossed and turned, Robin’s words kept me awake for hours. Unable to sleep and with no sign of tiring myself out anytime soon, I decided to do the next best thing. Hence why I am now sitting on one of the many docks stretching out into the depths of Lovers Lake. Joint in hand as I try to process all the emotions I had managed to bury deep within me for so long.

The joint does nothing to soothe my shaking body, though I’m unsure of whether it’s from the frosty fall air or the recent events that seem to have dredged up everything in my past that I had tried to forget, either way, I wrap my fur coat tighter around myself as a weak attempt to ease the shaking. God, if only Dustin hadn’t gone and befriended the one person that caused me so much pain.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize anybody would be here.” The voice from behind catches me by surprise, not expecting anybody else to be down here at two am. Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t help but laugh at the world’s cruel sense of humor as the person racing through my mind stands only mere feet away. “Wait, are you crying?”

Raising a trembling hand to my face, I feel the dampness of my cheeks, clearly too high to discern that I had in fact been crying. The fact causing me to laugh once more and Steve’s face floods with one of worry, hesitantly trudging towards me and taking a seat beside me, swinging his feet over the side of the dock in the same manner as mine.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, genuinely seeming to care about the reason for my tears, tone soft with no evidence of an ulterior motive.

“No.” I admit, offering him a weak smile whilst quickly wiping the tears away that roll down my face. “No, I’m not okay and I haven’t been for such a long time and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this because it’s all your fault.”

Steve’s mouth opens to speak and yet no words come out. Guilt scrawled across his face as he attempts to come up with the words to comfort me. Once again, I can’t help but laugh at the humorous nature of the situation. I’ve never opened up to anybody about how I’m truly feeling, hell, even my therapist doesn’t know the half of it but who feels comfortable enough to voice their darkest thoughts to a complete stranger in a very clinical setting? I’m going to blame the joint for my willingness to open up to the one person who I’d rather never speak to again.

“It’s probably really shitty of me and you probably don’t want to hear it but I am so sorry Y/N. Truly, I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am.” Steve tells me, voice shaking and almost catching in his throat, however, he never once looks away from me. Forcing himself to own up to what he did. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Taking a drag of the joint, we remain in silence for a few moments, the only sounds to be heard are that of my repeated sniffles. It’s almost comforting in a way that the boy doesn’t speak, not rushing me nor pressuring me to accept his apology. 

“It’s funny you know, I thought I would’ve moved on from it by now. I thought that as soon as I graduated I would’ve been able to forget everything that you and your friends did to me and leave it all in the past.” I state, not even knowing where to start. I never expected to be in this position, never thought I’d get the chance to confront the monsters from my childhood but as he sits before me, he doesn’t seem to be much of a monster. “You and Carol and Tommy, you guys destroyed me. You hated me so much that I began to hate myself and I’ve never recovered from that.”

Steve lets out a sharp exhale, causing me to look over at him and what I see shocks me deeply. Although he’s trying his best to hide it, I don’t miss the tears that fall slowly down his cheeks. Guilt consuming him as he comes to terms with his actions and the direct consequences they had as a result.

“I almost killed myself, Steve.”

My words hit him like a knife to the chest and his head is snapping to face me so fast, I fear he may have given himself whiplash. Mouth slightly open in shock as he processes what I just confessed.

“You, you wh-”

“You’re not to blame for that. I could never blame you for that.” I whisper, feeling lighter as I open myself up more and more for the very first time.

“How, how did-” Steve stops himself before he speaks, this time it’s him that’s wiping away tears. “What happened?”

I know Steve is questioning whether it’s appropriate to ask. Unsure of whether I’m willing to talk about the most traumatic most of my life thus far, especially with him. With nerves coursing through my veins, I shakily offer him the joint, he accepts with a small smile, slowly taking a long drag, allowing the weed to flood through his body.

“Junior year. I think I’d been planning it for a while, or at least thinking about it. That day, I think you must’ve been at a basketball game or something, Carol and Tommy they-” I sob hysterically, feeling so much shame as I explain everything to him. “They cornered me in an alley as I was walking home. It was just the usual insults, but when I didn’t react they got angry. I don’t really remember it all, I think I’ve tried to black it out but I woke up unconscious in that alley, and I just remember feeling so at peace when I laid there.

So I went home, ran straight up to my room because I didn’t want anybody to see me. As soon as I looked in the mirror, I just felt disgusting. My eye was all swollen and my face was just covered in bruises and scratches. Not that I felt beautiful before, but I felt hideous. 

I’d been hoarding my pills for weeks at that point and I just began to take them. Handfuls at a time, I think I got about halfway through my stockpile before my mom walked in. She was screaming and crying and I couldn’t do anything, I just passed out.”

“Fuck.” Steve whispers, trying to suppress his own sniffles.

“I was in the hospital for about a week, apparently they pumped my stomach and I only have very minor damage to my internal organs. I had to practically beg them not to take me to the psych ward though.” I chuckle at the memory, pleading with the doctors that I was fine and it was all just a mistake, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“I had no idea that Carol and Tommy did that to you.” Steve admits, dropping the joint into the lake as he clenches his fists tightly at the thought of what took place in that alleyway. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I could spend my life apologizing to you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

I’ve never seen Steve so emotional before, candidly breaking down in the most vulnerable way as he allows his sobs to be released. Face flushed scarlet and throat raw from how much he is wailing. I thought I would feel better if I made him feel the same as he made me feel. If I made him cry so hard that he thought he would never feel happiness again. However, seeing him in this state doesn’t even make me the tiniest bit happier. It doesn’t bring me an ounce of joy to see the boy this way no matter how much I thought I would.

In all honesty, it hurts more so knowing that my words are the cause of the pain and turmoil that Steve is in right now. As much as I had built up such a cold and callous exterior trying desperately to protect myself from the harshness of this world, I know deep down that internally, I’m nothing like I portray myself to be.

Once he gains his composure, Steve manages to speak through deep breaths, “Do you know what’s funny?”

His question throws me off guard, tilting my head and raising a brow, alerting him of my piqued interest.

“I’ve also tried to block out most of high school. I didn’t even recognise you today and couldn’t understand why you were acting the way you were. Which I now realize makes me sound like even more of a dickhead.” He laughs quietly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck to relieve the tension within him. “As soon as I got home, I spent hours, staring at your pictures in the yearbook, remembering everything that we put you through. I’ve never felt more guilty about something in my life and I felt disgusted with myself that I would treat such a beautiful person as though they were anything but.”

“You’re just saying that.” I retort, not wanting to believe that he would spend so long staring at the photos of me that I hated so much. Not only that but not wanting to believe he could find such photos of me to be beautiful.

“I mean it! I was a stupid, pathetic little boy that just wanted to prove myself to the people that I thought were cool. I never thought about the effect my actions were having on people and now that high school’s over, none of that popularity shit matters.” He states, wishing that he could take back all of the cruel things he did to his peers. “None of it matters. I’m a fucking loser now. I work at an ice cream store in the mall where I have to wear a stupid sailor’s outfit, I have no college prospects, no girlfriend and I hang out with a bunch of sixteen year olds in my spare time. All that high school shit, it means nothing now.”

“You’re not a loser Steve Harrington.” I giggle, nudging his shoulder gently with my own. “You’ve just made some very poor decisions that are now biting you on the ass.”

“Hey, why aren’t you at college? If the yearbook is anything to go by you were one of the smartest people in our grade.”

I try not to feel upset by the boy’s question, knowing he means no harm. However, I also know that as much as Steve has made poor decisions, so have I. Decisions that directly affected my path to college and resulted in me working at the roller rink.

“Didn’t study those yearbooks well enough clearly.” I joke, believing that if I’m able to laugh about my situation then perhaps I won’t burst into tears yet again. “Last year I kind of gave up with school. After what happened junior year, I just didn’t see the point in trying anymore. Started skipping classes and when I was there I was too high to learn anything. My grades dropped and so did my chances at college.”

“I really fucked things up for you didn’t I?” Steve asks, tone suggesting it’s more of a statement rather than I question.

“The roller rink isn’t so bad, I mean I get to skate for free and the pay is pretty good.” 

I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me, he knows I’m bothered about not going to college, despite this, he doesn’t push me. Doesn’t force me to admit the truth. For that, I’m thankful.

Casting my gaze over the lake, the first light of the sun shines bright through the treeline. A warm amber glow, illuminating the still water beneath my feet. Birds wake from their slumber and their faint chirps echo across the lake. There’s something so peaceful within this moment and for the first time in years I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest. One that I was unaware had been weighing me down.

“I should probably be getting home before my parents wake up. Really don’t need to be giving my parents another reason to worry about me.” I state, steadily rising to my feet, the warmth instantly escaping my body as the sharp breeze nips at the full length of my body.

“Yeah, I should get back too, I should at least try to get some sleep before work.” Steve comments, walking in step with me along the dock.

We walk in silence, the sound of the dark oak creaking beneath our feet. A solemn cloud follows us as we head back to reality, most likely never to speak of this night again. Neither one of us wanting to reflect on the distress we shared at Lovers Lake.

“I think maybe people are right about you.” I declare upon reaching my truck, much to the shock of the boy standing opposite.

“What?” He asks, in disbelief at the confession I had just made.

“I think that maybe you are a good guy.” 

***

“Have you taken your pills today?” My mom checks, shaking the little orange pill bottle on my desk as though she can feel if it is lighter than yesterday.

“Of course I have.” I mumble, dragging my hands across my face, exhausted from the late night I had endured.

“I’m only checking sweetheart, you know I worry about you.” She wraps her arms around me from behind as she speaks, squeezing me tightly, more so for her own comfort rather than mine. “Now, your dad and I are leaving town for a few nights. He has a meeting up in Indianapolis, but if you don’t feel like you’re well enough to stay here alone with Dusty then I am more than happy to stay behind.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine, honestly.” I whine, feeling guilty that she dwells on my wellbeing so much. “I promise.”

I love my parents. I really and truly do, more than anything on this earth. Nevertheless our relationship has been somewhat strained since the events of sophomore year. My mom treats me like I’m made of glass, one wrong move and I’ll shatter into one million tiny pieces. My dad is arguably even worse, refusing to even acknowledge what took place nor speaking on the topic of my mental stability. Dustin tries his hardest to make things feel normal, but there’s only so much a sixteen year old can do to try and hold their family in place.

Not only do I feel guilty about the way I make my parents stress about me, but I also feel guilty for the way this has affected Dustin. Our parents are often so preoccupied with ensuring that I’m well and doing fine, that they often forget about their other child. Sometimes, it feels as if I’m the only person that notices Dustin’s presence. Or lack thereof, what with him spending more and more time with his friends and Steve. Frequently returning home stressed, anxious or just generally in a bad mood and in all honesty his behavior has started to concern me. Though it appears that I may have been the only one to notice.

“I need a ride to Starcourt.” As if on cue, Dustin’s head pops around my bedroom door, demanding yet another ride.

“Your manners really could use some work kid.” I tell him, to which he shrugs and I find myself grabbing my keys with less reluctance than I had the previous day.

The drive to the mall passes by a lot faster than it had on the uncomfortable journey the day before. Filled with Dustin singing at the top of his lungs to whatever cheesy pop song was playing on the radio and me secretly hoping deep down that I’ll catch a glimpse, or even better a chance to talk to Steve again. 

My former bully had somehow managed to penetrate my thoughts ever since we departed ways in the early hours of the morning. Consumed by the thoughts of where we go from here, was our emotional conversation reserved for that one night only or would we develop a casual friendship? As much as I was pretending like nothing had happened, I was itching to know how Steve was feeling.

Before I know it, I’m turning off the ignition and the boy in question is directly in my eyeline. Lazily smoking a cigarette against the side of the entrance to the mall. Presumably waiting for my little brother in order to escort him into Scoops Ahoy, so he is unable to cause any mischief on his way to the store.

Steve spots my truck almost instantly and I could be mistaken, but it certainly looks as though his eyes lock on mine straight away. I hardly register Dustin jumping out of the truck as Steve flicks the cigarette butt to the ground, strolling towards the truck and before I can stop myself I’m climbing out of my seat. Much to the surprise of my brother.

“Hi.” Steve mumbles nervously, a soft rose tint settling upon his cheeks.

“Hi.” I reply just as awkwardly, my face no doubt the same shade as his.

“Okay, this is weird. I’m just gonna-” Dustin uncomfortably points towards the main doors before hurrying off in that direction, eager to get away from whatever is happening between Steve and I.

“So about last night-”

“I want to forgive you.”

We both speak at the same time, sharing anxious smiles as neither of us dares to make the first move. Though after taking a deep breath, I find myself being the one to break the tension.

“I want to forgive you. I meant what I said, that I think you’re a good guy.” I state, timidly picking at my fingers as I try to look anywhere other than the dark haired boy. “I don’t think I’m fully there yet, I think I’ve still got some shit that I need to work through but I’d like to. You don’t deserve to be hated for the stuff you did as a kid, especially when I can see how hard you’re trying to be a better person.”

I’ve barely finished speaking when Steve’s arms are wrapped firmly around my shoulders, pulling me into a firm hug and for whatever strange reason, I hug him back. Cautiously sliding my arms around his toned waist and allowing my head to rest against his chest. Inhaling his scent deeply, an intense sandalwood with a hint of cigarette smoke and despite all of my logic within me screaming to snap out of it, I can’t resist his musk, finding myself strongly intoxicated by it.

“I swear you won’t regret it, I’m going to spend every day making it up to you for as long as I live.” Steve mutters into my hair, gently pulling away from me once he stops speaking.

“How about we start with a free ice cream and go from there?” I ask cheekily, causing him to beam cheerfully at me with a swift nod.

“I’m sure I can manage that.” He laughs, before we make our way into the mall, joining the group of kids inside Scoops Ahoy, much to Dustin’s disapproval at my presence.

Sliding into the booth besides Max, I’m acutely aware of the way the group huddles closer together, voices lowering to no louder than a whisper. Even Eddie Munson, who’s voice can usually be heard for miles, speaks in a hushed voice. 

Narrowing my eyes, I try to pick up any of the conversation, only able to hear certain words here and there. Their side of the table is scattered with papers and I’m able to make out what looks like a map of Starcourt. Although I am completely baffled, if not slightly annoyed at their secrecy, I can only assume that this has something to do with one of their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.

“You and Harrington made up then?” Robin inquires when I join her at the counter, resting my elbows against the cool marble.

“Kind of. I don’t know, we talked for hours last night and as much as I want to hate him, I just can’t.”

Robin can sense how difficult it is for me to acknowledge my willingness to believe her friend has changed. She knows that it’ll be a long road going forward, and yet she’s unable to hide her pride. Not only at her friend for accepting the suffering he caused, but also at my openness to trust that somehow Steve isn’t such a bad guy.

“Yeah I’ve heard, he hasn’t been able to talk about anything else other than the heart to heart you two shared last night. I’m really proud of him, he’s come a long way.” Robin explains, busying herself with preparing a milkshake that she smoothly slides my way with a knowing wink. “Consider that on me, you deserve it, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to make my childhood bullies confront their own actions the same way you did. It took real guts.”

“As much as I would like to take credit, I think the weed was probably more to thank.” I disclose, taking a short sip of the strawberry treat in front of me. “I have a tendency to get real honest when I’m high.”

“Don’t I know it sweetheart.” Eddie chortles, dipping his finger into the cream atop my milkshake and licking it off dramatically.

“Ew get your own!” I groan, pulling the glass away from the metalhead as he tries to swipe some more cream.

“Where’s Harrington anyway? Those little dickheads are going over our game plan and apparently he is a pivotal part in their plan and is needed right away.” The boy asks Robin, eyes scanning the room as if Steve is hiding in one of the red leather booths.

“He’s in the back, apparently he wanted to make Y/N’s ice cream extra special.” Robin speaks, nodding her head towards the staff only door.

“What’s he gonna do? Jizz on it?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Robin and I are both groaning, disgusted by the question.

“Do you have to be so repulsive all of the time?” I ask, hearing the squeak of a door followed by rapid footsteps.

“I didn’t hear any complaints when my mouth was between your legs!”

“That’s because you can’t speak whilst you're down there!”

So caught up in our current argument, I fail to spot Steve uneasily standing at the other side of the counter. A large scoop of cherry ice cream sits in a tub before him, decorated elegantly with a large helping of sprinkles, pieces of chocolate and a singular maraschino cherry placed neatly on top.

“Is this a bad time?” He questions hesitantly, carefully observing Eddie and I, a twinge of what I can only perceive as jealousy flashes across his face. However, it disappears before I analyze it any further. 

“No, no. Not a bad time at all.” The words tumble out of my mouth with haste, Robin struggling to hide the amused expression on her face as she witnesses the tension between us.

“One scoop of cherry swirl, with all the toppings. On me, as promised.” He announces gleefully, pushing it towards me with a small plastic spoon, which I am more than happy to accept.

“Thank you.”

I delicately place the cherry between my lips, pulling it from the stem which I then twist between my fingers absentmindedly. Though, I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks as I catch sight of the three of them staring at me, eyes trained on my mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that can make eating fruit look so hot.” Eddie comments, pupils blown out causing me to grimace.

“Hey Steve! We need to go over the plan!” Lucas’ yell, alleviates the awkwardness of the current situation.

“Always the goddamn babysitter.” He mutters under his breath, offering me an apologetic glance before meandering over to the group of youths, Eddie Munson in tow.

“Now I don’t want to alarm you, especially not with how fresh your reconciliation with Steve is but I think he may have a teeny tiny crush on you.” Robin whispers, moving her head closer to mine in an effort to remain inconspicuous. 

“What? No, no, he’s just being nice is all.” I shut down her theory quickly, fixating my gaze on the melting ice cream so as not to reveal the bashfulness slapped across my face. “Anyway, what’s that all about? New campaign? I didn’t think D&D would be the sort of things you and Steve would be into.”

“I see what you’re doing and I’m just going to go along with it.” Robin says, referencing the fact that I am so obviously trying to change the subject. She turns away from, as she continues to speak, occupying herself with refilling the toppings station. “It’s just a stupid thing they’re planning, some big quest. Steve and I just kind of got roped into it I guess, but it’s not so bad.”

Her response is vague and leaves me with more questions than I previously had, not entirely believing that her and Steve could possibly be lame enough to enjoy the fictional realms of Dungeons and Dragons. I let it slide though, thankful that she didn’t push me to discuss the possibility of Steve Harrington liking me and so I return the favor. Accepting that there is a very probable, most likely embarrassing reason that they’re not telling me about their secret activities.

***

Most young people would kill for the opportunity to have an empty house. It’s the time to throw wild parties or hook up with a guy without having to sneak around or risk being caught by nose parents. Or even worse, younger siblings. Had I been a normal eighteen year old girl, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be doing exactly that.

Instead, I’m lounging on my bed, recapping the events of the past couple of days to my diary as I try to fill the deafening sound of silence with the beautiful vocals of Stevie Nicks. I’d never truly realized just how eerie and isolating our home could be without the usual noise of my family. No football game broadcast on the television, or the clattering of pots in the kitchen, not even the sound of Dustin screaming down his walkie talkie. It fills me with a sense of unease that I can’t seem to shake.

Just as I’m about to try and fill the void by running the bathtub to take a relaxing soak, I become distracted by the high pitched shrill of the phone on my bedside table. Curiosity engulfing me and I wonder who could be calling me at such a late hour. Better yet, who has got the phone number that is usually only reserved for Eddie or my parents.

“Y/N, I don’t have much time so you have to listen to me carefully!” Steve’s voice is full of panic as he hurriedly speaks down the line, my body instantly going stiff at the urgency of his tone. “I’m so sorry and I should’ve told you sooner but Dustin was adamant that he wanted to keep you out of it.”

“Out of what? What’s going on? Is Dustin okay?” 

“I can’t explain other the phone, you’d never believe me anyway, but we really need your help. Just get to the Starcourt as soon as you can, please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Steve spits out, the uproar of what sounds like wind almost drowning him out. “And bring a weapon!”

With that, the line cuts off. I remain still, nostrils flared as my hands continue to hold on to the phone, knuckles white. My heart feels like it is about to burst violently out of my chest and I struggle to gain my composure with such short, rapid breaths.

“Okay, it’s gonna be okay. I’m sure it’s nothing, they probably just need a ride again.” I mumble to myself, grabbing my keys and racing down the stairs. “Yeah, that makes total sense, I mean a girl should always carry a weapon when alone at night.”

Hands trembling furiously, I stand opposite my dad’s rifle cabinet, staring at the gun through the sheer glass. Questioning whether I’m truly about to take his property. I’ve only shot a gun once, I was twelve and my dad took me hunting. It didn’t become a regular thing, my dad refusing to take me again after I burst into tears upon shooting a deer.

Despite the fear racing through my body, before I can even think about what I’m doing, I’m grabbing a vase off one of the shelves. Using all of my strength to smash it straight into the glass, thousands of miniscule shards flying everywhere. Flinching as it hits me with force, ripping open small wounds across the exposed skin of my face, neck and arms. Though I only really register the injuries on my hand, the flesh of my knuckles shredded brutally from where my hand made contact with the pane. Vase doing little to take the extent of the collision.

A shaky exhale escapes my throat, grabbing the rifle despite my second thoughts. Sticky, crimson liquid dripping against the heel of the gun, staining the burnt mahogany. 

“Sorry dad.” I speak quietly, frowning slightly upon seeing the mess of broken glass across the lounge.

In my hurry to leave, I don’t even bother to lock the doors of our house. Focusing on nothing other than getting to Starcourt as quickly as I physically can. Throwing the gun carelessly on my passenger seat, I’m in autopilot as I start the engine. My driving being much more reckless than usual, ignoring speed limits and stop signs in my race to get to the mall. 

The closer I get, the more I start to question what type of danger I am just about to get myself into. Sky above the large building an array of violet and sapphire amidst the dark black of the night. Wind whirling harshly around my truck, the closer I get. It feels reminiscent of a tornado, a ruthless storm that holds no mercy.

Arriving in the parking lot, I’m able to see a singular car parked by the entry doors. Nancy, Jonathan, Will and Lucas scurry around the vehicle, clearly in search of something and don’t seem to care at all about the volatile weather that Hawkins is experiencing.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Dustin?” I shout, rifle in hand as I sprint towards the burgundy car. The group ignoring my arrival and instead climbing into the vehicle’s interior.

Squeezing myself in besides Will and Lucas, it’s only at that moment that they acknowledge me. Faces ranging from confusion, to shock, to anger. Not a single one of them displays any positive emotion at my being there.

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asks, voice raised and tone harsh, wounding me more so than I thought possible.

“Where the fuck is Dustin?” I spit, solely caring about ensuring the safety of my baby brother. Knowing that if anything happened to him I would never forgive myself. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

‘I don’t know, okay Y/N. He’s with Erica!” Nancy yells, preoccupied with pulling open the glove compartment and rooting around urgently.

“Erica? Erica as in your ten year old sister?” I snap, attention diverted towards Lucas who stares at me with worry, afraid of how I am about to react. “What the actual fuck?”

“Look I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re kind of in the middle of something and you really shouldn’t be here.” Nancy tells me, finally turning herself to look at me from the passenger seat.

I’ve never seen her look so troubled, face free of makeup and stress lines prominent. She’s too young to look as agonized as she does, asserting to me that whatever is currently taking place is far beyond what I could have ever imagined. Far more threatening than anything I could dream up. 

“I think I’ve got it.” Jonathan announces, a chorus of relieved sighs escaping the group. 

“Get it started then.” Nancy pushes, watching anxiously as Jonathan begins to fiddle with the car wires, hands clammy from the stress of the current circumstances.

“Guys, we could have a problem.” Will mutters, eyes trained out of the window to the otherside of the parking lot.

A car sits ominously, headlights pointing directly towards us. Nancy and Jonathan both curse under their breath, and despite having no knowledge about what is taking place, even I can understand that this is clearly not a good sign. Even worse when the vehicle begins to drive slowly straight at us.

Unaware of my own actions and unable to stop myself, I’m rounding the car confidently. Standing right in the path of the oncoming vehicle, I raise the rifle, releasing the safety and pointing directly towards what I can assume is the driver’s seat. Struggling to see effectively against the bright beam of the headlights.

My move seems to threaten the driver, the car gaining speed and barrelling at us with no sign of stopping. Despite the fear that has overcome me since receiving Steve’s call, whilst standing in the path of immediate peril, I feel weirdly at ease. Unbothered by the potential risk of death that I am face to face with. 

“What are you doing?” I hear Nancy scream, her voice sounds as though it is miles away when I know in reality she is almost right behind me, tucked away inside the automobile.

Steadying my breath, I squint my eyes in an attempt to better my aim, before releasing the trigger. Having no time to think about the consequences of my actions nor the moral implications of shooting at a living being that formerly plagued my mind, releasing bullet after bullet as the driver steps on the gas. Accelerating at such an extreme pace that I can only fire so much before having to accept my twisted fate.

With the car only mere feet away, I drop the gun, fearing that no matter how well I shoot, there is no winning this fight. Grabbing my head, in a weak attempt to protect myself, I drop to the ground, eyes closed tightly as I prepare to face the impact. 

I’ve never been a religious person, but the only thoughts flying around my brain are prayers of protecting my family. Prayers of Dustin’s safety as he faces whatever is coming for him. Prayers that my passing is swift and painless. Prayers that this is all over quickly.

And yet, nothing comes. 

Warily, I open my eyes, removing my hands from my cautiously, only to see none other than Steve Harrington, reeling from the impact of smashing his car straight into the one headed my way. His eyes find mine and my heart stops, the look of sheer relief on his face is indescribable. 

Rising to my feet, Steve’s hurriedly climbing out of the vehicle and by my side in a second. Face bloodied and bruised, despite that, he’s solely focused on me, scanning over me intently, worriedly taking in all the minor wounds I obtained from shattering the rifle cabinet.

“What happened to your hand?” He’s asking breathlessly, my mind preoccupied with the knowledge that he just put himself in harm's way to save my life. 

I can’t find the words to say anything as I take in the sight of his swollen eye and the stains of dried blood coating the lower half of his face. My mouth opens to speak and no words seem to slip out, mesmerized by Steve’s beauty in spite of his unsightly injuries.

Blaming the adrenaline, I find myself throwing my arms around the boy’s neck, pulling him into me and squeezing tightly. His hands settle on my hips, touch firm, fearing that if he were to let go that I would simply disappear. Absentmindedly, my fingers delicately thread through the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck. Needing to be close to him.

“You just saved my life.”

My voice is no louder than a whisper, breath hot against his neck as I nuzzle myself closer to him. Feeling safe and secure in his embrace. Desperately needing the comfort right now, even if it is coming from the most unexpected of places.

“Uh guys! We should be getting out of here! Like now!” I hear Robin shout, releasing myself from Steve’s hold to see that not only has Jonathan managed to get their car started but also that Billy Hargrove is now stumbling out of his vehicle and has his sights set on us once again.

Neither of us need to say a word, abandoning my truck in the Starcourt parking lot and speeding away from the mall and ultimately the danger that lies in wait there. 

***

The Battle of Starcourt resulted in the mall burning to the ground. Dustin and I reunited later that night at Steve’s house, the pair of them, alongside Robin, explained everything to me over a much needed pot of tea. El’s powers, demogorgons, Russian soldiers and the Mind Flayer. It was certainly a lot to take in and I could only apologize to my brother for not being there for him throughout all of this taking place. Wishing I could have helped him from the start.

It’s been a struggle adjusting to my daily life for the past couple of days. Dustin’s been staying at the Byers’ household, wanting the comfort of his friends and with a lack of parental presence in our home, the place feels cold. I can understand his decision completely, yet I can’t help but feel alone in such a big house.

I spend my nights awake, unable to sleep, and when I do manage to drift off, I’m plagued by nightmares of that car barreling towards me. My days aren’t any better. Alone with my thoughts at the roller rink, dreaming up all of the ways that the events of the night could have gone differently, most resulting in the deaths of either Dustin and I. And if I’m not at work, I lounge around my home, hopelessly trying to occupy my mind from the swirling images of Starcourt. 

Steve and I haven't spoke since that night, more so my fault than his. I’d closed myself off again, become a recluse and struggled to leave the house with the exception of work. I believed that my mind had been playing tricks on me that night when I found myself enamored by his beauty. Or that it was simply the adrenaline and the intensity of the circumstances that I needed his embrace. However, the more I think about it, the more I believe that it was a decision of the heart rather than caused by the stress of the night.

Standing outside the Harrington household, I wonder if I am making a huge mistake. I hadn’t intended to come here, only leaving my house to take a brisk walk and yet here I find myself, fist raised in preparation to knock. Though making no effort to do so. In all honesty, I think I just need to talk to somebody about what transpired and Steve is the only person that I can willingly open up to.

“Y/N?” The boy’s voice startles me, he’s standing in the doorway dressed in plaid pajama pants and a loose black sweater. The wounds on his face are still prominent, though evidently more healed than the last time I had seen him.

“I’m sorry, I was going for a walk but I guess I just instinctively came here. My house is too quiet and I just really need to talk to somebody.” I confess, staring down at my bandaged hand so as to not make eye contact with Steve.

“You walked here?” He’s shocked by my admission, not that I’m surprised. Living on the other side of town, the walk to his house is easily an hour long, if not more.

“Well my truck kind of went down with the mall.” I laugh softly, though it sounds more forced than I intended. 

“You should’ve called, I would’ve picked you up.” He tells me, voice gentle as he opens the door for me to enter his home, following me through to the lounge where we collapse onto the couch.

He has a small fire crackling away, the orange embers lighting up the room and subsequently offering a toastiness in comparison to the chilly night air.

“What’s going on? Are you?” There’s a tenderness to his voice, speaking to me the way you would speak to a timid animal so as not to frighten them. It’s sweet.

“Do you get nightmares from that night?” I ask shyly, not wanting him to view me as weak for struggling with the things that occurred.

Steve sighs, settling further into the couch as he takes his time figuring out how to say what he wants to get across. Part of him wanting to lie and pretend that everything is fine, the other part of him knowing that he should just be honest and recognize his feelings.

“Yeah.” Steve settles on the one word reply, deciding it may be the better option rather than confessing the truth as to what occurs in these nightmares.

“I haven’t been sleeping much, everytime I do, all I see is that car. Or Dustin’s lifeless body and it’s horrible. Waking up alone, hyperventilating, nobody there to tell me it’ll be okay. I don’t know how I can keep going like this.” I admit, daring to look at the boy and noticing the pained expression on his face.

“Can I be honest?” He whispers, words so quiet I almost don’t hear them. Nodding nervously, his eyes fall to his lap as he speaks. “Everytime I shut my eyes, I can only think about what would’ve happened had I not got to you in time.”

“But you did-”

“You would’ve died, you would’ve died and it would’ve been my fault because I was the one who asked you to come.” He’s crying as he talks, recounting that night and what could have been.

“Steve, you did save me. You’re the entire reason that I’m sitting here right here now. You’re a hero Steve Harrington.” I tell him, shuffling closer and taking his hands in mine. To which he brushes his fingers over my bandaged knuckles. “A very stupid, idiotic, reckless hero. But a hero nonetheless.”

“I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d let you die. Fuck, I can’t even forgive myself for the way I treated you in school.” He states, gazing over my face and taking in the handful of miniscule cuts scattered across my cheeks from the shattering of the cabinet.

“Would it help if I told you that I forgive you?” I ask, soft smile settled upon my lips.

“Are you sure? I know I hurt you and I don’t want you to feel like you have to forgive me because of what happened and-”

“Steve, I forgive you.” I cut him off, squeezing his hands as I do so. “Not just because of what happened. I mean I’d probably be a shitty person if I didn’t forgive you when you deliberately put your own life at risk to save mine but, you’re a good person. I can see that now. You’re a really good person with a really good heart and in all honesty I think-”

My heart jumps to my throat as I realize what I’m about to confess. Questioning how I even got myself into this mess. If you told sixteen year old me that only two years later I would be sitting on the couch of my nemesis about to own up to the feelings that I may or may not have for him, she would’ve laughed in your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks softly, before I am able to finish what I’m saying, thankful that I no longer have to find the words.

“I’d really like that.”

The boy’s hand is gentle as he cups my cheek, apprehensively bringing his face to my own and brushing his lips lightly over mine. He’s cautious at first, testing out the waters to ensure that I am truly comfortable. Though, when I push myself closer, fisting his sweater in my hands, he exerts the passion that he had been holding black. Lips moving in sync with mine and bringing his free hand to caress my waist delicately. As the heat grows and any nerves wash away, he effortlessly slides his tongue into my mouth. Shy whimper escaping my mouth as he does so.

When he pulls away, I don’t miss the string of saliva that connects our lips to one another and can’t help but smile. Heart fluttering as Steve’s eyes focus on me adoringly.

“I guess all the rumors were right.” I tease as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, tilting his head slightly at my words. “You really are good at that, King Steve.”

“Oh ha ha.” He replies sarcastically, pulling me into his side and allowing me to rest my head on his chest. Listening intently to the steady beat of his heart.

“Can I stay here tonight? I can’t face another night alone.” I ask, tracing circles across his stomach, his hands stroking my hair lightly.

“I’d like that.”

Whilst I lay in the arms of Steve Harrington, I couldn’t help but feel as though things were starting to look up for me. Sure, it didn’t happen in the way that I was expecting or perhaps wanted. I certainly could have done without the monsters but right now, I finally felt at peace. Even if it was only for a little bit.

[vxnuslogy]

— the angel who lived. ft sunday

— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), not proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors

— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p

death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.

sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.

“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his  position and walked with you.

“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.

but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?

one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.

“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”

and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”. 

the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.

“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.

“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”

“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”

the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.

“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?

“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.

you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”

you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.” 

sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.

“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”

sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.

elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.

“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’. 

sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.

“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.

“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.

after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”

“not now, that's for sure.” 

sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.

“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.” 

“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”

and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.

he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.

but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.

taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.

“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.” 

by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.

“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.

“i have something i need to do.” 

elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats. 

“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“mother, wait!”

sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.

“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.

golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.

“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”

sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.

—

“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”

your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.

“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”

“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices. 

“i’ll be down in a—”

you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.

“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”

from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.

“something the matter, angel?”

“enough with the mind games, death.” 

he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.

“what's going on?”

“nothing is going on.”

“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious. 

“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.

gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.

“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”

“i believe that's none of your business.”

“you—!”

sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.

“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”

“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.

“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”

—

“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”

by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.

you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals.  brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.

after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.

“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.

“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”

he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.

after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”

sunday was the first to answer. 

“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.

you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.

“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”

“death will find us all.”

in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.

“it's good to see you again, mother.”

sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.

“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.

the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.

“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”

“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”

the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.

“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story. 

“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”

“you've always done a good job, mother.”

sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.

your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin. 

“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”

“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”

and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.

sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.

“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”

—

you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity. 

the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”

but sunday thought otherwise.

how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?

they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes. 

you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were. 

he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.

“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”

“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”

“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”

he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.

“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”

sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.

“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.

he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.

against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his. 

“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.

your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.

“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.

with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.” 

sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.

“sit down.” you command and he followed.

the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.

“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.

your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.

“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”

“there's your answer then.”

sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.

“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”

“maybe.”

before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.

you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.

“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.

“including you?”

“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”

“how so?”

“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”

“will someone replace you once you're gone?” 

you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.

“ely would probably replace me.”

sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.

“they aren't really children, you know.”

the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”

“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”

“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”

“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”

“even i don't know the answer to that.”

“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”

you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.

“i don't know.”

“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down. 

“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”

“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”

sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.

“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”

“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”

“do you have to cut the cord?” 

what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.

you only smiled bitterly in response.

“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”

sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it. 

he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.

“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.

“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.

“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”

sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight. 

your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.

“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”

“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.

the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.

but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.

sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.

“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.” 

your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.

“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”

sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face. 

“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.

“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”

he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state. 

“i never… took you one for compliments.”

you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.  

this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.

“are you fond of children?”

“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”

“just answer me directly, death.”

you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.

“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”

“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”

you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.

your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own. 

you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.

“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”

you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.

“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”

“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.” 

“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”

“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.

“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”

alright, you admit, he got you there.

“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”

“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”

“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”

“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.

“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”

“what if they aren't gentle with you?”

“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”

ah, he got you again.

—

sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.

all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal. 

sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.

he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.

you would.

why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to. 

“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”

“but we still have to.”

jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.

“can the angel walk?”

twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.

you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.

sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.

“where are we?” he asks.

“in reality.”

his eyes narrowed in a confused glare. 

“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”

the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.

he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?

“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”

“what's going on…”

“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.

against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop. 

“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.

“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”

what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.

“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”

sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.

“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”

“this isn't a game, death.”

sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.

“all is fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes. 

what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?

“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”

his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.

“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”

you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”

.

“three.”

.

“two.”

.

“one.”

.

“RUN!”

and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.

“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”

your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.

you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.

but this time, sunday would rise victorious.

“brother!”

sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.

“it's mr. sunday!”

“are you alright?”

everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.

“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”

sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.

“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”

sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”

“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.” robin explained.

“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.

wait.

“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.

“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”

before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.

“brother!”

something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.

he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.

“it's time to wake up, sunday.”

sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.

the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.

“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”

sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.

and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.

“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”

“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”

“you can't.”

“you don't know that!”

the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.

“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”

“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”

you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.

“no…”

“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”

“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.

there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.

“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”

“you were.”

were. you didn't kill him.

the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.

you didn't kill him.

the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.

“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.

sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.

“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”

how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.

you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.

“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”

you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.

“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”

“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”

“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”

sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.

“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[medusapelagia]

Love at first sight

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 6: HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG) and @steddie-week (Day 6, Prompt: Dizzy / drunken confessions) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 997

The music pumps in his ears and Steve might have drunk a little bit too much. Not enough to run to the bathroom but enough that he feels dizzy and happy for no reason, so he slams his glass on the bar counter and moves toward the dance floor.

The people are dancing around him like a human tide and all he wants is to go adrift. Someone grinds against his ass but he doesn’t even turn. Steve needs this, a little bit of human contact, the feeling that he’s wanted even if his parents just sent him their last check with a letter saying that from now on he’s on his own.

He should have told Robin, but she was on a date with the pretty barista she had a crush on since forever so he just crumpled the letter and threw it in his drawer, took his keys, and got to his favorite gay bar and started to drink the last money his parents gave him. No better way to spend it after all.

Someone bumps into him too hard and Steve loses his equilibrium. Trying not to fall on the ground he grabs the first thing he can, which apparently it’s a leather jacket.

Fuck.

Leather jackets mean bikers or metal heads, usually closeted ones that will get really angry.

“I’m sorry…” he slurs, “I tripped and…” Steve starts to apologize, but the man that’s looking at him is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Long curly dark hair, deep dark eyes, and a mischievous smile painted on his face.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He tells him, holding Steve up, “Too many drinks, huh? It happens to the best of us.”

The man chuckles, making sure Steve is stable enough on his feet before turning toward his group of friends, but Steve’s hand is still holding tight on his leather jacket.

“If you could let go of me we could go back to our friends, sweetness,” the man smiles, prying Steve’s hand open.

“No.”

“No? Don’t you want to have fun with your friends?”

“No friends.” Steve tries to explain, and the man frowns.

“You here alone?”

Steve nods, but the sudden movement makes him feel dizzy again. Luckily the other man grabs his arm and stabilizes him once more.

“Sorry… my head is spinning.” Steve apologized, hiding his face behind his free hand.

“Why don’t we sit for a moment, huh?���

“Eddie, come on! This round is on you!” Someone yells next to them, and Steve notices at that moment that he’s not in the middle of the dance floor anymore, but close to the bar counter.

The man grabs his wallet from his back pocket, one hand still holding Steve’s arm tight, “Need to get back to the table. Take what you need.”

“But how can I bring all the beers back?”

“I’ll ask Jeff to help you, don’t whine!”

Steve looks at the dark-haired man and asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah. That’s me. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Why don’t you sit with me and my friends for a moment?” he proposes, dragging him toward the bar's private area, “We’re celebrating. We just signed our first contract with a musica label.” Eddie winks, “What about you? Something to celebrate?”

“My parents officially disowned me. And I’m drinking the last money they sent me.”

Eddie hums with a sad smile, “I know a thing or two about shitty parents. But maybe getting drunk in a bar alone isn’t the best choice to deal with things like that. People could take advantage of your state.”

“Are you going to take advantage of me?” Steve asks innocently, “I would let you if you wanted to.”

Eddie snorts, “Thank you for the offer but I’m the kind of guy who prefers full consent to drunk consent. Hey guys! This is Steve! He’s having a bit of a hard day so he’s staying with us until he feels a little bit better and we can send him home safely.”

“Hi Steve, I’m Jeff. Would you like a glass of water?”

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you get one for him while helping Gareth with the beers? I gave him my wallet.”

“You gave your wallet to Gar?” another man asks, ginning, “He’s going to spend all your money. I bet twenty dollars he will come back with the most expensive bottle he can find.”

“Not my problem, Freak. You know I don’t really care about money.” Eddie shrugs, sitting next to the tall boy who keeps grinning.

“So you found another stray, Eddie?” Freak asks, scooting over to let them sit.

“I can't tell one from another. Did I find you or you find me?” Eddie replies, turning toward Steve who stares at him in confusion, “It’s a line I heard in a love song, always wanted to use it, never got the occasion. Till now.”

“Maybe wait for him to be sober before hitting on him, huh? Don’t worry. Eddie is dramatic like that, but he’s a good guy.”

“I think I love him,” Steve whispers to Freak way too loudly, and the big man chuckles.

“Look at you, Eddie! You just signed your first contract and already found yourself a groupie!”

Eddie reaches out for the glass of water that Jeff is holding and gives it to Steve, “Drink it all like a good boy.”

“I do.” Steve insists, taking Eddie’s hand and putting it over his chest, “Can’t you feel my love for you? It’s like you said. We were meant to find each other.” 

If Steve wasn’t drunk he would feel ashamed of himself, but what he said it’s true. He never believed in love at first sight, but now he would swear by it.

“Ok. Ok. Now drink your water and if tomorrow morning you’ll feel still in love with me,” Eddie says, fishing a chewed pen and writing a number on a napkin “call me.” 

Now with a second part

[sassydefendorflower]

Holy Server B@tman! Fanfic Rec List 2.0

Hello and welcome back to a very special fanfic rec list! 

The members of the amazing Holy Server B@tman! Server are an extremely talented bunch - many great artists and writers together in one place to foster each other’s creativity and joy to participate in fandom.

That has to be celebrated! 

So, please welcome a list of stories our writers loved to create, their very own Greatest Hits!

(please click on your own discretion - you’ll find the appropriate warnings on ao3)

Fujiwhara Effect by byrambles / @byrambles

Fujiwhara Effect: When two tropical cyclones spinning in the same direction pass so close to each other than they begin spinning around a common center. Or: Dick is NOT a fan of Bruce’s new kid (seriously, WHO brings home a new kid weeks after the old one moves out and then doesn’t even have the courtesy to tell – ). When he gets trapped in Gotham by an East Coast hurricane, though, he has to figure out how to be in the same room as Jason without losing it.

byrambles's words: This was so much fun to write! I think it has a sweet mix of angst and fluff — plus a silly little surprise part-way through!

The Lines that Bond Us by canaf_lilah

Reclusive author Bruce Wayne's most recent book, The Bat Man, was a critical success and a mass market flop. As he struggles to make sense of a sequel, he shocks no one more than himself when he brings home recently orphaned Dick Grayson. Bruce could never have predicted the impact on his life - and his writing - the remarkably resilient young acrobat would have. Batman and Robin may only exist on the pages of Bruce's books, but that doesn't stop them from saving the people they touch.

Lilah's words: to me this is by far the best fic I've ever written. I'm determined to finish it one day, but don't be too put off by the incomplete status! It works well as a standalone.

red like blood (they won't wash clean) by silver_the_phoenix

Tim snaps. It's a lot bloodier than he thought it would be.

Silver's words: I started this one because Tim deserves to go a little feral, as a treat; and I finished it because I'm a simp for Good Brother Jason Todd.

Cared For by 1Zukoneedsafamily2 / @trashcollectshere

Jason smirked as he stood over The Replacement. He stroked the feathers of the splayed-out wings, before he gripped a group of feathers and yanked. Not hard enough to pull out feathers but he wanted him awake when the fun started.

Krys' words: also everyone loves a tower fic right???

Brother, Go Find Your Brother by sleepingcreep (JaySgrech) / @misplacedspleen

Brother, go find your brother: A method of finding something lost by attempting to lose something similar in the same way, in the hopes that it gets lost in the same place and both can be found. “You should match, right?” The grin cracked wider as the lanky captor rolled the knife between their fingers, strolling closer to where Tim was pinned to the wall. Jason didn’t comprehend what the creep meant, too focused on trying to pull his hands against the cuffs in the right way to pop his thumb out of place to get free. There are many years of scars between Jason and Tim before they match.

Jay's words: I'm reccing it because I'm proud of how the settings turned out and I think I wrote a unique take on Jason and Tim's relationship

dirt piling up, putting me to bed by rutaceae / @applejee

Jason never imagined that a simple trip to a bookshop could end with him trapped in the basement of a collapsed building with Tim, but you don't often get what you imagined when you live in Gotham.

Luka's words: i’m quite happy with how contained this little fic is (for me); i always wanted to stab someone, and have someone else panic so bad they don’t realise they’re fucked up themself. fun times!!

Do-Si-Do's Churros & Other Curious Things About Love by sElkieNight60 / @selkienight60

Being a beta in a house full of alpha’s is rough. Especially if you’re trying to be heard.

Selkie's words: I like it because I really enjoy reading Platonic Omegaverse stories, and the Batfamily are so unrepresented here, (I say, in the meaning that I simply crave more of them, there are truthfully quite a few out there, but I just enjoy them so much).

Maui Melon Mint by motleyfam / @motleyfam

In the case of Bats vs. Stomach Bug, there can only be one victor.

Motley's words: I had a ton of fun writing from Damian’s POV for a change and letting Alfred wear his sassy pants

Writer's Cellblock by pinstripedJackalope / @the-ghost-of-jason-todd

Mystery writer and father to five, Bruce Wayne has no great fortunes to fall back on. No reserve of social charisma, no family jewels. He no longer has a butler, though Alfred does his best to visit regularly. He is, in short, not the kind of man who can buy freedom. Heck, he can barely make ends meet some months. So you can understand the… concern… he feels when, late one night, two FBI agents come knocking at his door.

K's words: ngl it was hard to pick a fic, and i would have picked one with more than one chapter but i always did think this one was kind of fun

Golden Silence, Golden Yolks by BabblingBookends / @babblingbookends

Words between Dick and Bruce have never been easy. Dick talks, Bruce doesn’t listen. Bruce talks, Dick is expected to listen. Better if neither of them speak at all.

Babbles' words: If you watch a TV show for long enough, there will inevitably be some character moments in a diner, and I just think that's fun, hence this fic!

keep your head up (it's a cruel world) by lookforanewangle / @lookforanewangle

“If the past is anything to go on, sir,” he says kindly, “this boy will be in your care for a good many lifetimes, and you will do all you can to keep him safe, just like you have with the others.” Or, the Batfam/The Old Guard reverse verse au with Dick's introduction to the world of immortals

Lyss' words: I put a lot of work into this one and while I know reverse verse isn't everyone's cup of tea, I think it works best in this universe in this order, with many surprises yet to come, and room for this universe to grow!

A Promise to Stay by xerzi / @xerziartblog

No one needed Tim Drake, but Tim Drake still needed to be needed. And well, who better to choose than the one person who could never stop needing him? So inherently broken that his job would never be finished. Yet so unfortunately resilient that he would never be left the sole survivor. And so desperate to serve that he would never be betrayed again. In other words, no one else needed Tim Drake, but certainly, he knew there was someone who could make use of his particular skill set. - Tim Drake, 12-year-old independent adult, professional birdwatcher, is offered everything he’s ever wanted…for the low, low price of his verbal agreement. All he has to do is say yes.

Xerzi's words: I just want to put Tim Drake in a jar and try to figure out what's wrong with him…so I put TWO Tim Drakes in the same jar so they can work together to figure out what's wrong with them (and how to fix it)

The End of Man by AuroraKant / @sassydefendorflower

Dick Grayson wasn’t meant to be caged in, but then again… Dick Grayson wasn’t a murderer, and look at him now. (was this what insanity felt like?) Dick Grayson gets captured, forced to shift, and put into a cage - surely, this is the worst that can happen?

Aurora's words: Look... I always wanted to write a deranged Shifter AU in which Dick Grayson goes absolutely mental. What can I say? I love it when my boy is broken and covered in blood <3

Catching Stars and Comets by Faeriekit

From this tumblr prompt: "Reverse Robins AU but instead of making Damian oldest and going down the line so on and so forth, it’s a bunch of assembled weird vigilante-crime men and their accidentally adopted autistic eight year old rich boy, Bruce, who calls himself “batkid” for reasons beyond their mutual understanding of expected kid behavior."

Faeriekit's words: it's been a fun AU to work on, I hope people enjoy it, also it's got kids. It's basically an ageswap!AU where all the batkids are "villains" without Bruce's influence. And it was either this fic or the bees.

cardboard box by A_Canceled_Stamp / @a-canceled-stamp

Robin!Tim is exposed to Ivy's cuddle pollen. For the first time, he reaches out to Bruce for help. How he wishes he hadn't.

Stamp's words: this is my first hurt/no comfort fic and I am very happy with how it turned out! The comments I've gotten on it always make me cackle lmao

a flower called you has bloomed by dottie_dc / @dottie-wan-kenobi

The real problem is that, well. Last time Tim went undercover, he kind of… came home and embarrassed himself. It’s not that he’s shy about being seen in disguise, okay? They can all tease him all they want but it doesn’t bother him. He has way more blackmail on his siblings than they do him, so whatever. It’s just… Caroline Hill is a different story.

Dottie's words: I saw the inspo art and it gave me immediate motivation to write something, which was really fun. I loved writing it and seeing people in the comments be able to relate. queer headcanons my beloved <3

Of The Covenant by Kgraces / @kgraces

Dick Grayson is many things, and foremost among those, he's a detective. He can't stop himself from noticing things about Tim Drake — things that make him question not only his home life but his relationship with Bruce Wayne, too. (Things spiral from there.)

Gracie's words: I’m gonna toss my current longfic your way so hopefully it motivates me to work on it more lmao. It’s a Dick & Tim fic where Dick basically takes a look at all the adults in Tim’s life and goes “is anyone going to take care of this feral, unsupervised child? No? Guess he’s my responsibility now.”

Now and Then by librarylexicon / @librarylexicon

Dick’s spent the past few months recovering from an ordeal he’d rather not think about, so when Bruce asks him to spend quality time with Tim outside of their masks, he instantly agrees. Amid conversations, itineraries, nightmares, photos, revelations and a whole lot of chocolate, he and Tim navigate the Great Ocean Road—and learn more about themselves and each other along the way.

lily's words: Dick and Tim are my favourite Batboys, so I've been wanting to write a fic about them for a long time, because of their long history and close brotherly relationship in the comics. This story is a love letter to their bond, and I'm very pleased with the way all the emotional whump turned out!

How to tape a card castle by Fleur_de_Violette / @fleur-de-violette

Dick saves the new Robin one day. This is it. This is all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a relationship with Jason, it’s just that it’s too complicated. He doesn’t know how to deal with being an adult on top of being Nightwing. He can’t deal with Jason, with what Jason represents, on top of it. Except, when a small injury doesn’t heal up the way it’s supposed to, he ends up being the one who needs saving and he’s finally forced to face the new Robin.

Violette's words: This is my longest published fic so far ! I really enjoyed writing it, both the Robin Jason and Dick part and the little case stories in between and I'm happy about how it turned out!

See You At Your Worst by wildsofmarch / @wildsofmarch

Dick has only been a mob enforcer for six months, but delivering a shipment of guns to an up-and-coming crime lord in Gotham should have been easy. All he needs to do is win the man's trust and secure him as a repeat customer. Unfortunately, the Red Hood is not impressed with him.

Wilds' words: I like this one because I go ham with the identity porn!

The Nature of Things by FidotheFinch / @fidothefinch

After a mission gone wrong and a spat with Drake, Robin is benched. Worse than that: Damian is grounded. As serendipity would have it, it gives Damian the opportunity to facilitate the rehabilitation of the manor's new ward, a dog Batman rescued from a fighting ring.

Fido's words: I got to memorialize pieces of my childhood pups in this story, and it was my first fic in the fandom

in vitro by genericlesbian72 / @femmescooter

Shadow-girl did not know much. She didn't need to. But she knew her first kill would be for the baby.

Hedgehog's words: This fic was a challenge to myself on how Cassandra would view her first kill, without words to describe it, while also a take on ‘joining the Batfamily early’ for her that I haven’t seen much before.

this one takes the cake by carol_in_au / @carol-in-au

Jason took a sip from his glass, slowly, synching it with Bruce's words. Bruce cleared his throat, and continued with an authoriative tone that was so not him. "I have something to announce." Bruce Wayne has an announcement to make

Chrys' words: It's fast-paced, has a good comedic timing, a bit of fluff in some moments. When I reread it, I found it pleasant to read and I was quite happy I created it

presumptions by Valkirin / @valkirinii

Batman is away on a long mission with the Justice League when Red Hood attacks Robin in Titans Tower. Red Hood thinks that hurting Robin will get Batman's attention. He doesn't expect Nightwing. Nightwing doesn't know what to expect from Red Hood, Gotham's newest rogue.

Trixie's words: It's one of my favorites that doesn't seem to get as much attention. It's also really fun to let Dick Grayson be angry and intimidating.

Operation Friendship Helmet by goldenraeofsun / @raeofsoleil

When Red Hood meets Dick, he seems almost friendly, compared to the violent hostility he showed Batman and Robin. Maybe, if Dick plays his cards right, he can turn Red Hood from a crime boss to a vigilante. But the closer he gets to Hood, the question nags louder and louder: why does Red Hood seem so familiar?

Rae's words: This is the first time I really dove into my favorite trope, secret identities, complete with a big reveal at the end.

Roadtrip to Nowhere by Ghxst_Bird / @ghost-bxrd

“For the last time, I’m not modifying a car we’ll be ditching a few towns over.” “Why, you got better things to do?” “Yeah, getting food on the table, you leech.” Jason goes on an impromptu road trip with an ex-Talon and ends up running into a family member… who still thinks he’s dead. Oops.

Ghost's words: Calvin Rose deserves more love in this fandom!

Q is for Quintessential by writergeek / @writergeek

"Rodney...you're talking about altering the timeline here." Well...yeah. Wasn't that the point? "...I want you to have a backup plan." Of course he had a backup plan. At this point he could probably list them all by alphabetical order. Or...the story of the backup plan(s) Rodney never wanted to use to save 12 days 25 years 48000 years mankind.

WG's words: not a DC fic, it actually comes from my old fandom, SGA. i just... i enjoy the time loop shenanigans and the fixit nature of it (which needs fixing only bc i broke it shush), both tropes i adore reading (and writing, apparently)

Leaving The Light by TheCallOfTheSea

Jason is alive, but he has fallen. Can the Batfamily save him?

M&M's words: I enjoyed exploring Jason as a villain, but it wasn’t easy writing relentless angst! I still brought out his humanity in a way.

closet space by adelfie / @adelfie

“Hi,” she says in a breathless rush, then takes a moment to swallow and wet her lips. “I, uh, need your help?” “Are you dying?” “N-not exactly.” “Then you don’t need me,” comes Jason’s lazy, uninterested reply. The call ends with a click. . Steph doesn't know what's more embarrassing: that she's been locked in a closet during a party, or the fact that her "friends" aren't really her friends. And to top it all off, Jason's the only one who can come rescue her.

adelfie's words: I love that Steph isn't fighting a big bad villain -- there's something so soft and strong in realizing that other people's judgments aren't what truly matter.

penance by cuephrase / @cuephrase

After Tim dies, his soul remains stuck as a ghost at the Manor. Forced to watch Dick and Bruce grieve him and unable to do anything, the only thing making the afterlife bearable is Jason. Until the day his ghost departs.  Tim assumes that Jason has passed on. But then the Red Hood breaks into the Cave. And for the first time, someone can see Tim.

Cue's words: i just had an inordinately fun time writing it!! there was a lot of catharsis in the process, and i’m very proud of the ending because i feel like i was able to preserve the fic’s bittersweetness- like the happy ending didn’t dilute the sorrow and instead they were able to complement each other

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever / @jbsforever

In a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party. But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

JBS' words: it's a story that centers around jason learning just how much crime alley appreciates him. it's also a sibling bonding fic between jason and tim

Ghosts From The Past by red_jaebyrd / @red-jaebyrd

Tim stared at an old poster of the ‘The Flying Graysons’ and his stomach dropped. He immediately fixated on the young boy’s smiling face with his eyes bright and full of life; frozen in time in eternal happiness. It was such a sharp contrast to the last memory Tim had of the youngest Grayson laying broken and still on the circus floor. Tim sighed. He wasn’t just at any old circus. He was back at Haly’s Circus where his nightmares had started and never really stopped. Or Bruce is Ghost Hunter and takes Jason and Tim with him to investigate strange happenings at Haly's Circus.

Jae's words: I wanted to try and write my own version of a no capes au adding in my own lore about the characters and their new world.

sons of sky by ScarlettSwordMoon, Kiwilart / @kiwilart

Dick is thirteen, leader of the Teen Titans, and already starting to chaff under Bruce’s thumb. When Bruce gets de-aged to fourteen, Dick thinks this experience will finally bring their partnership back to working order. It doesn’t. And then it does.

Scarlett's words: This fic has challenged me in so many fun directions. It is terrifying and exhilarating to write young!Bruce and to really try my hand at a big novel length plot line. Of all my WIPs, this is the most fun to work on because I'm working with an artist, Kiwili, who supports me during the loneliest parts of the drafting process, and also draws amazing art for the fic. I'm very proud of what we've done so far and very excited to be close to finishing.

we'll meet again some sunny day by Ms_Trickster / @ms-trickster

When Talia rests a hand atop her bed, the sound of paper crunching beneath it fills her ears.

Missy's words: Talia is a character that deserves a lot more depth and affection and it was a blast to write a story in which she is loved.

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 02. Bad Idea

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Y/n Wayne knows that this is a bad idea. But well, going against the law is something that runs in the Wayne Family.

Word Count: 4.4K

Previous Masterlist Next

“Is B really going to buy an F1 team?”

Y/n looked up from the plate of dessert in front of her towards where Jason was sitting. The both of them are in the VIP lounge of the Monaco GP, waiting for the race to start before being ushered towards the Ferrari garage.

“What makes you say that?”

Jason gave her a pointed look. “I’m not dumb,” he said. “I can see a business talk even if it’s miles away.” At this, he pointed towards the paddock that could be seen from the windows in front of them.

They could see a glimpse of Bruce, laughing and talking with people with different team kits. Y/n recognized most of them as the team principals or even the management team from different F1 teams.

“Y/n, seriously, I don’t have time to become a driver,” said Jason. “And I’ll probably suck at it, most of these guys had been racing since they were in diapers.”

“Still,” defended the woman, fully aware that Jason’s argument was fairly logical. “You don’t have to be a driver, but I think being around Formula One, something that you’re passionate about, can help you, Jason.”

He doesn’t have to be a driver if he doesn’t want to. Hell, truthfully, if Jason really puts his foot down and strictly declares that no, buying a whole Formula One team is not going to help him, then y/n and Bruce will stop. The both of them will leave this silly idea behind and never look back once more.

But she had seen him. How his eyes followed every garage that they passed in rapid attention. How he attentively listened to what John had said about Ferrari’s Formula One team, how he had watched the free practice and qualifying alone the days before.

It’s been a while. Maybe the last time she saw him being this passionate about something was before his death. To see Jason looking forward to something, to see his brother actually enjoy doing something outside of his crime-fighting activities.

“I-“

“Jay,” she said again, reaching out to hold the older man’s hand. “I- I know we’re not the best family. B is not the best father and the rest of us have not been the best siblings but still I-“ she stopped at that, eyes searching for Jason’s own. 

Years of guilt appeared inside of her. Years of missing memories between the two of them. Years full of regret and anger that had soured their relationship beyond words. 

Y/n, only wants what is best for her brother. “I still want you to be happy,” she said, blue eyes with a hint of green meeting hers. “I want to see you laughing again, be integrated into society, and live your dream-!”

Jason looks lost and y/n is really glad that this section of the VIP lounge was reserved for them.

Because the man in front of her looks so fucking vulnerable. 

She still remembers that time when Jason just returned to Gotham. All Lazarus green eyes and rage oozing out of his form. How he had practically attacked Tim, taunting the rest of them, and begged their father to choose him over that clown.

Y/n also remembers the emptiness that appeared in his eyes when they informed him that the Joker was dead.

It was one of the most terrifying moments of her life. Because Jason had it made his mission to kill that clown. To avenge the fallen Robin that had remained unavenged. To finally end the reign of terror that the prince of clowns had put upon Gotham City.

To know that he’s dead?

Well.

There are just so so many things left unsaid between the two of them. Too much pain and history that had happened between the two of them. To see, Jason who had always raged and raged looking this lost is-

“I’ve been wondering-“ said Jason, leaning forward. “Ever since that clown died, I’ve been wondering what the fuck I should do with my life-“

It’s a familiar conversation. Something that Jason had told her months ago under the darkness of the night. When there are only the two of them on top of his safehouse rooftop, sharing a stick of cigarettes to fight off the cold.

Y/n leaned forward, touching their shoulder together. It’s something that they often did before Ethiopia all those years ago. When Jason was nothing but a short and skinny kid that’s not too far off y/n own size. 

It’s been years since Ethiopia and a lot of things have changed.

“Have you decided, Jay?” she asked, eyes closing and head leaning towards his shoulder. “Whatever you want, you know that we will support you.”

Jason was silent for a bit.

The female too, sat there in silence, giving the older male a chance to think it through.

“I still want to be Red Hood,” he whispered, far too low for anyone to hear except y/n. “I still want to make Crime Alley a better place for people to live in.”

Y/n has to fight off a smile at that. Such a typical answer for a bat. Such a typical answer for the son of Bruce Wayne.

“Yeah?” she said. 

Jason hummed. “But I also want to live my life.”

A smile appeared on y/n face. She can feel the excited thrumming of her heart as she continues to listen.

“Oh?” she asked. “And that is?”

“Going to university, getting an English degree,” at this, he stopped. “And living the dream F1 fan life ‘cause my family owned a fucking team here.”

Y/n laughed at that; happiness clear on her face.

Bruce got the honor to wave the checkered flag that marks the end of the Monaco GP.

Her dad looks pleased, but she also knows that inside of that large smile and laugh, her dad simply doesn’t care. This business trip to Monaco had been a risky move after all, if it’s not for Jason’s happiness, y/n doesn’t think her dad would even consider going on this business trip.

In the end, when her dad was handed the checkered flag, the man put the flag into Jason’s hand.

“Do you want to do it, Jay?”

Jason blinked. “Huh?”

“Waving the flag,” answered her dad, letting out a smile. “Instead of me, my son can do it, right?” asked Bruce, turning his head towards where the president of FIA and the chairman of Ferrari stood.

“Of course, of course!” Said Ben, the president of FIA. “It would be an honor for us!”

“But they literally asked for you” answered Jason.

Her dad merely laughed at that. “They said you can do it, son.”

Jason may look like as if he wants to protest, but y/n knows that the man is far too excited at the prospect of waving the checkered flag at the Monaco GP. He may grumble and curse her dad a few times, but he really can’t hide the happiness that’s shining through his eyes at the mere thought of it.

The older man too, seemed to notice his son’s excitement as he let out an indulgent smile as he watched her brother being escorted to his position.

“Jason looks happy,” she said. “It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

“I know,” murmured her dad. There was silence between the two of them before her dad leaned forward towards her a bit. “I saw you earlier.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “What?”

“I saw you flirting with one of the drivers,” replied her dad. “The Ferrari one.”

Ah, she thought. He was referring to Charles. “It was an act, Dad,” she simply said. “You know, like your Brucie Wayne persona? I just think that it will do us some good if we’re on a friendly term with the paddock.”

Her dad stared at her. “There are better ways to do that, like chatting with the FIA president, for instance,” replied the man as he turned his gaze toward where Ben and John were talking with Jason near the track. “I don’t think flirting with a driver will really help our cause.”

Y/n shrugged, “He’s cute, what can I say?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” she hissed out. “I have to watch you flirt with Selina the entirety of my life, let me flirt with cute boys for a change!”

“You know it’s different,” pointed out her dad, leaning closer towards her. “Don’t associate with anyone outside of the masked community.”

The woman rolled her eyes at that.

She knows that the older man has a point. She knows that he’s doing this in order to protect all of them. Not only his hidden identity, but the rest of the family and possibly the rest of the Justice League. Bruce has always put a tight leash on all of his children regarding the interaction and the social circle that they all kept. Most of the time, the man didn’t have to worry considering most of his children worked inside the masked community, resulting in most of their friends being another superhero.

But y/n?

Despite her close association and frequent presence in their nightly activity, she sometimes thinks that her dad forgets that she’s not a vigilante or a hero. Yes, she knows all of their secret identity, yes, she often assisted her brothers on their not-so-legal work.

Outside of all of that, y/n is a civilian. She’s just a normal doctor who’s not saving the world during her past time. She’s a normal woman that’s working in a perfectly legal job.

Friends are hard to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world. Friends are harder to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world who is also hiding the fact that he’s the dark knight himself.

“I know,” she hissed out. “It’s a persona dad, I doubt we’ll talk again.”

Her dad gave her a look as if he didn’t believe in that.

And well.

Um.

Charles won the Monaco GP. The first Monegasque driver to do so in the last 93 years. Jason had failed to hide his excitement as he waved the checkered flag.

Her family was there, right in front of the podium as they watched the Ferrari drivers and the McLaren driver celebrating the win that they acquired. Y/n was standing there, smiling politely as she watched the champagne shower that was happening in front of them.

It was also then, that their eyes met.

She was not sure if Charles was looking at her or at someone near her, but the man’s already wide smile had gotten wider as he locked his eyes with her. And it was also then, that Charles sent her a wink.

Huh.

Okay.

Oookay.

I’ll meet you later, he seems to mouth off, a bit quickly, before he continues the champagne shower with the rest of the drivers.

So much for not talking with him anymore.

“Hi, stranger.”

Y/n can’t help the quirk of her mouth at that greeting.

The woman turned her gaze towards the source of the voice, eyes immediately falling towards where Charles Leclerc stood next to her. There’s a smile on his lips, hair tousled and green eyes twinkling.

“Hello,” she greeted back, raising her glass of champagne. “Drink?”

Charles chuckled. “I had enough champagne for the day,” replied the male as he took a seat next to her.

She can’t help but laugh at that. “I mean, you won today,” answered the female, putting down the glass of champagne on top of the table in front of them. “How does it feel to be a Monaco GP race winner? And did you actually drink the champagne that’s being sprayed earlier?” Being sprayed with a bottle of champagne sure is an experience, it seems. 

“Amazing,” he breathed out, inching closer to her. “I guess a change of mindset is the only thing needed to break the curse.”

“I told you,” said the female, amusement dripping on her tone. “Guess I did become a really lucky girl today.”

“I hope so,” answered Charles. “I did remember your words throughout the race.”

“Oh? You did?” teased y/n. “Seeing Charles Leclerc win the Monaco GP live and being constantly on his mind? What a lucky girl I am.”

Charles let out a laugh at that.

The dinner party around them is buzzing with blaring music and drunken chatter. The event itself was hosted by WE and the FIA. A collaboration work between the two entity that marks the beginning of WE’s involvement in the motorsport industry. It was the reason why her dad – a reclusive who hardly leaves Gotham if he can help it – needed to do a business trip in Monaco.

And of course, for the simple reason of buying Jason an F1 team. 

Not that y/n is complaining. She had wanted to visit Monaco forever and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. Watching a Formula 1 race live is a bonus that she will never miss out on.

The dinner party that they hosted was the formal event that they made for the winners of the race. Though, it seems most of the drivers are in attendance. No doubt advised by each of their respective team to gain the elusive Wayne sponsorship.

She knows that the news of Bruce Wayne wanting to buy an F1 team or become a major sponsor had already made its rounds. Even the bigger teams who don’t really need more money came in order to make some kind of connection with Wayne Enterprise.

Truthfully, this dinner party made her nervous a bit. After all, it’s not like she attended a party outside of Gotham.

But still, Charles’s sudden presence helped ease up her nervousness for a bit.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Charles, eyes flickering around the room.

“Ah, Jason is not feeling well,” replied the female. “He decided to stay in our hotel.” Which is a blatant lie. Y/n knows that Jason brought his Red Hood gear all the way here. He’s probably prowling the streets of Monaco, searching for that gang boss who made him join this business trip to Monaco initially.

Charles hummed at that, taking a seat next to her.

“I heard you helped orchestrate this whole dinner party,” started the man.

Y/n laughed at that. “Orchestrating is a big word, considering me and my family just throw some money at the event organizer.”

“Still, I really like the red accents, it was as if you already know that Ferrari is going to win today’s race,” said the male as he gestured towards the red flower as well as the red napkins on top of the tables.

The woman grinned cheekily at that. “Who said I don’t? Maybe I have the power to see the future?”

Charles raised his eyebrows at that, amusement clear in his eyes. “Oh?” he prompted out, leaning forward. “Can you see my future then?”

Y/n hummed, mouth closing in a wide smile as she too, leaned forward. Both of their face are really close to each other. “Hm…” she let out. “I think… You’re going to be really drunk tonight.”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling. “It’s given,” he said, grinning.

“Really?” she said, sounding amused. “Do you want me to see further into your future?”

“You can?” asked Charles, with a tilt of his head, mouth still grinning. “What a fearsome power that you have.”

The female giggled. “I think I can see…” she whispered. “A future world champion here.”

Now, Charles is full-blown laughing, the glass of champagne that he had been holding now forgotten as he lets the amusement to envelop his very being. 

“Seriously,” he said the first part in French before he switched back to English, “You really know how to appease someone.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” said Charles. “You better be careful, or I’ll think that you’ve been flirting with me.”

It’s a bold thing to say, especially to Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

She knows that she’s one of the most desirable women in the marriage market, considering her looks and her family. Many people had attempted to flirt with her, to trap her with their honeyed words and kind gestures. 

But still, it’s been a while since there’s someone this bold.

“Well, I’ve been flirting with you,” replied y/n instead. “It would be embarrassing if you thought otherwise.”

Yeah, the moment she uttered those words, she knew that this was a bad choice to make.

Because at that moment, she could see the sparkle of interest in Charles’s eyes. The light that suddenly shone behind those green orbs as the man leaned forward toward her. Y/n could faintly smell the cologne that he wore, a masculine one that reminded her of her dad for a bit.

“Oh?” he said, mouth quirking up and eyes crinkling. “I’ve been flirting with you too, if you haven’t noticed.”

Okay, this isn't good. She needs to stop this before they go further and ignite her dad’s anger. 

“I see,” answered y/n with a smile. “Anyway Mr. Future World Champion, I think your team principal is looking for you-“

It was the perfect excuse because she really did have seen Fred wandering around the room in search of his driver. However, whatever she was going to say stopped immediately when a hand reached out to grab her wrist. She immediately looked down, staring at Charles’ palm.

“Hey,” said the male, grinning. “Wanna go somewhere fun?”

She should say no.

Y/n can already imagine her father’s disappointed sigh and the loud protest from her brothers. She can already see her doing the walk of shame tomorrow, with Jason silently judging her. It would be stupid of her to say yes because there are just so many consequences waiting for her if she took up that offer.

There’s literally no reason for her to say yes to someone that she barely knows.

But well-

Charles looked at her with those bright green eyes of his, the corner crinkling up from how wide his smile was. There’s something about his expression – so transparent, so genuine, something that she rarely saw in Gotham – that tickled her heart at the right place.

Maybe it’s the dimpled smile, maybe she was simply swept up by the moment.

But the next thing that she knew was-

“Yes,” she answered.

The smile that Charles let out can ignite the room.

The music is loud. Louder than what she used to.

There’s a huge misconception of her back in Gotham. Due to her father’s public persona, as well as her brother’s less-than-idle nature, the media had portrayed her as a party girl once upon a time.

But really, this is the first time for her to be in a club.

Clubs are not that common to start with in Gotham. Due to the high crime rate, and the many many dangers, clubs scarcely exist in the city. Galas though? Galas happens almost every week. Due to that, y/n only ever attended galas and galas.

So this, this is a new experience for her.

She could see the throngs of people around her, dancing and laughing, fully immersed in the music around them. There’s something about the air that just made everyone highly excited as if there’s no tomorrow.

It didn’t take long for her to be swept up by the atmosphere too.

 “So, how are you enjoying the night?” Yelled Charles as the two of them laughed and danced in the middle of the dance club. Y/n was glad that she had opted for a short dress because really, the ball gowns that she used to wear for galas will be sticking out like a sore thumb in this kind of scene.

 “It’s been fantastic!” answered the woman, amidst the loud music. Her mouth is a bit aching from how wide she’s been grinning but that really can’t dampen her mood. “It’s not my usual scene, but I guess a change of environment is not that bad.”

“Oh? Gotham doesn’t have a lot of parties?” laughed Charles, hand finding themselves around her wrist.

She stepped closer, face almost touching. “Mostly galas, or gatherings,” said y/n, letting out a shrug, before a grin overtook her face once again. “It’s not exactly safe to throw a wild party like this in a city like Gotham after all.” 

Something flickered in Charles’ eyes as he let out a hum.

“So,” started the woman, wanting to change the subject of the conversation. She leaned forward, cocking her head for a bit. “Is Monaco nightlife had always been this lively?”

“It is when it’s my party,” said the man, as they stepped out of the dance floor towards the bar.

Ordering for the both of them, Charles sidled close to her.

“You’re really trying to get drunk tonight?” teased the woman.

“Not too much,” replied the man. “I wanna remember you.”

She hummed. “Well, what’s stopping you?” she asked. “Don’t you think we should make more memories then?”

Charles turned to her, and the grip that he had around her waist tightened.

“Oh?” he said, voice lower. “Are you sure?”

The grin that she lets out must’ve been enough of confirmation because the next thing that she knew, they’re stumbling into Charles’ Ferrari, lips interlocked with each other in a desperate and sloppy make-out session.

She’s grateful that the parking space is located in a discreet place because her appearance right now is less dignified than what Bruce Wayne’s daughter should be. Though, she really can’t seem to care right now. All she knows is the taste of Charles’ lips on her and how his hand traveled all across her body, giving her a delicious tease of pleasure.

They fell into bed together.

That night had been a bit of a blur, to be honest. He remembers dancing with y/n, laughing, and touching her under the club lights. He remembers dragging her to the edge of the dance floor, head leaning forward.

“Can I?” he had muttered, head cocking sideways.

Y/n had let out a laugh at that, hands winding around his neck before she too, leaned forward.

He remembers the sweet taste of her mouth, how she had opened her mouth, letting their tongue meet in a wet mess. How his hands had wandered around, starting from her back before reaching downwards towards the edge of her short dress.

“Let’s take this somewhere,” muttered y/n back then, releasing his mouth with a string of droll still connecting them. “Somewhere more private,” the last part was whispered and he remembers the jolt of arousal that hit him at that very moment.

Charles doesn’t have a clear memory of how they managed to get into his apartment. All he remembers is how he pinned y/n by his front door, savoring her as they rutted against each other like a teenager. 

The night ended with them on his bed, rustling against each other and-

Charles cracked his eyes open, watching the sun filter into his room from the crack of his curtain.

He could feel the pounding headaches as the memories from last night rushed into him like a tsunami. Of him winning the Monaco GP, of him attending the formal dinner, of him and y/n stumbling into bed together-

His eyes widened as he immediately turned his gaze toward the other side of the bed.

Sitting there, still topless with a blanket covering her, is y/n Wayne, brow furrowed as she scrolled something on her phone. That sight immediately warmed something across his heart as he stared at the woman silently, not wanting to avert his gaze for a second.

“You’re awake?” asked y/n, turning her gaze towards him.

He let out a hum, shuffling closer towards her.

At that, y/n’s hand fell on top of his head, caressing his unruly mop of hair. It’s soothing, something that he really needs amidst the headache that’s been throbbing inside of his head. They stayed like that for a couple of moments, basking in each other presence.

The moment didn’t last long because y/n phone rang.

“Yeah?” asked the woman before she stared at him for a moment before she began talking in a language that he didn’t understand.

Charles faintly recognizes it as German. He knows a couple of words, but with the way y/n talking as if she’s a native speaker, well, it’s safe to say that he really doesn’t have a clue about what she’s talking about. The phone call didn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes at best. Though, at the end, y/n let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

“Charles, listen,” stated the woman. “This is a bit awkward, but I gotta go.”

He ignores the disappointment that erupted inside his chest. The driver had been hoping that they could have breakfast together before taking a stroll around Monaco before he had to see her off.

“I really enjoyed last night but-“

Before she can even finish that sentence, Charles interrupts her again. “Can I see you again?”

Y/n blinked, staring at him. “Yes?”

“See you again,” said the driver, leaning closer. “I really enjoyed last night. More than simply enjoying it,” he continues. “I like to do it again.”

The woman is still staring at him.

“Of course, I mean not only fucking, but like, I would love to have a date with you,” he continue, tongue a bit tied at the sight of an angel in front of him. “If you give me the chance?”

Honestly, he was not expecting much. A woman like y/n must have had a lot of suitors or partners all her life. Charles will be the luckiest man on earth if y/n even gives him a chance for a single date, let alone dating her.

It was silent for a bit, as the both of them stared at each other with no words being exchanged.

The moment was broken when y/n let out a loud laugh.

It startled him a bit, Charles doesn’t really understand what’s funny about his declaration and yet, he doesn’t really mind it. After all, the sight of y/n letting out such a carefree laugh is something that he will integrate into his memory forever.

“Yeah,” said the woman, finally. “Let’s see each other again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” grinned the woman. “But next time, bring me to a proper date, okay?”

Charles laughed at that, giving her a single kiss.

taglist!

@piceous21 @myloveforfandom-blog @barnestatic @ilivbullyingjeongin @fangirl-dot-com @halleest @a-beaverhausen @sagestack @redcellghost @mac-daddy-210 @kellysthilaire

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 6.7k words

warnings: explicit language, lots of fluff, smut (18+), fingering, protected piv sex, a bit of praise kink, mentions of reader’s strained relationship with her parents, alcohol consumption (drunk!reader and drunk!steve moment)

summary: the semester comes to an end

a/n: this turned out so much longer than expected wow but last chapter! wooo!!! (simultaneously happy and sad woo) epilogue coming next week !!

CHAPTER NINETEEN | ❝𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2017

“I’m gonna come over here all of the time.”

“When we actually get a couch, feel free to be our honorary fifth roommate anytime you want, Munson,” Robin said, which made you laugh as you also nodded in agreement. 

It was the first night in the apartment and it definitely showed— there were boxes everywhere, lifeless walls, and nothing in the living room aside from said boxes and a TV (courtesy of Vickie’s mom) on the floor that you all were currently surrounding. Your bedroom was also nothing but a mess, and so was everyone else’s, which was the main reason why camping out in the living room for the night became the immediate consensus. 

At first, you expected it to be a night of watching bad movies and ordering takeout, but Talia— now deemed as one of the coolest people you’d ever met— was adamant about making an actual meal for you all. She said something about how nice it would be to have a real meal on your first night, and who were all of you to deny an actual home-cooked meal? 

Eddie came over right when you mentioned spaghetti to him over the phone. His own shared apartment was also in a state of disarray, but he was fine with setting unpacking to the side for the time being. 

“Okay, the food’s done, but I’m so sad that I forgot to get garlic bread,” Talia said. “Next time, though.” 

“I can’t believe you’re already thinking about next time. You’re way too good to us,” Vickie said and the rest of you hummed in agreement. 

Talia only laughed in response as you all joined her in the kitchen to grab some food and then once again settled on the living room floor. Eddie left afterward, but promised not to “eat and run” next time; none of you were entirely sure if you actually believed him. 

The rest of the night felt equivalent to the kinds of sleepovers you imagine you would’ve had if you had close enough friends when you were younger. There was a mass of blankets and pillows on the floor and you were watching probably one of the cheesiest romcoms to ever exist.

The four of you already felt like a little family. And perhaps it only already felt that way because you’d been craving a feeling like that for the past few years, maybe even for as long as you could remember. In your eyes, it was somehow so easy to immediately call the apartment your home. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Anyone else would’ve deemed it as horrible timing— it was the middle of finals and all that should’ve been on both of your minds was studying— but neither you nor Steve saw it that way. You two had been through worse timings, you figured. 

It was hard for both of you to focus on what needed to be focused on, but you and him made it work. Mostly. 

You could admit that there were probably too many moments where you were in the middle of working on an essay and you stopped to text him a random thought that came to mind, and then there were other moments where he was calling you when you knew that he was supposed to be studying for one of his many tests. 

Even in this instance, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be at Steve’s apartment instead of in your own space, and yet here you were anyway— “writing” an essay that was due by midnight, the last one you had to do actually, as he “studied” for the last test he had that was tomorrow. 

“Okay, we should really get serious,” You said when you pulled away from Steve, maneuvering off of his lap and settling back on your side of the couch. 

“What? We were just taking a quick break.”

“Yeah, and five minutes turned into fifteen,” You responded, and then proceeded to say the words that you really didn’t want to say. “I think I should go.”

Steve frowned; it was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “No. Stay.”

“We’re just gonna keep distracting each other.”

He considered your words for a second. There was no way that he could deny them; you two were inadvertently distracting each other and had been for the past hour that you’d been at his place. 

“Okay, what if you stayed out here and worked on your essay, and I went to my room to study. We wouldn’t be able to distract each other then.”

It was endearing how adamant he was about you staying that you were nodding along to his suggestion instead of saying how kind of silly it was, like you were little kids that needed to be separated in school; but maybe that was actually a pretty accurate description of you two in this moment. 

“Okay, yeah, that works,” You told him, biting back your amused smile.

“Okay,” He nodded and smiled, giving you a quick kiss before he stood up from the couch and gathered his stuff off of the coffee table. “See you in a few hours.” 

You managed to finish your essay in what felt like record time, and you hadn’t even been trying to rush through it. You proofread it two times before you submitted it and it was only a little after eleven when you closed your laptop, placed it on the coffee table, and then headed over to Steve’s room to see how he was doing with studying. 

“I’m done.”

You gave him a skeptical look because the timing seemed a little too perfect. “You sure?”

“Yup, you can even test me if you want,” He said, giving you a teasing smile. 

You laughed a bit as you nodded and went to sit across from him on his bed, crossing your legs under yourself. He handed over his notebook and you spent the next fifteen minutes “testing” him and, much to your happy surprise, he knew everything. 

“You are, in fact, ready for this final, Harrington,” You smiled at him. “I see an A+ in your future.”  

“Thank you,” He said, smiling back as he reached out to pull you into his lap and the notebook became discarded to the side.

You rested your hands on his shoulders and his settled on your hips. 

“I’ve missed you,” You told him before you thought about what you were saying, and then you were quickly shaking your head at yourself. “Sorry, I know that probably sounds so dumb to say because, before this, the last time we saw each other was only three days ago, and it’s not like we didn’t text and stuff… But, I don’t know—”

He cut off your rambling with a quick kiss. “It’s not dumb. I’ve missed you too. I’m so glad finals are gonna be over tomorrow.” 

“Me too,” You said and then thought about something. “Well, I’m technically already done with everything, but you’re gonna ace your test tomorrow. What time is it at?”

“One.” 

You nodded at that and then looked over at the digital clock on his nightstand and took note of the time; it was only a few minutes past eleven-thirty right then. 

“Okay, good, so you don’t have to kick me out yet?”

He immediately shook his head at your question. “I’d never kick you out. Even if the test was at eight in the morning.” 

There was a playful tilt to his words, but you could also hear how true they were, which warmed something inside of you. You kissed him instead of saying anything else in response. 

Your hands settled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you pushed yourself closer to him, getting rid of the little bit of space between you two. 

It wasn’t the first time you two had been in this position— you in his lap or just simply being this close to one another. However, this was the first time that it finally felt right to do more, and you suddenly really wanted to do more. 

Other times, you and him had been at your place and things were noisy and it felt as if you two could be interrupted at any given moment, so you always slowed things down instead of pushing them forward. This time, though, you didn’t want to keep things slow or ease away from him. There was no need to— no potential interruption a few feet away, or random noises that carried through thin walls. 

You had never cherished the quiet as much as you did in this moment in Steve’s bedroom. 

Slowly, you moved yourself against him, searching for any sort of friction, and the soft groan you received from him in response made you smile and do it again and again. You could feel him growing hard beneath you with every teasing stir, straining against his sweatpants. 

“Shit,” Steve’s hands immediately went to your hips again and gave them a quick squeeze as you continued your slow movements. 

“Is that okay?” You had a feeling that you knew what his answer was going to be, but you still asked it anyway and tried to sound as innocent and normal as ever. 

He let out a contented sound. “Much more than just okay.”

“Good,” You responded and then leaned into his ear as you softly said your next words. “I want you, Steve.”

He gave your hips another squeeze. “Yeah?”

He was sort of guiding you at this point, controlling your movements; making you move a little quicker and then slowing you down again. It was subtle but so fucking hot and you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. You desperately wanted to slip out of the simple pair of leggings you were wearing so that there could be one less layer between you two. 

“Mhm, yeah,” You answered his one-word barely heard question and then pulled back to meet his eyes. “Please.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. 

He shifted things with ease— switching positions so that you were pressed back into the bed and he was settled between your now parted legs. 

His fingers teased the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, and you expected him to push it up and off of you, but he instead slipped beneath your shirt and found the waistband of your leggings so that he could pull them off of you. 

The cool air hitting your now bare legs sent a chill through your body and your eyes slipped shut for a moment. When they opened again, you expected to immediately meet Steve’s eyes, but he was instead focused solely on the wet spot on your underwear. 

“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” He asked as he started stroking your inner thigh, another action that sent something equivalent to a chill through your entire body. 

You nodded shyly, closing your eyes again. “Yeah…”

You felt his hands find the bottom of your t-shirt again and that time he guided it off of you, leaving you in just your black bra. He leaned down to kiss you; it was slow and sweet like you two had all of the time in the world and it genuinely felt that way. “What do you want?”

“Mmm,” It was hard to answer when your brain could barely form any coherent sentences. You could feel his hand traveling upward, getting closer and closer to where you needed him to be, but it was too hard to verbalize that right then. “Fuck…”

“Go on, pretty girl, use your words,” Steve said, and the sweet term of endearment made your heart flutter wildly in your chest. 

His middle finger ghosted over your clit through your soaked underwear and your hips bucked upward, but he pulled his hand away before you could feel anything and you suddenly felt so close to crying. “Fingers— Your fingers, Steve. Please.”

“Mhm,” He hummed softly and your eyes were shut but you could tell he was smirking. You were close to playfully calling him an asshole for all of his teasing but your brain was still practically running on autopilot, and then he was speaking again, anyway. “Anything for you.”

Your underwear was pulled off of you in one slow movement and you whimpered when you felt Steve’s middle finger trace through your soaked folds, gathering your slick and leisurely circling your clit. His other hand came up to firmly squeeze one of your breasts through the thin material of your bra that was the last piece of clothing left on your body. 

“Take this off for me, honey,” He told you and you listened almost embarrassingly fast; bra gone and tossed somewhere on his floor in a matter of seconds. 

“Good,” His finger continued teasing your clit, and the thumb of his free hand moved to rub your now exposed nipple. “Good girl.”

You barely had time to process the soft praise and what exactly it did to you before two of his fingers finally entered you and you sucked in the sharpest breath, all thoughts suddenly gone again. 

“Steve…” Was all you could manage to say in the quietest voice as your eyes slipped shut and you focused on the feel of his fingers inside of you, somehow quickly finding and hitting the most perfect spots. 

“You look so good like this,” Steve whispered, fingers slowly picking up speed and making you softly whine at every movement. “Spread out for me and squeezing my fingers so tight. Fuck.”

A part of you wanted to say something back— match his words and tell him how fucking perfect all of this was, how perfect he was— but your brain was effectively mush and all you could do was moan and whimper and mewl in response to him. Lucky for you, that all sounded like music to his ears.  

He added another finger and his thumb found your clit, which made your body jerk harshly off of the bed.

“Steve, fuck. Right… Right there, yeah.”

The rough strokes against your clit pushed you so close to the edge, you could feel the pressure starting to build in your lower stomach. You turned your head, burying your face into his pillow and trying your hardest to hold back the scream you wanted to let out.

“Shit,” He said. “You gonna come, honey?” 

You quickly nodded. “Yes, yeah.”

“Go ahead,” He told you, voice low. “Come for me.”

Your eyes opened and you met his gaze as you did. He looked completely enamored by you, which only made your orgasm hit you a thousand times harder. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears as Steve continued fingering you through your orgasm, trying to prolong it for as long as possible. He withdrew his fingers when he could tell that the overstimulation was becoming too much for you. 

“You’re so good for me,” He said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “That was so fast.”

Finally, your brain was able to form coherent sentences. “You’re so cocky.”

Steve let out the softest laugh. “Mm, but you love it.”

He was a thousand percent right, but you still shook your head. “Hate it, actually.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” He said as he pressed the most featherlight touch against your sensitive clit and all you could do was softly whine at the feeling. 

He was smiling as he lay down next to you and pulled you close to him, the side of your head pressing against his chest and one leg tangling with his. It was quiet as your breathing continued to return back to normal and your mind became clearer. After the briefest moment, your hand moved to dip beneath his sweatpants and boxers. 

Steve let out a low groan when your hand found his hard cock before he softly said, “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” You told him and then moved so that you were straddling his lap again. Your arousal was practically dripping down your thighs and making the hottest mess against his sweatpants. “I need you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” His eyes slipped shut for a brief second as if imagining what was about to happen. “You sure?”

“Very sure. Really sure. Super sure,” You answered, smiling at him. 

Your hands went to grab at the ends of his t-shirt, pushing it upward, and he got the hint and quickly pulled it off. You then lifted your hips so that he could push down his sweatpants and boxers, and when his cock sprang free you let out a soft sound that slightly resembled a gasp. Your hand seemed to take on a mind of its own as it reached out to wrap around his hard length again and your thumb brushed against the tip.  

He let out a strangled noise. “Shit, shit.”

“Is this good?” You asked softly as you slowly started moving your hand. 

“So good. So fucking good.” 

It was nice seeing him become a mess due to your teasing like you’d been because of him a few minutes ago.

After barely a minute, he placed a hand on your wrist to stop your movements. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but then he was leaning over to his nightstand and rummaging through the top drawer to pull out a condom. You quickly grabbed it from him and did all of the work of slipping it on his cock, which he immediately thought was the hottest thing he’d ever seen and he was close to cumming right then and there, but he somehow managed to hold back. 

He so badly wanted to let his eyes fall shut as you slowly lowered onto him, but he kept his gaze on you and he promptly decided that that was probably one of the best decisions he ever made. There was nothing else that felt more like heaven to him than watching you throw your head back and let out the loudest moan as you took him inside of you completely. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” Steve groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you, and you could only nod in response. 

You didn’t move for a few moments. Instead, you savored and got used to the feeling of being so full of him. When you did finally start moving, lifting yourself ever so slightly and then sinking right back down onto Seve’s length, you let out a string of curses that morphed into soft moans.

Your hands became lost in his hair at some point and he had a near-bruising grip on your hips as he guided your movements, helping you ride him. 

He flipped you two over when he couldn’t take it anymore, hand finding your hip as he pushed deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, Steve!” 

The thrusts were rough and quick but surprisingly didn’t feel as such.

“You feel so good,” He told you. “You’re so fucking perfect for me.”

You could feel yourself clenching around him when he said his words and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second.  

“You gonna come?” You mumbled, brain barely about to form a coherent sentence, but Steve nodded wildly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, honey, so close.”

You mewled. “Mm, me too.” 

Upon hearing that, he let one of his hands slip between your bodies to find your clit. He started circling the sensitive nub, bringing you closer and closer to that edge with him. You clenched around his cock again and your back arched off the bed, hard nipples brushing against his chest. 

You came when his lips abruptly found yours in the messiest kiss; it was a mix of tongues and teeth that was perfect and pushed you over the cliff. You cried out his name again and again and again as your orgasm abruptly hit you, it almost sounded as if you were saying some sort of prayer. Steve followed suit moments after, spilling into the condom with a loud groan after a particularly hard thrust.  

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and it barely felt like it was slowing down, but eventually it did. Steve’s weight crushed you in the most soothing way possible and he buried his face in your neck, placing soft kisses against the skin. 

You had no idea what time it was and you felt too exhausted to turn your head and look at his nightstand. 

“Do you have to kick me out now?” You asked, mostly joking with your question. 

Steve pulled away from your neck then, eyes meeting yours. “You’re staying the night.”

You were too tired to play into your joke further so you nodded your head at his words and simply tilted your head up to kiss him instead. You two fell asleep just like that for the time being, exhausted bodies and tangled limbs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You smiled when Steve opened the door and you fought the urge to greet him with a hug and kiss like you normally did because in this instance you were holding something behind your back. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He smiled back before giving you a curious look when he noticed that you were hiding something. “What do you got there?”

“A surprise,” You answered as you stepped inside his apartment. “A very important surprise, actually.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” You nodded and he looked at you expectantly but you let a silence linger for a few beats to make things more dramatic. After what felt like way too long of a pause, you showed him what you were holding, which at first didn’t look like anything special since all he saw was a gray plastic bag, but then you pulled out the package inside. “They’re curtains for your living room!” 

Steve smiled at you immediately and you could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Finally.” 

“Do I get the ‘best girlfriend ever’ award now?” 

He couldn’t help but laugh a little then as he reached out to pull you into his arms and then he pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “Yes, a thousand percent.”

“And they’re black too so they’ll block out the sun perfectly in the morning,” You told him as you returned the embrace for a brief second and then pulled back. “Come on, let’s put them up now.” 

It took an hour to put the curtains up— the directions were a lot more confusing and meticulous than expected— but once it was done they looked great.  

“Now we can fall asleep out here whenever we want,” You said when you and Steve were settled on his couch.

His hand mindlessly stroked one of your legs that were resting in his lap. “I think I’d much rather be in my bed with you.”

You looked at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “We haven’t had sex on the couch yet, though, and now it’s a possibility because we don’t have to worry about the people across the street looking in.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said, smiling back as his hand moved up to slip beneath your shirt and rest on your waist.

You were slightly tempted to lean into his touch, but you shook your head instead.

“Wait, no, let’s save that for later. We have other important things to do right now,” You said, and when he gave you a confused look, you leaned over to lightly poke his side. “You said you were gonna show me your favorite movie. That was the reason why I came over. Aside from gifting you your curtains, of course.”  

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded as he leaned over to grab the TV remote off of the coffee table. “I haven’t seen this movie in a long time, probably since I was a kid, but for some reason it was the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking about movies I really like.” 

Seconds later, he was pulling up Big Fat Liar, which you didn’t at all expect, but it was the best surprise. The smallest part of you had thought that he was going to out himself as a film bro and force you to watch some Martin Scorcese movie with him. This outcome was a thousand times better. 

“I love this movie,” You told him, smiling. You also hadn’t seen it in forever, but in your eyes, it was still a classic. “It was one of the three that would play on repeat in my house when I was a kid; the other ones were Mulan and the second Spy Kids movie. At one point, my parents hid the DVDs away from me since I played them so much. I did manage to find them, though.” 

Steve gave you an amused smile. “Now I’m imagining a five-year-old you ruining your entire house to find the movies.”

You let out a laugh. “Whatever image you’re coming up with is probably very accurate.” 

“Hey, since we’re on the parent topic, I feel like I need to talk to yours.” 

You immediately laughed again, assuming he was joking, but when he didn’t join in on your laughter or give you a playful smile, you stopped. “Oh, you’re being serious.” 

“As your real boyfriend this time around, I think I should probably meet your parents before we go to a different country again,” He said, playfully smiling at you, but you were certain that he was actually being serious. If it weren’t for his abrupt mention of your parents, you would’ve happily smiled at him bringing up your and his plans for the summer; plans that actually managed to come together pretty fast. 

The day that Steve finished his last final, he came over to your place and you two spent hours upon hours figuring out your plans for the summer; the places you both wanted to go, specific things to do and spots to eat in said places, where to spend the most time and where to spend the least, etc. All of the research was exhausting— you had ended up falling asleep around three in the morning with your head on Steve’s shoulder and your computer opened up in your lap— but it was the good kind of exhausting if that was even possible. The entire thing was impulsive and abrupt, two factors that could’ve easily made the whole thing be deemed as a bad idea, but you truly felt like it wouldn’t be. 

You were quiet for a few moments, processing Steve’s previous words, and then you gave him a quick nod. “Okay, yeah, um, sure.”

He was easily able to pick up that something was at least a little wrong. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” You nodded again, looking away from him then and focusing on the TV. You were about to shift the conversation back to talking about the movie, but he started talking before you could.

“If you don’t want them to meet me yet, that’s okay.” 

“No, no, you’re right. It would make sense if you met them. Like, if we did a quick phone call or whatever,” You said and then let out a sigh. You got quiet again and tried to figure out the best way to say what you really didn’t want to; talking about your parents was a hard feat. You had barely gotten to the point where you felt like you could easily do it with Eddie or Robin or anyone else.

Your eyes were still on the TV when you spoke again and decided to be entirely honest with Steve. “It’s just… It’s really hard talking to them sometimes. Like, talking about myself with them. Life stuff. It always feels like they won’t care.”

Steve’s hand found yours, intertwining them and giving a light squeeze. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You’d be surprised,” You told him and then finally met his eyes again. There was a soft look on his face that you wanted to get rid of, so you quickly tried to make things lighthearted and a lot less serious and sad. “You don’t need to talk to them. The only parental approval you need is from Robin, which you have, so everything’s fine.”

Steve nodded and didn’t push you further on everything, even though you could tell he kind of wanted to. Weird and strained parent relationships weren’t foreign to him, but you could tell that he was wondering if it really was only just about that. It was a thought that you quickly wanted to shut down.

“And I promise this really isn’t about you. It’s completely about them. If I had actual good parents, I would love to tell them about you and how much I adore you, and how I can’t wait to spend the summer with you. And I’d probably go into an annoyingly deep amount of detail about what all of our plans are,” You rambled and the smile he gave you warmed your heart. “But, I don’t have good parents, so we don’t need to worry about telling them anything.”

“So, if they randomly call when we’re in London, that’s when you’ll break the news?” His question was playful and lighthearted and just what you wanted to hear right then.

“Yes, exactly, that sounds like perfect timing,” You answered, laughing a little. “Y’know this whole parent conversation is making me realize that your parents are probably gonna hate when you tell them that we’re together, or I guess, “back” together. Your mom really didn’t like me.” 

It was a weird set of circumstances that you weren’t entirely sure how it would be solved. Even before Steve told them that you two had broken up because you “cheated,” you could tell that his mom wasn’t at all a fan of you and wanted Steve to be with anyone else. Probably a girl handpicked from a specific list. 

“Remember when you told me that it’s my life, and I should do what I want because I have to live it?” He asked, and you nodded, the smallest smile on your face.

“I’m what you want?” It was a question that you were certain of the answer to, but you still had the urge to ask it. 

Steve nodded as he pulled your intertwined hands up so that he could press a quick kiss to the back of yours. “Always. You just got the ‘best girlfriend ever’ award, remember?”

You smiled wider as you nodded back. “Ah yes, you can never break up with me, no matter what your parents say, because of the curtains.”

“Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The party had been an idea since mid-March. Robin randomly suggested it to you and Vickie one night— “How fucking cool would it be if we threw a graduation party for Talia?”— and you both immediately agreed. 

And now, a month and a half later, here it was. Over thirty people were crammed into your guys’ apartment, but everyone was having fun— especially Talia, which was all that really mattered— so it made the mess that you’d all have to clean up in the morning worth it. 

It was pretty safe to say that you were drunk. It was actually a statement that could’ve been said just an hour into the party, but it was even more certain now as the second hour moved into the third. 

You currently lingered by Eddie who, right at the start of the party, had appointed himself as the one in charge of the music, which didn’t surprise any of you. He was sitting with your laptop that was connected to the speakers set up in the living room. Every few minutes you jokingly suggested songs for him to play and he kept playfully shooing you away and vetoed all of your suggestions. When he actually did play the Pitbull song you requested, you laughed for what felt like five minutes straight. 

Eddie shook his head at you, but there was a smile on his face, like he wanted to laugh at your current antics. “You’re so drunk right now.” 

You had enough self-awareness to know that you couldn’t argue with his words, so you simply stuck your tongue out at him instead. 

He couldn’t hold back his laugh that time. “And that confirms it.” 

You started walking away then and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up when he told you to “Stay safe!” as you wandered off. You headed into the kitchen for no particular reason— a part of you wanted another drink, but you could also recognize how bad of an idea that would be. You considered grabbing some food; a room-temperature slice of pizza didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right then. 

A pair of hands abruptly grabbing your waist made you jump and yelp. The touch didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar, though, so when you turned and saw Steve in front of you, you were quick to smile at him even though your heart was still racing.  

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him tonight, and you also couldn’t remember how exactly you two had gotten split up in the first place. 

“Sorry for scaring you.” 

That was suddenly the last thing on your drunken mind. 

“Hi,” You said, practically jumping into his arms. “Where’ve you been?”

He laughed a bit at your enthusiasm. “Talking to Robin. She was rambling about this one summer class that she signed up for, and then she roped me into playing a drinking game version of Uno with her and a couple of her music major friends.” 

“Oh, that makes sense. That’s one of her favorite things to do at a party. It gets very intense so I always stay away,” You said, and then noticed his flushed cheeks and lazy smile which made you laugh a little. “How much were you forced to drink during the game?” 

“A lot,” He admitted and then proceeded to give you the most exaggerated sad look that you’d probably ever seen. “Turns out I kinda suck at Uno.”

You let out a soft “Aw” and leaned in to kiss his cheek, playing into how “sad” he was. “You should’ve let me warn you how good Robin is at that game. That’s why we never play it at game night anymore.” 

Steve’s hands settled on your waist and he pulled you close. You so badly wanted to kiss him at that moment, and there was so much going on around you both right then that you were certain that nobody would’ve paid attention to the two of you making out in the kitchen. 

Instead of doing that though, you pulled away from him abruptly. Your hand found his and you started pulling him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” He asked, and you weren’t looking at him, but you could hear the amused smile in his voice. 

“I need to show you something in my room,” You answered and then took a quick glance at him. “It’s super important.”

When the door was closed behind you two, you looked at Steve and he gave you a certain look. 

“What did you wanna show me?”

“Hmm, weirdly enough, I completely forgot,” You gave him a quick shrug and a small smile before getting closer to him and circling your arms around his torso.

“Oh my god, did you bring me in here to seduce me?” He asked, returning the embrace immediately, and the playfulness in his tone made you let out the softest laugh. 

“Maybe a teeny tiny little bit.”

“That’s very cute.” 

You lifted your head from his chest and finally kissed him. It felt like it had been years since the last time you’d kissed him and it was definitely your inebriation making you so hyperbolic and over-dramatic because the actual last time was definitely just a few hours ago, but you still savored the feeling of his lips on yours. 

Steve’s hand found your cheek and he deepened the kiss immediately. You inwardly sighed in contentment and your hands fisted themselves in the shirt he was wearing and pulled him impossibly closer to you. 

It was when he started guiding you back toward your bed that the tiniest bit of logical thinking suddenly sunk in and you broke the heated kiss. “Wait, shit, anyone could walk in.”

Steve considered your words for a moment and then walked over to your door to lock it. “Problem solved.”

The door being locked didn’t change the fact that you could still be interrupted by any sort of harsh knock against it, but who were you to deny his logic in this moment and the stupidly happy smile on his face?

You let out a breath of a laugh as you nodded in agreement. “Problem solved.” 

It was a blur of movements that led you two to laying on your bed— Steve on top of you and settled perfectly between your legs. Your skirt had ridden up into oblivion and his jeans-covered hard-on was rubbing against you in the best way possible. 

“I can’t wait to spend the summer with you,” You mumbled at one point. Steve’s mouth had moved from your lips to your jaw and then down to your neck. 

“Just the summer?” He mumbled against your skin. “You planning to get rid of me after that?”

You mock gasped. “Oh no, you caught me.”

He nipped harshly at your neck, which made you giggle. 

One of your hands came up to find his face, pulling him away from your neck so you could meet his eyes in the darkness. “I can’t wait to spend the summer with you, and also many, many days and years after that.”

“Mm, that’s what I like to hear.”

You two were very drunk and it was obvious that most of your words were exaggerated, but your previous statement didn’t entirely feel that way. 

Steve’s lips found yours again and you let out a happy hum in response. His hand moved higher and higher on your thigh which made you moan softly, and you felt so tempted to grab his hand and guide it right where you needed it to be. 

Before you could do any of that or even contemplate it further, there was a loud knock on your door and then you heard Robin’s voice. “Are you two in there?” 

“No!” You yelled out loud enough for her to hear. “Nobody’s in here.”

“We’re about to do the cake, so your presence out here is very importantly needed!” 

The smallest part of you wanted to say no and resume what you were doing with Steve, but you couldn’t.

Your eyes met Steve’s for a second before you shut them. “Okay, we’re coming!” 

“Thank you!”

Steve pressed a quick peck against your lips and then rolled off of you. “We’ll pick this up later.”

You followed suit and stood up from your bed, readjusting your skirt in the process. “I can’t promise I won’t pass out before then.”

“In that case, I’ll make sure to carry you back here and tuck you into bed,” He said with a smile as he circled an arm around you.

You sighed dreamily and leaned into his touch. “Ugh, you’re too good to me.”

He laughed a bit and then pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re also way too good to me. Remember last night at the arcade? You actually let me beat you at air hockey.”

You quickly shook your head. “Shh, you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“I’m sorry, but you made it very obvious,” He said, laughing again, and that time you couldn’t help but laugh too. 

You got the sudden urge to pull him back into your bed. Not even to do anything that would lead to both of your clothes coming off in the process, but to just simply talk to him. About nothing and everything until you fell asleep and woke up with what you assumed would be the worst headache. It had only been a few weeks, but you had quickly gotten to the point where you wanted to tell everything to Steve; every one of your random thoughts or whatever else was on your mind. And you always did, and he did the same. 

Of course, you knew that you couldn’t do that right in this moment because another knock from Robin was inevitable. So you instead laced Steve’s hand with yours and led you both back into the noise of the party. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

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[lis-likes-fics]

Strung Up (Cont.)

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 32.8k words Warnings: NSFW, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (violence), graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of death, murder, blood, gore, anxiety, panic attack, implications of stalking, frequent swearing, drug use, alcohol use, manipulation, degradation (not always in the sexy way), dubious consent, light praise kink, fingering, groping, oral sex, multiple orgasms, spanking, titty fucking, masturbation, vaguely masochistic tendencies… A/N: IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Not all of the warnings are listed above, but the full list of warnings is provided here. The only reason they're not all here is to avoid spoilers throughout the story, but none of the warnings unlisted here should be trigger warnings. If you're still unsure, please feel free to check the list. But if you want to go into this blind, go right ahead! A/N II: Okay so...I did finish the last two scenes at 3 o'clock in the morning last night, but hey! We finished! This is the last upload for my Kinktober 2024 event. I'm glad I was able to finish just in time, and I hope you all enjoy this just as much as I did (even though I almost gave up five different times but that's not important.) Thank you so much and Happy Halloween! A/N III: The story is too long so Tumblr won't let me post this. Because of this, I will ahve to split it into two parts (which is annoying bc it will really damage notes and stuff and it's harder to manage >:( )

The warmth of Eddie's hand on your back is very comforting. As soon as he ushers you out of the car, his hand falls to the small of your back and holds you there to guide you into the very large house.

“I'm back!” she shouts, mindful of your ears. He leads you into the living room where everyone is gathered with blankets and pillows and beer.

There's a mess of greetings as you enter the room with Eddie.

“What's up, Back? The name's Argyle, my dude.” He holds his hand out with a grin.

Eddie rolls his eyes and takes his previous seat on the floor, pillows and blankets included, and gestures for you to sit next to him. “You think you're funny, but you're not,” Eddie lightly scolds, offering you a beer. You take it.

His hands shoot up as he shakes his head. “Hey, hey, hey! Pump the brakes, duderino. Just a lil joke, it's good to laugh.” Argyle chuckles before finally looking over at you. His smile drops, and he looks at you with reddened eyes. “Woah. Who's the girl you got with you, Eddie?”

Jonathan looks at him with a brow raised in confusion. “Argyle, you’ve met her before.”

He just shakes his head, his long flowing locks swishing with the movement. “I don’t think so. I remember every face that passes my perimeter, and I don’t remember her. Fess up.”

Now Robin’s confused (as are you, because you’ve definitely had conversations with this boy before). “She’s sat at our table many times.”

He crosses his arms now. “I have no recollection of this whatsoever.”

“Seriously?” Jonathan lightly smacks his hand against his shoulder.

Argyle’s character breaks. He starts laughing as he nods and pats his knee. “Ha, ha! I’m just kidding.” He holds his hand out for you to slap, which you do. “What’s up, dudette? How’s it hangin’?”

You shrug, smiling a bit. “Well, it's hangin’.”

“Right on,” he nods. “Come and join the party. We were just tryna decide which horror movie we should put on.”

You tuck your legs beneath you, leaning back against the couch behind you where Steve and Robin are. “You're seriously watching horror movies? With everything going on?”

Robin tsks as she shakes her head. “I told them it was distasteful.”

Nancy, perched on the single sofa, shrugs as she offers her suggestion “We could watch Gremlins.”

Eddie scoffs, glancing over at her as he throws his arms back on the couch. This brings an arm almost draping over your shoulder, which you hardly blink at. You're used to Eddie and all his touchiness, the way he’s always touching you, holding you. It’s comforting, if nothing else.

“That is, arguably, not a horror movie,” he says.

Argyle tilts his head from side to side, considering that and deciding he disagrees. “I don’t know. Some of those little critters were pretty spooky to me.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Then you’re a wuss. Gremlins isn’t scary.”

“Friday the 13th?” Steve’s quite proud of that suggestion as he chirps up from behind you and Eddie. “That one’s a really good one.”

Robin smacks him, scoffing loudly when his hand covers where she hit him. “A movie about a bunch of teenagers being slaughtered in the middle of the woods by a masked killer?” She rolls her eyes. “That’s not insensitive at all.”

He scowls at her. “We’re not in the woods.” He shoves her.

“And none of the victims were found in the woods either,” Jonathan pipes up. There’s something mischievous in his tone that doesn’t sit right with you. “Carver was strung up and gutted. Cassidy was stabbed, and her throat was cut so deep her head almost came clean off. Tommy H and Carol Perkins were sliced up like bacon.”

His depictions swirl in your gut and make you feel a little sick. Images of the last two victims flash in your mind, their unblinking eyes, their bloodied faces, their chests like overused pin cushions, insides on the outside. You don’t realize it when you scoot closer to Eddie. His arm officially falls to your shoulders.

“Hey, man,” Argyle speaks up. “I like bacon! Don’t say that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, staring at Jonathan. “Dude, it’s called tact.” You register his hand nudging your shoulder, gently rubbing a tiny circle with his knuckle. You assume he’d noticed your unease.

Jonathan waves a hand. “All I’m saying is, Mrs. Voorhees isn’t gonna getcha.”

You raise a brow, speaking like it’s obvious (because it is). “Yeah, but Ghostface might.” You bring the can to your lips, taking a drink of your beer and scowling. Then with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you take another drink.

“Wait,” Nancy mutters. “I thought Jason was the killer in that movie.”

Argyle flinches. “Oh, that’s just bad timing.”

You drop your head in your hands at his point out. Either way, you shake your head. “No,” you look up, “the original killer was his mom. Jason didn’t show up ‘til the sequel.”

Eddie smacks a hand over his chest. “Ugh!” he swoons. “A woman after my own heart.”

You smack him yourself, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Anyway,” Jonathan corrects, “Ghostface isn’t going to come after us because we’re in a group. Lone killers don’t strike groups, it’s why you’re never supposed to split up in a horror movie.”

Argyle nods. “It’s a low level rule. Doesn’t guarantee survival, but it’s a good measure to follow.” He holds his hands up with a smile. “We follow the rules and none of us get sliced and diced.”

“The rules?” Eddie wonders, glancing at you to see if you know what they’re talking about. You just shrug.

“The horror movie rules.” Jonathan shrugs like it’s obvious. (It’s not.) You glance behind you to glance at Robin, who’s just as confused as you are.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

Jonathan seems to be in completely disbelief as he whips his head to Argyle, who’s sharing similar feelings. “You don’t know the rules of being in a horror movie? Everyone knows them.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Obviously not if we’re asking.”

Argyle crosses his legs, straightening his back as he holds his arms out. “Take a seat and let us teach you the ways, younglings.”

Eddie vaguely gestures to Steve as he raises a brow. “We’re older than you.”

Neither of them pay attention to him. “Rule number one,” Jonathan begins, “Never—never—drink or do drugs.”

Steve clears his throat, raising his can in the air. Everyone in the room slowly follows suit, some clinking as if to toast to the rule. “We kinda beat you to that,” Nancy says as she brings the lip of the can to her own.

“You’re high, Gyle,” Robin points out.

Argyle shrugs. “So is Jonathan, and Eddie’s a dealer. Sometimes you just got plot armor.”

“So we’re all going to die?” Eddie wonders.

“Nope,” Jonathan says. “You need a survivor, or your movie’s bland. And the survivor’s always a girl, so one of you probably has crazy plot protection.” He points out each of the girls in the room.

“Wrong!” Eddie almost shouts it. “Evil Dead. Survivor’s a guy—it was Ash Williams.”

“And the Friday the 13th series has, like, three male survivors,” Steve adds. “And The Thing has no survivors.”

“Neither does Night of the Living Dead.” Eddie beams at your contribution.

Argyle dismisses everything, waving his hands at you all. “We’re not talking about monster movies, man.”

“And just be glad this isn't a sequel, otherwise everyone here would be on the chopping block.” Jonathan says it with little remorse.

Argyle huddles toward him, lowering his voice ineffectively. “Well, they don't needa know that. Not tryna scare ‘em, man.”

“Shit,” Jonathan mutters, covering his mouth. “You're right.”

Argyle nods enthusiastically. “Anyway, plot armor. You guys probably have it, it's okay.”

“You're comic relief though, right?” Robin quips. She smirks, “Don't comic reliefs usually die in slashers?”

A look of horror crosses Argyle’s face. “Oh, shit,” he gasps, snapping his head to Jonathan. “You think I'm gonna die, Byers?”

Jonathan, who is now worried about the same thing, shakes his head with no amount of certainty. “No…” he says, in no way convincing. “No, man. You're…” He pats his shoulder, looking away. “You'll be fine.”

“Promise?”

Jonathan actually shakes his head as he says, “Yeah, man… Promise.”

Argyle smiles, somehow reassured. He looks back at Robin, his brows furrowed. “Hey! Stop distracting. We're tryna save your lives here.”

Stifling her laugh, Nancy moves forward. “What's number two?”

“Oh, right. Número dos,” he continues. “Never. Have. Sex. Ever.” He points at each of you to make his point. “If you participate in the Devil's Tango at any point in the story, you die.”

“Virgins always live,” Jonathan nods.

You swallow thickly, glancing down at your hands as you recall the day before: Jake's wandering hands, his lips on your neck, his body…

“Think I'd rather die,” Eddie comments. Steve shoves Eddie, and a collective murmur of agreement floats between nearly everyone, pulling you enough from your thoughts to scoff.

“Slut,” you mutter, directed toward Eddie.

He smiles, beaming from ear to ear. “Okay, little miss Mary. Where are you on the virginity scale?”

You press your smile into a thin line, turning back to Argyle as you clear your throat. “Rule three?”

Eddie snickers, but it sounds half-hearted.

“I like the way you roll,” Argyle laughs. He turns to Jonathan. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” They stare at each other as they count down from three.

“Never–” “Don't–”

“Seriously?” Jonathan exclaims, snapping back around to his friend.

“Ah, shit, man. I’m sorry, man.” Argyle shakes his head woefully. “That was me,” he admits.

Jonathan shakes his head, disappointed by their lack of coordination. “Never say you’ll be right back,” he says without any of the flair he intended. “Because you won’t.”

Eddie stands, adjusting his shirt as he waves a hand at them. “I’m gonna go pick up my sweet Mary Jane,” he says, fondly placing his hands over his heart. “Anyone want some?”

“Eddie,” Argyle sighs, smiling just as fondly. “That sounds like a delectable idea.”

“Awesome. Hey,” he smirks mischievously, walking backwards toward the door. “I’ll be right back!”

There’s a lot of laughter, some protests, Steve tosses a crushed beer can at him—which clatters against the wall and falls to the floor, completely missing him. He’s laughing on his way out the front door. When it closes behind him, a bad feeling settles in your stomach.

Everyone else has already moved on to the next thing, still debating movies and the validity of these supposed “rules”. While they’re distracted, you decide to follow Eddie out. You don’t want to leave him alone and risk him getting hurt, and you’re paranoid enough to believe it will happen.

As you begin to leave the living room, Steve’s head perks up. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice soft enough to keep the conversation between the two of you.

You nod, gesturing toward the door. “Yeah. Goin’ after Eddie.”

“No, I mean…” He gets up to join you, following you to the door as you both stop in the small hall. “Are you okay? You seemed pretty distressed on the phone.”

“Oh,” you mumble, scratching your neck and looking down at your shoes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just..” You take in a deep breath, willing yourself to look at Steve as you nod. “Trouble is paradise, I guess,” you shrug.

Steve nods a bit, scratching his own neck. “Ah,” he says with an understanding that puts you at ease.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “But I’ll be okay.” You start to turn back to the door, but he gently grabs your wrist. He doesn’t hurt you, and it’s not invasive.

“You sure?” He lets you go and gestures to his house. “Always welcome here if you need it.”

You smile, looking over his face, so kind and so gentle. “Thanks,” you grin. “I’ll be okay.” You say it a little more definitely now, offering him a smile that seems more believable now.

He smiles gently, nodding as he slowly steps away from you. “Alright,” he says, raising his hand and waving a little. “Go make sure he doesn’t get himself killed or anything.”

Your eyes widen in a playful kind of horror. “Don’t say that!” you exclaim quietly, a gentle scold. He laughs, turning on his heel to return to the living room. You push the front door open, turning as well to see the boy you were looking for.

“Eddie,” you call gently from the door, spotting him at the door of his van.

He turns on his heels, smiling at you and gesturing you forward. “Hey, sweetheart. You gonna be my knight in shining armor?” He bobs his brows where they disappear in the fringe of his wild hair.

You chuckle lightly. “Sure.”

“Well, c’mon then.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hand, encouraging you forward. You follow after him. He throws the back doors of his van open, bowing dramatically to offer you entry. You shake your head playfully as you climb in with him following right after. He closes the doors behind him and sits across from you, his shoe bumping yours as he does.

“We’re not going back inside?” you wonder.

He shrugs. “They’ll be fine without us for a bit.” He reaches over his body to grab something, his shirt riding up his side with the stretch. Your eyes trail down at the movement, but you quickly correct yourself. He grabs his lunchbox, shaking it toward you with a smile. “Do you want one?”

You chuckle lightly, raising a brow. “I’m not gonna die?”

“Never.” He says it with more intensity than you’d anticipated. “I’ll protect you from the mean and scary Ghostface.”

You don’t mean to be so genuine when you say it, but you are and he doesn’t bat an eye. “Promise?”

Eddie’s hand falls to his chest, right over where his heart sits. “On my life,” he promises.

You swallow thickly, looking away as bashfulness nips at your fingertips. “Can’t say things like that,” you tell him, glancing up. “Our lives are what’s at stake.”

Eddie opens the box, looking up at you with all the sincerity he has. “That’s exactly why I’m saying it,” he shakes like it’s nothing. Like it’s the easiest thing to promise—to protect you with his life. You look away again, unsure of whether you want to smile because he’s so sweet or cry because he’s too sweet.

A comfortable silence settles in the space between you, which he fills with the task of rolling his blunt. You take this opportunity to look at him, while he’s too distracted to do the same.

You like looking at Eddie. He’s always been very pretty to you. He’s got these wild locks of hair, entirely unruly to reflect his rebellion. His eyes are these big, dark pools of honey. They’re always so warm and reassuring, and they make you feel nice (even when sometimes, the warmth seems a little forced…like he’s struggling to maintain it when there’s the option of just…being upset.)

Beyond his hair and his eyes, there’s his smile. He’s got plump lips made for kissing, plump lips he’s always got screwed into a smile simmering with care and heat. Though he denies it, his nose is so lightly sprinkled with these precious freckles. If you look close enough in the right light, you can see a light dust beneath his eyes.

You glance down at his hands where they crush little green buds. He’s got nice hands, decorated with giant silver rings that make him look like a rockstar. You really like his hands.

“So…” Your attention shifts back to his face. “Why did you fight?” He looks up at you through his fringe, soft eyes simmering something a little difficult to place. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to respond. You pick at your nails, pulling your knee to your chest. Eddie corrects himself. He holds his hand up, “You don’t have to tell me if you're not comfortable.”

His concern warms your chest. “Eddie,” you say, “if there’s anyone I’m comfortable around, it’s you.”

He tilts his head to his shoulder, fluttering his lashes. “Aww,” he grins.

You snort, glad when he looks away. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide how to phrase it. You don’t want Eddie to misunderstand. “I was telling them about…” You consider telling him about the letter, but quickly decide against it. That’s what got you in this mess anyway.

Besides…it’s likely nothing at all…

“About how afraid all of this was making me,” you respond hesitantly, “and they weren’t listening to me. They…never listen to me.” You stare blankly at your nails where your cuticles have been abused by the amount of stress you’ve been under.

Eddie watches you carefully, his eyes always soft. His foot nudges yours again so gently, you almost don’t feel it. “Are you afraid now?”

You look up at him, smiling gently. “Not in this moment.”

He tilts his head. “What was scaring you?”

“Just some…” you shrug, trying to clear your head. You didn’t want to think about it right now. “Some stupid joke. Someone playing a trick on me, probably. It’s nothing.”

He raises a brow. You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but his gaze isn’t entirely of gentle encouragement as it is of a strange suspicion. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him a strained smile. He stares at you for a while, assessing the look on your face. After a moment, he gives up with a sigh, nodding gently and continuing his task.

You're tired.

It's tiring being scared and anxious all the time. Everything that's been happening, the murders and the letters, they've only been stacked on top of all the other emotions going through your head, and you're tired. You hadn't realized it until now.

The more silence that lingers, the more time you have to think…mostly about what Jake had told you. You supposed you'd been so distracted by the glitz and glams of having a lover that you didn't even consider the idea that he wasn't…a lover.

You never realized that he, in fact, did not want you.

And then you think…maybe you were a bit dramatic. He's under a lot of stress, and people say things they don't mean when they're upset—it happens all the time. Maybe you're looking for excuses now to leave. And if you are, does that make you a bad person for not wanting to deal with him anymore or are you just dumb for trying to find an excuse to defend him—or! Maybe you're just trying to find a reason to be upset, because it's not like you talk to anyone for any other reason than your problems.

And here you are in Eddie's van. You made it about you again. God, you just wish you were normal. You wish you weren't such a pain in the ass.

“Eddie?” You hadn't meant to call his name. It was an impulse, and you don't actually want to ask what you were going to ask.

“Hm?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Sorry.”

He looks up, concern creasing his brows. “What's wrong?” he insists.

You shake your head with a little more desperation. You want to drop it because you don't want him to be right. “It's nothing. Sorry.”

“Hey.” He reaches over and nudges you. He looks at you through his bangs, his eyes nothing if not puppy-like. “Tell me.”

You swallow thickly. Your eyes feel hot, but you blink to ignore the heat anyway. “Do you…” you clear your throat when it comes out raspy, “...think I'm whiny?”

His hands pause entirely on his task, and he stares at you with a look that you don't think you've ever seen before. It's a kind of warmth that feels like you'll burn alive. You notice the slightest tightening of his jaw, his fingers flexing on his lunchbox as he seals the latch.

His eyes flit from yours to your necklace. You notice the slightest movement of his bobbing Adam's apple. “Did he tell you that?” he asks, his voice low.

There's a long pause where you hesitate to speak. You've never seen him so…serious. You look down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs as you swallow down the lump in your throat.

When you don't say anything, he locks eyes with you once more. “What did he say?”

You rub your arm anxiously. “He called me delusional. He said…” You look away from him again, your voice so quiet that it's almost a whisper. “He said, ‘Why do you have to be such a whiny little bitch?’”

You hear him sigh. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at you as he processes what you've told him.

The moment is still, though there's a slight brewing of something solemn in the space between you.

Then Eddie takes a deep breath in, pauses, and without blinking an eye, says, “I'm gonna kill him.”

Your lips threaten to break into a grin, and your eyes go wide as dimes. “Eddie!” you exclaim, lightly smacking him. You shake your head scoldingly. “You can’t say that.”

“I am,” he repeats, humor returning to his tone as he smiles at you, holding an arm up to shield from your swatting hand. He makes sure to articulate this time. “I’m going to kill him.”

You laugh, though it quickly becomes weak. “It’s fine, really,” you say, trying to keep the happy mood you’d been able to lift the two of you into. But it’s hard because you just keep thinking about everything, and everything hurts. “I just…” You swallow thickly, breathing in with more effort than it should take. “It doesn’t bother…” Your breath catches. “I… I don’t feel–”

Eddie’s hands are already reaching out for you upon hearing the tremble in his voice. His smile drops once more, and he sighs when he’s got you pulled closely to his chest. He shushes you gently, petting you in warm, soothing strokes with you tucked beneath his chin.

You can’t keep the tears in. It comes crashing down again, and hot tears rush down your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to cry. You’re not supposed to be crying. Your head hurts as you nuzzle into his chest, pressing your nose to his shirt and inhaling the scent of his cologne, his detergent, his skin. It’s a comforting smell that turns your heaving chest to gentle tremors of breath.

It takes some time for the erratic breaths to calm, but Eddie doesn’t seem bothered by the time. His hands are gentle, he’s warm and inviting. He soothes you with the gentle hush of his voice whispering, “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay? Hm?”

It does make you feel better.

You get it together faster than he thought you would. He doesn’t pull away from you as he speaks gently, the sounds reverberating in his chest with a deep hum. “You know you don’t have to take care of me, right?”

You sniffle, pulling away from him. He doesn’t let you go too far. Still within his arms, you shift so you sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder. “I know, but…” You wipe your face roughly. You settle your voice enough to sound a little more in control, the strained sound made from tears and aching breaths channeled into something more forceful in an attempt to sound stronger than you feel. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me and my stupid feelings. You always have to deal with me and my stupid feelings.” You mumble that last part mostly to yourself.

His arm is tucked behind you, rubbing gentle circles into the small of your back. “They’re not stupid,” he promises. “Your boyfriend fucking sucks. God, I hate that guy.” He rolls his eyes, and gives a hard look to the wall of the van just so that he’s not glaring at you when he says it. His head turns back to you, a genuine question full of opposition falling from his tongue. “Why don’t you break up with him?”

You turn your face on his shoulder so your forehead rests against the bump of it, shaking your head and sniffling still. “I just…” You sigh woefully. “Everyone keeps telling me we’ll be high school sweethearts.” Your voice lifts a little with false hope. “And it sounds so nice, finding that person you want to be with young and then…spending your life with them.” You speak as if from a distant dream. You blink a few tears from your eyes. You mutter under your breath so softly that he wouldn’t have heard you if you weren’t so close. “Stupid.”

Eddie stares at you, his lashes kissing his cheeks and his head tilted just slightly to his left. “Hey,” he mutters, his large palm engulfing your cheek to encourage you to look at him. There is only sincerity in his voice when he speaks. His other hand finds you and holds your face.

“Nothing about you is stupid. I think the only stupid thing you’ve ever done was date that guy. He’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve you.” He shakes his head, wild hair shifting. “Because you’re perfect. You hear me?”

The slightest echo of words you shoved to the back of your mind arises. You breathe gently, slowly nodding your head. “Yeah…” you sigh. “I hear you.”

He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry.”

His voice is so small and soft, you almost feel bad for crying (and then you remember that he doesn’t want you to feel bad, and then you do your best not to).

You encourage his hands from your face, scooting close to him for the warmth and letting your head drop to your hands. You stay there for a long time, stewing. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you muffle into your palms. “And you’re the only one who ever listens to me.”

He scoffs, and though it’s an attempt at humor to lift your spirits, it lacks the humor he’s wanting. “That’s ‘cause you have shit friends. Except for me, of course.”

When you laugh, his smile is genuine. You’re already sounding better. “Except for you,” you mutter as you pull yourself from your hands. You sniff, and then look at him. You notice the tears on the fabric of his shirt from a moment ago and wince lightly. “Sorry for crying on your shirt.”

His brows furrow funnily. “You kidding?” He laughs lightly. “I’ll never wash this shirt again.”

You scrunch your nose. “That’s gross.”

He chuckles, bringing his hands to wipe under your eyelids where the remnants of your tears still lay. You sigh, and it's the kind of sigh that releases all the tension in your body. You slump into his hands, and he smiles.

Eddie lets go of you in favor of grabbing the blunt he'd made. He brings it between his fingers and shows it off to you like ancient treasure. “Here,” he smiles. “You can have the first hit.”

You grab it without looking, lingering there for a moment. “Thank you,” you murmur, your voice heavy with emotion.

He smirks, furrowing his brow. “It's just a hit.”

“Not that, dummy,” you say, pushing him lightly. He laughs whole-heartedly. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

He smiles, his lashes kissing in a slow blink. “Anytime,” he breathes. He nudges your shoulder lightly, “Hey. You know you can trust me, right?”

Your lips pull in a brief smile. You're focusing on not staring down at his lips, so close to you and moving so gently with each word. “Yeah. I know.”

It's silent as you stare at one another. His eyes are more brown in the gentle light of his van when you're this close to him. They almost look like glass in the way that they shine, glossy and smooth.

You hadn't realized it when you leaned in, but you do notice when his soft breaths fan over your lashes. You lick your lip as you lean away again, looking down at the blunt between your fingers as you silently scold yourself for doing such a thing…trying to kiss Eddie. There was something wrong with you, deeply wrong.

You shake it off, setting the blunt between your lips and looking back at him. Eddie watched you for a moment before wordlessly fetching his lighter. He flicks the flame to life and sets it beneath the end.

You take the first drag, already anticipating the relief it'll bring you once it kicks in. You slowly blow out the smoke as you pass it to Eddie, who takes it graciously.

He closes his eyes as his lips wrap around the blunt. He lingers there perhaps a bit longer than he should, and then smiles at you as the smoke shoots from his mouth.

~

“Guys, wake up.”

You're woken up rather rudely. It'd been a long day, you were exhausted. The sun has barely risen in the sky, and someone's voice is ripping you from your slumber. You get up slowly, pushing yourself to get your head off the pillow from your spot on the couch. Eddie’s slumped on the floor, blankets and pillows cushioning his spot. He blindly reaches a hand up to feel for your own, though he doesn’t move to sit up as he mumbles something under his breath. (Something along the lines of “Just one more goddamn minute, please.”)

Robin sounds half-asleep as she hoists herself up from her curled up position in Steve’s single-sofa too quickly to be kind. “What? What’s going on?” she stumbles, looking around to find Nancy in the middle of the living room.

“Principal Higgins is dead.”

You’re awake now.

It’s only then when you notice the quiet droning of the television, the sound so low that it was easy to miss. There are police lights and caution tape and crowds of people being kept out by authorities. It’s all very unsettling.

Steve sits up quickly, his tousled brown hair a mess on his head. “What?” His gaze snaps to the television, where everyone else follows. You wipe your face quickly, grabbing Eddie’s hand when it finally finds yours.

“How?” you question when you find your voice.

“They found him strung up on the goal post.” Nancy turns up the sound. “They’re shutting down the school until further notice.”

Jonathan sits up, though his face has fallen in seriosity, his tone doesn’t match. “I mean…” he mutters, “score for school being out.”

“Jonathan!” Robin yells.

Argyle shakes his head, combing his fingers through his hair to fix the straight locks. “I never liked him too much, but killin’ the dude?” He sighs, “Not cool, man.”

You shove yourself off the couch to sit next to Eddie, who’s arm instinctively moves to pull you in. You let yourself be comforted by him as you shake your head. “What did Higgins even do?”

Argyle shrugs. “Everyone wants to kill the principal.”

You roll your eyes at his remark; although true, not entirely helpful. “Yeah, but no one actually does it.”

The phone rings suddenly, a very loud sound that slices through the thick air and makes everyone jump. Nancy rushes to grab it, as she’s already standing. “Hello?” There’s a pause. Her eyes fall on someone in the room, and she holds the phone out. “Robin, it’s your grandmother.”

Robin moves to stand, walking over to grab the phone from Nancy. She holds it up to her ear, mumbles something over the phone, and then hangs up. “She wants me home. She doesn’t feel safe with me out of the house.”

It only takes a couple minutes for the phone to ring again and again and again. Joyce Byers, Karen Wheeler, Wayne Munson. Everyone is called home ASAP (except for you, of course). Your parents are still away on a business trip, entirely unaware that there is a serial killer in Hawkins who’s going around killing teenagers, while their only daughter stays home alone with no one to protect her…

Eddie ends up taking you home. When he drops you off, his leg is bouncing and he seems entirely displeased by the fact that you’re insisting on being here. Something about “in case my parents call” or whatever. Really, you just don’t want Eddie to get tired of you by being around so much…and you don’t want to burden him with the responsibility of protecting you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay with me? I promise Wayne won’t mind.”

His brows are frowning like even they are concerned. You open the door, ignoring the way your hand trembles at the aspect of staying home alone in this circumstance. You hope he doesn’t notice as you give him the most reassuring smile you can handle.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist in an effort to convince even yourself.

Eddie doesn’t believe it. He reaches a hand out to cover yours. “You sure?” He sighs, “I really don’t mind. I can even convince Wayne to let me stay with you tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be okay,” you quiet your voice in the hopes that he will hear you better. “Just…call me.”

He stares at you for a long time, shaking his head and looking very upset by the idea of leaving you here alone. With a defeated sigh, he runs a hand down his face and nods. Then she shakes his head. “I’m gonna pick you up before curfew.”

You groan. “Eddie–”

“No,” he says, his tone firm and without room for argument. “I’ll be back at curfew, and you’ll stay the night with me. Okay?”

You hate that it makes you feel better, but it does. With a sigh of half-defeat, you open the door. “Okay.”

He squeezes your hand gently. “Be safe. Lock the doors.”

And the windows, you think to yourself. “I will,” you agree.

You hesitate before grabbing your things and stepping out of his van. You close the door behind you and slowly make your way to your front door. Eddie watches you the whole way, refusing to leave you until you’re safely inside with the door locked.

You unlock the front door with shaky hands, closing your eyes and hoping against all hope that there’s no note waiting for you when you return. You step inside and close the door a little harder than you’re supposed to. It’s at least a solid minute before you hear Eddie’s van driving away.

Now you’re alone.

~

When they’re a knock at the door, you’re surprised you didn’t hear Eddie pull up. It’s usually very clear when Eddie arrives, he makes sure his entrance is note-worthy. You pull your door open to greet him, having come to terms with the fact that you are happy to be with Eddie tonight. But when the door is open, your shoulders tense and your face falls into something less excited.

“What do you want?” you ask, your tone flat as you stare at the girl on the other side of the door. “You’re not supposed to be out here, it’s almost past curfew.”

Brynn crosses her arms over her chest. “And you’re not supposed to be alone.” When your expression doesn’t change, and you still look very upset, she sighs and holds her hands up in a truce. “I came to apologize.”

You want to turn her away…but it is almost past curfew, and part of you does want to hear what she has to say. You consider it a moment longer and then sigh as you step back to let her in.

You close the door behind her, locking it tight. You pass by Brynn on your way to the kitchen, putting the island between the two of you simply to show her where you’re at. She doesn’t speak right away. She looks like she's trying to decide what to say to you. She reaches for her arm, stroking it lightly before beginning.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You were right, I should've been on your side, and I wasn’t.” She cards her fingers through her hair. “It’s just been crazy with all these psycho murders, and Jake was out of line for saying that shit to you.”

You cross your arms, though the action is half-hearted. You shift on your feet, nodding slightly. “Yes, he was.”

“I’m really sorry, hon,” she repeats, tilting her head to the side. She steps forward, placing a hand on the island as an olive branch. “Walk me through it. What’s been going on?”

You stare at her for a long time, debating whether you should tell her or not. All you’ve been wanting from her for a long time is just for her to listen to you. Now she’s here offering to do just that, and you’re not even sure you want it anymore…

But, with a sigh, you concede. “I–”

The harsh ringing of the phone cuts you off. You look at it quickly wondering if it’s Eddie saying that he’s on his way. You don’t know who else it could be.

You pick up the phone, bringing it to your ear to greet. “Hello?”

“Hello, my little puppet.”

You practically slam the phone back down. A wave of shock and fear crashes through you, your eyes wide and your heart racing as you stumble back. Brynn is startled into the same state as she clutches her chest. “It’s him.” Your voice trembles, and tears are already springing to your eyes. You didn’t recognize the voice, so you’re still no closer to figuring out who this psycho is.

“Who?” she insists, stepping over to you.

“Fucking—him. The killer,” you stumble over your words, your tongue tied with each syllable you try to get out. “Fucking Ghostface!”

The phone rings again, and you move away from it as quickly as possible. You look frantically to Brynn, as if she’ll have all the answers. As if she knows how to make it stop.

She marches over to the phone, picking it up with a determined look on her face. “Listen–”

You watch her face widen in horror. Her grip on the phone trembles as she seems to stop breathing. She glances over at you, swallowing thickly before quietly passing the phone back to you. You shake your head quickly, still moving away with clumsy steps.

“I don’t want to,” you nearly whisper.

She clears her throat a bit. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

Your fearful sigh trembles as it passes from your lungs. You close your eyes shut, steeling your nerves before reaching out and grabbing the phone. You try to keep your voice steady, but it proves to be futile as your voice wavers on your words. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the voice says. It’s a strange voice. It sounds almost artificial. “I just wanna talk, sweet girl. I know you’ve been getting my letters, and I know you keep them locked away in your closet to think of me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to contain your sob. Your eyes find Brynn after a moment, who’s terrified by what’s going on. These things aren’t supposed to happen in real life, and yet here you are.

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy in love with you,” he chuckles.

“What do you want?”

There’s a pause. You hear him inhale. “I want to give you another token of my love,” he says. “Turn on the back porch light.”

Your blood runs cold. You think you literally feel your heart stop in your chest, and you’re almost gasping for air at the feeling. You whip your head to Brynn, then to the glass sliding door in the living room. Your breaths are heavy through the phone. “I don’t–”

“Do it.” His voice lowers to something scarier, and you startle at the sound.

You walk with shaky legs slowly to the living room. Brynn follows you, her movements just as hesitant as she reaches a hand out to grab yours. You squeeze it tight, bracing yourself as you lift your hand to the lightswitch.

You both scream.

Jake sits on the other side of the door with duct tape slapped over his mouth. He’s covered in blood, muffled screams forcing against the tape to no avail. He squirms as he tries to break free of his bindings that keep him stuck to the chair. You try to look away, but he doesn’t like that.

“Look at him,” he says. A sob shakes you as you force your head back. “I got him just for you. I had to break his foot and his arm just to get him here.” You wipe the tears from your face. It’s becoming hard to see. “Don’t be scared, everything’s gonna be just fine.” His voice is a purr in your ear, but not in a way that’s particularly pleasant. Your gut twists uneasily.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Your boyfriend is not as good as you think.” He sounds incredibly upset. You actually hear him growl as he continues. “Think about it, puppet. He ignores you, he makes you feel like you’re crazy, he fucking uses you for sex like you’re some cheap whore. Do you even enjoy when he touches you? When he fucks you?”

You swallow thickly, refusing to answer him as you lift your hand to press against the glass. Jake stares at you, still struggling against his restraints with all the energy he has. You can hear his muffled cries through the door. You open your mouth to speak, struggling to find the words. “Please don’t hurt him,” your voice is weak when you say this.

“And why shouldn’t I?” he questions.

“Because I’m asking you to.” You close your eyes, trying to steady your breath. “If… If you really love me, you won’t hurt him. Please.”

He laughs. “Oh, puppet.” He seems to tsk when he says it. “I’m doing this for you.” His voice takes on a sudden softness that you refuse to admit provides the slightest amount of soothing. “I promise, once this is over, you’ll feel like a brand new you. You don’t need him. You don’t need this. You deserve so much more, so much better than a jockey piece of shit like him.”

You don’t know if your sobs have stopped coming because of his words or because of the fatigue that comes with it. You hope it’s the latter.

“And it’s because I love you that I’m letting you say goodbye.”

Your heart siezes in your chest. “No, no, please!” Your scream triggers Byrnn’s, and she’s pulling your arm to try to figure out what’s going on.

“You have five seconds.” You shout protests, banging on the window and shaking your head in an attempt to stop him, but he doesn't care. “Four, three, two–”

“Bye! Goodbye! Please!”

“Good girl.”

A figure cloaked in a shroud of darkness appears outside the window. It happens so quickly, you don't even have time to process it. He swoops out behind him, a knife glinting in the porch light. Screams fill the house when the knife goes in, and then out, and then in, and then out, and then in and out and in and out–

You grab Brynn’s hand, tearing her away from the window to run. You don’t think about it too much when you do. Brynn is stumbling behind you, having trouble seeing beyond her tears. If he’s outside, surely you can make it to the door fast enough to escape.

You’re quickly proven wrong when you’re stopped right at the threshold of the living room. It can’t be.

You stare right into the face of a ghost, stepping back slowly. He tilts his head slowly to the side, raising his hand and waving one of your kitchen knives from side to side.

“Now where do you think you're going?” He takes two slow, calculated steps toward the both of you. Brynn moves away as you stay planted in your spot. That same warped voice leaks from the mask.

Brynn tugs on your arm, pulling you toward the back door. When you look, the other Ghostface is gone. It's only when she yanks the door open that he jumps in front of you with a teasing “Boo!”

Your throat is scratched rough from your screams. Jake's blood covers his hands and up the length of his arms.

In your haste to get away, to fight, to do anything, you throw your fist out in an attempt to hit him. He catches your wrist with ease, and your stomach flips when he walks you back. He never lets go. You try to hit him again and again and again, to no avail. He turns you in his arms and pulls you to his chest. You feel the sticky, hot blood on your skin. You shout as you will the tears to come.

“Why?” you ramble incoherently. “Why did you have to kill him? Why did you—fuck!”

“Hey, now!” he exclaims, still laughing in your ear. The flat side of his bloodied knife taps your cheek, and you flinch. “You're so excited, and we haven't even gotten to the big surprise.”

You shake your head, struggling to get away from him. “I don't want it. Please, I don't want it.”

He leans down closer to your ear, to the crook of your neck. “Hey, hey. Shh,” he coos.

Your cries calm, turning to stuttering breaths as you stare at the other cloaked man in the room. You almost forget about Brynn.

“Please don't hurt me,” you mutter.

“Hurt you?” He scoffs, letting you go. He turns you around to see him, and you watch his head tilt down to his shoulder. “I would never hurt you, sweetheart.”

Your lips part, and you furrow your brow at his pet name. There's only one person in the world who calls you sweetheart. But the idea of it, of him…

“Why…” You step away. “Why did you call me that?”

He stands there for a moment, contemplating. Then he laughs, raising his gloved hands to his waist and shaking his head. “Well, fuck. Guess I outed myself, huh?” He turns his head to look past you, glancing at his duplicate through dark, empty eyes. “Guess the cat's outta the bag now.”

He reaches his hand to his mask, tucking his fingers beneath it before slowly peeling the mask like skin off his face.

There's an ache in your chest and a twist in your gut when brown eyes stare back at you, smiling, glinting with joy. The tears that slip down your face burn your cheeks like molten lava. Your mind is clouded with the haze of memories flashing in your mind. All the times you held his hand, the same hand that plunged a blade into your boyfriend's chest. All the times you laughed with the same voice now sore with screams. All the times you looked into his brown eyes with the same joyous shine he has in them now. You'd always thought they looked normal. You don't understand how you missed it, the glinting.

Your voice trembles as you struggle to speak, cracking on the apex of his name. “Eddie?”

“Hello, puppet.” He grins with a kind of mischief that takes on a different tone now.

You shake your head and struggle to find the words. “Why? Why would you– I thought– You–”

He pulls you back into him, flush against his chest with his arms around your body. You feel the shape of the blade pressing against your back and try not to move. “Shh, it's okay.” He strokes your back soothingly.

When you pull away you feel the blood he'd smeared on your cheek stick to his cloak. You look down at your clothes, now stained in red, and feel your heart thrumming frantically.

“Hey. C’mon,” the other says. You turn to face him when you hear him closer than you anticipated. You clamp a hand over your mouth when tousled brown hair falls in Steve's face. He runs a hand through his curls and smiles. “No one's gonna hurt you. You're the one we're tryna help here.”

Brynn startles at that, stepping back so quickly she stumbles. You move away from Eddie, backing up to the side so you stand between them and Brynn, so you can face them both and not feel so cornered.

You try to gather the strength to sound threatening, but you don't. You know you don't. “How is this helping me? I thought you were my fucking friends! You– You tricked me!”

“We tricked you?” Steve scoffs. “Honey, we're not the ones sneaking around behind your back.” A tiny smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not really, anyway.”

You pause, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What��” You shake your head, “What do you mean?”

Eddie looks past you, his eyes locking with Brynn’s. They darken in a way that you've only ever seen once or twice before. A hardness takes over the expression on his face until you almost don't recognize the boy you're looking at.

“Go on, then, Brittany.” His voice nearly takes on a growl. There's no humor in his words, no joy. It creates a chill that rushes down your spine as he raises his knife toward her. “Tell her.”

You turn, looking at her from her place on the floor. “Tell me what?”

She slowly rises from the floor, her hands up in defense. “I don't know what they're talking about,” she says slowly. She begins to back into the kitchen, inching away from you as you advance, Steve behind you and Eddie at your side.

You know she's lying. You can hear it in her voice, and you can see it on her face. She's gotten better at it over the years, but she's never been good.

“Tell me what?”

Her eyes go wide at your accusation. Surely there's no way you're going to believe two murderers over her. “Don't listen to them!” She never blinks, she never looks away. Her gaze is sharp.

Eddie walks toward her, the tip of his blade taunting her as she moves away. Eddie’s voice is low and rough, and you’ve never heard him sound so…terrifying. “Tell her how you were letting Jacob plow you every time she looked away.”

“What?” It almost comes out as a whisper. You knew she’d been lying to you about something, but you didn’t know it was this. You wish you could have picked up clues from Jake, but unlike her, he’s a great liar, and you would believe him if he told you he was some long-lost prince of a fairytale kingdom.

But this… You’d hoped for better.

“They’re fucking lying!” she shouts. Her eyes never blink. “They just fucking killed Jake, and now you’re gonna let these fucking psychopaths–”

She’s cut off when a strange sound echoes in the room. You know what it is, you know who it must be. When your eyes fall to the source of the sound, Steve holds out a camera that you recognize from Jake’s room. “Look familiar?” she asks, offering it to you. You glance at Brynn and watch her face shift into something fearful once more. She mutters your name.

You grab the camera, sliding your hand through the band and watching the video playing on the little screen. Your face falls, fear and suspicion being stripped away to something solemn.

It’s taken from within Jake’s bedroom, the desk beneath his window. Your shoulders drop when you see them. Brynn’s on her knees, between his. You watch her head bob as she grips his thighs. You watch his fingers grab a hold of her hair. You listen to him groan, to her gag. You flex your jaw and flex your fingers.

You look up at her as the sounds continue to play, taunting you, mocking you. “You…” You let out a shaky sigh. Your voice is too soft and too calm. “He was cheating on me? With you?” She watches your lip twitch. Your eyes close when you hear the sound of his grunt as he curses, and you know he’s cumming down her lying throat. Her giggle follows soon after.

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t like that. We–” She bumps into the kitchen island, but she doesn’t blink. “We were drunk, and-and it happened so fast—it was only one time!”

“Go to the next video,” Steve says, his voice so close to your ear. You don’t flinch as you take in a slow breath and do as he says.

Your sigh shakes your chest. It feels like someone’s punched you in the chest as you see Brynn on her hands and knees, Jake’s hands on her waist, his hips smacking into her as they moan and grunt and curse. The date is different. In fact, the date is your birthday.

You swallow thickly, quickly passing the camera back to Steve as you bring a hand to your neck. You stare at the floor, unable to look at her as you close your eyes and beg Steve to turn it off. You can still hear them…laughing at you. What a stupid girl. A stupid girl who thinks we love her.

“Why…” You don’t finish your question, supposing that’s enough. “How could you do this to me?” Your voice trembles, and you can’t find it within you to care. She doesn’t say anything, she just keeps staring. Your voice gets a little stronger, a little louder. “You were supposed to be my friend. You were supposed to be my best friend.”

She licks her lips. “Look, I–”

“You were fucking him behind my back!” you shout, walking toward her again. Every step you take toward her, she takes back. “How long?”

“Listen–”

“Shut your mouth,” Steve snaps.

Eddie almost startles you when you hear him at your side. You feel the warmth of his presence against your shoulder, you hear his voice by your ear. “She betrayed you,” he whispers in your ear in a clear disgust, his voice a low hum. “Just like Jacob, she ignored you and made you think you were crazy. She fucked your boyfriend. She’s supposed to be your closest friend, and she hurt you like this.” He shakes his head. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. “Doesn’t it just make you wanna hurt her?”

You blink blankly. “I… No, I don’t…” You sigh, “I don’t want…to hurt her.” You don’t sound so sure. You don’t feel so sure. And that scares you.

“Don’t you?” Steve wonders. You turn to look at him and the glare in his eyes. You hear Eddie huff when Steve wraps an arm around your midsection, pulling your side into his chest. “She's been lying to you this whole time. I mean, how do you know she wasn't just using you to be close to him, huh?”

She shakes her head. “That's not true. We were friends before–”

“Shut up!” you yell, your head snapping back to her as you shove Steve's arm from you. You can't keep it in, the anger is boiling in your chest and it feels like poison in your throat. You just have to get it out. “Don't say a goddamn word, you lying whore.”

You scare her into silence. The anger shifts into something sad, and you hate that your lips tremble.

Your voice, though quiet now, is rough when you speak. “You never spent time with me, you weren't there for me when I needed you. I told you about the letters, and you didn't believe me. You fucking—You betrayed me.”

“That’s right!” Eddie exclaims. His hand comes to cup the side of your neck, pulling your temple to his lips as he nods giddily. He presses his mouth to your skin, and you hate to admit that his kiss feels nice. “She did. She betrayed you and your trust, and she should pay for it. Shouldn't she, puppet?”

Brynn’s fear twists into pure disgust. “You’re fucking crazy–”

“See, she keeps saying that,” he says, raising the knife at her again. He keeps hold of you, murmuring in your ear like a demon on your shoulder. “But I’m the only person who’s had your back all this time. I’ve listened to your problems, I’ve helped you through them. I’ve been there for you.” He breathes in the scent of your hair. “Me and Steve, we did all this for you.”

Steve’s in your other ear, his hand crossing over your midsection once more. You’re stuck between them, boxed in by their warm bodies as they whisper in your ear. You make no move to stop them. “And didn’t she call you crazy, too?” He smiles, “You told her about Ed’s love letters, and they said you were delusional. You told them you were afraid, he called you a whiny bitch. You ran out of the house with a killer on the loose, and neither of them went after you.”

“But you’re not delusional, are you? You’re not a whiny bitch. You know what you are?” Eddie kisses your temple once more, “You’re just like us. You’re hurt, and you want to destroy the thing that hurt you.” The idea makes you warm, and you assume it’s the rage. “And she’s hurt you so bad, you could just…kill her, couldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!”

Her voice breaks you from their embrace. You all turn to look at her, watching her now confident with anger. Eddie and Steve take a step away, letting you go. They want to see what you’ll do.

“I fucking told you he was fucking crazy,” she spits. “We kept telling you there was something wrong with him, and you never fucking listened to us. And now? Now six people are fucking dead—Jake is fucking dead. And it’s all your fault–!”

A scream rises from your chest and into your throat, but it’s not the type of scream that reaches the top of your voice and screeches. It’s the kind of scream that stays in your throat. It’s rough and it’s guttural. You clench your fist and rush toward her with nothing but red in your sight.

You don’t even fully realize it when you hit her. It’s like you black out, letting go and dissolving yourself to your most basic instincts as you knock her to the floor. She shouts, and when you kick her in the side, she moans out loud in pain and fear. It only fuels you, fuels the heat in your fists, in your head, curling in your chest.

You wrestle her onto her back and straddle her waist, punching her again when she tries to protest. She screams and cries and the blood that comes from her mouth or the cuts on her face makes it worse. You keep punching her, but each punch isn’t enough to quell the scream in your throat. Your skin of your knuckles split, your fists become covered in your blood and hers.

Eddie and Steve are cheering you on, but Eddie’s voice is the loudest. He laughs and claps his hands, yelling, “That’s it! Yes, my good fuckin’ girl, make her pay for what she did to you.” The excitement and the anger keep mixing in his tone, and there’s so much of it that he can’t even control what he wants. “Make her pay for breaking your heart.”

You hit and hit and hit until you run out of strength to continue.

She lays there, her head swaying from side to side as she whimpers and coughs, unable to breathe. She looks bad, bloodied and bruised. But it’s still not enough. You sit there, gasping for air as you stare at her.

Something enters your peripheral, and when you see it, it shines. Eddie's gloved hand, still stained with Jake’s blood, wraps around your own. He lifts it to grasp the handle of his knife, squeezing tight to secure your grip. He lets go, and you hold on still, staring at the blade in quiet contemplation.

“Do it,” he whispers. He grabs your other hand, he wraps it around the first. “Do it.” He lets you go and steps back.

You look down at Brittany. Your best friend. Your enemy.

She shakes her head weakly. Her voice is scratchy, unintelligible. “No,” she whimpers, her words sticky. “No, please. Don’t–”

You don’t let her finish.

It takes a lot more effort than you thought it would. When you bring it down, it hardly goes as deep as you meant it. When you pull it back out, it takes a lot of core strength, you have to clench your teeth and flex your abdomen. You try again and again and again. It feels good. Fuck that, it feels amazing. You shove the blade into her chest and the blood stains your hands, and you seek out the feeling over and over.

You hadn’t expected it to be so quiet.

Eddie makes no noise, neither does Steve. Your grunts feel silent in your ear. Even the squelch of the knife tearing from flesh and meat and bone sounds like nothing. Your blood thrums in your ears, and your heart thumps in your chest. It’s a silent rush that reaches a pique, and once it’s met, you feel the strength and the rage and all the intense emotion pouring out of you like the crashing fall of water.

You gasp for breath as you sit there, and it’s the only sound you hear.

Your eyes find your hands still grasping the handle, soaked in crimson and dripping. You huff, staring at it. It’s all you can do, stare.

It hits you all at once as you let the blade clatter to the floor. It’s the only sound you hear. You rush off of her, looking down at your clothes, stained. Everything is stained, everything is red. Your heart is rushing, your breath is catching, your hands are dripping.

You look at her face, deformed from your fists, stained with more red. She stares at the ceiling. She never blinks.

“Wha–” You huff, looking at your hands and her face and her chest and your clothes and– “Wha-What did I do? What– I, no, I ca–” You drop your head to your hands and then shout when you feel sticky blood on your skin. “Oh, God, I–” You turn to Eddie, so overwhelmed that you can’t even cry. Your clothes feel too tight, and you can’t see straight. And the lights, and the floor. The fucking—the walls are too close. And– “You—Oh, my fucking G– I–” Your breaths turn into a broken, tearless sob. “Eddie– I… Fuck. Eddie, I c–” You’re getting too dizzy, and you start to feel sick. “E– Fuck, wha–”

Eddie scoops you up into his arms. You fight his embrace at first, but that just makes everything worse. He shushes you and pets your hair. He pulls you against his body and tries to calm you, so you cling with all the strength you have left. “Hey, shh, shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. Hey, baby, you’re okay. Shh, shh.”

Your breaths slow enough for the spinning to stop. You slump into his body when the tension leaves you. When Eddie hears your breaths even out and feels your weight in his arms, he pulls you away from him to see your face. His hand cups your face as his thumb strokes your cheek gently.

“You’re just like us now,” he whispers. “You’re not crazy, you’re free.” He brushes stray hairs from your forehead and brushes his knuckles along the underside of your jaw. “Free of Jason Carver, who called me a freak. Free of Cassidy Franklin, who threatened your job.”

Steve continues. “Free of Tommy H, who insulted you and treated me like shit.”

Eddie nods, seeming particularly proud. “Free of your cheating boyfriend, who didn’t give a fuck about you.”

“Free of your lying friend, who betrayed your trust.”

Eddie takes your face in his hands, watching you with eyes that never show you anything but affection. “You can be whoever you want to be. And we’ll always be here for you. I will always be here for you. I can be what you need.”

You swallow thickly, searching his eyes for a lie. But he’s never had a reason to truly lie to you. You’ve always been able to trust him. He’s always been there for you. All he’s ever done was to make you happy. Your lips part in a sigh. “You will?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I love you,” he says. His voice is brimming with his confession. His hands tighten just the slightest around your head as he pulls you closer. “You are everything to me. I would kill for you. I would die for you. I would die without you.”

Eddie leans in quickly, and you panic.

You turn your head, feeling his lips on your cheek. You use your arms to separate you, holding your fists to your chest and shaking your head. “N-No,” you mutter. It's not right.

“Shh,” he whispers, turning your face with gentle movements. “Everything's gonna be okay, puppet.”

He kisses you. You breathe into it, trying not to fall for the feeling of his lips pressing into yours, but finding it inevitable. You close your eyes and feel yourself melt. You flatten your hands against his chest, and then ball the fabric of his robe in your fists. When the slightest whimper slips between your lips, Eddie groans into your mouth and his kiss becomes less affectionate.

He bites your lip, moving one hand to the back of your neck and the other to wrap around your waist. You sigh, biting back and tugging on his shirt. When his hand wanders to your side, and then up to your chest, your lips go slack against his when he gropes your breast through your shirt.

It pulls you from the depth you’d gotten lost in. He slides his hand beneath your shirt, and the chilly air makes you shrink away from him. You let go of his shirt, pushing him away with a grunt. “No.”

“Hey,” he tries to soothe. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head. This is wrong. You should not be holding him, kissing him. You push him off of you, shoving him away as you rush to stand. You remember Steve when he steps forward. You continue to back away, you need to get away.

Eddie calls your name, but you only shake your head once more. He reaches for you. You scramble to your feet and run. They don’t chase you right away. Not when you make for the stairs because they’re blocking your exits. Not when you slam your bedroom door shut and lock it tight. Not when you open your bedroom window and stare down at the bottom, unsure of your ability to make the jump.

When you hear their footsteps on the stairs, you panic again. You keep the window open, rushing to the closet and closing the door behind you as you hide behind the clothes hung around you. You can see the letters on the floor, the rose, the doll.

“Open the door, baby,” Eddie’s voice comes, muffled from your spot in the closet. He knocks on the door three slow times. You close your eyes and cover your mouth and nose. You can feel yourself shaking, your lungs struggling to keep up with your attempt at silence.

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Steve joins. “We pinky promise.”

“Is this a game?”

“Do you like playing games?”

“Do you wanna play with us?”

“Unlock the door, and we can play all night long.”

You hear the door knob jiggle. The faintest sound of the lock clicking makes your blood run cold, and you stop moving entirely upon hearing the door open.

Deep footsteps are heard as they step into the room, their heavy boots adding to your impending doom. Your gut twists, your lungs seize, your heart pounds in your chest. You’re silent as a mouse, better than that.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Eddie sings.

“There’s only so many places you can hide.”

You hear their boots stomp over to the window. Then there’s a pause. You stare wide-eyed in the darkness, seeing nothing but the doors and hearing everything outside of the sound of your blood rushing through your ears. “Come on, sweetheart, you know we’re gonna find you. And when we do, we’ll treat you right.” He sighs gently, his voice still sing-songy as he wonders aloud. “I wonder where she could be…”

His footfalls stop in front of the closet doors, and you feel the tension releasing from your body as you feel yourself giving up. The doors open in a slow, taunting manner, and the mask stares back at you with a tilted head.

“Boo.”

He grabs you, though his grip is not unkind. Eddie crowds you as he brings you to your bed, blocking your hands when you try to hit him, escaping your legs when you try to kick him. He shushes you again, though he’s still laughing.

“What’s the matter, puppet? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

He continues to wrestle with you until you feel the fight leaving you, ounce by ounce until you lay on the bed with limbs heavy with exhaustion. He pins your wrists at either side of your head, watching reluctant tears slip down the side of your face and disappear into your hairline.

You shake your head weakly. “Please don’t hurt me, Eddie.” Your voice is nearly a whisper.

He tilts his head. “I would never hurt you.” He leans down to whisper in your ear, and the fabric tickles the skin of your neck when it brushes you. “I just need you to know just how much I love you.”

You shiver, still shaking your head and trying to stifle the feelings in your body. It’s too much to focus on, too much to think about. “It’s not right,” you cry. “I killed Brynn. You killed Jake and Cassidy and–” You cut yourself off. “I just want it to be over.”

“It is over.” Eddie gathers your wrists into one hand, the other trailing down the length of your arm. You shudder and feel yourself trying to squirm away from him (you assume). “Everyone who hurt us is gone.” His hand presses into your side. “Anyone who would hurt us will be.” You sigh when his hand strokes your thigh. “We can be together, finally.” Your breath stutters when you feel his hand slip between your thighs, where you’ve pressed them tightly together. You bite down hard on your bottom lip when his hand cups your clothed cunt.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His palm grinds into your mound, and you stifle your sigh as you squeeze your eyes shut. Steve’s voice fills your ears. “C’mon, honey,” he says, his voice almost as breathy as Eddie’s has become. “He just wants you to be happy.”

Your breath hitches when you feel him undoing your pants. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” His hand slips past the band of your panties, beneath the fabric that had been keeping him from you. Your lips part slightly when you feel the warm pad of his finger press against your clit. You squeeze your thighs tight. “I want you to be happy.”

You moan when he circles your clit, feeling the uneasy pleasure begin to tease your nerves. He stays there for a moment before letting his finger part your folds. You whine against your tight lips when you feel another hand find your thigh. Steve spreads them apart, and you hate how exposed you feel. You hate how little you care about being exposed to them.

Eddie’s hand in your panties, his finger teasing the opening of your pussy. It swirls in your mind and makes it hard to focus on resisting. It feels good, and you hate that it feels good. It’s a sick, twisted pleasure that makes you feel uneasy but oh, so good.

“Safe,” he coos, pressing his thick finger into the warmth of your cunt with a sigh. Your mouth falls open with every inch he puts inside of you. Your legs spread on their own accord, and you open your eyes as you stare down the empty eyes of a ghost.

He strokes his finger in and out of you, a steady pace that sets every nerve ending on fire. You find your hips rolling into his hand, searching for more and then squirming away and then searching him out once more. When your back arches as he curls his finger, his voice sounds almost strained as he watches you. “Loved.”

You moan as he picks up the pace, the steady stroke of his finger becoming an insistent thrust of two long digits inside of you. You bite your lip and moans as he fucks you with his fingers, curling and thrusting and making you feel the pleasure he knows you deserve.

When you catch sight of Steve, it’s the first time you notice the camera. The red light stares you down as he films the way you wet Eddie’s hand with your arousal, the way you arch your back with each movement, the way your mouth falls open and breathy moans come out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Watch the camera,” Steve grunts.

Eddie laughs breathily. “Such a good girl,” he rasps. “A good, greedy girl. A greedy girl who wants to cum on my fingers. Huh? You gonna cum on my fingers, greedy girl?”

You tug at your wrists, and he lets one of them go just to see what you'll do. When you grip his forearm, holding onto him tight as you keen into him, he groans.

“Don't…” It's so quiet, he doesn't catch it. Eddie leans in and hums, coaxing you to speak again as you look at him with hazy eyes. “Don't stop.”

Eddie has no choice but to stop. When you whine, he almost loses his head. His eyes never tear away from your own after he pulls the mask off his head. You watch as he begins to strip, dropping his robes, and then his shirt and his pants. He takes off everything he's got on until he's standing naked in front of you.

You flush at the sight of him in all his glory. The lines of his muscles are soft and entrancing. Black ink decorates his pale skin, and your breath catches as you stare at all the illustrations. God, he's perfect. His smooth skin, his wild hair, the curve of his long cock stiff and flushed.

“You like what you see?” Eddie chuckles deeply. “What about Steve, hm?”

You tear your eyes away from him to see the boy in question. You watch as he follows suit, stripping to nothing but skin. You stare at the patch of hair on his chest, the shape of his abs (soft, but not as soft as Eddie's), the thickness of his cock heavy between his legs.

“Don't stare too long, puppet,” Eddie mutters. “I'll let him have a taste of you, but you're mine.”

You swallow thickly, staring at Eddie, his darkened brown eyes—though offering a different kind of clarity now—still the same ones that comforted you when you were upset about your boyfriend. The same eyes you saw when he gave you a ride home in the middle of the night. The same eyes that want you and only you.

Your timid fingers reach up and brush the skin of his cheek. “Eddie,” you whisper. He gazes back at you. You lick your lips, letting out a sigh and deciding in that moment. He loves you more than anyone else ever could.

“I'm yours,” you agree. “I'm yours.”

Eddie kisses you like he's afraid to lose you again. He kisses you like he thinks you might run away again. But why run away from someone who's only ever protected you? Why run away from someone who has freed you from those who have only hurt you? Why run away from someone who loves you more than you could possibly know?

You wrap your hand around the back of his head and keep him close, tasting his lips against yours, along with the faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, seeking more of him as you bite down on his lip and grasp his tongue between your teeth.

You let him go, your breaths shallow and bated. “Make me yours,” you whisper.

Eddie attacks your lips, dipping his head into the crook of your neck and marking you up with teeth and tongue. He red and purples your skin, claiming you as his own.

You roll your body into his, seeking out the pleasure he intends to give. His hands find your clothes, both of them gripping the top of your shirt. You yelp when he rips it down the middle, tearing your shirt in two until you shed it like skin. He pulls your pants off of your body with no love or remorse for the fabric, crueler with your panties and bra as he rips them apart.

Steve snatches your underwear up, bringing them to his nose and letting his eyes flutter shut as he inhales your sweet scent. “Fuck,” he sighs thickly. “She's amazing.”

“You're telling me,” Eddie says, his tongue laving along your nipple. You arch your back up into him, reveling in the feeling of his hot mouth on your skin.

Steve kneels on the bed, filming you with one hand stroking his cock. Eddie's lips find the spot below your belly button, kissing with teeth before dipping low once more.

Your hand grips the sheets beneath you when Eddie's mouth finds your cunt. His lips wrap around you as he laps at your folds. His tongue dips inside of your hole, licking into you with a deep moan that sends shivers down your spine.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling themselves in his messy locks and tugging hard. In return, he claws at your thighs and at the meat of your ass with dull nails, pulling you as close as he can get you as he breathes in your scent and devours you like he's been starved for a thousand years.

The heat and the pleasure and the pain mix together into this unintelligible mess. You allow yourself to be lost to the sensations, to drown in the darkness that surrounds you.

It's sort of poetic.

All your life, all you have ever done was for the pleasure and the benefit of everyone around you. You smiled when you were told to smile, you've cared for people who have never cared for you. You've let your parents leave you, you've let your best friend forget about you, you've let your boyfriend use your mouth and your body for his pleasure and leave you to rot.

But Eddie is different. He doesn’t care. You taint yourself with the blood of a friend, and he kisses your reddened lips, he holds your crimson-soaked hands, he licks the slick from your dripping cunt with the fervor of a mad man. Eddie whispers his love and devotion in your ear and tells you he will always love you.

Steve's mouth on yours is unexpected, but you take it in stride. Your nose bumps his chin as you suck on his top lip. His roaming hand strokes your side, finding your chest and squeezing your tit in his greedy palm. You moan, reveling in the attention—Eddie’s tongue lapping between your legs, Steve’s tongue licking at your chest. You card your fingers through their hair. You grasp and grip and tug. When they moan, you tug again. When you moan, they suck and hold you tighter.

When Eddie pulls away from his spot between your thighs, he shoves Steve’s head to the side so he can see your face. “Hey,” he mutters, though the hostility is half-hearted. He sits back, focusing on keeping the camera on you once more.

Eddie’s fingers return to the seam of your cunt, filling you and making you gasp. “Does it feel good, puppet?” he asks. “Getting all this attention from us? Do you like when I eat out this greedy little pussy? Do you like when Steve sucks on your tits?”

You can’t think with the rhythm of his fingers inside of you. They thrust and curl, and you moan as you find yourself grinding your hips into his palm. “Please,” you murmur, struggling to find the words to properly beg him.

“She’s so sweet, isn’t she?” Steve asks, still reaching for your breasts to flick the nipple. You hold onto Eddie’s arm, trying to keep him where he’s at as you continue to grind into his palm.

“She’s greedy. That’s what she is,” he smiles. “You wanna cum, sweetheart? Do you want to come on my hands?” You nod, feeling him pumping his fingers in and out of you. “You look so nice like this, moaning on my hands, covered in blood. Like a fucking angel.”

You’d almost forgotten about the blood. By now, with everything you’ve just gone through, with your choice to be with Eddie, with your decision to stop caring and let Eddie love you, you find that you don’t mind much. Eddie loves you, and if he loves you covered in blood as well, then you’ll gladly let it smear.

Eddie sighs longingly when you moan, arching your back and riding his palm. “That’s it, baby. Use my hand to get off. There you go,” he rambles, thrusting and curling his fingers to get you closer to where he wants you to be.

“Eddie,” you moan. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” He gets back to his knees, still fingering you as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. He licks and laps and does all that he can to feel you unravel by his hands, by his lips, by his touch.

Steve strokes his cock as he watches, letting heavy sighs fall past his lips. “Fuck, she looks so fuckin’ pretty.” He gropes you, flicking your nipple and massaging your tit and loving the way you gasp. “Keep going just like that, Ed. She's almost there.”

Your hips jerk up into his mouth. Eddie leans forward and holds you down, becoming more and more insistent in tasting you. He's completely consumed by your perfect thighs at either side of his head, clamping down around him as you reach the apex of your pleasure.

When you cum, your hands tug at his hair and your moan is more reminiscent of a sob as he licks you through it. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp. You moan his name and ride his face, and almost ignore the fact that he needs to breathe.

When your body stops trembling and your moans turn to heavy breaths, he pulls away from you. His chin glistens with your arousal, and he licks his pink, swollen lips with a thick sigh.

You're surprised when Eddie's hand smacks your thigh. A slight shout escapes your throat, and you wince at the pain that spreads along your body. He soothes the skin with his palm, gripping the flesh once more before delivering another smack. You stifle your cry this time.

“Does that hurt, baby?” he asks, his tone not as sympathetic. You nod. “Do you want me to stop?”

You open your eyes and shake your head. “No.”

His smile is nothing if not malicious. “Perfect.” He bends down, and his kiss is all-consuming. For a moment, you struggle to keep up, but finding your footing isn't difficult. When his hand wraps around the back of your head, you nip his tongue. When he grunts, you tilt your head. When he pulls away, you tug on his lip before letting it slap against his bottom teeth.

He smiles, letting out a long breath. “Your lips are so soft.” He kisses you quickly. “I wonder how they'd feel wrapped around my dick.”

You whine, sitting up and grabbing his shirt in your balled fist. You feel Steve behind you, pressing his body into your back to sandwich you between them. His lips brush your ear, you can tell he's struggling not to kiss you.

Eddie pulls back, diving his face into your shoulder and biting into your flesh. You turn your head toward Steve, feeling his lips at the corner of your mouth.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” you whisper to Steve, who ignores your question and dips his head into your neck. You feel their lips and teeth and tongue against your skin. 

You close your eyes, breathing through thinly parted lips as they taste your skin, having their fill of you. Steve's head switches to the other side, bumping Eddie's gently. He looks up, staring at Steve. You see him offer a grin, leaning in and biting his lip.

Eddie shoves Steve back, his actions playful but definite. Steve looks back at him with a grin and hooded eyes. You get shoved next, laying flat on your back. Eddie steps back, walking around the bed until he's bending down to kiss you again, just as Steve had done to you before.

“Open your mouth,” he mutters against your lips. You open your eyes to look at him, letting your mouth fall open just as he told you. You want him to feel as good as he made you.

Eddie takes his cock in his hand, stroking it a couple times before placing his tip at the plush of your lips. You dart your tongue out to lick at the slit of his cock, eliciting the slightest wince. One of his hands covers the length of your throat, the other cradles the back of your head. Eddie pushes his cock past your lips and into the warmth of your mouth, sighing at the feeling as you close your lips around him.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he groans, sliding in and out of your mouth in slow strokes.

“I bet it is,” Steve mutters. He watches, envy soaked into his skin as he holds the camera still.

The bed dips when Steve gets on it. Eddie’s head is thrown back in bliss as he thrusts his cock slowly into your mouth, going deeper and deeper with each thrust until he can feel the length of him stretching your throat. He can tell you’ve had practice because you don’t immediately gag. He pushes his cock so far into your mouth that your chin presses against his pelvis.

Steve straddles you, bending down to your chest and wetting your chest with his tongue. He sucks on your nipples, bites the flesh of your tits. He paints the valley of your breasts with saliva before moving himself further up your body and pressing your tits together.

You gag on Eddie's cock when Steve's slides between the split of your tits. His moan is deep and broken as he throws his head back. “Fuck,” he breathes. “God, she's perfect.”

You press your hand to Eddie's waist, pushing him back until his dick slips from the warmth of your mouth. You turn your head to the side to cough, catching your breath as your mind races with the strange sensation of Steve thrusting between your tits.

When Eddie thinks you've gotten enough air, he tilts your head back again to push himself back inside. Your throat is tight around his cock. It squeezes around his length, and you struggle to take him as your lungs seize and your gagging stalls.

He curses, feeling the way your pretty throat bulges. Steve grabs your hands, guiding you to hold your tits together so he can grab the camera from its propped position on the bed.

“Got a good shot?” Eddie asks, his laughter mixing with a grunt.

“Fuckin’ perfect shot,” he says. “Shit, she might finish me like that.”

Precum leaks from his aching tip, spilling onto your chest, your neck. When Eddie pulls out to let you breathe, you gasp and cough once more, letting your breathy moans fill the air and imagining how ruined you must look covered in blood and precum with Steve fucking your tits and Eddie fucking your throat.

God, it's a sinful sight, and you just hope they'll let you watch the video when this is all over.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Eddie when he opens your mouth again to shove his cock back into it.

Steve sounds absolutely dreadful. The camera is unstill as he struggles to keep it together, his hips moving too fast. He's sure he's going to blow soon if he doesn't let up, but how is he supposed to when you're pressing your breasts so tightly together around his cock.

You don't see it, but you hear the way their lips briefly smack together over the sound of your gags and your glistening skin.

“F-fuck,” Eddie grunts, pressing his cock down your throat and keeping it there for just a moment before he pulls out. You gasp for breath as he grips the base of his cock, staving off his release with a rough sigh.

He hears the way Steve's sounds have begun to rise, and his chuckle is almost evil as he pulls your hands away to let them fall away from him. Steve huffs, grabbing your tits himself, but ultimately being pushed off of you by his “friend”.

Steve, pent up and frustrated as he feels his release declining into something bitter, hits the bed with a heavy palm and lets himself fall forward onto your chest. He sits there for a moment, balling his fist and trying not to punch something.

“Fuck, I was so close.” He shouts at Eddie, shoving him away. “Why’d you do that? She's mine, too!”

Eddie moves over to him, crowding his space with that same malicious grin on his face. “I said you could fuck her tits, but you can't go inside or cum on her.”

“Stupid rules. I'm not gonna cum in her,” he argued, shoving him again.

Eddie feeds off of it, and Steve can tell. “My girl, my rules.” A third shoves satiates Steve enough to stand down, shaking his head and muttering about fairness.

Eddie wraps his hand around the back of his neck and brings him in close. “You can cum on her next time,” he promises.

Steve thinks about it, looking Eddie's face up and down in thoughtful silence. When his eyes find yours, he smiles a little and nods. “Fine.”

Eddie pats his cheek before turning back to you. “Sorry, baby. Where were we?”

On one hand, you should be annoyed that Eddie is trying to pass you around like a whore. On the other, it feels nice to be desired like this. They're fighting over you, and you're flattered. A shiver runs down your spine at the aspect of letting Steve use your body, and then paint it in his gratitude. You're excited for next time…

You move to stand, walking toward him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You bring him down to kiss you again, moaning into his mouth and making sure he can taste himself on your lips just as much as you can taste yourself on his.

When Eddie gets excited, he shows you by shoving you back by your chest. You stare at him as he walks forward, turning you around harshly with your back pinned to his front. He whispers in your ear, “I'm gonna fuck you better than Jake ever could.”

A wave rushes down your spine, and you shudder. “Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Eddie.”

His sigh is shaky. His hands tighten around your arms, pulling you impossibly closer. “Want me to use this little pussy? Fuck it so hard, it's puffy and sore?”

You curse under your breath, nodding as you struggle to keep it together. “Yes, Eddie. Please. I need you.”

He pushes you down onto the bed, bending you over by the waist and feeling the round of your ass with greedy hands.

Steve snatches up the camera from the bed once more, holding it still and making sure to capture Eddie's hand slapping down against your ass. You yelp, your body jerking at the sensations.

Eddie doesn't bother soothing over the spot this time. He just hits you again and again and again. He hits you with uncaring hands until your bottom is sore and flushed with color. “Fuck, I love this pretty little ass.” He grabs it harshly, hitting you again.

The tears at your eyes can only be described as pathetic. You grip the sheets, your face messy with your tears.

Eddie wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you up harshly. “You still need me? Hm?” His voice is heavy, and he sounds almost upset. “You still want me fuck this little cunt of yours?”

He brings his other hand to your stomach and rakes his dull fingers across. You clench your jaw and close your eyes at the pain that spreads across your body. You flex your stomach when his nails reach the other side of your chest, your breaths picking up once he finishes.

“You still want me?” He asks darkly. “Do you still love me?”

After a moment, the stinging mixes into something strange and you nearly feel yourself going limp in his arms. He holds you up, his face still tucked in your neck.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly. “I love you, Eddie. There's nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Eddie's heavy breaths fill the silence between you. “Yeah?”

You nod, your voice quieter but no less genuine. “Yes. Please fuck me. Cum in me and make me yours.”

Eddie curses as he pushes you back down onto the bed. He spreads your legs wide making sure your pussy is ready for him as he thrust a finger into the wet heat.

Eddie's cock sits deep inside of you. He holds you tightly by your waist as he thrusts so far that you think you can feel him in your fucking throat.

You grip the sheets, moaning and sighing as you try to adjust to him. Eddie's hands press against your back and push you more into the bed as he pulls out slowly. When he thrusts back in, it makes a loud smacking sound that makes you wet and dripping.

Soon, Eddie's thrusts are cruel. He fucks you in fast, rough strokes of his cock. You moan in whiny breaths, your voice high and heavy. The tears are returning, and you can't keep them at bay.

“That’s it,” Steve rasps. “Fuck her hard, Eddie. Make her cry for the camera.”

The feeling of Eddie's cock pushing against a deep spot within you has your eyes rolling. You melt into the bed and moan every time his hips snap into you. He fucks you ruthlessly and without remorse. You cry out and reach for something to hold.

You ramble nonsensically, telling him how good he feels, how good you feel. You tell him not to stop, and you tell him that you love him.

Steve tugs on his cock, desperately fisting himself in search of the same pleasure he'd had in his hands before Eddie took it away from him. He continues to encourage Eddie, who continues to fuck you. You let yourself succumb to the pleasure of Eddie's thrusts and the occasional smack that spread like wildfire through your skin. You let yourself succumb to Steve's words, filling your mind with dirty phrases and nothing more.

Your limbs are like jelly, and you decide that it feels better not to think as you let yourself be fucked.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Doin’ so good f’me.” “God, that's it. Take it like a little whore.” “Take it, take it, take it.” “You like being fucked like a slut for Eddie, hm?”

Their words mix together into a messy blurb in your head. You let it garble up, because at the end of the day, it feels good and it's white noise that makes you squelch around his cock.

You nearly cry when Eddie pulls out of you. It's a sudden thing that takes you by surprise and tears your pleasure away. He has to stop you with his hand over your mouth as he turns you over onto your back.

“Lemme see your pretty face while I fuckin’ ruin you.” He spreads your lower lips, thrusting his fingers inside of you once more and feeling how wet you are as you moan. “No one else is gonna be able to touch you after this. You know that right? No one is going to be able to fuck you as good as us. Isn't that right, Stevie?”

He kisses your temple. “That's right,” he huffs. “This pussy is ours. You understand?”

You nod, keening for their touch. “Yes. Yes, I understand.” You push your chest up to show it off, looking straight down the camera as Steve shoves it in your face. “Ruin me, please.”

It's hard not to concede after that.

Eddie thrusts inside of you once more, and you're so wet that he slips in with ease. Your eyes flutter, and you blindly reach out for Steve before grasping his cock in your hand. Steve lets you jerk him off, tugging and twisting, squeezing his cock in your tiny palm and letting his head fall back when you do.

Eddie holds your waist tight as he fucks you, his cruelty as blissful punch inside of you. The pad of his thumb circles your clit, encouraging your pleasure as you moan and whimper for this man who would do anything for you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by moans and rough grunts and ramblings. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out.

Eddie bends down, tucking his face in your neck as his nose traces the shell of your ear. “Do you feel good, puppet?” You nod, your vision hazy and your mind numb. “You promise?”

Again you nod. “Yeah.”

A rough thrust makes his whole body flex, makes you cry into his ear. “Good,“ he says. “I love you, and I'm gonna make sure this perfect fucking cunt knows it. I'm gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. You know that?”

You nod, wrapping your legs around him as you continue to tug at Steve's cock. One of his hands wraps around yours, tightening and keeping you steady as he huffs.

“Love you,” you mumble, your mind so jumbled that the words are almost incoherent. “‘M yours.”

He moans, his thrusts becoming shorter and harder. You can feel yourself getting closer with every circle of his thumb.

“All mine,” he grunts.

Steve listens to the pattern of your breaths, the lilts of your moans. He smiles and strokes a little faster. “Just like that, Eddie. She's gonna cum.”

“I know she is,” he laughs. “Perfect little slut’s gonna cum on my cock like the whore she is. She's gonna moan, and she's gonna scream my fuckin’ name. Aren't you, baby?”

You nod, going on about something in the haze of pleasure.

When Eddie's deep grunts turn into weaker sounding moans, you know he's close. When your belly flexes and he can feel you clamping around him, Eddie knows you're close. When Steve jerks your hand too quickly back and forth along the head of him, you know he's close.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Eddie moans, feeling his coming.

You do as you're told, and you do as you want. You go blind with pleasure, and your back arches as your release comes crashing down around you. You gasp and cry out Eddie's name on a broken sob as the pleasure wrecks you in the most beautiful way.

As you flutter around his cock, clenching and gushing, Eddie loses his head. He fist clenches in the sheets, still circling your clit in lazy circles as he fucks his cock deep inside of you. His groans are weak as he lets his mouth hang open, taking in the smell of you as he spills deep inside of your wet heat.

Steve, envious of your closeness, follows after, imagining the shape of your cunt, how'd you squeeze him. His warmth spills out over the sheets and into the palm of your hand, his sounds joining with yours until it's a symphony of heavy breaths and gasping moans and lazy strokes of skin on skin.

The air is thick and charged for a while, all of you refusing to slow down as you continue to drag this out for as long as you can. When you physically can't prolong it anymore, you feel your limbs grow heavy and your body releases all the tension left inside. You let yourself go limp on the sheets, still filled by Eddie as you continue to give Steve slow, lazy strokes.

Eddie brushes hair from your face, pulling back enough to kiss you sweetly. When you can see his face, you smile at the sight of his sweetness returning. It's the Eddie you're used to, the Eddie you first loved. You're getting to love all of these versions of himself.

Eddie kisses all over your face, seemingly unphased by the taste of nearly dried blood. “I love you,” he whispers into your skin with every kiss until he's kissed every last inch of you, covering you with his love. “How do you feel, baby?”

You smile lazily at him, holding his face in your hands. “Good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, brushing hair from your face. He glances at Steve, gesturing for him to join you. He goes to put the camera away to do just that. “You still love me?” he wonders.

You smile, nodding again. “Yes, Eddie,” you whisper. “I'll always love you.”

He grins wide, his dark eyes shining with adoration. “That's good.”

When Steve joins, he bumps your nose with his. “We're gonna take care of you,” he whispers. “But first, we have to make sure we don't get caught.”

Eddie sighs, unraveling himself from you as he stands up straighter. He pulls you to sit up on the bed.

You take each of their hands. “What do we do?”

Eddie cups your cheek. “First, you need to get dressed again.”

“Do I clean up?” you wonder, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of the drying blood on your face.

“Yeah, but not too much,” Steve says. Your heart thuds in your chest. “We needa get more blood on you.”

“Can you do that for us?” Eddie asks, his eyes soft. “For me?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” he smiles.

“Me and Eddie will handle everything else.” Steve kisses your forehead before leaving you to by yourself. Eddie lingers only for a moment, staring at your face in quiet adoration before kissing you and following after Steve.

You stand on shaky legs, disappearing into your bathroom and flicking on the light. You're almost surprised by what you see.

Red covers your face, along with tear streaks on your cheeks and saliva on your chin. You're covered in blood and spit and sweat. You look terrible. But it's the clearest you've seen yourself in a very long time.

For once, you don't feel so artificial. Strangely, in this moment, with love from a boy who truly loves you and protection from two people who want nothing but the best for you, you feel like yourself. It feels good not to hide.

You wipe off the blood, you wipe off the sweat, you clean yourself up until you don't look so guilty. When you open your closet, you see the doll lying on the floor. You move to your knees picking it up and looking over it once more. Guilt seeps into your veins as you stare at the stitches of her face.

The door opens after a while, but you don't turn to look. You know who it is.

“You okay?”

Eddie walks farther into the room, coming to kneel beside you with an arm around your body. You stroke the cheek of his gift, sighing gently.

“I'm sorry I treated her so badly.”

Eddie considers the versatility of your apology. The doll is meant to represent you, after all. He pulls you in, kissing your temple. “It's okay,” he promises. “You didn't understand yet, but now you do. Now everything's perfect.”

You look up at him with a soft smile. “Did you make her yourself?”

He nods gently, easing the doll from your hands to look over his handiwork. “Yeah. Not great work but–”

You reclaim her, holding her to your chest. “She's perfect. Thank you.”

He smiles wide, all teeth and glistening sweetness. It only gets worse when you kiss him. God, he's been waiting so long for this moment.

“I love you, Eddie,” you whisper against his lips.

He shudders at your confession. “Promise?”

You nod, echoing his words from just the night before. “On my life.”

He sighs dreamily. “I love you, too.” Then his pauses, and his face falls into something a little more solemn. He takes your hand, squeezing it tight with a sigh.

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

He nods gently. “I'm gonna have to hurt you.”

You smile a bit, and it's contagious. “How badly?”

Eddie beams, standing to his feet and holding out his hand. You take it with pleasure, and he helps you dress.

He leads you back downstairs, where Steve is breaking things around the living room. Brynn is still in the same spot as before, entirely undisturbed as she stares at the ceiling.

This time, when you see her, you don't feel upset. You don't get sad or scared. You don't gasp or shrink away. Strangely, you feel proud of what you've done. She can no longer lie to you. She no longer has reason to. You're both free of it, for the rest of your lives, one much shorter than the other.

You look up at Eddie and smile, and he's not sure if he can love you anymore than he already does.

“What do we do?” you ask as Steve joins you. They both walk you through it, the sequence. The story.

Brynn came by to apologize for yesterday. Jake was behaving strangely, but she was too afraid to stand up for you. When Jake shows up, he kills Brynn first because he's a witness. When he reveals himself to you as a killer, you reject him, and it sends him into a blind rage where he tries to kill you.

Steve and Eddie come to pick you up. Eddie catches Jake in the act and tries to stop him. He gets knocked out, but not before getting a couple hits on him first, weakening him enough for you to have to upperhand.

You try to escape, but you only make it to the patio. This is where you kill him in self-defense.

Steve comes in when Eddie's been gone too long. He couldn't hear over the music in the van. He sees what's happened and calls 911, wrapping everything in a nice little bow.

Eddie takes your hand in his, stroking his thumbs over the back of them with gentle touches. “Have it make it look believable, okay? I have to hit you. Is that okay, sweetheart?”

You don’t hesitate when you nod. You trust me. He only wants what’s best. “Yes. Do what you have to do.” He gives you a look, one last chance to decline. When you meet him with no fear, he nods.

The first slap really fucking hurts. Your head whips to the side, and you taste blood in your mouth as your teeth cut into your cheeks. The sensations begin as an invading heat before twisting into pain, and then into something not as bad.

You turn back to him, licking the blood from your lips as a look he’s never seen before crosses his eyes. You stare at him for a moment, and then feel your lips tugging into a grin that matches the mischief he’s reflected in his own tonight. “Do it again,” you whisper.

Eddie actually laughs, giddy with the look in your eyes. He soothes your cheek with a loving hand, kissing you quickly before striking you once more. You stumble this time, bending down and holding your face in your hands to try to soothe the aching. Eddie goes to you quickly, pulling you to him to see if you’re okay. You huff, nodding and looking up at him again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your lip, seeing blood and darting your tongue out to taste it. “It actually feels kind of good…after a second.” He shakes his head and mutters something about you potentially being actually crazy. You just laugh weakly.

He helps you stand, taking your face in his hands. He sighs, shaking his head gently before continuing. “We're gonna have to stab you,” Eddie says. “Not too much, just enough to get the point across.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Okay.”

“We also have to get some of your blood all over this room.” Steve gestures in the general area.

“Okay.”

“Still trust me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes.”

Steve hands Eddie a pair of gloves. He slips them on and takes the knife firmly in his grip.

“Is it gonna hurt a lot?”

Eddie positions the end of if at your side, his hands steady as he looks at you. “Not at first. But it will.”

“How bad?”

“A lot.”

You sigh, nodding. “I'm ready.”

“Look me in the eyes,” Eddie instructs. You do as you're told, watching him as you breathe in deep, long breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

He's right. The pain isn't immediate, but it's hot and this guttural sound falls out of you at the feeling. Eddie pulls the knife out, and you feel the hot blood rushing from the wound.

Eddie and Steve are quick to work, trying to keep you calm and keep your focus on them so you don't feel too much of the pain too quickly. They bring you outside where Jake is dressed in the robes, the mask was discarded somewhere in the room. They've already torn up the fabric to match the stab wounds.

You find that the sight of him like this makes you happy. He can't hurt you anymore. And that's all you wanted.

Eddie lays you on the ground next to Jake's body. “I'm gonna stab you again.”

“Do it,” you tell him, your breathing labored. “I trust you.”

He smiles, glimmering with pride. “Can't wait to see the scars.” He stabs you again in the middle of your pained laugh. You hold onto his loved hands, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to steady your breath.

He pulls it out, and the sensation is so strange. He kisses you. Steve busies himself with coating your hands with the pool of Jake's blood.

“We'll be here the whole time,” Eddie promises. He seems to be bracing himself for something, his jaw clenched and his face determined.

“Are you o–”

Steve thrusts the knife into Eddie's side, ripping it out with a grunt. Eddie bends over, holding the spot and straining to be calm. “Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart.” The knife clatters by you.

While he's down, he kisses your cheek again before being helped up by Steve. “Everything's gonna work out.” They go back inside, and you lay back against the concrete as your unfocused eyes stare at the sky.

You look over at Jake, staring at the stars with you. You think he looks better like this, sweeter. You look back to the stars and smile, letting your eyes close as darkness teases your peripheral.

Once they’re all gone, we will be together…

~

You’re woken up by someone yelling. The bright, white lights of the hospital room glare in your face as you open your eyes. You move to sit up, groaning as you wrap an arm around the bandages wrapped tightly around your waist.

You glance over at Eddie, still sitting by your bed as he had been before. He’s slumped over, holding his side. They’ve given you both morphine for the pain. He was only stabbed once, but he looks a lot worse than you. Steve had to beat the shit out of him. His face is bruised and cut, and he’s got a few more along the skin you can see. (It looks kind of hot.)

“Oh, my God!”

Robin rushes into the room first, going straight to your bedside and helping you sit up. The rest of the group floods in, Steve leading them inside.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quickly, looking at the state of you and wincing at the way your bruises have turned out.

Jonathan looks relatively sober, worry taking over every crease in his face. “What the hell happened?”

“I guess you do have plot armor,” Argyle says in awe. “Because, in all honesty, you shoulda died, man.”

Nancy scolds him with a smack to the shoulder. He over-exaggerates the strike, seemingly betrayed by such a thing. Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand, and you smile at him before looking at everyone around you.

It feels good to have so much attention. You notice the flowers in Nancy’s hands, to join the million others in the room, along with all the gift baskets and the balloons and cards. Everyone has been so kind, and the attention is going straight to your head.

“I’m okay, guys,” you say, glancing at Steve. “I promise.”

Robin chuckles lightly, though she still sounds worried. “Who knew he was that crazy?” She scoops up your free hand to hold it, nudging Steve in his side. “You know, it’s said that some sports, like football, can make people more aggressive. I mean, I know Jake didn’t play football, but I’m sure the sport isn’t that important in this case.” She pauses. “I guess that’s why so many of them are bullies.”

“I played basketball,” Steve points out.

She looks at him and shrugs. “And, if I recall, Steven, you were also a bully for a while. Didn’t Jonathan be the shit out of you a while back?”

Jonathan finds humor in this, but it’s all in good fun. They made up a long time ago. Steve just rolls his eyes. You laugh a little, but it hurts. You wince and cover your wounds, where you’ve been stitched up and patched. “Thanks, Robin,” you say in reference to her facts.

“It’s a good thing they got there in time, huh?” Nancy asks, adding her gift to your collection.

Eddie chuckles a little, looking at you. “Good thing I didn’t let you stay home alone all night.”

You grant him a look, trying to mask the humor there into a different kind to avoid suspicion. “Har, har,” you mutter. “Yes. I’m very fortunate.”

Argyle scratches his head. “So are you guys, like, together now?”

“Argyle!” Jonathan exclaims softly.

He shrugs. “I’m just asking, man. Look at ‘em! All holding hands and shit with the goo-goo eyes.” He waves his hand in dismissal.

Eddie squeezes your hand, and you all share a very brief look between the three of you. Your little secret. You look at Jonathan. “It’s okay.” You smile, “I think it’s safe to say that Eddie and I will be together a lot more often from now on.”

Robin sort makes this lovey-dovey kind of sigh, tilting her head with a smile. “You know, I always liked you two together.”

You grin, clasping his hand in both of yours and remembering the night before. Eddie’s fingers inside of you, Steve’s lips at your breasts. The three of you, stained with blood and sweat. What a night!

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Me, too.”

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @iiiiluvhobie @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom @hiscrimsonangel

[ageingfangirl2]

Just Like That! Sanji (OPLA)

LIGHT SMUT! You and Sanji share a rare intimate moment alone while the rest of the crew explore an island, and you realise just how loyal sanji is to you after you have some doubts. Sanji x Reader (Female) LIGHT SMUT!

It was an insufferably hot day and you'd refused to go exploring on the island you'd docked at because you didn't want to trudge through a jungle, instead choosing to stay on the ship with Sanji while everyone else left. You'd put on the pastel pink bikini Nami had made you buy and were lounging on a deckchair sunning yourself on the main deck. You knew why Sanji chose to stay behind, you just weren't sure who was going to confront the other first.

Sanji was a lady's man, always flirting with any girl who crossed his path. You thought it was annoying until he turned on the charm, and unlike Nami and Robin you actually enjoyed it, and after a couple months of flirting he asked you on a date and you agreed. Four months you'd be official and you were happy. You had some insecurities and despite paying attention to you, Sanji's eyes had wandered on the last island and it made you feel like crap. Was he bored of you? You'd chosen to avoid him instead of sitting down and talking.

You get up from the chair and stretch, rearranging your bikini which had ridden up a little. Not hearing the door behind you open as your boyfriend walks onto the deck from the kitchen.

'A man could get used to such a beautiful sight,' Sanji whistles behind you.

You spin around and see him holding a tray with two glasses of lemonade on eyeing you up and down with his greedy eyes, 'you say that to all the girls,' you spit out and pout, looks like you were the one doing the confronting.

Sanji hums and sits down on the edge of your vacated chair, putting the tray down on a small table and rolling up his shirt sleeves, 'Nami mentioned it. I'm sorry beautiful, my attention should be only for you. Let me make it up to you,' he says sincerely while patting his knee.

Sanji was the best lover you'd ever had, he was gentle and rough, knowing how to tease but then compliment you, and right now you were putty in his hands because you'd missed his touch. You straddle his lap and put your arms on his shoulders, 'then make it up to me.'

'With pleasure my lady,' he coos, and you gasp as he moves aside one half of your bikini top exposing your breast, 'let Sanji make you feel good.'

He gropes your breast before leaning down to kiss your nipple which sends a jolt through your body. You didn't realise how sensitive your nipples were because most guys you'd been with ignored them, 'shit--' you moan, and you feel Sanji smirk around your nipple.

Next thing you know he's removed your whole bikini top with a simple tug of the string around your neck, and starts playing with both your breasts, and you can't help but feel your cheeks blush as you slowly start to grind on him.

You bite your lip, 'fuck, why are you...mmh...why are you doing this to me? Feels good.'

Sanji wastes no time continuing his exploration of your chest by kissing, licking and flicking to his heart's content. He wasn't being rough, after all this was his apology.

You continue to grind, feeling Sanji's bulge, 'when I first met you Sanji, I didn't know you were like this, I thought you were a player,' you mumble as you dig your fingers into his thighs.

Sanji laughs, 'and I thought you were shy when we first met, but look at you now,' he grins, hands moving to grip your own thighs keeping you in place.

You unzip his trousers and he helps you pull them down along with this underwear, freeing his dick that already leaked precum matching your own wetness in your bottoms. You pull your bikini bottoms down and position yourself over him, Sanji watching and letting you take control.

'We can take things slow beautiful, as long as you're happy I'm happy,' he says sincerely, making it hard for you to not take him all at once.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and slowly sink onto him, pulling your two bodies closer until your head is on his shoulder.

'So beautiful,' Sanji moans, hands coming up behind you to cup your ass, 'why would I want anyone else, you're the only one for me.'

You smile against his shoulder as you position yourself comfortably, 'I love your Sanji, I'm sorry for doubting you.'

You gasp loudly as his fingers dig into your cheeks, 'and I love you, punishment comes later, right now I'm content like this.'

Despite the heat you shiver at his playful tone, knowing what he could do behind locked doors, and you loved it. But right now you were also content relaxing and cockwarming, stealing a very intimate moment with your lover before the rest of the crew came back.

[steddieas-shegoes]

falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.